2894 Chapters
  Title Author Publisher Format Buy Remix
Medium 9780870818462


Kevin Holdsworth University Press of Colorado ePub

The ambulance that carried Whitey to the hospital

was operated by the same firm that ran

our town’s funeral home and crematory,

a coincidence that might have made him nervous,

but Whitey was already too-far-gone, rolling on

to hog heaven now, above the black and orange clouds,

his skull too full for impact, set to burst;

he downshifted into sky Sturgis for the final time.

The deer he’d missed browsed placidly

on the scrub-brush slopes beneath White Mountain,

the one he’d tagged lay smeared in bits and pieces,

dragged off the road by Officer Staples, lights flashing.

Lord, that busted up Sportster, Staples noted,

was as sad a sight as a bloated range bull,

or a dead moose, or a road-killed owl or eagle,

all strewn against the trapeze fence.

He walked the red sea roadside

but found no skid marks on the pavement

and nothing left to salvage.

We all knew Whitey liked to ride too fast—

he boasted road-rash tattoos, close calls aplenty,

but when he broadsided that hapless bambi,

his velocity must have carried him straight through it,

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Medium 9781574414615

Photos Section

Ron Tatum University of North Texas Press ePub

On the fence.

Marine Corps Mountain School. 1958. I’m on lower right.

Fresh from active duty in the Corps.

In Tacoma after active duty and before entering Seminary. 1960.

Graduating from Seminary. 1963.

Official picture of smiling Marine Corps major in Reserves. 1967.

Dad, Mom, me, and Nicky, my faithful horseshoeing dog.

Nicky, eagerly waiting in back of my truck.

Working in the sun in California. 1975.

Typical customer’s view of a horseshoer.

Feeding hoof parings to wild turkeys. 1990.

Dog and turkeys eating hoof parings fresh off of horse, who couldn’t care less.

Lady apprentice watching me measure a shoe. 1978.

Rasping a foot. 2011.

Picture by David Beardsley.

Nipping for a field trim. 2011.

Picture by David Beardsley.

Cochise, my favorite customer. 2011.

Picture by David Beardsley.

Thinking about it all. 2011.

Picture by David Beardsley.

Rasping a left hind foot. 2011.

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Medium 9780253347572

25 A Catalog of Blunders

RushJr. Loving Indiana University Press ePub

While John Snow continued to carve his own mark on CSX, McClellan was making plans for an alliance of some sort with Conrail. If it could not buy the railroad, Norfolk Southern might worm its way into Conrail’s bed by setting up joint ventures. One potential vehicle for those alliances was the Triple Crown intermodal service that Norfolk was building from its new RoadRailer technology.

McClellan was a strong advocate of the new technology, and he found a fellow supporter in David R. Goode, who became NS’s chairman and CEO in 1992. Quiet and unassuming with a round cherubic face, Goode had joined the Norfolk and Western fresh from Harvard Law School as a tax attorney. Although he had been raised near the N&W main line in the mountains of southwestern Virginia, Goode had no experience with railroad operations. Yet, like McClellan, he loved trains, enjoyed touring historic rail lines, and collected old books and art about railroads.

As did McClellan, Goode recognized that Norfolk Southern needed routes into the Northeast and could not afford to let another line grab them instead. Much of the road’s northbound traffic was handed over to Conrail, and NS failed to capture many east-west movements because Conrail held a monopoly on New Jersey, where they originated or terminated. Norfolk Southern’s tracks crisscrossed the east from Jacksonville to Chicago and New Orleans to Washington, but north of the Potomac and east of the Ohio border they were conspicuously absent. “I think things always pointed us towards the need to get into this big hole that we had in the map,” Goode said. “Any time you went back and looked at the old maps of Norfolk Southern, you had this big hole in it.”

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Medium 9780253223449

Chapter 53

Marianne Boruch Indiana University Press ePub

Chapter 53

A glimpse then: such are the moments of perpetual beginning. To be stopped, to feel the starting point so keenly. That was Esalen too, by will or accident.

So you two are—from where?

Frances and I would mumble what we could to answer, obviously self-conscious and awkward—no doubt a problem more serious than how we dressed or what we’d read since that state of being is deeply contagious; its stain can spread. Meeting strangers, especially older ones—and everyone seemed older at Big Sur, well-spoken, earnest, at ease—I mostly lived uncomfortably in such a state, a kind of suffocating thought-bubble that lasted well into my 30s. Even now in any gathering, large or small, I can blink back to that mode, fully unnerved, time slowing to the awful tick tick of a clock in the empty room of my head. The fact is, it’s crucial not to give a rat’s ass about what happens, or why, so that the you in there shrinks down. Then all improves dramatically. Then you find words and thoughts. Or they find you. But I was years away from this most useful delusion. We—Frances and I—were basically mute.

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Medium 9781576752760

CHAPTER 13: Meetings With Remarkable People

Frick, Don M. Berrett-Koehler Publishers ePub

I have a philosophy. I call it the hole-in-the-hedge philosophy. There isn’t much to it. You don’t bother much about goals, plans, accomplishments. When you see a hole in the hedge, and the grass looks greener on the other side, you go through. If you don’t like it over there, you can come back. You can even be fickle about it and go back and forth while you make up your mind. As a matter of fact, you don’t worry much about making up your mind. Something usually happens to make it up for you.

It isn’t a philosophy that is likely to make you rich or famous or even do much good in the world. I don’t recommend it to the ambitious or the overly serious. But you have a lot of fun.

Also get into some trouble. 1


In midlife, a wondrous gift often comes to those who have made themselves eligible through curiosity, learning, and openness to the bitter— and sweet—juices of life. A more complete solar system begins to take shape in the evolving psyche. The young sun of self-centered ambition and petty ego transforms into a more mature, life-giving source of solid 173values. Old planets of abiding interests find their proper orbits; fresh knowledge and spirit give shape to emerging bodies; a passing comet of insight may be captured and made a permanent part of the structure. This is still a time of dynamism, of seeking, but the shape of the search becomes clearer. The mind works faster and makes richer, deeper connections; heightened powers of discrimination filter out trivial knowledge. It is the time of the beginning of wisdom.

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Medium 9781574415247

Chapter 1. Unwrapping

Kathryn U. Hulings University of North Texas Press PDF


Michael came wrapped in layers, too many for a pleasant spring day. Even indoors, a small knitted cap was secured over his ears with yarn tied in a sloppy bow underneath his chin, brushing up against a matching sweater buttoned high on his neck. There was a small bead of sweat on his brow, but he seemed parched; a blister festered on his lower lip and, in the fluorescent lights, his skin was a dusky shade of pale yellow swirled with pasty blue. Where his head had been shaved on the sides to accommodate an IV tube insertion a few days earlier, I could see pea-green veins throb in a nervous, thirsty flow. About half an hour earlier, before I held Michael in my arms, I had met his escort, a close relative of his, who was also blanketed in perspiration from her trek through the labyrinth of Stapleton Airport.

It was not difficult to spot this small, winded woman and the quiet infant she carried on her bosom like a backwards papoose. In addition to the baby, she lugged a large blue duffel bag over her shoulder. Exiting the terminal ramp, she had a lost, searching look, not unlike a child on the first day of kindergarten who, before entering the classroom, peers over her shoulder to make sure Mommy is still there, waving her on, nodding in assurance. I was not sure if this woman, whose voice I’d heard, but whose face I’d never seen, was looking backwards for comfort or forward for closure; either way, I ached for her.

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Medium 9781574412413

Chapter 13: Change in the Air

Sarah Byrn Rickman University of North Texas Press PDF


Change in the Air

n September 7, 1943, Brig. Gen. C.R. Smith wrote a memo to Maj. Gen. Barney M. Giles, Chief of the Air

Staff, justifying the Love-Gillies trans-Atlantic flight.

Such flights were considered routine, he said, and given the number of women pilots in the Ferrying Division, more were probable in the future. Both women were capable pilots with no qualms about making the flight. And he thought it wise to reconsider sending the two women pilots over the Atlantic in another of the badly needed B-17s.1

Jackie Cochran took particular note of the cancelled flight. If she had felt—in the light of her own troubles with the gear of the twin-engine Lockheed Hudson—that a woman couldn’t fly a B-17, she knew now that a woman could. Marianne Verges writes in On Silver Wings, “The woman who made her mark with individual aviation records and who was forever proud of being the first—and only—woman to deliver a bomber to

England during World War II, reported on her agenda for the

WASP, ‘Individual comet-like achievements should be avoided, graduation into important new assignments should be not by exceptional individuals but by groups.’”2

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Medium 9780253340481

Chapter Eleven Mother’s Tutoring

Samuel S. Bak Indiana University Press ePub
Medium 9780253020864

5. The Reagan Years (1981–88): Letting the Democratic Process Work

Lee H. Hamilton Indiana University Press ePub

WHEN RONALD REAGAN BECAME PRESIDENT THERE WAS SOME skepticism among Washington insiders about how well the administration of this actor and two-term governor would do. But historians looking back over the years give his presidency fairly high marks.

Reagan had strongly held conservative beliefs, but it always seemed to me that he was more pragmatic than is generally recognized. In his first inaugural address, he talked about government being the problem rather than the solution, but he signed every appropriations bill funding the government and he didn’t try to abolish any federal departments. Earlier in his career he had denounced Medicare as socialism, but as president he did not try to repeal it and instead tried to protect it. He called the Soviet Union “the evil empire,” but he did not aggressively challenge it and shifted to a “trust, but verify” approach. He wanted steep reductions in income taxes, but realized that he went too far with his first tax bill and corrected course by supporting a large tax hike.

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Medium 9781574415247

Chapter 10. Flying

Kathryn U. Hulings University of North Texas Press PDF


For a moment, suspended over an expanse of nothingness, their col-

lective breath only a speckle in the span of totality, my family flew. Of course, I wasn’t with them; I am permanently grounded by my abdomen full of internal adhesions. So, when my family took to the skies without me on a clear summer day in Southern Colorado, it was meant to be a secret. It was a secret for more reasons than just a kindness to spare me any feelings of envy; those motivations would become clearer as the story unfolded. Regardless, I wasn’t supposed to find out—but all covert adventures eventually find a voice. Someone always rats.

Michael, who was fourteen at the time, was the rat of this particular frolic in the wild blue yonder.

“Mommy,” he whispered into the phone from the comfort of a cozy room at a Holiday Inn, “I have a secret.”

Michael, Jim, and Edie had traveled to Cañon City to compete in the Summer Swim Club State Meet. They’d left me home to relax, to find my bearings after a hot, sweaty July filled with physical challenges.

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Medium 9781574411973


Edited by Peter B. Lane and Ronald E. Marcello University of North Texas Press PDF


Hungnam evacuation, 140

Huntington, Warren, 74

Hurley, Alfred F., vi

Hussein, Saddam, 231, 241, 257

Japanese Naval Academy, Sasebo,

60, 63

Japanese Special Naval Landing

Forces (SNLF), 53

Japanese, military strength and resistance, 1945, 87

JASCO (Joint Assault,

Communications Company),

50; casualties, 63

Jenkins, Harry, 203 jet stream, 69

Jihad against U.S., 244

Johnson, Lady Bird, 173, 179

Johnson, Louis, 131

Johnson, Lyndon, 170, 172,

172n8, 173–75, 177, 188–89,

192n2; assessment of his leadership as war president,

187–89; attitudes toward military, 180–81; Gulf of

Tonkin Resolution, 193n5; management of Vietnam War,

172–73, 179-182, 183–85; orders bombing pause, 200,

200n17; public support for

Vietnam War, 175–76, 178-179; reaction to dissent, 177–78,

184–86; record in World War II,

172n8; self-pity, 174–75

Joint Chiefs of Staff, 88, 182–83; new institution, 131n3;

Chinese intervention, 139

Joint War Plans Committee, 81

Jones, David, 122

Joy, C. Turner, 134


Iassy-Kishinev Offensive, 23

ICBMs (intercontinental ballistic missiles), 113

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Medium 9781574411393

2. Exodus

Stanley Marcus University of North Texas Press PDF

11, 1913, a devastating fire destroyed the Neiman-Marcus store, five and a half years after it had opened. I had just returned from Sunday school and was greeted by my mother, "The store has just burned down." We took the streetcar to town to meet the family, which had gathered there as in a wake, mourning the total loss of what had been The Store.

The next day the partners counted up the monies that would be coming in from the insurance, took stock of their savings, canvassed the family for additional funds, and decided that they would rebuild in a different location. It would take time to find the proper site, so they leased temporary quarters and fixtures and dispatched the buyers to New York to buy new stocks of merchandise. In seventeen days they reopened for business. My father, who still wrote the advertisements, had this to say: "Rather pretty temporary home, comfortable and cool; clean, with good air circulating around and around; refreshing roominess."

As long as they were forced to move, the partners decided to be venturesome by going "uptown," opposite Titche-Goettillger's department store and seven long blocks from Sanger's. Dad, the

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Medium 9781574411621

Staying Connected through the Loss

Donna S. Davenport University of North Texas Press PDF

Staying Connected through the Loss p

When I was in elementary school, we lived in a small Texas town without a Presbyterian church so we attended the Methodist. If I was exposed to any theology, I don’t remember it—except for recalling one Sunday School teacher who alluded to the dangers of backsliding. I must have expressed a lack of interest in the concept because my usually gentle teacher said with an edge to her voice, “Maybe you should think more about being saved, Donna Sue.”

“No,” I answered. “I don’t need to. Mother will die before I do and she will be in heaven. If they won’t let me in, she’ll talk to God about it. I’ll be okay.”

That early certainty of Mom’s ultimate destination, and my conviction that her love for me would keep me safe, did not diminish much for me over the years. I told her a few months before she died about this Sunday School exchange, only half-laughing at my younger self. She listened and smiled. She did not contradict me.


The family Christmas celebration in 1997 was at my house, and we have a videotape of Mother recounting early family history, recalling

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Medium 9781574412925

Chapter 10. Epilogue

James T. Gillam University of North Texas Press PDF



A week after I got home, Peg and Gene Mullen, the parents of

Michael Mullen, came to my family’s home. I had trained with

Mike at the NCO Academy and shared a room with him in the barracks at Fort McClellan in the summer before we went to

Vietnam. They told my parents Mike had been killed on February 18, my birthday. I missed the visit; I had already left for college. I still regret that I never had the courage to contact them, but I just didn’t know what to say. That was the period when I was trying to cope with the strange situation in which

I was losing friendships instead of friends because of the war.

My friends weren’t dying in combat anymore, but friendships

I had before I was drafted, or new ones I tried to make when

I came home, were dying. That was because of the difficulty I had making the transition from hunting and killing people to pretending to be a normal college student. I know now some of the trouble was because I got home in midsummer of 1970 while the protests over the Cambodian invasion and the killings at Kent State and Jackson State Universities were still fresh in people’s minds. Soldiers were unpopular in some quarters.

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Medium 9780253353832

10 A Diverse Inventor

William D. Middleton Indiana University Press ePub

As an inventor, Frank Sprague presents us with a complex character of sometimes seemingly contradictory traits. On the one hand, he provides a textbook example of the “inventor’s shop” model of focused, directed research on a specific set of design problems—working with his colleagues and employees methodically testing and revising designs in a disciplined shop environment. On the other hand, he also displayed characteristics more in accordance with the “lone inventor” stereotype—jotting down ideas and plans as they occurred to him, on nearly any design problem that presented itself during his daily business. Throughout his career, Sprague relied on both spontaneous creativity in recognizing and meeting design challenges, and disciplined, methodical work in refining his ideas. He combined both of these traits with an indomitable sense of purpose and tireless zeal for pursuing and promoting his ideas, as well as asserting his priority to specific inventions or design elements, particularly when he believed himself to be in the right. He must at times have seemed to his “opponents,” and probably to some of his colleagues as well, as something of a gadfly. He did not accept failure easily, and at times persevered against the odds to his cost. We will return to this aspect of Sprague the inventor below.

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