When the New Jersey was retired, my wife and I walked her decks in Long Beach. we were standing on the starboard side looking at her gun turret. As always, I had my Marine cover on. Walking by us came a Senior Chief... coffee cup in hand and cover tilted slightly to port. My wife just blurts out: 'is he a sailor too?'. He slowed his pace and looked at me. I said that he was not a sailor, he was a Senior Chief. Then, to make matters worse, she asked: 'what does he do?'. I responded... Anything he wants. He nodded and proceeded. My wife and I had a nice talk after that where I politely asked her never to do that to me again.
Baby moons with beauty rings? Whatever they are I like it. Back in the day Buicks, Olds, Caddies etc. were grampa cars...Well guess who's a grandpa now?
That had to be in the early 90s. I think. Dad was working for Pennzoil and ran the tank farm down in San Pedro. He was also Marine, hit Korea I think 4 or 5 days after the armistice, and he and I and my son who was about 5 or 6 at the time, went down to see the ship. He told me his stories (heard them before but never stopped him) of getting to Korea, was sick almost the entire time which was kinda funny because he and I built boats for a living. Not ships, just little 'glass ski/fun/race boats. We also talked about my grandpa who was a 30 year Navy man, joined in 1927 at 15 and retired at 45 a full Commander which was rare because he never attended Annapolis. That ship was amazing. I felt privileged and humbled to see her up close. Dad never wore anything with the Marine EGA, nor talked about his time in the Marines unless I asked. No car stickers, license plate frames, nothing except for a tattoo he got in Japan. Same with my uncle, mom's brother and dad's best friend. If it weren't for his bulldog tat you'd never know he was a Marine. They both enlisted the same day when they were 16. 17 and in Korea....and LOVED his BAR. Just to keep this a little car related, dad's chevy out front of their trailer at Camp Pendleton, the day they brought me home from the base hospital.
The Jalopy Journal
