When finally they came Home

Corporal Michael J. Crescenz

Corporal Michael J. Crescenz

Veterans Day 

November 11, 2013

As has been my habit here from time to time, allow me to honor the following individuals in recognition of Veterans Day 2013.  I use their stories in memory of all who have served.

My only expectation from this small gesture is for the reader to spend a few moments reflecting on the immensity of their sacrifice and the anguish of those who loved them.

*     *     *

William H. Pitsenbarger joined the U.S. Air Force after graduating high school in 1962.  He volunteered to become a pararescue specialist and arrived in Vietnam in August 1965.  On April 22, 1966 his unit (38th Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Squadron, Detachment 6) was sent to support elements of the Big Red One surrounded in the jungle near Saigon.

As Pitsenbarger’s HH-43 Huskie attempted to extract wounded soldiers from the triple canopy jungle battlefield, his crew observed ground troops having difficulty loading the wounded onto the litter hoists.  Pitsenbarger volunteered to be lowered to the ground to assist the ground troops.

William H. Pitsenbarger

Airman 1st Class William H. Pitsenbarger

As fighting intensified, the helos were driven off by ground fire and Pitsenbarger was forced to stay with the infantry as they fought through the night.  Not only did he tend to the wounded, he helped the ground troops fight on by running ammunition to where it was needed.  At some point he was mortally wounded while fighting beside the infantry.

Pitsenbarger was 21 years old when he was killed in action.  He was awarded the Medal of Honor on December 8, 2000.

*     *     *

SGT Dominick Licari, born on October 18, 1912, was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1942.  In 1944 his flight of three A-20G Havoc bombers went missing after a mission in northeastern New Guinea.

Sergeant Dominick Licari

Sargeant Dominick Licari

The wreckage of the plane which carried him and pilot 2nd Lt. Valorie Pollard was not located on the thick jungle mountainside into which they crashed until 1989.  It took three additional visits until 14 bone fragments were discovered in 2012 to finally identify his remains through DNA analysis.

His brother, Mort, always held out hope that his brother would be found and returned to the family’s cemetary plot during the 67 years he was away. Licari was scheduled to be interred at Mt. Olivet near Utica, NY.

*     *     *

The story of Michael J. Crescenz‘s childhood sounds a lot  like many of us who grew up in big cities.  A Roman Catholic education in the West Oak Lane section of Philadelphia and playing stickball, wall ball, wiffle ball, etc. with his five brothers from dawn to dusk.  Then off to Cardinal Dougherty High School and graduation in the era of the Vietnam War.

I was lucky.  I graduated from Father Judge High School (a rival school located in Northeast Philadelphia) in 1974.  The war was winding down; and an armistice was signed in the midst of my junior year.  There was no pressing need for service in the military, so off I went to college, a good job, and raising a family.

bildeMike Crescenz landed in in Vietnam in September 1968 as a rifleman in Alpha Company, Fourth Battalion, 31st Infantry, 196th Brigade, Americal Division.  Just two months later, on November 20, his unit walked into an ambush near Nui Chom, a 3000-foot high, thickly covered jungle redoubt laced with enemy machine gun bunkers near Da Nang.

His unit was pinned down with several men wounded on the point.  Crescenz grabbed an M-60 machine gun and charged the length of a football field to assault the bunkers.

His Medal of Honor citation reads in part:

Immediately, Cpl. Crescenz left the relative safety of his own position, seized a nearby machine gun and, with complete disregard for his safety, charged 100 meters up a slope toward the enemy’s bunkers which he effectively silenced, killing the 2 occupants of each. Undaunted by the withering machine gun fire around him, Cpl. Crescenz courageously moved forward toward a third bunker which he also succeeded in silencing, killing 2 more of the enemy and momentarily clearing the route of advance for his comrades. Suddenly, intense machine gun fire erupted from an unseen, camouflaged bunker. Realizing the danger to his fellow soldiers, Cpl. Crescenz disregarded the barrage of hostile fire directed at him and daringly advanced toward the position. Assaulting with his machine gun, Cpl. Crescenz was within 5 meters of the bunker when he was mortally wounded by the fire from the enemy machine gun. 

Michael Crescenz was 19 years old.  He was the only Philadelphian to earn the Medal of Honor for actions taken in the Vietnam War.

A bill is before Congress to name the Philadelphia Veterans  Medical Center in honor of Michael J. Crescenz.

*     *     *

Major Louis Guillermin

Major Louis Guillermin

This past October 7 Donna Stoyko was amazed at the turnout for a husband she had lost 45 years ago in a plane over Laos.

MAJ Louis Guillermin was a navigator on an A-26A aircraft on a night mission to disrupt supply routes along the Ho Chi Minh Trail.  His plane, flown by Lt. Col. Robert Pietsch, flying his last mission before moving to a desk job, was blown to pieces in an explosion.

Stoyko, who had married Louis just a year before, knew from those who were there that night that her husband would never be coming home.  Yet she had to wait those 45 years to lay him to rest.

Lt. Col. Robert Pietsch

Lt. Col. Robert Pietsch

Their plane wreckage was not found until 1994.  However recovery efforts had to wait until the area could be cleared of explosives.  When the site was eventually excavated they found a wristwatch, a strand of Gulliermin’s hair, and one long leg bone.  His dog tags were found in the soil beneath the wreckage.

When Stoyko returned to West Chester, PA last month to bury her first husband, she was grateful to see the turnout which included over 100 motorcycles in escort provided by the Chester County Vietnam Veterans of America, hundreds of American flags posted around the Oxford (PA) funeral home, and flag-draped fire trucks on every overpass along Route 1.

It was a far cry from the way many Vietnam veterans were greeted when they came home from a very unpopular war.

Please remember them and all veterans who served and are serving our country.

Cranky Man down!

Now that's fainting!

Now that’s fainting!

“Carol … Something’s wrong.”

She turned from watching the Phillies’ Cliff Lee on the mound, “What?”

“Something’s not right with me.”  And that quickly, I was out cold.

The next thing I remember is coming out of this fog, my head drooped slightly.  I’m freezing cold.  I sense I’m still at the ballgame; but I can’t figure out how it got so damn cold at Citizens Bank Park.

Ice bags … There are pounds of ice in bags on my neck and shoulders.

Uh oh …

Then the yelling started … “Mike!!  Mike!!  Can you hear me?!?”  Not just one voice either … a lot of them … No, not good.

My surroundings are under water; all these wavy figures are hovering over me.  People … lots of people … standing in the early stages of a Phillies game.

No, not good at all.

As things are become clearer, I try to find Carol.  The look on her face is a glaze of immense relief over deep concern.

Man, am I in trouble …

That fast and a Phillies game on a warm, humid September 11 turned into a six-hour medical ordeal.

The heat had nothing to do with it.  Neither did the one beer I barely touched.   I was feeling fine all day; had cut the grass in the mounting heat the previous evening with no problems.

We arrived just before the start of the game; and I was standing in the aisle minutes before for The National Anthem following the annual 9-11 remembrance.  My only problem at the time was this stabbing pain high on the right side of my ribcage towards my back.

This illustrates something about my thing.

This illustrates something about my thing.

The pain was a couple of days old, self-diagnosed as a pulled muscle …

(Hey, I spent six months pre-pre-med in college, ya know.)

… probably the result of moving boxes or bags of solar salt for the water softener.  It was intermittent and seemed random, but very sharp when it acted up.

For some reason on Wednesday night the pain was driving me nuts.  Couldn’t get comfortable in my seat.  Kept stretching and twisting my back which seemed to help a bit.  It was the worst the pain had been since it started several days ago.

Finally, I get situated in a position that didn’t provoke any spasms and settled down to watch the game.  For all of maybe 10 minutes …

As I’m sitting there, gazing towards the outfield, I suddenly get this weird feeling, a spell of dizziness I expect to pass quickly.  Only it doesn’t.  It starts getting heavier and heavier, as though someone had placed a wet bag of sand on my head.

I feel groggy, not nauseous … But something is definitely wrong.  My vision gets murky.

I start to panic a bit because I can’t figure out what’s going on.  What do I do?

Should I try to make it up to the concourse for help?  Do I tell Carol?  If I tell her, game over … rightfully … with swarming EMS teams and maybe even a medevac extraction from behind second base!

… And a chance to meet Chase and Jimmy!

So – of course – I decide to see if this will pass before I set off The Panic.  Wishful thinking – most times – only gets you so far.

All this took place in the span of maybe 60-90 seconds.

When I broke out into a cold sweat, I gave up the struggle to hide my oncoming Medical Attack (a professional medical term).  That’s when I turned to Carol and this blog post begins.

The episode was scary enough for me.  But I feel terrible for what I put Carol through.  She told me I was out of it, lips blue, face white, at one point convulsing, and unable to speak briefly when I did wake up …

… Minutes later apparently, and I remember not a thing from the moment I turned to her to waking up under all those bags of ice.

There ... That's better ...

There … That’s better …

This was one of those moments when I was glad I married a very beautiful, accomplished, and knowledgeable nurse!

Fortunately, I was still sitting down when the lights when out.  And after a preliminary evaluation at the Citizens Bank Park first-aid station and a more thorough going over at Abington Memorial Hospital’s ER, no obvious physical cause was found.

That’s a bit maddening though.  Not knowing the whats and whys, only a theory.

The predominant theory appears to be the passing of a kidney stone or some other blockage that caused the back pain (which has disappeared since Wednesday’s episode), and triggering something called a vasovagal reaction to the pain.

It’s a weird, somewhat embarrassing explanation that seems to fit the circumstances.  I had never heard of it, but every medical expert we have seen favors the theory.

Could have been a lot worse.

One lesson learned was it ain’t funny – apparently – to the spousal unit left to manage the care and maintenance of a cherished (might be a stretch here …) fainter, especially when there’s no readily available explanation.  Got in Big Trouble posting my little adventure on a favorite social media site in mid-evaluation.

Unknown-3She promptly dislocated my iPhone from my possession.

Lesson:  Never piss off a nurse!

I finish this with very high praise for the guest relations and first-aid personnel at Citizens Bank Park.  They were responsive, professional, and very understanding given the circumstances.  The Phillies guest staff did an excellent job!

Thanks to all!

Cranky Man’s Tips for Life

The following are tips, advice and admonitions which I have ..

a)  Found strategically useful,

b)  Tactically solid, or …

c)  Just sounded cool

They are deliberately vague, hopelessly cliché, and sufficiently applicable to just about any situation, so as to be totally worthless for most situations.  

But then there will be that one time you might wish you had these insightful thoughts at your finger tips …

  • Alaska-F-16s-for-documentAlways check your 6.  Never leave your wingman.
  • Never touch the poker pot until all the cards – including the Dead Hand – are face up on the table.
  • Your Ship – the one you’re waiting to “come in” – loaded with that once-in-a-lifetime stroke of Luck or your long-denied chance at comfortable Wealth will never arrive until you have little need for the Treasures you so hope will be included on the manifest.  Plan accordingly.
  • Time is a guideline (except for tee times and airlines).
  • If the Gift Horse smells like a pile of manure, you’re aren’t looking into it’s Mouth.
  • No one will ever say, “I told you so.”, unless they were right.
  • You should never need the undercoating, the extended warranty, or the Platinum Protection Plan.
  • images-1You can’t always get what you want.  But if you try sometime, well you might just find, you get what you need.
  • Right Turn on Red is not prefaced by Whenever You’re in the Mood …
  • When in the gym locker room, right-of-way always goes to the person with no cloths on.
  • If there’s the potential for tragic consequences, assume the worse and recalculate the Return-On-Stupidity.
  • Whenever trying to figure out the Mysteries of Life, it’s helpful to remember God has a weird sense of humor.
  • If it sounds “Too good to be true”, it is.
  • The ability to Listen is an undervalued skill.
  • The abilities to write – without spelling errors – and to speak – without “uhs, duhs or likes” – tend to influence people.
  • When the volcano is rumbling, the Earth shaking violently; and the water turning into sulfuric acid, you need not wait around for the Townhall Meeting providing you with the evacuation routes.  Get the hell out now!!
  • However, should you decide to wait for said Disaster Townhall Meeting, it’s entirely permissible to shoot the knucklehead who keeps asking the stupid questions, like “Do we have to wait for the end of this stupid meeting telling us how to evacuate; or can we leave now?”
  • There’s never a pony under all that manure.
  • Keeping the rubber side down ... (anthonylukephotography.blogspot.com)

    Keeping the rubber side down …
    (anthonylukephotography.blogspot.com)

    Keep the rubber side down.  The shiny side is decorative only.

  • Always keep your feet and your gunpowder dry.
  • Never make an important life decision until you absolutely must.  The circumstances will surely change as soon as you commit to an early course of action.
  • Offense wins games.  Defense wins Championships!
  • Invest heavily in weight loss companies in early December.
  • Politicians are only as good as their word, which is why you can never believe what they tell you.
  • Never answer the unasked question.
  • No one sends you anything of value for free.
  • Maximize your advantages by exploiting the soft spots in Zone Coverage before they switch to Man-on-Man.
  • Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.
  • Never let them see you sweat.
  • Let them see you as unpredictable Wild Card with a touch of Absolutely Nuts.
  • When they come to you and say, “We’re the Government; and we’re here to help”, RUN!
  • When the Government tells you, “Everything’s fine; there’s no reason for panic.”, RUN!
  • images-2The most dangerous words to come from your Significant Other’s mouth can be “Honey, I’ve been thinking …”
  • Never fight over the same ground twice.
  • You will always find it in The Last Place You Look!
  • Flexibility and Adaptation are the keys to Survival.
  • Before you hit the “Send” button, re-read your message; consider your audience; and assume not a single person has a sense of humor.
  • The Truth?!?  You can’t handle the Truth!

Too soon for Monsoon?

rain2One thing to be said for living in the Mid-Atlantic states, if you hate the weather just wait a bit.  It will change.

This year Nature has bestowed upon us a Fifth Season!  The season of the Monsoon!

Now, I like a little variety in life, so the new season – though a bit overbearing with the flash floods, the swamped cars, the fast water rescues – is a nice novelty.

Horsham Road, 6:30 PM this evening

What your after-work commute might have looked like Friday evening

I would enjoy Monsoon Season much, much more had they not completely skipped over the mai-tais-on-the-beach-and-native-girls-in-grass-skirts part of tropical seasonings.

Where's my mai tai?!?

Where’s my mai tai?!?

Of course it could be a lot worse.  It could be January!!

1978-Blizzard-Makes-a-Comeback-This-Time-It-s-Called-Nemo

Birthday ode to a Little Bro

Pat Shortall: Pure ball striker

Sweet-swingin’ golf retiree

Sing along to the tune from Monty Python’s “He’s a Lumberjack“!

Canadian Mounties should be in full dress uniform.

.

.

.

.

Pat’s a ‘Lil Bro, and he’s OK

Though 6 foot 2, a Little Brother anyway.

(Repeat refrain)

He’s retired now, doesn’t work very hard,

Facebook posts when he cleans his car!

Plays golf throughout the South of Cal;

More posts when he’s eats with his favorite gal!

(Repeat refrain and stanza)

He likes to BBQ, has his own smokehouse,

Criss-crosses the country with his enabling spouse.

On some days he goes a gyming

And drinks Arnold Palmer teas!

(Repeat stanza and refrain)

Home Opening Day; he laments his station

So far away from the Phillies Nation.

When he gets to cheer them at the Dodgers’ place,

He pleasures in annoying the local fan base!

(Repeat etc., etc.)

Yes, Pat’s a special Brother and he’s damn OK,

And we wouldn’t want it any other way!

Instead of sending belated Birthday cards,

 I’m a quick-thinking, though defective bard!

(Etc. Etc. …) 

Happy Birthday, Pat!

Blue & Gold – Notre Dame Fighting Irish

Orange – Philadelphia Flyers

Red – Philadelphia Phillies

Green – Philadelphia Eagles

Confessions of an Irish-American

irish-landscape-400x600

From Cashel Rock Castle, South Tipperary, Ireland  (Photo by Mark Reinfeld)

May your blessings outnumber

The Shamrocks that grow.

And may trouble avoid you

Wherever you go.

  • One of my fondest memories are my father’s half-serious attempts to convince us that he emigrated directly from the Emerald Isle – braving wild seas and certain death – as but a wee lad.

Unfortunately we kiddies eventually grew wise as we grew older.  Dad could never keep his facts straight, and at various retellings his age during his harrowing crossing of the briny deep was 8,12,10, 6 or 4.

Joe Shortall (second from left, front row) during World War II

Joe Shortall (front row, second from left) during World War II

He had The Gift of the Blarney, he did.

His emigration tale became a running joke at the dinner table whenever he delightfully trotted it out.  “What age were you again?”, was the challenge we would toss his way.  Yet it never once seemed to douse Dad’s enthusiasm for the story.

May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.

  •  Irish soda bread is best eaten several days after baking, and only if left sitting on the kitchen counter protected by nothing more than a draped cloth towel.  (I really miss those, Mom!)

 If you’re enough lucky to be Irish…

You’re lucky enough! 

  • I have never been to a St. Patty’s Day parade.
  • I have yet to tread upon The Ould Sod myself.  Someday maybe …
  • I hate boiled cabbage!  I possess no love for corned beef.

As you slide down the banisters of life,

May the splinters never point the wrong way. 

  • imagesFor years I questioned my Irish ancestry, in part because our surname sounded so unlike the O’Briens/Murphys/O’Neils that were considered of typical Irish heritage.

Until one Saturday afternoon watching The Wide World of Sports, we witnessed the Irish amateur boxing team competing against the U.S. squad.  There was an Irish boxer who shared our last name.  He was promptly pummeled by his American counterpart.

Later a friend visiting The Ould Sod on vacation brought back a picture of an appliance store in Dublin that also shared our last name.

  • I have never had a green beer.  Never desired to have one!
  • Tonight, I will search my cable and On Demand offerings in an attempt to watch John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara in The Quiet Man, by far the best Irish movie ever made.  Irish countryside, romance, and a lengthy bare-knuckle fight that any Wayne fan would love!

tumblr_lsmldwaXhv1qcyasp

And Maureen O’Hara ain’t too hard on the eyes either!

  • One of the best books I’ve ever read was Leon UrisTrinity, the story of Ireland’s tragic struggle for independence from Britain and the Protestant-Catholic wars.  If you haven’t had the chance, you should read it.

May the lilt of Irish laughter lighten every load.

May the mist of Irish magic shorten every road.

  And may all your friends remember all the favours you are owed!     

This post dedicated to a couple of great Irish parents!

This post dedicated to a couple of great Irish parents!

   

Diet by App (March 4)

What have you lost for me lately?  3.5 lb. adult desert cottontail

What have you lost for me lately? 3.5 lb. adult desert cottontail

More progress!

Down to 232.6 this morning, which translates to a 3.4 pound loss so far.  So we are roughly on track for my one-and-a-half pound a week target!

Guys and their Games

I have come to realize that part of my willingness to stay Honest in the way I use the Lose It! app is my philosophy about cheating in golf.  As a golfer, I always had the philosophy that whenever you outright cheat at keeping score, the only person you are really fooling is Yourself.

Don’t get me wrong.  Usually when we play, we don’t play entirely by the Royal and Ancient/PGA/USGA Rules. Afterall, we’re – almost all – still very part-time players and fulltime hackers.  So we make little concessions to our Playing Abilities, in order to make the Game reasonably fun and not too much a hair-pulling exercise in frustration.  It simply keeps us coming back, instead of chucking the sticks into the nearest estuary.

Of course, if one of us starts out with an honest 2-over after four holes, the microscopes do come out.  As they should …

My point is, when it comes down to it, we know what an honest score looks like if we know the player.  So when someone tells us they bogied the 8th, when we saw them under the bushy evergreen laying 3, they aren’t fooling anyone but themselves!

But I digress …

I have found that I’m much more likely to lie to myself with that late-night binge or the sleight-of-hand pass over the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in the fridge if I’m not Keeping Score!  But put a scorecard in my hand, be it from Belle Vista Golf Course in Gilbertsville or a seemingly innocuous diet app on my iPhone, I seem compelled to be a Goody Two Strokes!

Whatever … Golf-type guilt seems to work.

Lessons Learned

Still having problems with the snacking, even when being an Honest (Ben) Hogan.  And while looking for helpful alternatives, I got my self addicted to Frosted Mini Wheats!  With only 189 calories for a serving of 21 pieces, it seemed like a win-win, until I tried stopping at 21.  Not easy at all … Probably has something to do with the sweet, hint-of-salt combination.

On the good side, try snacking on kettle corn.  Popcorn Indiana brand Gourmet Kettlecorn is just 130 calories for a 2-cup serving size.  You still might face the problem of stopping at one serving; but if you slide past the third-base coach’s stop sign, you can still keep away from a really big number.  And you might be able to find the really big bag at Sam’s Club!

vile weed

vile weed

Another thing I have learned is that there are good diet iced teas out there.  Being a big ice tea drinker, finding an acceptable switch was tough.  Hated Lipton’s version when I tried it; but Turkey Hill makes several good diet alternatives including their regular Diet Iced Tea and their Diet Green Tea.

And finally, my spousal unit has been very supportive in the diet effort, even surprising me one night last week with a Lobster dinner!  I like steamed broccoli; but I swear, you have to bathe cauliflower in cheese or chocolate sauce to make that vile weed enjoyable.