Touching the Ancient One

May 23, 2007

I value friendship highly, and it hurts when friends die. It seems to be happening to me more and more, and I guess that’s to be expected when one reaches a certain age. It’s especially hard, however, when your oldest friend goes.

Among my very earliest memories is one of Ed (Eddie) Harbour and I playing in a sawdust pile across the road from my house. We took turns licking Ed’s Black Cow sucker. A dusty road separated our Salt Rock, West Virginia homes by a scant hundred yards. We were together daily. No phone calls (we didn’t have any phones then,) we just showed up on each other’s doorstep.

That’s Ed with the dark collar near the center of this Salt Rock Church group. Yes, that’s me at the lower left. Circa 1938.

It was that way all our young lives except for a couple of years during World War II when my family was away. We had adventures galore—foolish dangerous things sometimes, but mostly just fun. Ed built a big sled with a little house on it. One winter day when a light snow barely covered the landscape, we dragged the heavy sled to the top of a hill. I chickened, but Ed crawled inside and I obediently gave him a shove. The sled picked up speed and sailed far past the spot we had imagined it might go. It crashed through a barbed wire fence and down into a creek, breaking through the ice on a three-foot deep pool of water. With heart pounding, both from chasing the runaway sled and from unimaginable fear, I managed to pull Ed from the house, which was broken apart in several places. He was soaking wet, but unhurt. That was only one of our many excellent adventures.

We played football together at Barboursville High School, enduring some hardships to do so. Salt Rock was eleven difficult miles from Barboursville, and although a bus took us to school, we had to hitchhike home after practice. We were both linemen and seldom got to touch the ball. Before the last game in our senior year (1950,) Ed was lamenting the fact that he’d never made a touchdown. Our team was not a great one (by a long shot) and we were playing St Albans, a pretty good team. During the first half St. Albans fumbled and Ed grabbed the ball. I threw three blocks on the way to the goal line and Ed had his touchdown. We led 25–0 at the half. We lost the game by one touchdown.

We went separate ways after high school. I went to Marshall. Ed married Rachel Midkiff, then went into the army and eventually to Korea. I went into the Air Force. We wrote letters for awhile. Later, we’d see each other at school reunions and get together occasionally, but most often years would pass before we’d see each other. Thankfully, we’ve been much closer the past few years. Millie and I try to get to West Virginia at least once a year, and a day or so with Ed and Rachel has always been a pleasure.

Ed left us yesterday, and I guess it hasn’t fully hit me yet. It’s still unreal—maybe it will always be that way for me. I’ve got my memories though, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Ed, my dear friend for the longest time—I salute you! Our loss is Heaven’s gain.

Rupert

March 7, 2007

I like discovering nice places and telling people about them. I was asked some time ago if I would give a talk at the Gilboa Dam Visitor’s Center, located in Schoharie County and operated by the New York Power Authority. The nearly six-mile-long body of water created by the dam in the upper section of Schoharie Creek also borders portions of Delaware and Greene Counties. Schoharie Creek is a tributary of the Mohawk River.

I don’t want to get into a discussion on the recent controversy concerning the safety of the eighty-year-old dam, but merely wish to comment on my impression of the visitor’s center and the pleasant experience I had there.

This past Sunday Millie and I drove down from Scotia, a trip of about an hour and a half. It was cold, but sunny. We stopped once to grab a bite at a cafe in Middleburgh. As we climbed into higher altitudes, we ran through some light snow flurries. The center occupies an old, remodeled barn and houses several exhibits dealing with the construction and operation of the dam.

Nearly forty people attended my one-hour presentation in a beautiful and functional little auditorium. The attendees were attentive, asking many questions, both during and after. The center has presentations every weekend and are free to the public. Dessert was served in a large room overlooking the dam. I just missed seeing an eagle, I was told. As I looked out over the water, a wall of snow moved upstream, momentarily obscuring the far shoreline before moving on.

Good experience. Click here to see their schedule of events.

Rupert

August 29, 2006

Accidents like the Comair Flight 5191 crash in Lexington, Kentucky hits us hard and reminds us of the frailty of life. We grieve for the forty-nine victims and their immediate families. To someone not directly affected by a tragedy, empathy can be short-lived; it’s not that we’re insensitive; we can only absorb so much, and there is certainly a lot to absorb in this modern day and age.

Because of my history with our C-47 Survivor’s group, I tend to see each of those forty-nine circles of grief as being wide—and deep. Fifty-one years after the crash of our C-47 in the mountains of Alaska, people are still grieving for their lost ones. Two days ago I got a letter from the daughter of one of the victims in our crash. She wanted to feel a “connection” with her father whom she didn’t remember. I’ve seen this over and over in our group, a yearning to connect somehow, even if it’s just talking to someone who was with their loved one near the time of their death.

As you think of the families of the forty-nine on board Flight 5191, and pray for them, think broadly of all the friends and relatives, and think deeply about those too young, perhaps even unborn, who will someday want to know. In 2057 you can be sure there will be people still asking—and hurting.

First officer James M. Polehinke, who was apparently piloting the plane, and who was the only survivor, continues in critical condition. Pray for him, not only for physical recovery, but for the help he will most certainly need in dealing with this in other ways.
Rupert

August 27, 2006
The Huntington Herald-Dispatch ran an article by Justin McElroy about me and my book, Touching the Ancient One in today’s Sunday edition. I’m quite pleased with it. You may access the article, “Marshall grad tells story of survival” here, or in the Links of Interest module.
Rupert

August 14, 2006
On Sunday, August 6, The Schenectady Sunday Gazette ran a review for Touching the Ancient One. The reviewer, John Rowen, did an excellent job, I thought. Mr. Rowen, a book reviewer for about twenty-five years, is quite respected in our area. I’d like to publish the entire review on this website, but hesitate to do that because of copyright laws. Here are a couple of excerpts, however:

  ". . . Rupert Pratt adds a twist to the disaster epic. Past masters of this genre, such as Walter Lord with “A Night to Remember” or Sebastian Junger with “The Perfect Storm,” devote much of their work to setting the stage for the disaster and then re-creating it. They devote less time to considering what happened afterwards. Pratt, a retired Schenectady teacher, describes a disaster with the best of them. But unlike Lord or Junger, he spends more time explaining what happens afterwards—to survivors and the family and friends of people who did not make it."

" . . . Pratt shows how six men took the gift of surviving a plane crash and made it more valuable by living life fully. The passage of time, he suggests, is a gift that helps people understand the lessons of their life."

I will also put these excerpts into Comments on the Book in the sidebar.

You can read the entire review on the Daily Gazette website, but you’ll have to pay a fee of $2 to do so.

Rupert

August 3, 2006
MWSA Review Board Reviewer Joe Fabel has added his review to that of Bill McDonald. Use the Comments on the Book link in the sidebar or click here. You may also see the origional on the MWSA website.

Rupert 

August 1, 2006
    Bill McDonald, president of the Military Writers Society of America (MWSA,) has given Touching the Ancient One a very favorable review.
    I’ve had MWSA in my links for some time, so some of you may have accessed it—or you may already be familiar with the organization.
    On the MWSA website, visitors are greeted with the following explanation: “We are an association of more than five-hundred authors, poets, and artists, drawn together by the common bond of military service.  Most of our members are active duty military, retirees, or military veterans.  A few are lifelong civilians who have chosen to honor our military through their writings or their art.  Our only core principle is a love of the men and women who defend this nation, and a deeply personal understanding of their sacrifice and dedication.”
    Bill is committed to that principal. Membership is free. Anyone with any idea of preserving memories of service experiences should be a member. For those who wish to read about those experiences, the list of books represent a selection difficult to find anyplace else. Go to the MWSA website main page.
    I’m putting Bill McDonald’s review of my book in the sidebar under Comments on the Book. Or you can read it on the MWSA website, along with many other interesting items.

Rupert

July 26, 2006
    I had a conversation last night with my Aunt Mary Harvey that makes me appreciate the joy of life and living; it’s not the first time Mary has given me that lift. She’s in her eighties and has been active all her life. She and her husband Bill have been bowlers for many years with showcases full of trophies to show for it. Mary is legally blind now. Our conversation went something like this:
    Mary said, “I can’t see the marks on the boards anymore, but I can still get the ball in the pocket pretty good.”
    “You’re still bowling? I’d just assumed . . . “
    “Sure . . . been bowling a long time.”
    “But you can’t hardly see!”
    “Memory’s still good. You don’t forget how to bowl.”
    “Incredible!”
    “The last time I bowled, I  broke two hundred in all three games.”
    “No . . . “
    “One of my teammates told me he wished I’d gone blind a long time ago.” She laughed heartily. “I still love to bowl.”
    And I sure do love my Aunt Mary.
Rupert

May 30, 2006
    In my book, Touching the Ancient One, and on this website, I’ve tried to focus on the good that can eventually come from bad happenings—in our case, the crash of a military aircraft five decades ago and the resultant interactions of families of survivors and victims. That crash was an accident. There are, however, other types of experiences people are forced to deal with.
    A man by the name of Gary Geiger worked in a motel here a little over twenty years ago. The motel was robbed and Gary was shot, sustaining an injury that nearly killed him. He recovered, but was an angry, frustrated man because of the incident. The beauty of Gary’s story is that he conquered that anger—rose above it, and used the experience to help other victims do the same. Most surprising was his decision to forgive.
    Sunday, at Scotia United Methodist Church, Gary Geiger was presented with the Stimmel Peace with Justice Award of Troy Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church, in honor of his accomplishments.
    A book about the reconciliation that took place between Gary and his attacker was published in 2005. I have not read it myself, but I will. Here is a link to Justice Restored: The Gary Geiger and Wayne Blanchard Story. It has also been added to Choice Amazon Books & DVDs.

Rupert

May 2, 2006

    In one of my first posts I asked for your comments on my book, Touching the Ancient One. While I have received many private messages, and I appreciate those, public ones have not overwhelmed these pages. Once again I extend the invitation. I’d like to think there might be a second edition at some point and I know there is room for improvement. I’ve already been lambasted for not including maps. Another reader said it needs a page listing the families, with family relationships. She was somewhat overwhelmed with names.
    Truly, I would like your opinions.

Rupert