This is my first blog anywhere in the world, so please be kind.

I have been a lurker on this site since around 1999, and a member since 2010, and a participating member for the last couple of years. So the way I see it, I've got some payback to do. So here goes, so hold on tight, because this may be a bit of a bumpy ride.

So, where to begin...I could quote Steve Martin an say "I was born a poor black child", but it would be more appropriate to quote Jim Chrochie, "there were planes to catch, and bills to pay, I grew up while he was away." So to fill in the blanks here, I was not born poor, nor black, and there were planes to catch, and navigate. I was born into an Air Force family, the forth of 5, well actually 6, but I'll get to that later, and the only boy. My father was the navigator of a B-52 during the Cold War, if anyone still remembers that. My father put his life on the line every time he crawled into the cramped navigator cube, flying missions that would routinely last 25 hours, in sub freezing temperatures, to keep the Red Menus back on his side of the border. I am so very proud to be his son, and I hope some day to live up to the task to be able to have made him proud. He passed away three years ago after slipping into a coma for the last day of his life. I am so honored to have been able to be at his side for the last 48 hours of his life, and to be at his side as he took his last breath, and went on to be with his beloved wife, whom he was married to for 49 years. I think I will have to take a break here...to emotional...more later.