Darryl Egley

Day 0: July 8, 2015
Ok, so at the college where I teach a full teaching load is (essentially) 15 semester hours with the option of teaching an additional class and getting paid extra for it. However, the school has this policy where, rather than getting paid for the overload class, we may “bank” those hours, and when we have “banked” 18 semester hours, take a full semester off with pay. It’s a win-win-win policy. Anyway, the Fall 2015 semester is my “leave banking” semester, as it is called. Moreover, due to a quirk in the calendar, this December we get pretty much the maximum number of days we ever get for Christmas break. The upshot of all this is that starting tomorrow, I have 184 days off.
A flurry of goofy talk and texts over and after lunch today with some colleagues has led to this blog. I have no idea how this will end up, but given the humility of its genesis, it can’t help but live up to its lilliputian potential.
More to come.

Day 1: July 9
Article I of the United States Military Code of Conduct reads as follows:
“I am an American, fighting in the forces which guard my country and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense.”
It should be noted that, as the father of a daughter who is a United States Air Force officer who swore that oath, reading that gave me some pause.
Then, probably because I watched some movie, it made me wonder something: Is there some point at which Rachel and all the others swore something along the lines of “I am prepared to take a life in their defense.”? I wondered that and so I occasionally dropped it into conversations with friends, some current, some former members of the military. I asked if that were so because really, that’s a totally different kettle of fish. The response I got was no, at least in the experience of the people in my limited sphere although more than one acknowledged it is, indeed, a different kettle of fish.
Then, probably because I watched an episode of The West Wing, it made me wonder if there perhaps ought to be some point at which elected officials were required to publicly swear something along the lines of “I am prepared to give another’s life in their defense.”
I don’t know how or even if this fits into anything, and it probably seems a bit too deep for 184 days off, but I was just wondering, and this was a day whose high point was me trying to schedule an eye exam. Which I haven’t yet.

By the way, more people should watch The West Wing.

More to come.

Addendum:

Well, there you are. This from my nephew, LCpl David Egley, USMC (as good a man as I know). Try reading this without getting a lump in your throat.

Marine Corps Rifleman’s Creed: (excerpt from Warrior Culture of the U.S. Marines, copyright 2001 Marion F. Sturkey)
In boot camp at Parris Island or San Diego, and in the Basic School at Quantico, no one escapes from the Rifleman’s Creed. Every Marine is trained, first and foremost, as a rifleman, for it is the rifleman who must close with and destroy the enemy. The rifleman remains the most basic tenet of Marine Corps doctrine. All else revolves around him. Marine Aviation, Marine Armor, Marine Artillery, and all supporting arms and warfighting assets exist to support the rifleman. It is believed that MGen. William H. Rupertus, USMC, authored the creed shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. Every Marine must memorize this creed and every Marine must live by the creed.

“This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than the enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. My rifle and I know that what counts in war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, or the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit.
My rifle is human, even as I am human, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strengths, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. I will keep my rifle clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other.
Before God I swear this creed. My rifle and I are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life.
So be it, until victory is America’s and there is no enemy.”

Day 2: July 10
My guess is there will be several slow days. Today’s highlight was getting flea and heart worm medication for Sadie, my daughter’s dog. We’re keeping her for a while.

Whenever she reads stuff I’ve written for the department, Diane Murray, with whom I work, frequently comments that I write well. Mayhaps, but I will say that I was sort of proud of the second sentence in the second paragraph of the post for Day 0. … lilliputian potential… At least for a few moments I might have been, in the words of Sam Malone, “a well writer.”
Don’t get me wrong. Slow days are good days. Slow days are a golf shot. I’m looking forward to getting my first comment. I wonder how I’ll deal with it.
More to come.

Day 3: July 11
I spent most of today working on the daily schedule for baseball camp.

(This piece is just for Tuesday morning. I’ve learned something over the years: “You never change just one thing.”
Something to work on after returning from Germany: First summer session class started at 7:30 Monday thru Thursday, so the alarm was set for 5:20 every day. Boy, you get used to something. The first few days of the 184 I been getting out of bed anywhere from 6:00 to 7:15. (I’ve been awakening somewhere around 5:30 to 5:45 – for no good reason.) There’s no way that should constitute “sleeping in”. I really, really need to work on this…
More to come.

Day 5: July 13
It was probably too much to expect that I wouldn’t miss a day, so I’m sorta glad I got that over with yesterday. I broke my no-hitter in the top of the second.
Because I’m leaving for Germany on Friday, and Saturday’s (I like Garrison Keiller’s observation that the word “Saturday” contains within it the word “turd)” whining notwithstanding (although I can’t remember it, I once constructed a sentence that ended with “… notwithstanding notwithstanding notwithstanding.”), I’m starting my anti-jet lag routine this morning. I’ve done this on all my trips to Germany, and it’s worked pretty well each time. I got the idea from two jokes, one from George Carlin and one from Jerry Seinfeld. George Carlin said that the next time Daylight Saving Time rolls around, we should just settle it once and for all and change the clocks a half-hour and leave them there. Jerry Seinfeld, however, is where the idea really started. After noting that time-change in the Spring amounts to a sort of “National Jet Lag Day”, he suggested that rather than change an entire hour at one shot, we should change five minutes for each of 12 weeks.
So, in that spirit, rather than suffer a six hour shock on one day, I wake up (and go to bed!) one hour earlier each of six days. By Friday morning, I’ll be waking up at 2:00am. I’ll board the plane and depart at 3:00pm, suffer through the “meal” and then be ready to sleep for the flight across the Atlantic.
This morning I woke up at 6:00 (actually, a little earlier). On schedule.
Tomorrow I’m going to whine about things that bother me.
Happy birthday today to Isabella and Molly.
More to come.

Day 6: July 14
All Star Game tonight. Got an iPhone 6. Annual Baseball Camp haircut. Eye exam. Busy day.
More to come.

Day 7: July 15
Pretty busy today prepping for Germany trip, but didn’t want the day to go by without wishing Andrea’s Grannie a happy 90th birthday.
More to come.

Day 8: July 16
On the off chance anyone is reading this, there won’t be any more posts until Day 25, Aug 2 at the soonest. We’ll be leaving tomorrow for Germany and will return on Aug 1.

Day 25: August 2
Got back yesterday from spending 2 weeks in Germany and Amsterdam, so I’m back to posting. As always, the least pleasant part was the flight, although I will say that KLM ranks above what has typically been my flying to Europe experience. What follows is the text of a sequence of Facebook postings regarding my flights. This was originally posted in 2010.

***
What 20 hours on Lufthansa has taught me: Airplane food isn’t about having something to EAT – it’s about having something to DO.
Step by Step guide to how I eat the meals:
1) Eat roll with butter
2) Open entree
3) Sniff contents
4) Close entree
5) Eat brownie (if provided)
6) Ask flight attendant for more Coke Zero
Total time elapsed: approx. 5 minutes, depending on flight attendant availability for #6.

A Friend of Mine: What is the “open entrée” part? Is this like a TV dinner? Don’t they cook your meal and serve it on a plate?

Me: It’s an aluminum container with a foil top. It’s scalding hot (emphasis on scald) and contains some sort of carbohydrate-like material… oh, and occasionally some brown stuff.

Friend: Seriously.. that is awful and you paid how much for that ticket? I have gotten a little salad and then an entree plate and then an ice cream sundae..

Me: unwrapping the silverware can be fun…

Me: Having now flown on British Airways, here is the review of their “food”
(1) roll & butter: ok
(2) cherry/chocolate desert: good
(3) entree: (a) potatoes = virtually inedible, and (b) what “passed” as meat = brown and (pick any two (2) of the following) turd-like, dung-esque, smacks-o-crap, poo-ish, potty-fugitive
***

Tonight for supper we made Tex/Mex. I am happy.

Today would have been my younger brother, Leon’s, 49th birthday. I miss him.

I shared with Mirm a couple days before we left for Europe that I’ve been having some “Ahhh Moments” – those times when you exhale, relax and have that moment when you realize you’re one step closer to a time of relaxing. One happened when I graded my last final exam in the summer session. Another happened when I woke up the next morning and realized I had 184 days off before me. I anticipate having one when I cross the state line into Missouri, when I arrive for the first time at the farm, etc.
I had one of those moments last night when we had gotten home from the airport, clothes were all in the wash, luggage put away, and the evening had settled. It felt good.
More to come.