Tag: California

95.1 degrees


That’s close enough to 98.6

What is the normal body temperature? 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Right? Well, I’m not always normal. At least that’s what I learned when I was transferred to Camp Pendleton, California, and I went to the medical section. My temperature was 95.1 degrees.

In the United States Marine Corps, we had to have a physical exam every time we were transferred. I was examined many times by doctors and nurses since the first day I enlisted. We were examined before we left Chicago for boot camp. Then we were examined when we arrived at boot camp. Then we continuously went to the medical section to get a battery of vaccines in case we were ever deployed overseas. I was examined again when I arrived in 29 Palms, California, in the middle of the Mohave Desert.

When I was in the Marines (1978-1981), I went boot camp at MCRD San Diego California. Then I was stationed at 29 Palms in the middle of the Mohave Desert for one year while I attended electronics school. Needless to say, the weather is “warm” year-round. I was surprised to learn that I would be stationed in the middle of the Mohave Desert to train for electronics repair. 29 Palms in the desert does not sound extremely exciting, even if they said there was a girl behind every tree. Plus, there weren’t many trees at the base!

I was stationed there for about one year while I studied for my MOS of 28 something or other–I can’t recall the rest of the number now. I learned electronics and how to repair the field radio PRC-77. There wasn’t much entertainment on base, and daylight hours were usually hot. You know how they say, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity”? Well, when it’s 120 degrees, it’s extremely hot even without the humidity! And they had heat warnings with different colored flags. The only one I remember is the Black Flag: Do not go outside for anything!

Luckily, I enjoyed reading and running. So, when I wasn’t in class or studying for class, I would read or run a lot. I also started writing regularly. I had started running in high with the cross country team. I wasn’t very fast and I didn’t have much long-distance endurance, but I really enjoyed running! Since I arrived at base in December, the temperaure was usually in the 90s when I went running. I ran six miles almost everyday, which was the distance I ran before going to boot camp. As the thermometer continued to climb, I kept running, acclimating to the heat. Almost everyone thought I was crazy for running, not just because of the heat, but also because no one required that we run. So I kept running even with the Black Flag warning. The runs were challenging and I did have to drink a lot of water afterward. I was so proud of myslef because I was the only runner–strike that–the only living being outside in the sun in the afternoon. I though I had acclimated exceptionally well to the desert and its heat.

One day, on one of my runs, I felt like I was running in slow motion, but I completed my six miles anyway. When I returned to the barracks, I drank water from the water cooler repeatedly for about ten minutes. I felt very dehydrated, I must have drunk about a gallon. One of my fellow Marines saw me drinking water, and asked me, “You didn’t go running today, did you?” I nodded my head yes. He said, “Are you crazy? Today the Mohave Desert broke the record for the hottest day. Death Valley Desert did, too!” No wonder I felt hot!

So, when the medical section at Camp Pendleton is shocked that my temperature is 95.1 degrees, they ask me how I feel. I tell them that I feel fine, but they don’t seem convinced. They take my vitals again. My temperature is still 95.1. “Did you drink cold water recently?” the nurse asked. “No,” I replied. They asked a lot of questions about how I felt at the moment asked me questions about my family’s health history. They were mistified.

The nurse made a few phone calls about my “condition,” but I couldn’t make out the whole conversation. Previously, when I tried to posit my theory as to why my temperature was so low, they cut me off. They were the medical experts! They asked me if I was trying to get a medical discharge. Of course, not!

Finally, about thirty minutes later, they took my temperature again. 95.1 degrees! “Why do you think your temperature is so low?” they finally asked. They had no explanation. I explained that I had lived in the Mohave Desert for the last year and that I had acclimated to the desert heat very well. They just shook their heads. I told them that I had run six miles almost everyday for the last year, no matter how hot it was. That sounded impossible to them.

They made a few more phone calls. They wrote some notes in my medical folder. Finally, they told me, “Go back to your unit.” The ordeal made me question what is normal? No one has ever accused me of being normal. Whatever that is.

DDR

Hills


This picture doesn’t truly capture the grade of this hill in Glen Ellyn.

Illinois is a rather flat state. When I ran races in California, the race entry form would describe the race course as either flat or hilly. And by hilly that usually meant some steep incline. I once ran a seven-mile race that was uphill for the first half of the course. When I returned to Chicago and started running races here, some race courses were described as hilly. In California, these types of hills are called “flat” by some race directors and “gently rolling hills” by others.

When I started running cross country in Donaldson, Indiana, we never ran any hills because the terrain is relatively flat there, too. Occasionally, there were some slight inclines, but there were no real hills per se. In Chicago, there are no hills either. When I ran with the Marquette Park Track Club, coach Jack Bolton would have us doing “hill work” by running up the sled hill in Marquette Park or running to the “Nabisco Hill” near the Nabisco cookie factory. They weren’t real hills, but that was the best way to train for the “hilly” races in Illinois.

In México City, they have mountains, not hills. I once went running with my cousin through the mountains. We ran for about an hour, but I was surprised that I could keep up with him. I think he was trying to run me into the ground.  Afterwards, he told me that since I was from Chicago, he didn’t think I could handle the hills or the altitude, México City having the elevation of 8000 feet.

So now that I’m running in “flat” Illinois again, I found some “hills” in Glen Ellyn that for my area of Illinois are “hilly”. Of course, I’m not as young as I was when I ran in California or México, nor am I in top form physically anymore. However, I’ve been running these hills for the last year or so trying to get back in shape. I think back to some of the hilly California races I ran and these hills I’m running now don’t seem so steep now.

A few weeks ago, I was running up this Glen Ellyn hill, seen in the picture above, and struggling to keep running at the same pace. This hill on Prospect Avenue goes up for about a half mile. I’ve seen other runners stop running and start walking up this hill. I always continue running up the hill. It’s funny how I only remember running uphill, but not running downhill. Anyway, I’m running up this hill, when suddenly I hear footsteps behind me. I could tell it was another runner by the pace of the footsteps. A female runner passes me up and I say, “Good morning” to her. I make it a point to greet all runners I meet in order to share in the camaraderie of running. She runs a few steps past me and turns back to look at me. She tells me in a firm voice, “Attack the hill!” So, I attack the hill and pull up alongside her. I’m pushing myself harder than I would have had I been all alone. I’m struggling to keep up with her, but I actually feel good that she came along and pushed me to run faster. Her running form is smooth, but she’s huffing and puffing with each step up that hill. I, on the other hand, am not huffing and puffing, but you could tell from my form that I’m struggling to get up that hill. When we get to the top of the hill, we part ways and I shout out to her, “Thanks for the motivation!”

I guess I enjoy the challenge of running up hills.

DDR

Vanity license plates


This is not my vanity plate!

Vanity of Vanities! Everyone seems to have a vanity license plate. Everywhere I look on the road, I see a vanity plate.

I give up! For a while there, I was taking pictures of clever vanity license plates, although I must admit that some vanity plates weren’t so clever. People are more than willing to pay extra for these license plates, whether or not they were clever. There are just too many vanity license plates for me to photograph!

I quit taking those pictures for safety reasons. Occasionally, I would take a picture of vanity plates while driving and a couple of times I almost got into an accident. Is my life worth risking for the sake of documenting people’s idea of “wit”? Will I further humanity by continuing to risk my life? Will anyone notice that I’ve stopped taking these pictures on the road while driving?

Lately, I’ve noticed that there are so many vanity license plates in Illinois. So many that I’ve reached the conclusion that we must be the vainest state of the Union when it comes to vanity plates. Every time I drive, I see at least one vanity plate. When I drive to other states, I don’t see as many vanity plates. Okay, I did see quite a few in California, but not the other states I drove through. But I’m sure that other states will catch up with the growing popularity of vanity license plates.

DDR

Hollywood Marine


2509 W. Marquette Road

I don’t know why, but I always wanted to join the Marines since I was little. The Marines, the few, the proud. They were real men. As boys, my friends and I always talked about how tough the Marines were with great admiration. So, I eventually enlisted at age 22, much older than the normal age of eighteen or nineteen. My father was afraid that I would get killed in action, even though there was no war at the time. My mother was so proud of me! But I’m not sure why since she was so disappointed when I left the seminary and didn’t become a priest. Perhaps she would have been happy if I had become a chaplain in the Marines.

U.S. involvement in Viet Nam ended in 1975 and I joined the Marines in 1978. That means that I didn’t see any combat action. I trained at MCRD (Marine Corps Recruit Depot) in San Diego for boot camp. That made me a Hollywood Marine. After boot camp, I went to 29 Palms, California, where I studied electronics for a year and a half for my MOS. By the time I was trained as a telephone and switchboard technician, I had already served more than half of my three-year enlistment. However, I could not serve any time overseas because I only had a little more than a year left of my enlistment. No one was sent overseas unless they had at least two years of service left.

I was transferred to Camp Pendleton near Oceanside, California, where I became a real Hollywood Marine. I spent a lot of time in Hollywood watching movies! The people who watched movies in Hollywood really loved movies! I didn’t see any combat except in the movies. The closest I ever got to the battlefield was watching Apocalypse Now! at the Pacific Cine Dome in Hollywood.

Another memorable movie that I watched in Hollywood, and I still vividly remember, was Monty Python’s The Life of Brian at Mann’s Chinese Theater. My brother Danny and I saw it together because he was also in the Marines and stationed at the Tustin Marine Air Base. Luckily, we went early in the afternoon to buy tickets. The next two shows were sold out and we couldn’t get tickets until an evening showing. We had time to see another movie and eat dinner before the Monty Python movie. Everyone loved the movie! I had never experienced such great enjoyment of a comedy movie before, or since. There was a lengthy line to enter the theater, so I told my brother we should sit near the front. In 1979, before the era of surround sound, the only speakers were located behind the silver screen. And it’s a good thing we sat close to the front because the non-stop laughter continuously drowned out the movie soundtrack!

If I didn’t go to Hollywood to watch movies, I would go to Newport Beach, California, to watch movies. There was a movie revival house that always showed classic movies. I used to like reading books and then going to see the movies based on them. I remember reading Joseph Heller’s Catch-22 and Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five and then seeing the movie versions of those novels. Unfortunately, the Marines didn’t award me any medals for my deployment to the movie theaters. Nor did I get any medals for my reconnaissance missions to Disneyland! Oh, the long lines I had to endure

Long after I completed my enlistment, I received an application in the mail to join a group called the Veterans of Foreign Wars. All I had to do was check the box of the war that was ongoing while I was serving in any of the branches of the U.S. Armed Forces. As luck would have it, there were no wars while I was in the Marines. I’m not complaining, in fact, I feel extremely fortunate, but I couldn’t join the VFW! Viet Nam ended in 1975, long before I enlisted. The next eligible conflict was the Beirut barracks bombing in 1983, which occurred two years after I was honorably discharged. Of course, I don’t deserve to belong to the VFW. I was a Hollywood Marine!

DDR

UIC SOS


The international symbol of distress.

Teaching is very rewarding in many ways, but just not financially. My alma mater and present employer, the University of Illinois at Chicago (UIC), is suffering from budget problems. Well, the whole country is suffering from these hard economic times. UIC is suffering because the state of Illinois isn’t paying UIC what it is owed and therefore hirings of new faculty and staff have ceased. Faculty and staff must take unpaid furlough days to meet the budget shortfall–in addition to the budget recissions already implemented over the past few years. Illinois has one of the worst budget crises in the country, second only to California.

Of course, my job security is also on the line. My contract as a Spanish lecturer with UIC expires on May 15, 2010. Will I be rehired next year? No one knows with any certainty. We’ll see. The good news for me is that I don’t have to take any unpaid furlough days. The bad news is that I don’t earn enough to take furlough days. I feel the budget cuts in so many ways. I can’t call anyone on my office telephone outside of the Chicago area codes. Every year I’m allowed to make fewer and fewer copies of student handouts. Luckily for me, Spanish is the foreign language most in demand at UIC. Unfortunately, gone is the golden age when everyone who earned a Ph.D. would more than likely get a job in academia!

DDR