Ring Bells on Time

Ring Bells on Time

I was an Electronics Technician Second Class (ET2) on board the USS Mount Vernon (LSD-25). As a shipboard sailor, I was assigned to a duty section and I generally stood watch every third day when in port. My watch was the Quarterdeck. At this station was the Officer of the Deck (OOD), the Petty Officer of the Watch (POOW), and a Rover. The Quarterdeck was an area where people may embark or depart the ship. Generally, all coming aboard requested to come aboard from the OOD, then waited until a salute is returned to them. The same is true when disembarking from the ship. When therre was a  high amount of traffic, or when the OOD was indisposed, the POOW performed this function. The Rover was able to perform security sweeps of the ship, looking for unusual activity. The Quarterdeck was relieved every six hours.

One of the required activities of the POOW was to ring bells. Bells were struck from 6 am (reveille) to 10 pm (taps) local time of the port where the ship was berthed. The number one responsibility of the POOW was to ring bells: ring them correctly, and ring them on time. The correctly part was straight forward – every four hours the cycle repeated – two bells for the first hour, four bells for the second, six bells for the third and eight bells for the fourth. Half hours were marked by an additional bell. If standing the mid-watch (2 to 8 am), I would ring four bells at 6 am and recite the "reveille" call. At 6:30, I would ring five bells (four plus one) and six bells at 7 am. 7:30 was seven bells, 8 was eight bells. When I stood the day watch, at 8:30 the cycle would start again with one bell, then two at nine, etcetera.

Sometimes the Quarterdeck would have been very busy, with contractors, family, port services, and crew all wanting a salute or a sign-off on divers, fuel, ordinance, or any number of things. Regardless of the mayhem and its degree, the Petty Officer of the Watch showed his composure by ringing bells on time.

I have translated this over to my life, though it has taken me a number of years to realize the lesson of ringing bells on time.When I have felt overwhelmed, I ask God for a little help, and he reminds me of my time on the Quarterdeck and ringing bells on time. When I feel frustrated with myself, I ask God for a little help, and he again reminds me of the USS Mt. Vernon and ringing bells on time. When I want to fix all the wrongs, straighten them, and make them right, I ask God for a little help, and he reminds me of that little brass bell being broadcast throughout the ship over the ship's speaker system, the 1MC.

Though the ringing of bells seemed a bit antiquated, there was a purpose to it. Bells improperly struck or not rung on time signaled that the Quarterdeck was potentially breached. Another officer, the Command Duty Officer (CDO) would listen for the striking of bells and sound the alarm if they were erroneous, with the potential effect of having thirty unannounced sailors, armed with shotguns and pistols, show up at the Quarterdeck.

So, if you are impatient, or inundated, or incapable to cope with the obstacles of today, tomorrow, or even yesterday, just ring bells on time. If you slip and folks come to your aid, let them help you, make you stronger, and provide you the courage so that you may always ring the bells in your life on time.

Steve Scheider, ET1, retired after 8 years

Ticket to Mars

Yeah, I enjoy dreaming about space. I once wanted to be an astronaut, though that ship has sailed long ago for me. It was one of the reasons that I found nuclear propulsion and electrical generation so fascinating. At the time of the 1980s, solar arrays and nuclear fission were the best choices for space travel. So, I became a Navy Nuclear Reactor Operator and eventually sat in the RO seat on USS Haddock (SSN-621). When you are on a submarine, engrossed in the details of the gauges, readouts, and chatter around you, you can imagine travelling through space the same way, though I don't recall "field day" on the Enterprise or during any of the space shuttle missions. "Field day" is a Navy term for clean anything that doesn't walk or talk, which we did at least once every three days. The days are altered on a sub - instead of the "normal" 24 hour schedule, subs use 18 hours. The routine goes: watch for six hours, study/recreate/field day for six hours, sleep for six hours. Every block of 72 hours repeated, except during trials and ORSE. Between each six hour block was mess, which is sailor slang for a meal.
Sleeping on the sub was an experience best forgotten. Since I was junior, I wasn't provided a bunk of my own. Instead, I shared a bunk with two other junior souls, each of us waking the next to go on watch when it was our turn to sleep. The term used for this is "hot racking." Since you had to shower, shave, dress, and eat before going on watch, and the field day exercise and mess after that all ate into the time that you had allocated for sleep, leaving me with just over four hours of sleep per 18 hour cycle. If drills were being conducted, the sleep that you got was far less than that. Often, this brought tempers to boil, but there's no place for anger on a sub. You have to count on every person on board to be able to do their job and potentially save your life. So, we saved it for when we were in port.
I recall that we once docked on the pier where the USS Dixon, a sub tender, was docked with its stern to the end of the pier. We had just undergone a week of running on the diesel engine, with all that delicious smell, constant droning, and bobbing like a cork because of some equipment failure and no one on board had any real sleep. A machinist mate friend climbed out to take his walk to barracks, inhaling the freshest air that he had taken in for quite a while, when a junior officer said to him, "we salute officers in my Navy, son." My friend decked him and knocked him out cold with one punch. The machinist mate was later verbally reprimanded and forced to apologize to the officer he assaulted, but the officer was cautioned that he would find himself on a submarine if he demeaned another enlisted man.

Steve seasoning

This is a recipe for a dry seasoning to sprinkle over a shrimp and veggie skewer, though my daughter will argue that it's great on everything.

Everything is in teaspoons.

5           Dill Weed
1  1/2    Cayenne Pepper
1  1/2    Marjoram
1           Basil
1/2        Paprika
1/2        Mustard Powder
if no celery on skewers:
1/2        Celery Seed

Use a fork to combine the ingredients.  The dill should have an orange
luster to it.

Please be aware that 2 1/2 tsp of Cayenne is way hot (sweaty forehead,
etc.).  The Marjoram dulls the bite of the cayenne.  The mustard powder kicks
off the bite of the cayenne.  The paprika is a staying thing... how long you
taste the flavor.

Armistice Day

November 11, 2018, marks the centennial of Armistice Day. That day ended World War One, dubbed "the war to end war," and the armistice led to the Treaty of Versailles in 1919. The war claimed nine million deaths to combatants and an estimated seven million deaths to civilians. These numbers are blurred because the 1918 Influenza Epidemic has been estimated to have taken the lives of fifty to one hundred million people worldwide.

The fighting pitted the Triple Entente (Britian, France, Russia) against the Triple Alliance (Germany, Austria-Hungarian, Italy). The war began with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary on June 28, 1914 by Gavrilo Princip in Sarajevo, Bosnia. Historian A. J. P. Taylor tells of the event:

"[Sophie] could never share [Franz Ferdinand's] rank ... could never share his splendours, could never even sit by his side on any public occasion. There was one loophole ... his wife could enjoy the recognition of his rank when he was acting in a military capacity. Hence, he decided, in 1914, to inspect the army in Bosnia. There, at its capital Sarajevo, the Archduke and his wife could ride in an open carriage side by side ... Thus, for love, did the Archduke go to his death."

The Archduke and his wife were both shot in an automobile, on the return journey from the Town Hall. In total, there were six co-assassins, and Gavrilo Princip delivered the fatal shot. The assassination led to posturing which led to various declarations of war. The crew of assassins were attempting to fraction part of Austria-Hungary into Yugoslavia. Trench warfare and the genocides ensued. At least 16 million people died as a direct result. All for the want of Nationalism and the love of a lady.

"The war to end war." I wish H. G. Wells' words were a truth. Instead, over 60 million died in World War Two; six million in the Russian Civil War; nine million in the Chinese Civil War; 22 million in the Second Sino-Japanese War; over a million in the Korean War; over a million in the Vietnam War; over a million in the Nigerian Civil War; three million in the Bangladesh Liberation War; over a million in the current War in Afghanistan; over a million in the Soviet-Afghan War; over a million in the Second Sudanese Civil War; three million in the Second Congo War.

We must stop killing one another. Nothing positive comes from war. Another dreamer once wrote, "Imagine all the people living life in peace..." I dream that John Lennon's words will come true one day – and that we find "the war to end war."

Ribbons

I have MS. Let me state that again. I have Multiple Sclerosis. I learned that fact on May 15th this year, two days before my 61st birthday, four days before my wife's birthday, and six days before becoming a great-grandfather. Yes, a great-grandfather. Hard to imagine that I've lived long enough to be a great-grandfather. Yet, I anticipate every breath that I can take, the sweet taste of clean air after a rain, because last year, in July, I was told that I have COPD. I've used oxygen at night ever since and all day some days, if my blood O2 is too low. That came on the wake of my heart attack in February of that same year. Two years before, I was diagnosed with Macular Degeneration in both eyes.

This gives me two oranges, a red, and a purple. Odd things, really, these ribbons; they are meant to raise awareness of a disease, though they seem to be a collection for the aged. My two orange ones are MS and COPD. Heart Disease is the red one and the purple is Mac Degen. I recall the Tony Orlando song that rekindled the ribbons, "Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'round the Old Oak Tree." The yellow ribbon represented a welcoming for those in the military, or more generally, anyone that had been away for a long time. Once, my brother and his wife put yellow ribbons all through their Japanese Maple in their front yard when I came to visit. I had been gone a long time - far too long - and I had been in the Navy, so the ribbons were very appropriate.

So, that adds a yellow to the mix. I mentioned the Navy, and I collected medals and ribbons while I was there, as well. One Navy Overseas Deployment ribbon, two Sea Service ribbons, a Good Conduct Medal, a Navy Meritorious Unit Commendation ribbon, and a Navy Achievement Medal. More and more - ribbons.

I've not had the pleasure of being awarded a blue ribbon for first place, and I don't think that I have that aspiration any more. I would like, someday, though, to tell my great-grandson about these ribbons and the chill of south Korea in the winter and the warmth of camaraderie. The cold fear of a heart attack and the warm knowledge of having MS. Yes, I have MS, and I have had it most of my life, and now that I know that I understand why I've always been clumsy and uncoordinated. Why I've hit more wall corners than I've missed. Why I need to lean against the shower wall and why holding my hands steady is an impossibility.

I hope that he likes my stories, too.

-- Steve Scheider, 2018

Misc Links

Strategic Services, "Simple Sabotage Field Manual", 1944
Brooke, Rupert, "The Great Lover"
Munroe, Randall, "Is It Worth the Time"

Feedburner RSS Feed for this blog: http://feeds.feedburner.com/thereexists

_, Wikipedia, "The List of Fallacies"
_, Wikipedia, "Consistency Model"

Davidson, Michael W., Molecular Expressions: Structure and Function of Cells and Viruses, Florida State University, Nov. 13, 2015.

Claude E. Shannon, an oral history conducted in 1982 by Robert Price. IEEE History Center, Piscataway, NJ, USA.

10 Feb 2017

I almost died on 10 Feb. As part of code.org, I was a guest speaker for two classes at Academy of the Holy Names in Tampa. As I presented my life story during the first class, I noticed that I was sweating profusely. Flop sweat? I never had flop sweat, but this was epic. I pulled a Kleenex from my pocket and wiped my brow. Soon, my chest felt tight - like when you have a burp that just won't go away. Except I couldn't burp, not even discretely. Breathing became an effort. Then my hands became like ice and the tips had the numb "pins and needles" feeling. The backs of my arms were aching with every expression I waived. I had trouble focusing on the students, but I attributed it to mars on my glasses. Eventually, the first class ended and I excused myself to the bathroom. I tried to burp, but nothing happened. I tried to pass gas, but that didn't help, either. The tightness in my chest felt like someone was behind me tightening a belt across my chest. Is this a heart attack, I wondered.
I addressed the second class for an hour, but the sweat, arm pains, numbness, and chest pain became a bit much. I was having trouble reeling in my sentences so my thoughts were not so rambling. I asked the class to show me what they had been working on. Soon, I tasted a metallic disgusting taste in my mouth. After fifteen minutes, I excused myself and went to my car. I unbuttoned my crisp white shirt once I was in the car and started it up, cranking the air conditioning to high.
I drove down Bayshore and made the right onto Gandy with the full intent of returning to work, as I had promised my boss. As I waited for a light at Manhattan, I realized that I needed to get home. I was very sick and I needed my wife to help me. So, the lights went my way and I crossed Gandy Bridge, then made the left that took me home. Along the way, I called my wife, because I was unsure what to do, and if she wasn't home, I might be in even bigger trouble. "I'm really sick and I'm coming home," I spoke into the receiver.
Wendy, my wife, asked, "you sound urpy... are you urpy?"
"I'm really sick."
"Then come home," Wendy said ending the call.
I pulled into the driveway and gathered my items. I had a rough time, but I managed to get out of the car and open the screen door. Wendy was standing at the edge of the kitchen as I came in. By her description, I was ashen and bent forward. My shirt was unbuttoned like someone trying to get air and my T-Shirt was soaked. She took the items from my hand and sat me on the chair where I normally remove my shoes. Wendy asked, "do you have chest pains?"
"Yes."
"Trouble breathing?"
"Yes. My hands are ice and numb on the edges. There's a taste in my mouth that is rancid."
"Want help taking off your shoes?"
I replied, "We won't be here that long."
Wendy exclaimed, "Let's go!"
We went back to the car I had just left, me in the passenger seat this time while Wendy sat in the driver's seat. And drive she did - beeping at some idiot that was doing 5 in a 25, then turning down MLK. It was a little bouncy and jerky, but I was trying to maintain focus on something. Between Wendy's "are you with me" pings, I asked her if we were heading to the hospital.
"Yes," she said. I began thumbing an email to my boss, Joe Mcclung:
Subject: Scheider sick
Body: Heading to hospital now... more later.
I touched Send. I needed a new point of focus, and as luck would have it, we were nearing the hospital. Wendy made the right on 5th Ave, then the right into St. Anthony's Hospital campus. She pulled up behind a van in the circle in front of the entrance. "Wait here. Open the door, but don't get out," Wendy stated.
I nodded affirmation and opened the door, briefly enjoying the breeze.
Wendy departed the car and entered the emergency entrance, spotting two nurses. "My husband's having chest pains. Can you get him?" One nurse grabbed a wheel chair and they both followed Wendy out. After clearing the van ahead of our car, I saw them. I could see that they were trying to figure out how to get me out of the car.
"I can get in the chair," I stated and I did so. The two of them helped with the foot rests and off we went - to the reception desk. The woman behind the desk asked me a couple of questions that I couldn't decipher. Wendy appeared to my left and began responding for me. The nurse tending my wheel chair said that I had chest pains, and they settled on a triage ER room. And off I go.
In the ER room, one gentleman was hooking up EKG probes to me while others asked hosts of questions. Wendy came in after a couple of minutes. The EKG ran for all of 5 seconds, and the tech tore it off, showing it to the leader, who immediately took it to the doctor. Next, the leader looked me square in the eyes and said, "Sir, you are having a heart attack. We are going to transfer you to another room where a team will help you. Can you get in this chair again?"
"Yes, I can" and I did. The distance to the next room was short, but there was no shortage of people. On arrival and transfer to a gurney:
"Has anyone given him aspirin?"
"Giving him aspirin." and it continued, being fed pills, starting an IV line, dosing morphine and other IV drugs. At one point I seceded my wedding ring to Wendy. I kept my eyes fixed on my wife, though I noticed one individual that was passive in the room, and his shirt had "EMT Trainee" stitched above the right pocket. My daughter is pursuing a career as an EMT, so the young man symbolized her and I felt that the family was here.
Before I realized it, we were moving again, this time to the Cath Lab. I can't recall the path, I was fighting to keep my vision. Then, we stopped. I heard a woman's voice whisper "last kiss." Another nurse told Wendy that this was where she could wait, and that she could give me a "quick kiss." She leaned down and kissed me and we both whispered "I love you!"
It was too brief, that last kiss. I vowed to ensure that was not the last kiss. I had to fight. When we entered the Cath Lab, the doctor and a nurse were tending to the equipment near the spot where I would lie. The doc came and explained that the procedure had risks, providing some examples, and finally saying: "do you wish to proceed with this procedure?"
"Yes. Please help me."
Then two lady nurses slid a piece of plastic under me rolling me to facilitate the process. With one tug, I was in place. A couple rolls to remove the plastic, and I could here the anestesiologist ask "How much do you weigh?"
"Two ninety," I replied.
There were numerous conversations between the occupants of the Cath Lab, few that made any sense to me. One involved shaving me, which felt odd. I was alerted when I heard, "Mr. Scheider, this will pinch." And it did. They checked the seal and I reminisced about my time working in a QA lab for CR Bard. But I needed to focus. I needed to fight. I heard the doctor state that something looked odd, but that he would come back to it. Then he found the blockage.
When flow was restored, the tightness in my chest eased dramatically. I sighed. The doctor asked if I had pains in my chest.
"Not my chest, but my arms still hurt."
The doctor continued to check the remaining arteries, and then returned to the odd one.
"I'm going to do it, too. It's too unusual. It may have been the cause of the other blockage."
I was feeling better. My chest pain was gone. I still had trouble getting air, but it was better.
"Mr. Scheider, we're closing. You will feel a hard pinch." I realized that they were done.
"Thanks for saving my butt!" And I meant every word of it.
They transferred me to the gurney again and wheeled me out, next stop, CVICU. I was transferred from the gurney to a bed, which was very comfortable. I made it. I freakin' made it! I was asked if I would accept visitors and I replied, "yes. Bring in anyone waiting out there!" I felt wonderful. My hands were still icy, and my breathing wasn't deep enough, but I felt great. My wife entered the room and I teared up and said, "I love you, baby," as we hugged and smooched.

I later learned that I had no damage to my heart, after inspection by ultrasound.
I am a very, very, lucky man.