HELPING POPPA

My dad did all his mechanic work on his car and a lot of the cars in the neighborhood. After the war he owned a 37 Chevy. It was a ''basic car'' with no frills like no radio, no heater, no clock, just a basic car. It had a 6 cylinder engine and a 3 speed manual shift transmission.


One day he was going to remove the transmission and replace the clutch, pressure plate and the throw out bearing and it was a big job and he asked me to help. I was thrilled beyond belief because it would give me a chance to work with poppa and get dirty...


He pulled the car into the driveway and up onto some cement blocks using boards as ramps. He got out the greasy, dirty, piece of cardboard from the wood shed and slid it under the car. He got out his big box of tools and sat them on the ground along with another piece of cardboard. He removed a lot of the tools from the tool box and placed them in ''order of size'' on the cardboard explaining as he went as to what tools they were, what size they were and their usage. He laid out screw drivers and different pliers and a few punches and a couple ball peen hammers. He sat and explained that he would be under the car and I would place the proper tool that he asked for in his hand. When he would hand them back out to me I was to put them back in the proper place for the next using. He slid under the car and I sat down beside the tools. From there on for a while his hand would appear with a request for a specific tool and I would place that tool in his hand. This went on for a long time and I got really good at handing tools and putting them back in order when he handed them out to me. After a ''time'' he said ''Kid, I need a good man to come under here and help me with some hard to reach bolts. Would you like to help?''.......... I jumped at the chance and scooted under the car with Poppa. Poppa explained that there was some bolts on top of the of the transmission that he could not reach because his ''hands'' were too large. He asked did I think I could reach up there and get those bolts lose for him.


In retrospect I know Poppa could reach the bolts but he wanted to make me feel important and to feel that he really needed me to do this job and he would have real difficulty if I was not there to help him. I scooted under the transmission and reached up with a wrench and started taking the bolts lose. Poppa watched and told me the ''rightie tightie, leftie lousie'' rule concerning bolts. He pretended to be my helper by handing wrenches as I worked. Words can not express how good this made me feel. I was actually ''helping Poppa'' and he needed me and this made me very proud.


I got all the top bolts out and Poppa said that I should help him pull the transmission away from the engine plate. We got two big screwdrivers and with me on one side and Poppa on the other we jacked the transmission away from the engine plate and Poppa said for me to hold the ''tail stock'' on the transmission and he would heft the front. We laid the transmission on the cardboard between us. When you are a skinny boy of about seven years and you get to help your Poppa remove a transmission it is one of the highlights of your life. We slid it out and Poppa carried it into the workshop. He said he believed it had a bad bearing somewhere inside and he would check that while we had it our. Sure enough, there was a cracked bearing on one of the shafts and we replaced that also. I would hold the work light and hand the tools and Poppa did the work explaining as he went. We got Mr Armentrout our neighbor to go up to Napa and bring the needed parts while Poppa and I cleaned out the inside of the transmission and got ready to put it back in. Mr. Armentrout came back with the bearing and the clutch, pressure plate and the new throwout bearing and me and Poppa put the transmission back in the car and hooked up the drive shaft and the clutch lever. Poppa rechecked everything and I got up the tools and the cardboard and put everything back in the wood shed. It was about then that mom called us to supper and we went to the back porch to wash up. There was a shelf on the back porch with a very large pan of hot water and a large can of Borax hand cleaning powder and a old towel waiting for us. We both were pretty dirty and I wore mine with such pride that I did not want to wash it off. Poppa said that if I didn't wash, I got no supper at moms table. I remember to this day that we washed with the hot water and the Borax and scrubbed and scrubbed to get the grease and dirt off our hands and arms. Poppa would take my little hands in his hands and scrub off the dirt and the grease. To most that simple ''touch'' would mean nothing but I remember it like a ''touch from heaven''. We got finished and dried off and went to supper. Poppa picked me up on his arm and carried me into the kitchen and told mom what a great mechanic I was going to make someday. Mom, Poppa, Grannie Cecil and me sat at the supper table and held hands while Poppa thanked the Lord for our blessings. He also thanked the Lord for having me there to help him with the car. I remember it to this day and I think about it often.


Poppa thought me to ''fix things'' ….. To work on cars and to use my mind to see how things worked and how to fix them when they went wrong. He taught me how to ''think'' and to ''reason'' and these gifts he gave me have helped carry me thru life. They helped make me a successful business man. I give Poppa credit for my success in life because of his teachings when I was a small boy. To me, that is a large part of whats wrong with our country today. Not enough ''fathers'' are teaching their children the basics of life. Not enough ''fathers'' are taking an interest in their children and taking the time to even teach their children right from wrong. I think if everyone had a Poppa like mine, the world would be a much better place....... This is just my opinion of course and I am probably wrong.


After supper we all go in the car for a test ride and it was decided that we had done everything right and we deserved some ice cream so we drove to Lindale Dairy and we all feasted on ten cent cones of Black Walnut Ice Cream. Me and Poppa ate two, each.......


So it was in the life of a skinny kid back in 47, workin on an old Chevy and learnin' about life..............


God bless our troops and keep them safe …..

DUMPED BY IRV2 FOLKS

Strange as it may seem I feel sorry for you as a representative of IRV2. you continued to badger me over nothing ....... I have been a faithful supporter of Irv2 at the rally and on this network for over a year and probably 1200 posts that are loved by many and I am one of the best ''read'' posters on your forums. I believe you wanted an excuse to drop me and you used my questions concerning my post as that excuse. YOU NEVER RESPONDED TO MY QUESTIONS CONCERNING SAME. It was like I was talking to a wall ......
It must be a terriable important job to have such authority over little to nothing with little conciquence ......
answer this if you have the courage
Seajay the sailor man .......

THIS WAS MY LAST MSG TO THE POWERS TO BE ON IRV FOLKS ...
KEEP THIS IN YOUR FAVORITES AND I WILL POST TO IT JUST LIKE i POSTED TO THE IRV FOURMS .....cj

DONT INSULT MY COLORS .....

As promised I went up to exit 125 on I-40 here in Hiclory to honor our dead that died on 9/11/01. I took my folding chair, my big flag, my PVC pipe, my rope and a sack of water bottles and a hand towell. I walked out on the overpass, sat up the chair, carefully leaned Old Glory against the bridge railing, sat my sack of water bottles in the chair, broke out my rope and using genuine Navy type Sailor knots (that will not slip but are easy to untie) I tied my PVC pipe to the guard rail on the bridge. I do this so I can set my flag in the PVC pipe when my arms get tired from holding and waving the flag. Mind you this is a BIG FLAG. This flag draped my dads casket and I am proud to fly it on special occasions like this. My Flag is furled on a extendable pole off of a tree branch trimmer and it works like a charm. I got all my ''stuff'' together and unfirled My Colors and started waving it for the traffic to see. Folks down on I-40 reacted immediately and the traffic on the bridge were happy to toot and recognize the Colors also. I got there something before noon and the day was nice but it was kinda hot so I would have to stop and drink some water occasionally. To do this I would slide the flag staff down in the PVC pipe and hold the ''tag line'' tied to the center of the flag pole to keep in check the flag for those sudden gusts of wind that happen by. I would wave the flag and then sit and rest my arms with the flag in the PVC pipe and drink water. I can not tell you how good it makes me feel to see people wave and salute the colors as they pass. The big trucks down on the innerstate just ''hang on the horns'' when they see the Colors. I was very proud and very happy and my day was going good but my arms just dont last like they use to doing this. (must be getting old I guess) When I stand and wave the colors I watch the peoples faces as they pass me on the bridge. Many smiles and high signs, many pretty girls waving and throwing kisses sometimes. One lady stopped and gave me two more bottles of really cold water and said ''Thank you for your service sir''. (how the heck did she know I had been a Sailor?) Things were going great, I was showing the colors and getting all kinds of recognition from it and really having a good time because I had taken a ''pain pill'' and my arms were hurting less and less and my legs were doin' good also.
It should be understoond that the bridge I was standing on has three lanes going north. Two lanes are for thru traffic and the extreme right lane is a turn lane that takes you down on I-40 East bound after you go around a clover leaf.
There were three cars easing over into the right turn lane and I noticed the last car kinda hanging back from the other two. He deliberately slowed down as he approached me. The first two cars waved and saluted the colors and the last guy that was ''hanging back'' gave me the finger …........ Yep, this punk shot me the rod and I read his lips as he said ''#@%K YOU and #@%K YOUR FLAG'' He did this while he was still about 15 feet in front of me and I know that is what he said. I immediately jammed the flag staff into the PVC pipe and went ballistic. I immediately flipped over into ''Sailor Language'' and in a very loud voice as he passed me with his window down I made reference to his heritage, his mother, his sister, his personal preferences in sexual partners his under developed sex organ, his propensity for offering candy to little boys and I invited him to pull over and I would teach him some manners. I did all this on one breath and never repeated myself in my tirade He went up and made his right turn for the clover leaf down to I-40 east bound. I watched him as he was going kinda slow so I stepped forward to be sure he could hear me down on the interstate and again went thru a selected grouping of ''Sailor Talk'' using it well and not repeating any phrases or combination of words and I was shaking my fist at this person all the while. He shot me the ''shaft'' again and said something back but a semi drowned it out. I was very much upset as I stood there leaning on the railing of the bridge. I turned around to retrieve my Colors and guess what …... Yep, a very large police officer was stand maybe a foot behind me, his cruiser in the turn lane with the blues flashing. OOOOOPS....
''Are you ok sir?''
''Uhhhhhhh, yep, just a little bit upset concerning a comment a guy made about my Flag sir''.
''You really need to control your voice sir, I heard you when I started across the bridge back at the light. Seems you were very angry at the man in the dark car....... Right?'' ''It has been a while since I have heard profanity like you were using toward him. Let me guess......... You were a Sailor because ''ground pounders'' dont know that variety of cuss words and ''fly boys'' will get spanked if they talk like that and ''jarheads'' dont know that many words and dont have the syntactic necessary for good sentence structure, so you must have been a Sailor''........''right''?????
''Am I in trouble officer?''
''Well, I could run you in for disorderly conduct or disturbing the peace or yelling more cuss words than I have ever heard yelled without you repeating yourself but I will let you off with a warning for this time if you promise not to do it again''..........

''Done and Done again officer. No more problems from this ''Old Salt'' sir.''

He left and I retrieved my flag and managed to hang on for about an hour more and then my pain pill wore out and I was running low on water and my legs were killing me. I got my ''stuff'' together and went back to the car and came home... While riding home I thought about what had happened on the bridge and I thanked God that I did not have ''Mr S&W'' with me when that clown insulted my Colors cause I might be typing in striped sunshine now.
Let us never forget 9/11. Let us never forget who did this awful thing to this great nation and NEVER FORGET that some can not be appeased regardless of out good intent.
Nuff said for now.... (I feel the ''delete button'' being hovered over)
========================================================================
NOTE FROM CJ... For an explanation the ''guy'' that shot me the rod was of ''middle eastern decent'' I could tell by his hair his beard and his clothing and his overall appearance and the smell of ''camel poop'' on his hands. this was not in the original post ...... be safe ....
In retrospect I guess I should have ''waited until I was not mad to make the post and I probably would not be in trouble now......cj..

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO CARE.....

This is a posting for anyone that might visit this blog and wonder what happened to Seajay the sailor man. here is the short version..

It seems that I have goofed up again on IRV2 and got booted till october 12 i think. I am not sure about the date but it is about then.
I have activated my account on RV.NET and am registered on there as SEAJAY sailor man if you want to amble over for a look around. I need something to keep my fingers busy while I am away for this time. I will not swear that they will reactivate my account on IRV2 ... time will tell on that ...
Until I see you again..... BE SAFE MY FRIENDS AND REMEMBER
God bless our troops and keep them safe.....
See you guys at National Rally if they will let me in ....lol....

Seajay the sailor man ...

Palma.... the toilet post

I read another story on her posted by a sailor that also went to the island of Palma. It is a small island in the Med off the coast of Spain and a darn good liberty port for sailors.

Palma is a small town on the island where the booze was cheap and the coffee was cheep and the ladies were very friendly to sailors if you happen to have a couple dollars that you wanted to spend carelessly. Over in the ''old part'' of the town the streets were about the width of our sidewalks and they were lined with buildings with doorways that opened directly out on the street. Ladies would stand in these door ways ''hawking'' their wears to the sailors that may go staggering by. It was kinda like a ''reverse auction'' with the product person and the ''bidder'' haggling over the price of said ''wears'' concerning the length of the rental period and exactly what is included in the terms of the rental agreement with ''offers'' and ''refusals'' on both sides until a satisfactory agreement is reached between both parties concerning the ''product'' offered for use to the buyer as it were. The price usually was around two dollars american. The fun really started when another prospective ''buyer'' stepped up and got into the bidding. I saw it happen to a buddy of mine and while he was ''haggling'' another sailor stepped up and became the second man in the ''haggle''. My friend turned to the second sailor and invited him to remove himself from the ''haggle'' or suffer the consequences of a ''bidding interruption process'' in which he was the party of the first part. It should be understood right now that both participants in said ''auction''(?) had been in more than one shot of the fine burbon available over there for about 25 cents a hit. The second sailor told my friend that he should go fly a kite and my friend smacked him in the mouth at which point the second sailors friend hit my friend and I hit the second sailor in the back of the head while he was helping his friend off the cobble stones in the street. The lady of the evening had disappeared back into the door where she was promoting her personal business and me and my friend went fist and skull with the two other sailors for several rounds. No one was ''winning'' because we were all drunk to the nines and the fight broke up when the shore patrol hit the whistles and we all broke and ran like rabbits. After several turns into allies and finally wound up hiding in a bar and we managed to get away from the Shore Patrol. Personally I believe they blew the whistles just to watch us run because I saw that happen again while we were there.
Anyhow, me and my buddy decided to split up because we knew they would be looking for two guys so he went one way and I went another.

You need to understand that the ''bars'' over there are slightly bigger than a broom closet most of the time. I wound up in a place called ''Bar Soul'' which was about 10 feet wide and about 35 feet long. It was lit by Christmas tree lites and the light from a juke box. It was mostly a long bar with stools and a couple tables in the back and one toilet...... I asked the bartender for the ''la trene'' and he pointed to the door in the back of the bar.
Understand this. The toilet consisted of three tiled walls with a water pipe on top and water dripping down the wall into a ditch that leads to a drain. There was also a hole about four inches in diameter in the middle of the tiled floor. That was it. No flushing, no paper, one small lite in the middle of the room and the ''smell'' was pretty rough. Anyhow, I ''went to the wall'' and was writing my name, rank and serial number using my bodily fluid discharge when I realized that another person had just walked into the room. I turned round and low and behold there was one of the bar girls squatting over the hole in the middle of the floor. HOLLY CAT STUFF.... This literally embarrassed the dickens out of me and I stopped half way thru writing my service number, buttoned up and hit the bricks out of there. The bar girl just laughed at me and said ''wait a minute sailor man''...... didnt happen.... I left.....

From then on, when I went into a bar the first thing I checked out was the bathroom to see if it had separate facilities …....
strange as it may seem a lot of the ''bar girls'' were very pretty. Long black hair, dark eyes and dark skin smooth as silk sometimes. Most of them carried ''Health Cards'' they would show you to show that they had been inspected by the health authority and that they were ''clean'' at the time of inspection.
Nuff said about this for now but I will tell you that Palma is one heck of a liberty port and any sailor or marine that has been there can tell you some sea stories that will make you ''drool''................

God bless this great nation and the men and women that defend it....

Seajay the sailor man ….

MY HEARTS AT SEA FOREVER

My Heart's at Sea Forever

Long ago I was a Sailor.
I sailed the Ocean blue.
I knew the bars in Singapore...
The coastline of Peru.

I knew well the sting of salt spray,
The taste of Spanish wine,
The beauty of the Orient...
Yes, all these things were mine.

But I wear a different hat now,
Jeans & T-shirts too.
My sailing days were long ago...
with that life I am through.

But somewhere deep inside of me...
The sailor lives there still.
He longs to go to sea again,
But knows he never will.

My love, my life, is here at home,
and I will leave her never.
Though mind and body stay ashore...
My heart's at sea forever.

Note to everyone.
I really wish this was mine.
I DID NOT WRITE THIS POEM BUT I SURE WISH I WOULD HAVE ..
I do not know the author of this piece

Seajay the sailor man ..

VISITORS ABOARD THE ''NORTON''

In another post I talked about being in Sweden for at least a week and I really think everyone fell in love at least several times and I personally lost about eight pounds while we were there. Case in point......

While we were there we had ''Welcome Visitors Aboard'' and the response was almost overwhelming. They put up a special gang way for the civies to come aboard the ship for a look around. We closed off restricted areas on the ship to limit the roaming around of the civies but there was still scads of them that came aboard. The cooks and bakers prepared all kind of sweet treats for the visitors including coffee, juice, co co and all the finery that the ship could come up with including ice cream (we had a ice cream machine on board)
It didnt take too long for the ladies to figure out that this was a good way to meet sailors. If we were between watches we could kinda stand around in the passage ways and prop against the bulkhead and sorta smile as they went by. Some would smile back and stop and talk. A few of them spoke good English but most just ''smiled''. We would escort them down to the mess hall and treat them to ''sweets''. Sometimes if they smiled just right you could take them on a special ''tour'' of the spaces that most did not get to go but you had to be very careful doing this because that ''special place'' may or may not be already occupied and busy.
In the radio gang we had several ''outlieing spaces'' that were ''closed down '' while we were in port because they were not in use. One of these spaces was radio six up in the secondary conning tower on the stern of the ship. Way back and way up six decks and not used in port...(for communications)........

Anyhow. You would roam around the ship with your ''visitor'' and kinda ease under the restriction rope and scurry up six decks to the secondary conning station for a good look around and to ''test the waters'' so to speak with the ''visitor'' and to see if you had a ''fair wind or foul'' with possibilities of a close encounter of the ''fun kind'' with said visitor. Most of the time it worked out well but the comforts were lacking as there was only a single blanket in radio six and the decks were steel. Remember, all is possible if you are a sailor with determination and you remembered to lock the door on the inside of radio six. We tried and tried to figure out how to get a mattress up there with out anyone noticing but it never worked out .
ENOUGH ABOUT THAT FOR NOW...

On a Navy ship you have things called ''Light Locks''..... This is a devise where you have two doors. One inside the ship and one on the ''outside'' of the ship. They functioned like this. When we ran ''dark ship'' both of these doors were closed and when you went outside the ship you went thru the inside door and closed it. To have enough light to see the other door or hatch there was a ''lo lite'' red light that gave just enough light for you to see how to get to the outside door and go out of the ship without spreading white light during the night and giving away the position of the ship at sea...
Usually when we were in port the inside door was latched in the open position. Here is the story I heard that caused a lot of restrictions as to ''visitors aboard the Norton''......

It was told to me that a senior officer was walking down a passage way (hall way) and noticed one of the ''inside light lock doors'' was closed. Hummmm? Seems he went up to the door and put his ear to the door and listened....... Hummmmmmmmm? Without warning he burst into the ''light lock'' and caught this sailor and a beautiful Swed lady in a very compromising position engaging in an activity best reserved for a more comfortable place. In her haste to re arrange her clothing to a more presentable face she managed to damage a portion of the sailors body in a manner that I will not reveal here. The sailor in turn leaped to a position of, shall we say ''attention'' , slipped on the steel deck and fell against the forward wall of the light lock with his ''yard arm'' fully exposed. This seemed to embarrass the officer as much or more as the couple and he quickly closed the door and stood in the passage way shouting orders to the sailor telling him that he was ''on report'' and to present himself as soon as he got his uniform back in ship shape order and to do so immediately. The sailor asked for a minute to compose himself that he may be presentable in a more ship shape manner and he would come out forthwith and face his punishment. The officer said Ok and waited in the passage way.. Time passed and nothing happened...... More time passed.... nothing.... finally the officer opened the inside door and found the lite lock EMPTY. Seems the sailor and the lady had sneaked out the outside door, she disappeared in the crowd and the sailor went down to his quarters and changed into his dungarees and went to join a clean up crew. The sailor figured that the officer was so busy looking elsewhere that he did not even notice the sailors face or anything about him except the beautiful lady arranging her clothing and the ''Yard Arm'' fully exposed as it were on the sailor.

They restricted visiting aboard the Norton from then on and it really cut down on all our fun and the officer never did recognize me...oops the sailor......
So it went in beautiful Stockholm in the land of the beautiful blonds that just loved sailors......

for all you ''Doubting Thomas's '' this is a true story as I remember it.

Lets all thank a military person for their service to this great nation.

Seajay the sailor man …..