Welcome Home Jordan Cisco,, 12-18-2012

Posting the before article on Cristobal Romo made me think of digging this one up as it was a great day too.

 

Welcome home Jordan Sisco. Yesterday was a blur I'm sure.

 

I Love This Town 12-18-2012

I have been a Coronian, a Coronan, somebody from Corona since the forth grade or 1970.
This town was pretty small, growing up I could peddle my bicycle clear across it in no time. Living at the edge of town, right down from Border Park it was easy to get across town, getting back up the hill was the hard part. During the Bicentennial years, I was part of the infamous Bicentennial Band; a group of alumni and kids in the junior and senior high school band under the direction of the greatest band director known to these parts. We owned the boulevard when we marched, not bad for a group of misfits from a town everybody wanted to move away from when they graduated.
Corona has grown, it sure has. The citrus groves of old sprouted chimneys long ago. In addition, with it more people, more schools, more people that call this home. It is a big town, but not so big it can’t remember its roots, it can remember to welcome somebody home when they’ve been away; been away protecting our very existence, our freedoms, our way we want to live.
Today we welcomed home a hero of ours. Jordan came home today, Jordan Sisco. He had a little run in with an Improvised Explosive Device while doing his duty in Afghanistan earlier this year; he got the short end of the stick and lost both his legs and his Left thumb. He has been in rehabilitation since and has still got a ways to go, but he came home for a few weeks to spend the Christmas Holidays with family and friends.
This morning started early for us here on the home front. 5:00 the alarm went off at my house. Time to get up and dress for the day, it had not rained yet this morning, but it looked like it could. That extra pair of thermals would be nice and of course, the layered look of an extra t-shirt would help along the way. My buddy Ray was actually on time, I will have to give him credit for that one. We left and ran across town to pick up Jim, who was already outside and slipping on the last of his foul weather gear as we rounded the drive to his abode. A quick howdy-do and we were off to Irvine for a breakfast meal at the rendezvous location; the I-HOP across from John Wayne Airport in Irvine. We caught some rain, but the traffic was heavier; neither too bad. A leisurely breakfast was in order and a chance to meet and greet any of the Patriot Guard Riders that showed up for today’s mission. The rain might have dampened a few from showing but it didn’t dampen the spirit of those that chose to attend. We had a choice to attend, but the PGR motto is 1000 things to do today, none more important. The family had asked us to join them and we were not going to let them down.
At the airport, there were also the Blue Star Mothers group and the Guide Dogs, with their handlers. When Jordan came down the elevator and the doors opened, the room filled with love and emotion. It was a sight; flags, people, dogs, smiles, salutes, even a plate of cookies (they looked really good). After a time, we all assembled and started our way to Corona. Shall I say that it might have rained before the procession, but while we were under way, nowhere did it rain until after we had made it to Jordan’s house, I heard it rained pretty good while the crowd waited in Corona and it rained hard as well in Irvine. Getting the group from John Wayne to Corona went fairly well, and as we approached Corona, we picked up a CHP officer who helped us into town. The overpasses into Corona had Fire Trucks and Firemen saluting as we passed, then came the people of Corona.
We exited the freeway at Main Street and the Police Department escorted us up Main Street through the City. Officers and vehicles had cleared the route for a nonstop trip up Main Street. People of all ages, flags of all sizes, posters, cameras and cell phones capturing the sights, clapping, waving and showing their support for a citizen of this town that put it out there for us. We were putting it all out there for him.
I have been on a few of these Patriot Guard events, and the citizenry that shows up to support our veterans’ swells the heart and makes it most difficult to write about the day’s events. Today was no exception, It was, and still after an afternoon of recapping the day’s events still have a difficult time typing and wiping the eyes. It was a joy, to catch a glimpse of people that I knew along the route, to see groups of children from local schools showing their pride and colors along the street. The groups of neighbors standing together. The smiles, the waving, the eagerness to say thank you for helping this come together.
I have seen many miles of flag waving people in my time doing escorts. I have not done as many as others have and really, in the scope of things I have not done enough. To see a street full of citizens thanking a soldier for their service is an emotional experience but… To see Fire trucks on overpasses with their crew standing on top giving a salute is emotional as well… To pass the local VFW or Legion Post and see the old soldiers welcoming home the young is something to think about… But the one thing that just puts me in tears and sends it all home is that One, all by himself... That One, that it takes fifteen minutes of blowing my nose and wiping my eyes to write about. Ten more minutes to get the monitor from blurring up… That One standing on some small little overpass that only the locals know about, standing in salute. That One; three blocks away from the nearest soul with a salute as crisp as the day he too was 19... Today it was that One, standing at the corner of Fullerton and Trovita, as we entered the neighborhood. In an Army jacket that at one time fit all the way around. A father in the neighborhood, his full story I do not know, standing and paying respect to the next generation as we passed. He brought it home.
The motorcade escorted Jordan and his family to their very own house, which was decorated as well with balloons and flags, with enough time to assemble for a flag line to his front door all in attendance clapped and offered thanks to a fine young man that made it home. As he entered the house the ride was over, time for the family to spend their short time together before he had to go back to Austin Texas and learn the things that will bring him back into the folds of daily life back here at home.
A 1000 things to do today, none more important. Welcome home Sgt. Jordan Sisco.

Cristobal Romo

 

I went on a Patriot Guard Ride Saturday. Because I felt I needed to go on this one. It was on my mind when I got the notice of the mission and it still has my attention four days after the service. The circumstances are the thing that haunts me. I guess I need to elaborate.
Cristobal Romo was born in 1931 in Glendale, Arizona, and was on the older side of 23 other siblings in a very large family. He was in the Army in Korea. He was among 2400 soldiers sent to relieve the 3rd Marine Corp Battalion that was surrounded by the Chinese at Chosen Reservoir in December of 1950, the Chosen Few.
After I graduated High School I worked for Todd Ranch back when we still had citrus in Corona. A mentor of mine, the mechanic, Jerry Donnelly was a life hardened and tempered Irishman who had spent his time in Korea during the war, drove truck in the woods logging, worked on whatever needed fixed, could weld you up a Grader blade starting with a 3/8's bolt, and tell stories all day long keeping a 19 year old kid riveted and mostly out trouble. A treasure trove of dirty limericks, logging stories and exploits of his time in Korea I learned of the miserable conditions and temperatures of Korea. The wave of Chinese soldiers; only the ones in the front had guns. You dropped the shooter and the next one behind him picked the rifle up and kept coming, and so on....an endless wall and wave. I learned of other things that happened but but unrelated to this story. I lost track of Jerry, wish him well and thank him for all he taught me.
Cristobal was last seen during one of these attacks on November 27 through December 1, 1950 on the East side of the Reservoir, after days and nights of fighting, the temperatures getting in the minuses at night. After a muster on December 12, he was declared Missing in Action, and the Army declared him dead December 31, 1953.
Time marches on, leaving behind only memories and stories. The family grows older and apart as the generations go past. Tio Cristobal never seeing his younger siblings grow. In September 2004 a joint recovery operation took place at a burial site east of the Chosen Reservoir.
It took five nights for the men of the 31st RCT to fight for their lives and it took five decades to fight for their honor. Eventually, released Chinese documents and research by historians convinced the Marine Corps that the 31st RCT had fought bravely and performed well given the circumstances. In recognition of the heroic efforts of the 31st RCT in 14 September 1999, the Secretary of the Navy authorized the Army 31st Regimental Combat Team units to be included in the 1st Marine Division Navy Presidential Unit Citation awarded in December 1950.
Saturday, one brother, the youngest and only one left of his 24 brothers and sisters and a nephew put Cristobal to rest at Riverside National. Welcome home, you can rest peacefully now, no words can ever say Thank You enough for your service and sacrifice. Your full Military funeral with bugle, bagpipes, salute and presentation was one of the sharpest ever witnessed.

 

Gary Conley

Usually about eight o'clock in the morning if you were out at Joshua Tree for the weekend you would hear an old Toyota Diesel pickup rattle through the gate and the brakes would squeak it to a stop right in front of the patio/picnic shelter. Out would tumble a tall thin man with a more salt than pepper  beard and a pair of glasses. Gary was up for the morning, to see what was going on. Sometimes he would bring his crossword puzzle and do it in the shade on the table. Gary was a man of many talents; from the outside one would never know, but get to know him, visit with him and you would learn many things about him over time.
   Gary spent his working years in the electronics field, making components that went into aircraft and spacecraft was some of the things he worked on. Some parts that had worked on even went to the moon. Always liking the desert he ended up in Joshua Tree where he spent many a year before and after retirement. Back when the desert was wide open, wild and sparsely settled. Gary collected things and his house is a showcase for those such things. His many talents are showcased there as well; jewelry, model making, imaginative creations of the mind and soul, the beauty of the desert through material and plant life have a place at Gary's too. Being of the generation that experienced the early 60's music had a special place as well as the art associated with it. His collection of 'licorice pizza' is extensive and take prominence in both the house and garage.
    A talented modeler in the smaller sizes a room in the house has a train layout that is detailed beyond most peoples wildest fancies. The extent of the scenery is mind blowing and every time one saw it they would see more and more details that were unnoticed before. A gifted woodworker he along with Terry Watson built all the cabinetry in the Museum for displays as well as Gary building the dioramas that are in the back room of the museum. He with Terry turned the museum into an interesting collection to see and enjoy with both their talents for arrangement.
  Gary had a fascinating imagination, the things that he would build up or put into his detailed works were off the charts at times. His coffee table piece of work would be a cross between Jules Verne and Who knows where; if he were forty years younger it would be 'Steampunk', I guess he was ahead of his times. Pictures of his iron workings took a slanted eye or a Salvador Dali eyeglass, I have a chain mail piece that he made years ago that he gave to me a while ago. He was always bringing a gift to someone who might enjoy it.
   On of Gary's latter fancies was the Cacti Garden in front of the Museum and Railroad. In working with the 7 1/2" railroad in trying to find a way to funnel foot traffic towards the walkway and not up the embankment a Cholla Garden was planted and tended to by him as first a blockade but later a showcase of the different varieties that thrive in the area, and thrive they have with his green thumb behind them. He and Terry also were working in the interior of the Espee wooden caboose for the Museum and in cleaning it up for presentation and tours along with the rest of the full size equipment we have out here.
   Gary enjoyed seeing the progress of the entire Museum and both it's railroads. He took many a picture and I was very fortunate to be able to download his pictures on a quite regular basis for use in any of the blogs and updates. The above picture was one of the ones I found while looking through his collection this evening.

   Always up for a ride up the hill to see the progress we had recently made since his last trip, Gary enjoyed seeing the progress made and helped where he could. He made new Through Truss Bridges for the 'G' scale as well as a display trestle for the flat car in the museum. And was always at least a cheering bystander on many a project, many a time he would wield a shovel in assistance on our march up the hill.

   Gary was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor about a year ago and decided that the treatment was not worth the risk of what the odds were. Like all of us who have watched friends and loved ones go through what they did, some for better and some for worse his decision was to bypass the radiation that would not guarantee him a cure or longevity at best, surgery was not an option for what was diagnosed, but to face the demon through hospice and live it out the best he could. Gary enjoyed his limited time on this plane, he set up his legacy to go to those that he wanted it to go to and who would enjoy it. When I was last at his house in January, Dad and I visited him and he was in great spirits and talkative and enjoyed the visit. Everything in the house had a label on it to as who it was going to. Be it family, friend, museum, etc... He had it under control, his sister was coming out to visit, they hadn't talked in years, he was in contact with his brother as well. He was right with the world and going out on his terms. Gary was brought up in February for the meet and the monster was taking a toll, the meds were controlling him but he made it out and visited. It was good to see him again. Gary passed away last night the 3rd of March, peacefully in his sleep his sister along side him these last few days. I'm going to miss that diesel rattle and the squeaky brakes, he was a good member, friend and man. We will miss him, we no more possess him, our hearts and memory bare. Gary, till that day we meet again, peace be with you friend.      

You see some weird stuff on a bike.

     Riding the bike to and from work is a blast. You feel like a ball on a roulette wheel when you get on the on ramp, you never know what your are in for as you get up to speed, or what you are going to end up next to. Last night as I rolled on at Archibald on the 10 heading east for my short run to the 15 I had a fairly open stretch and was soon over in the HOV lane for a quick squirt. A bike was fast approaching and soon he rolled past on the left. A 1%er flying his colors and a bike that made mine look sparkling clean. As he went by the rear end of his bike was dancing around on the road like a black chicks butt in a NFL half-time show. I thought to myself; self, you can fix that. Just like a squealing fan belt on a car, you can fix that. He waddled up the road and went north on his way to church. You see some weird stuff on a bike.

    This morning on the ride north as I got on the 91 for the battle of lanes at the 15, I just stay in the slow lane as it gets me where I’m going so I just stay behind whoever and let them do their thing. This morning everybody took lanes to the left so it was wide open. I heard to the left rear of me what sounded like five bees in a mayonnaise jar coming up from behind. I saw the headlight; it was a bike, but what? I’m doing 70 and this guy with either brass or balls blows by me in a scooter. I’m talking the Bridgette Bardot type of scooter, best used on a Italian beach scene. The overpass to the northbound 15 has a dip at the transition back to earth and on a bike it bounces you around a bit as you still are in a curve. The faster you go the worse it gets, and I was tailing this guy to watch the show. He hit it good and lost about half a lane before he got it straight. He exited at the next ramp, I hope it was where he was going instead of to empty his shorts. You see some weird stuff on a bike.   

 

President's Weekend at Joshua Tree. 2014

 Punxsutawney Phil needs to move to the High Desert. He would care less if there was six more weeks of Winter if he was sunning himself on a rock at Joshua Tree.
  It was a beautiful weekend among the budding trees including a few Joshua Trees. The Mulberries are a tad confused and by next time will be in leaves; what the Quail don't get to as they are running around with new broods too. Lizards of all sizes had found a favorite rock for the day. Spring is on its way out here.
   President's weekend is the Standard Gauge Meet and we had six of them running and of course the GE 47 tonner too. The Barter boys came from both directions for a weekend of running dirt up the hill. I had to call off the drop bottom Barter Coal loads as we had raised the track far enough above the upper trestle. Bill Shepherd was back at building the turntable wall so it went there instead.
  John Barter came west with his 4-6-0 and Art came east with his 3-truck Shay. Of course plenty of cars as well to fill out the vehicles; the wooden drop bottom gondolas are always a hit around here. We can't wait for the 2 1/2" scale versions to go behind the 2-8-0's they are working on. I brought out the American and the Alco got a running too, the Barter boys used it Saturday afternoon with the drop bottoms and it looked good. Matt Z' had his juice jack pulling more than it's far share and a new visitor from the LA area with a little four wheeled electric locomotive as well as an engine he ran on the "G" scale for the day, Robert Guzman and his son.
  Greg and Becky made it out for the weekend to round out the Ratliff family. A surprise visit from Tom Gazsi was even in the works for the weekend. John Griffin has been hard at work with the Freight Motor as the upper High Line ballasting job has come along nicely. Bill Shepherd has been in town a few weeks and projects throughout the facility are surfacing the longer he is here. Expect to see him through the Narrow Gauge Meet.
 As mentioned the Narrow Gauge Meet is coming up, March 7-10, it is building up to be quite the show, Allan was roped into the Wagonmaster job and he says that all spots to camp are full. If you aren't on the list you better talk real nice and you might get to stay south of Hwy 62.
   We did do a little work on the hill, as John his been adding fill along side the track and ballasting the grade, we kicked the track a little closer to the mountain and it looks wonderful. A quick run with the Laser Level has us within acceptable tolerance's and the next 135 feet of track has steel stakes driven to help the grading process. We are into an area we haven't been in for a while; we need to cut out and remove rock so we can keep a close to flat grade for a siding before we get into the trestle district coming up. This is the last of the pre-graded high line before we get into terra incognito as we work ourselves up the side of the mountain. The grade was completed rough about thirty years ago an we have finally gotten there. We have done quite well working ourselves up the high line with a lot of help from the members, I'm sure we will get a lot further with continued help.
 A link at the bottom for pictures and as usual if you have any questions an E-mail at ratsgarage@yahoo.com will most usually get you an answer. See you at the Narrow Gauge Meet. Brian
https://picasaweb.google.com/Ratsgarage/PresidentSWeekendAtJoshuaTree214172014?authuser=0&feat=directlink

A full Moon story.

This is a reprint from January 15th, 2014 but every full Moon gets the same. The picture Dominique sent me as her reply. Thanks girl.

   I tried to take a picture of tonight's full moon to no avail, iphones do not do very well at that. Of course a full moon always waxes poetically with me. I think of when we as American's stood on that orb.
   I remember back in the days of the space race I was very into it as a young snot. Mom and Dad would wake me at all hours of the late night to see grainy black and white television of Gemin...i link ups and Apollo live feeds of orbits around the moon as we reached beyond the horizon and stood ready to land on the moon. Was it really made of green cheese?
   We were on our families first three week vacation and were headed to Seattle the long way to visit a good friend of Dad's that had moved to the great white north. The long way included Idaho, Montana, Alberta, British Columbia before dropping into Washington. We made it to Battle Mountain, Nevada the first day and visited Craters of the Moon Nation National Monument in Idaho of all places on our trip North. We had made it to Glacier National Park and were in East Glacier when they had landed on the Moon. Being gone for three weeks a laundry day was in order and East Glacier had just the ticket. There was a bar of sorts next to the laundromat and Dad had talked to the bartender I guess and I could peek my head into the side door and see the television at the back corner of the bar and see them bouncing around in grainy wonder.
   When the moon is full and bright I think back to that day. A skinny little eight year old with a fascination to reach to the stars or bounce across a distant celestial body. I think as I look heavenward; we stood there, there are footprints on that surface. I will not get into the arguments that we did not need to go there, or it was fake, or whatever the latest pundits want to vent about. I just gaze upward and remember that day...peeking around the corner of a empty dark bar in East Glacier, Montana...watching a fuzzy black and white television of Neil and Buzz bouncing around an American flag stuck into the surface of the Moon. Where were you?

Sunrises Should be Manditory Viewing.

     A short line about yesterday's ride to work.
    You always see the prettiest sunrises on a motorcycle. You're just a little closer to see the details. The best spot seems to be as I pass the Santa Ana, effluent, feral hog preserve and River; the radiation fog rising from the liquid that passes under the bridge adds to the spectrum of colors yet to come. The sun still is rising to the area behind as I travel northward. The sky changes from dark purple in the west to lighter shades of blue before it intertwines with the pinks and oranges of the eastern high clouds. A streak of white of a contrail of a high distant bound jetliner. And just at the horizon is the rarest of the colors that beautiful turquoise teal hue announcing the coming day. The lights of the morning all the way north lessen in intensity as the sun makes its approach, a morning Southwest flight coming in low over the interstate is up in the air above and the signals of the old Espee blaze red for eastbound trains as I make the high curve westbound for my final sprint to the Ranch. It was a great ride, how could the rest of the day be any less?