Rock and Roll trivia for $1000 Alex

This may even qualify as a Daily Double question.

The Jacksonville-based band was formed in 1966 by a group of high school students — famously, it took its name from a physical education teacher they disliked, Leonard Skinner. Powell joined the group in 1970 and became its keyboardist in 1972, the year before they released their first album, “Pronounced leh-nerd skin-nerd.”

It became one of the South’s most popular rock groups, and gained national fame with such hits as “Free Bird,” “What’s Your Name” and especially “Sweet Home Alabama,” which reached the top 10 on the charts in 1974. The band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2006.

It happened 50+ years ago

I would like to share the following with you. It is from a friend of mine, who is also a pilot. As previously mentioned, I consulted him when I had an issue with the way the new media was reporting the Airbus in the Hudson incident. Enjoy!

The recent US Air Airbus 320 that ditched in the Hudson River was the first commercial jet to successfully ditch without any fatalities. The news media continues to say that it was the first successful ditching without any fatalities. As Pan Amers, we know that is not true! If you read the account of Captain Dick Ogg's ditching, as I remember a Chinese lady twisted her ankle getting in a raft but there were no fatalities. Also, a Boeing - 314 ditched in mid Pacific November 1945. Even though it was a seaplane, it had two engines shut down and was forced to land and had no fatalities.

Monday, Oct. 29, 1956

The Ditching

Pan American Stratocruiser Flight 943 winged smoothly through the night sky, confident in its aloneness, all but oblivious to the black Pacific four miles below. It was 3:20 a.m., and inside the cabin, each of the 31 passengers sought sleep according to his station-first-class passengers in berths, tourist passengers scrunched up in reclining seats. Suddenly a shrieking squeal drowned the silence, and the airplane swooped roughly. The passengers bolted awake. "Ladies and gentlemen," crackled the cabin loudspeaker, "this is Captain Ogg. We have an emergency. Our No.1 engine is uncontrolled. A ditching at sea is likely. We have a Coast Guard cutter nearby that is able to render assistance. There is no cause for alarm."

Quietly, two stewardesses and a purser went to work, pointed out the escape hatches, explained the ditching procedure (fasten safety belts securely, rest head on pillow on the knees, cross wrists behind legs, grasp each ankle from the front). Passengers discarded their shoes (the women took off stockings so they would not slip if they had to walk on a wing), got rid of sharp objects (e.g., fountain pens, tie clasps), shouldered their way into life jackets. One woman tore the crucifix from her rosary, kept the beads.

In the cockpit, too, there was calm. Then six minutes after the trouble began, another engine-No. 4-choked to a stop. With both outboard engines out of commission, Captain Ogg knew for certain now that he could not make the 1,000 miles to San Francisco -that he would have to ditch. Rather than dump gas and risk a night landing, he decided to wait till daylight and let the plane exhaust its heavy fuel load. He so notified the Coast Guard weather-watch cutter, Pontchartrain, some comfortable ten miles to the west. Pontchartrain's skipper, Commander William K. Earle, radioed the best course (330°) for ditching into the running swell, and the time of sunrise (7:22 a.m.). Captain Ogg easily homed on the Pontchartrain, managed to hold his altitude at 2,000 ft. while he circled her.

During the long wait for daylight, he switched the seat-belt sign off, told his passengers to light their cigarettes, relax. The conditions for ditching, he assured them, were "ideal." The water temperature was 74°, the sea calm.

They waited in silence. Three passengers dozed. A stewardess jokingly offered to pass out the magazines. A passenger wanted to know when breakfast would be served. Everybody laughed.

Now it was daylight. At 8:04 a.m. Ogg announced: ten minutes. Then, one minute. The passengers braced. Ogg carefully aimed the big Boeing Stratocruiser for a strip of white fire-fighting foam that Pontchartrain had laid to aid the pilot's depth perception. He kissed the plane onto the hard waves, touching gently at first. Then it bounced hard, whipped around violently as an engine tore loose, snapped in two. Quickly the crew discharged and inflated the life rafts. The passengers waded cautiously through the cabin rubble, hopped into the rafts. Within ten minutes after the Stratocruiser struck water Pontchar train's small boats had picked up all survivors-only five were slightly injured-and deposited them, snuggled into blankets, aboard the cutter. Eleven minutes later, what was left of the Stratocruiser disappeared in the foam.

How do you know?

How do you know that you're doing an ok job as a parent? There may be times when your child is with an adult other than yourself. When the adult brings your child back they may take a moment to tell you how well behaved your child was and that they're welcome any time. At this moment you should just nod your head and respond with a polite thank you...

Sarah came home from school today and was not very happy. She wouldn't talk to me and was very withdrawn. She did however speak to her father. Today Sarah stood up for what was right and reported two of her friends who where were cheating on a test.

This wasn't an easy thing to do for a few reasons. First the girls were her friends, second - she had a substitute teacher which meant she had to tell her story twice, first to the teacher and then again in the principal's office. Last, which is probably going to be the most difficult, she has to continue going to school and risk ridicule from those who don't agree with what she did.

I'm proud of Sarah, and I've told her that I am proud of her. What she did could not have been easy especially in the fifth grade, but what she did was the right thing and one never has to apologize for that.

It's Never Too Late...

To Write

Your stories are like no other.
Your experience.
Your view.
Your hopes, losses, triumphs.
Are unique.
Record them.
Invent them.
Write them.

"You can only write about what bits you"
Tom Stoppard

Don't ever doubt the power of the pen. You don't have to look any farther than the journalists covering the plane that ended up in the Hudson River. When the incident was breaking news, you couldn't help but hear about the plane crash. One hundred and fifty plus people, and there wasn't information on the extent of injuries.

This was meant to keep you waiting for the details. Once it was stated that everyone was able to disembark the plane with minimal injuries, I was free to become quite annoyed with the media coverage. The plane didn't crash, the plane didn't have to make a crash landing. The plane lost power and the pilot skillfully made an emergency landing in the Hudson River.

So as not to misstep I consulted with a pilot. I asked him if he was as frustrated with the reporting as I was. He was in fact as bothered by the adjectives as I was. Being a pilot he was thrilled to see that Sully was a "gray beard" and skirted the 'Hero' nomenclature because he was just doing his job. I will maintain that Sully was a hero, as to most civilians, he was.

Writing though, shouldn't stop there. Writing is how history is passed down. The dawn of the electronic age has created a lot of writers...Google BLOG for many examples. There are wonderful blogs out there, fun to read - interesting - educational.

I though, would like to see more pen on the paper writing. Children believe the five miles up hill both ways barefoot in the driving snow for only so long. Write down what school was really like for you when you were your grandchild's age. Write down cute stories that you want to remember and pass on.

Anything written on paper is real. It's tangible, it's comforting - if you want to connect with someone, get an old letter out that they sent you...read it and remember. Of all the things my parents have given me, and there are many - what I cherish most is the letters and cards that they gave me.

My father wrote how it was a good thing that the train they were on, the Orient Express, was indeed an express as it wasn't real spacious. Or how they were getting tired of Spanish food because (close your ears Rachel Ray) all the food was cooked in Olive Oil.

So, I offer the challenge, write it in pen on paper. Document the people, places and things that made you who you are. It's the stories on paper that your family will cherish - that they will pull out after you're gone to seek advice or comfort. Put aside the keyboard and do it the old fashion way!

It's Never Too Late...

to speak in public

At fist it's daunting.
But take it in steps.
First, know your subject.
(This is the essential element.)
Then, order your thoughts.
Practice -
first alone, then before friends.
If you're interested in what you have to say,
chances are so will your audience.

"A bold heart is half the battle"
Proverb

In high school, more years ago than I want to admit, Speech was a required class. Mrs. Wampler taught this dreaded class. In speech class you had to pick a subject, write the speech and then horrors of horrors - stand in front of the class and present your speech. You could use index cards to write speaking points, but not your whole text. She wanted us to know what we were going to say and actually orate - not read.

It was awful and Mrs. Wampler was mean. She actually graded us on our speeches. I realize that I should have expected a grade but wasn't standing in front of my peers enough? I knew what to do, I would have mom save me. Mom would march right into my high school and get me out of this class. Mom's have more pull than the Board of Education that made this class a requirement, doesn't she?

I don't remember the details and how they transpired, nor do I remember my mother telling me that she wasn't able to extract me from a graduation requirement. What I do remember is taking Speech 2 in my sophomore year. Speech 2 is the advanced speech class, not the original speech class the second time. Mrs. Wampler was once again my teacher and we had a lot of fun in that class.

What I took away from those experiences was the ability to speak in front of people. Small groups or large, it didn't really matter. Mrs. Wampler taught us to be comfortable speaking prepared, or to create an ad hoc speech based on a subject pulled from a hat.

I had a lot of teachers thoughout my education, but very few stand out like Mrs. Wampler. Ironically I think there must have been a lot of mothers complaining like my mom. I know this because I helped my daughter write her first speech. She was in kindergarten.

When they grow...

They grow fast.  Sarah, my 11 year old daughter has created her own blog.

 Sarah's Blog

While having her eyes checked at school one of her classmates told her about blogging.  In the 20 minutes after she got home, she had set up and started customizing her own blog. 

 

The irony of all this is, she probably wouldn't know how to use a typewriter, but she can now blog...Enjoy!

 

It's Never Too Late...

To Say Thank You

It takes so little.

Yet it means so much.

Make the effort.

Mean it.

Say it generously.

It lifts spirits.

It maintains friendships.

And seals love.

"Who gives not thanks to men, gives not thanks to God."

Arab proverb

Tyler, thank you for the wonderful book. I hope that you enjoy reading my selections.

Miss Cindi

It's Never Too Late...

Every Sunday I spend some of my time teaching little minds about life, love and religion.  One of my students, Tyler gave me a Christmas gift today, a relatively small book with a big message - It's never too late to change your life. 

 

Periodically I will share something I found in this book.  This book is written by Patrick Linsay - One of Australia's leading nonfiction authors.  From the book jacket - The aim is to grow rather than stagnate, to liberate ourselves rather than inhabit our limitations.  The result can be a new you - because it's never too late.

 

I hope you enjoy my selections.

 

Cindi

My Friend, My Companion, My Jake

April of 1995 I went to the Columbus Humane Society and saw a little fur bundle hiding in the back of his crate.  Because he was a puppy, he shared his crate with another puppy.  There were at least four puppies available for adoption that day.  I pulled Jake out of his crate and never put him down. 

 

CAHS named the puppy Jake. my husband named my daughter Sarah and my father named my son Sean.  This is somewhat important to the story as I was able to name my kitten.  Her name was Kitty, someone didn't want me living with a Puppy, Daughter and Son.

 

I digressed.  Jake lived quite the charmed life, to say he was loved by all who met him is quite the understatement.  I knew at the time that many children were afraid of large dogs, because of this, I wanted to have a well behaved dog.  This is where Mark Frederick entered our lives.  Mark came to the house twice a month to train Jake and me.  We learned how to sit, stay and come on command.  He taught us about the cruel collar and the shock collar.  PETA would have a fit, but I had Perfect Dog.  My father bestowed that title upon Jake when we were at my parents house one day. 

 

So we're at mom and dads.  Jake sits, Jake stays, Jake comes and he lays down.  The Perfect Dog moniker came when I put Jake in a down/stay.  He wasn't perfect because he stayed there for hours on end.  You see Jake became Perfect Dog when he was able to crawl his way from the den to the kitchen without ever standing up.  He had stayed down, which is what I had asked of him, but like any young child, he was able to make his way to where he really wanted to be without breaking the down OR stay command.

 

It didn't take Jake long to capture the hearts of many humans, including my friend Debi.  Debi and I met under odd circumstances, but we've remained as close as siblings.  Of course, what's sibling A if she doesn't move in on sibling B.  Debi was looking for a home in the Dublin area, so when she was looking at a home with a fenced yard and doggie door, who do you think helped persuade her to purchase the home?  Jake of course!!

 

What is a house with a kennel area and a doggy door without a live in dog?  To hear Jake tell it - one downright boring doggy daycare.  So, Jake began the hunt for Ms. Perfect Dog.  He found her when he conversed with Bark Mark (his trainer).  Seems as though there was a young lady needing a new home.  Her name was Kia and she was ready to be dropped on Debi's doorstep for her birthday. 

 

Actually Kia was presented to Debi at Neighbors, but that's a whole 'nother chapter and not quite appropriate for right now.  Jake and Kia spent many days together.  Jake would go to Doggy Daycare, to spend the day romping and playing. 

 

Jake also earned another of his nicknames while at Kia's during the day.  Seems as the holes started appearing, Jake continued to get blamed for them.  It didn't matter that Jake's nails were covered in caked on dirt, he continued to try to blame it on Kia, with no success, she always gave him up. 

 

Jake was so good at excavating that it took an entire bag of Quick Crete to fill in one of his holes.  This was the one that was going under Debi's deck.  She had it filled in to stop Jake's forward progress, in fear that there may be something buried under the deck that we may not want to see.

 

April 1995 I brought Jake home in my purse, his first visit to the vet he weighed 1.5 pounds. 

 

Tomorrow, January 2, 2009, Jake will visit Dr. Riggs for the last time, as I send him to the Rainbow Bridge to meet up with those who went before him and to wait for those who will be joining him later.