Ordinary Guy

Ken Holly

Description

Ken Holly is just an ordinary guy with an ordinary past. He grew up in postWorld War II America as a middle-class boy in an old-fashioned suburban neighborhood, learning the value of hard work and absorbing the strong ethics of the Greatest Generation. But being ordinary is what makes Ken special.Whimsical and honest, An Ordinary Guy shares Kens story of how a childhood spent in Houston, Texas, in the 1950s made a lasting impact on his life. Ken was a faithful church-goer who grew up surrounded by World War II veterans and was active in Boy Scouts; in this memoir, he reveals how each of these influences shaped him into the adult he is today. He also discusses how his values sustained him in some of the most challenging times of his life. While serving in the US Navy as an aviation electronic tech and radioman, Ken had some close calls, but came out of them unscathed. Following his military service, he went back to school, built a career in electronics, and married his wife, Pat. He became a father twice with the birth of his two daughters and continued working until his retirement in 2011. Through all of lifes challenges, Ken never forgot those influential days of his youth.

Informations

• Publié par: Inspiring Voices
• Date de parution: 01 mars 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781462404315
• Langue: English

Extrait

Ken Holly
 
 
 


 
Copyright © 2013 Ken Holly.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
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ISBN: 978-1-4624-0432-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4624-0431-5 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013902501
 
Inspiring Voices rev. date: 02/25/13
Contents
Preface
1Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean 1970 to 1971
2Early years 1946 to 1967
3Adventures in the Navy 1967 to 1971
4Home Again 1971
5Dresser 1972 to 1980
6Honeywell 1980-2011
7Retirement 2011
Epilogue
Preface
I started out making some notes on what has happened in my life along with some lessons learned for our two daughters. Then Kim, an acquaintance, suggested that I make it into a book to publish. When I told one of my friends about my intentions he said “Who would want to read about your life? You haven’t gone around the world doing exciting things nor are you some rich or famous figure. You are just an ordinary guy.” I felt a little discouraged. But then it hit me. Are not most of us just ordinary people who go about living our lives the best we can. We are different in so many ways but at the same time we are all very similar.
I didn’t live an exciting life according to some standards. Although some segments were exciting, to me anyway. Most of the time I was concentrating on completing my particular goals while trying to keep my head above water and enjoy life. I have always liked to read about events in the world and history of the world. I never wrote a book although in school a large percentage of my papers were very verbose.
My brother, sister and I were fortunate to grow up in the fifties and early sixties in a subdivision that today would seem to be quiet and relatively trouble free. A large percentage of the Dads on our block were returning WWII veterans. In most of the families the Dads worked and the mothers stayed home. Only one of my friends lived with a divorced mother. The drugs that are prevalent today were not around our corner of the world. The drugs came in the sixties. The worst thing that we got into was cigarettes and alcohol. However if we got caught we were punished. There were no gangs in our immediate area. A large majority of the families regularly attended church. A large number of the guys also belonged to the boy scouts and the girls to the girl scouts. We were constantly reminded at home, church, school and the scouts as to what was the right and the wrong thing to do. Our mother used to say “I have eyes in the back of my head”. She would find out about our transgressions because the neighborhood moms would call our mom.
Another similarity among our neighbors was that no one had much money. The parents didn’t have the money to purchase the items that some kids take for granted today. We wore hand me down clothes and didn’t have over a few changes at home. We better not wear our ‘good’ clothes to play in. We couldn’t participate in some extracurricular activities because the money was not available. Almost no one had a small black and white TV that was available in late 1949. We went outside to play while it was light outside. The boys used to petal all over the neighborhood when we acquired bikes. Almost every home had at least one gun in the house. We were taught gun safety at school and in the scouts. There were no gun accidents or shootings in our area of the neighborhood.
We had a very small amount of liter thrown in the neighborhood and an extremely small amount of vandalism. There were no car thefts or burglaries that I am aware of. We were taught to be respectful of each other and everyone’s property.
Outside our neighborhood in other parts of the city this was not always the case. In the sixties some of the Dads received promotions and the families moved out of the neighborhood into more upscale areas. Unfortunately some of the new home owners didn’t have the same disciplines and respect that the original homeowners did. Also the country was changing with the explosion of drug use, declining church attendance and less respect for each other. The neighborhood is going through a renaissance now. The old values are on the rise and what was our little corner is relatively safe and quiet compared to some other parts of the city.
I am calling this book fiction because I am not always sure if my memory serves me correctly. Anyway even if you asked each one involved in a particular incident you would get as many different versions as there are people. You can be sure that almost all of which I mention happened the way or close to the way I describe it. I have used only first names. Most of the names are pseudo names as I am not sure if that person would like me mentioning them. Sometimes I have just forgotten the name but the face is implanted in my mind.
I have been very blessed with a good family and good friends. I feel that I have been saved from injury or helped by the Almighty or His angels a number of times. I thank Him every day for his help.
I want to thank my wife Pat, our two daughters Sarah and Rebecca, and my sister Mary for their input and help with this book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it.
Ken
1
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean 1970 to 1971
F ire! Fire! Uh radio to engineer fire number two engine. Engineer to radio, cutting fuel, let me know when it’s out. Roger radio to engineer fire out. I heard a few chuckles. Guess I was a little excited because I was sitting right next to the engine. The fire was spectacular as the flames followed the airflow above and below the wings.
This was late 1970 when I was an ATN2 (aviation electronic tech navigation and radio second class (E-5)) flying as a radioman in VW4 Navy weather squadron 4. This was the first flight when an engine fuel line broke and caught on fire.
Summer 1971
Early summer is the beginning of the hurricane season when the air crews would work out of Rosy Roads Puerto Rico Navy base while on a mission. Our crew was stranded on my first trip because the ‘big Buda’ toll tractor ran into our APS 20 airborne search radar dome and destroyed it. Consequently we had to wait until one was manufactured and shipped to us which would take ten days for the honeycomb fiberglass dome. For ten glorious days we were stranded in Puerto Rico. All we had to do was report in each morning and if we had no work, go play. All the enlisted guys were quartered in an old WWII barracks high up on a cliff overlooking the beach. The barracks were intended for thousands of guys and now there were only twelve inhabitants so we made ourselves at home and bought some coolers and filled them up with ice, beer and cokes. We also stocked up on snacks as there was no food or drink for a mile or more from the barracks.
Fortunately all the electronic guys (two radar and two radio/navigation techs) liked to explore and see the sites. The four of us rented an old Volkswagen Beetle and toured old San Juan, the Spanish fort and hiked up El Yunque, the mountain outside of San Juan.
The first Saturday we were awakened at the crack of dawn to the sound of explosions. We were fascinated to see a long line of old Higgins landing crafts loaded with Marines approaching the beach from the sea, just like the old WWII movies. Just below us were observers with radios watching the maneuvers on the beach.
Hundreds of Marines all landed and charged up the beach yelling and screaming when all of sudden someone blew a whistle and they formed up and commenced to march straight towards our barracks. Oh crap. We are in deep doo now, I thought to myself as they worked their way up the steep slope towards us. We were twelve swabbies with hundreds of Marines marching towards us.
As it turned out they were reservists on their two week training stint. They were confined to barracks when not out training. We became instant heroes when we started supplying beer, cokes and snacks at a healthy profit of course. That old Beetle made many a trip to the Navy exchange. The Marines were sad to see us leave when our time came.
One morning about two or three in the morning we were coming back from hitting the bars in San Juan. As the old Bug struggled up one of the steep hills we heard shouting and singing on the other side of the hill. We were startled as some guys came running over the crest of the hill carrying telephone poles. Who on earth are these guys I wondered out loud. We followed them down to the beach where they set their telephone poles down, stripped down to the swim trunks under their pants and put on flippers and a mask. They then waded into the sea and started to swim out into the inky blackness.
We found out later that they were SEALS in training. They swam out to some island a