The Overwhelming Response to My Blog

As I have reviewed the response since I went live on my own blog a few months ago, I have come to a conclusion that I am honestly not at all surprised about: nobody cares about what I have to write (I know there are one or two regular readers – and I thank them for remaining loyal for so long.)  I really think I am going to be okay about the whole thing.

Maybe my left small toe nail hoped that I could somehow sell enough advertising to justify buying Blue Bell ice cream a couple of times a month.  But whom are we all kidding?  Who really could possibly be interested?  Perhaps a family member would humor you  for a little while.  There could be some curious friends.  The most likely party would be the silent stalker. 

When I started this blog, I thought, “If I am the only one who reads this, at least it can act as some kind of record of what things have been passing through this grey matter of mine.”  Well, that prophecy turned out to be mostly true.  That’s some consolation.

 

P.S. I saw someone wearing this t-shirt in an arcade (shopping mall) in Cambridge, England.   And it was speaking directly to me.  (Note the tiny green blog counter at the bottom.)

Superficiality in the USA… and in Canada

I very recently had the opportunity to spend a few days in the southern portion of Ontario, Canada.  What I have learned from this brief experience – and another one this past winter – is that Canada is actually a country different from the US with its own culture.  This will sound extremely ignorant to some readers, but I think this comment would be news to many Americans (US – type, I mean.)  I would have expected this in Montreal or Quebec City – not really southern Ontario.  After all, I was listening to the Erie, PA radio station in the car.

Here is an example: no lie… The lead news story was that the rights to the National Hockey Night theme song – Canada’s second national anthem – were purchased by the rival sports TV station.  People on the radio couldn’t stop talking about it.  So now I have this anthem emblazoned on my brain after hearing it so many times.  This song is Canadian hockey’s bell for Pavlov’s dog. 

The following stories were about, you know, gas prices, weather, mix in a little political scandle, a dash of Afghanistan, Obama/McCain.  You know, standard news fare.  But you have to get the important stuff out of the way first – like the theme to the hockey night.

My real feeling about this is: I love it!  Americans are ubiquitously derided for our shallowness.  Well, I’ve heard that Lake Erie is quite shallow on the north as well as the south.  Not that I have a big problem with that.  I think we all need our own diversions from time to time.  Hockey works for these folks, eh?  (Couldn’t resist.)

Modern-Day Diesel Submarines

While participating in this year’s NATO-led submarine escape and rescue exercise called Bold Monarch 2008, I had the privilege and meeting submarine officers from many submarine forces.  Despite the different uniforms we each wore, we all wore our country’s version of the submarine dolphins which signify that person’s qualification in submarine operations.  This is a very significant milestone in a submariner’s career. 

Naturally, a strong feeling of brotherhood, rapport, and esprit de corps developed quickly while we shared meals and worked together to solve logistical problems.  In some instances we felt closer to each other than to former shipmates.

I had the great opportunity to visit two bottomed diesel submarines – one Polish and one Norwegian.  Being a nuclear submariner myself, I have always thought how wonderful having nuclear power in subs is.  You can stay under water as long as you want.  You can take nice long, hot showers.  We don’t need to make a bunch of noise by snorkeling and running the diesel.

While on board the Norwegian sub, I said to the captain, “I’m sure it will be nice when this exercise is over so you can get off of the ocean floor and do some real submarining again, right?”  His response surprised me but taught me a great deal.  “No, this is a common tactic.  It allows me to rest my crew.  We can go sit on the bottom of a fjord and just listen.  If a bad guy comes allow, we can come up quietly and nail him.”

A fellow US Naval submarine officer told me his experience leaving an Italian  port in a diesel submarine.  The boat gently cut through the ink with the moon high overhead.  They quietly slid out off the pier on battery power.  It reminded me sneaking your parents’ car out of the driveway for a night on the town.  Soon after a ship sailed by with opera  music filling the night air.  As if that weren’t enough, the sky was soon filled with fireworks to celebrate some special event or holiday.  This gentleman swears by this story. 

I guess the point is that today’s diesel submarines are not your grandfather’s from World War II.