Guam to Las Vegas

By 1988, we had been on Guam for 20 years and had enjoyed every bit of it. One of the great benefits had been DA’s part-time work with Thai Airways which made it possible for us to get to so many wonderful places we might never have seen otherwise. We felt that during our stay, we had seen Guam evolve from a quiet tropical island into a bustling tourist destination, and that we had grown along with it. I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had helped develop a better educational system and had left a legacy in the form of KGTF, the educational television station. DA had done a great deal of volunteer work plus accepting civic responsibilities and participating in club activities, and felt very much a part of the community. The only drawback was the distance between Guam and Montana where our son lived. Travel wasn’t as gracious and easy as it had been in the ‘70s and early ‘80s, so we began to think it was time to return to the states. Where? We didn’t have a clue but figured we’d take one more trip and find a place to settle down.

Hawaii would have been nice but it was still too far away from son Dan and far too expensive. We took a peek at Florida, thought it was great but too humid and had too many of the same bugs we found on Guam. The Carolinas had a lot to offer but nothing that aroused our complete attention. We had lived in Missouri and Pennsylvania so we went through both states and continued westward deciding to visit friends in Las Vegas on the way to the coast. That’s where we got sidetracked. It was in October, the weather was beautiful, buildings were going up, and it looked like the kind of place where a retread like me could find something to do. Our friends took us on a tour, we found a small enclave with attractive model homes, waterways throughout, and a secluded feel, and we put down money on a home yet to be built with completion promised in one year. Then it was back to Guam.

That last year on the island was like being in limbo, accepting what we had done as final and preparing to taper off from what had always been a real active lifestyle. We had to find a buyer for the house and start getting everything ready to be shipped that long way

across the Pacific. Leaving our work was not critical because others were eager to jump in to fill the voids, but saying goodbye to friends was tough. I think you get closer to people in an island community and that’s how we felt. In time, the house sold, everything was gone, we said our goodbyes, and we headed for our new home.

We arrived in Las Vegas in November, 1989, and as you might expect, our house was not ready. Our friends took us in while we shopped for the vital appliances, and when they were installed, we borrowed a few chairs, a small table, a couple futons and a small TV and we moved in with J.C. Penney sheets on the windows. It was just about Thanksgiving when our household goods arrived along with a visit from our son, Dan, who came down from Montana. He was just the help we needed. DA had bought a huge lacquered Chinese chest in four sections totaling eight-feet in height and width and two-feet in depth. Our son exhibited great carpenter’s skills in fashioning shelves destined to hold all the dishes and glasses and other stuff DA had accumulated that had to go into those sections. Luckily, one wall was perfect to receive the chest, which became an eye-catcher. She had also collected an antique apothecary chest along with others I can’t describe with a name, plus various Chinese dynasty vases and urns with which to decorate our home. The end result is spectacular, but I’ve grown to expect that from my wife. Except for the leg of a small table bearing minor damage, everything made the trip

in excellent fashion.

Our first Christmas in Las Vegas was unique in the sense that there were just the two of us and we didn’t feel like knocking ourselves out decorating, so, as we strolled through an undeveloped area near our home, DA spied a large tumbleweed which we took possession of and decided, then and there, that it would be our Christmas tree. After washing off the accumulated dust and spraying it with a white coating, we graced it with colored bulbs, some ornaments, and a garland or two, and we were delighted with the results. We went a little beyond that in later years, but for the time, it worked beautifully.

Once we got settled and had time to think ahead a bit, the idea of teaching reached out to me again and I decided to do something about it. I had a bachelor’s degree and a Teaching Certificate from Pennsylvania so I thought it might be challenging to teach in the lower grades where I could instill good reading and vocabulary habits. I took some “Mickey Mouse” courses the Nevada Dept. of Education demanded and started practice- teaching kids in sixth grade. Everything was fine until I was told I was too critical in pointing out misspellings and poor sentence structure, which would cause the students to suffer from low self-esteem. That, in addition to parents’ indifference, and administrators’ fear of taking a stand in support of the classroom teacher, caused me to be disenchanted with the system and I gave up on that idea. Instead, I got an MA and started teaching college-level courses. Interestingly enough, students whose self-esteem had been endangered by criticism, were now making it into college classes with the same lousy spelling and sentence structure.

Meanwhile, DA hooked up with the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority and started working at conventions for which Las Vegas is famous. The Convention Center is a huge place and often accommodates as many as 100,000 plus delegates for one affair. When that happens, people like DA are called to register and help these visitors get as much as they can out of these gatherings. They come from all over the world and need all the help they can get. DA works in this fashion a week or two a month, usually registering guests on the computer, making sure they get to seminars of interest, and directing them to exhibits they should visit. The Sands Convention Center and many of the hotels also take part in handling these gatherings.

As new arrivals, we found Las Vegas an exciting place boasting of the fabulous “Strip” with a concentration of shows and stars found nowhere else. It was a scene of glitz and glitter interspersed with inexpensive buffets, complimentary drinks, and fun, fun, fun on all sides for its 500,000 citizens and tourists. However, great numbers of newcomers began to appear to live and work, allegedly thousands per month, and the influx continues to this day with growth planners trying to keep pace with the demand for homes, roadways, water, power, and entertainment. Now, housing developments extend for miles in all directions with majestic high-rise projects being built close to the action and resplendent hotel-casinos appearing in outlying areas. Traffic is a problem with new sections of highway found to be inadequate shortly after having been opened. The population has swelled to two million and then some, and although the glitz and glitter remain, the inexpensive buffet is but a memory.

For me, teaching at the college level was most satisfying, mainly because I could enhance classes with anecdotes from my diverse background. At one point, though, I had to take some time off because my prostate reared up and had to be removed before I could swing back into action. Then I did a project for Science Applications International having to do with the military, ranching, natural, and recreational use of McGregor Range, part of Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas, and was enjoying this new venture, but my health threw me another curve in the form of a disorder called Guillain-Barre syndrome. It’s an inflammatory thing in which the body’s immune system attacks the nerves outside the brain and spinal cord, leading to loss of feeling and movement in legs, arms, etc. It did just that, and I was immobile for some time which made me withdraw from active-work situations and propelled me into proofing and editing the work of others plus doing more writing of my own. I’ve blue-penciled countless articles, several books, and am now enjoying the role of an autobiographer.

When I was young, anyone who had achieved octogenarian status was really old and usually had “one foot in the grave,” according to our juvenile observations. Now, at 85, my doctor and the life-expectancy charts tell me I might be around for another decade or so because, despite the crises I’ve survived and my trouble walking, the rest of me is still functioning well and nothing drastic portends my imminent departure. Writing, then, will be my salvation and my reason for being.

If I had it to do over again there are so many things I’d do differently, but since I don’t get another chance at the brass ring, I must be content with what has taken place. My memories of being a kid are as fresh as can be, full of fun times made possible in an ideal family environment. Maybe it was too good, for I never had to worry about anything or wish things were different, and never got serious enough about what I wanted to do in the life ahead. Everything seemed to fall into place without much effort on my part.

Joining the Marines in WWII was the first meaningful decision in my life, one that I’ll always be proud of.  Much has been said about the “Marine experience,” summed up so well by General Carl E. Mundy, Jr., USMC (Ret) when he wrote: “Indeed, the Marine experience, for all those who have lived it, and for those who will live it, is special and to a higher standard in countless forms of measure. If there is a single distinction that stands out, among the many, marking the experience in the lives of the men and women who are Marines, it is their extraordinary and selfless dedication to and identification with The Corps.” In addition, General Victor H. Krulak, one of the Corps’ great leaders, had this to say: “Although the Corps contains its share of visible heroes, its triumphs, in an aberration of history, are triumphs of the institution itself and not the attainments of individual Marines . . . And that is exactly the way the Corps’ heroes—big and small—would have it, for the Corps is less of the flesh than of the spirit.” Semper Fi!

As a student of history and one who is “ticked off” at so-called Americans who show disrespect for this great country of ours, I’m always looking for words of wisdom such as these penned by Will and Ariel Durant, to wit: “We Americans are the best informed people on earth as to the events of the last twenty-four hours; we are not the best informed as to the events of the last sixty centuries.” Granted, our history only goes back a couple of those centuries, but we’ve come a long way through some tough times and we stand out as the most successful country and people in the world, not by accident. I’ve said it to my classes in different ways but I like the way Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., put it: “When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.” As a lover of history, I implore people to do likewise.

The dictionary defines culture as a combination of the ideas, customs, skills, arts, etc., of a people or group, that are transferred, communicated, or passed along, as in or to succeeding generations. I fear that many of the aspects of my generation are now regarded as “old-fashioned” and will be discarded as not up to the standards of this modern society, but I pray that old-fashioned parenting, self-responsibility, and an understanding of the difference between right and wrong, will not suffer that fate. These I bequeath to any who see some merit in what the last eight-or-nine decades have produced.