To the people I know and to those that were there in the land of the whispering dunes, the singing sand and the stars that came to the earth at night so bright and the best welcome any of us ever got upon arriving home from school, the flares from the air.
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June 1967 - The Six Day War |
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 As far as Baba Hatab went, the story at the time was that he was directing the Palestinian youth, and some UPM students, as to which house to attack. However, the real fact was that he was trying to drive down the hill from Barger's to warn many of the Americans of the rioters who had come in through the primeter fence by the hospital. They did penetrate the fences in several sections, but the vast majority came via the hospital tunnel.
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My Princess, The Rose of Arabia |
While it may seem there is a message here, the real point of my tale below is for each and everyone of you to come to the ARAMCO-BRATS, INC. 1999 ATLANTA REUNION. The story below is an example of why I will always go, and if not for my Rose, I would still go because all of you, each and every individual, contributes in some way to the memories of a common bond: Our life in Saudi Arabia. See YOU there!
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"An Eye for an Eye" was the expression used by my mother as we went out of the Main gate to the Amir Jawuli's Palace. "So help me, if you even think of embarrassing your Father tonight, I will show you what Saudi justice is all about!" This from my own mother, who as far as I knew, had no reason to deliver such a sermon. I mean, what could happen at some old Arab's house where I was being forced to go and eat.
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I always felt that the "Black Mark" system was set up by Ned Scardino and Mr. Crampton as a special way to derail me and a few other dangerous sociopaths.
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Speaking of religion brings to mind that I was once a good little boy. On the day of the Confirmation Dinner, I am not sure how old I was, but under ten. My best friend, who later went on to become a golf semi-pro, was Douglas Burke. He was a good Catholic boy also, but we used to fight like cats and dogs over Catholic dogma. For example, on the day of our Confirmation, while living in Abqaiq, several things happened that caused the questioning of faith.
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I think it was early 1960's when I thought the blue uniforms were sharp. So I joined up, conning Mom into becoming a Den Mother. For this small action, I still do penance.....
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It was always hot as a returning student - even the nights didn't cool off. Yet, the 1968 "Night of the Tri-D Returning Student Dance" will doubtless go down in history. It should most likely be allowed to sink as fast as the Titanic, but....as there seems to be a story here, off we go.
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It was humid, and the night was so, so long. I knew that some reflections might help, but the thought of the dawn, and the method of execution, was overwhelming.
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One of the many fun things about Arabia was the scuba diving. I remember Half Moon Bay and the sunken boats, one of which several of us put a goat skull on and called the Holy Grail. But, the most fun I ever had, inspite of almost drowning from laughter, was the day that Chris Mohlman, super diver, and a bunch of us were out in the bay and poking around.
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Well, you knew there had to be...right? So it's October, and everyone is deciding what to go out trick or treating as - guess this was about 1964.
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After all the religion discussion I thought I'd throw another perspective on the fire...
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I remember the fact that my feet burned, and that my Arab friend laughed with a barking sound, for which I called him "Jackal". He in turn called me "Tezick", meaning female camel. The sand was hot and sank up to my ankles and running down the dune and into the Bay we would push each other and try our dammdest to drown each other.
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A fondness for weapons has lasted most of my life. After the war, I no longer cared to actually shoot anything, except perhaps my cat if he doesn't knock off ordering Domino's without me knowing.
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Well, after burning my rear on the steps leading to the patio snack bar, all due to aÊ very good friend I had little to say to Sebastian, the lifeguard. I have always believed he knew little English and that was.."You, out, thirty minutes!" I do know that I was visibly impressed that steam was coming from my backside as the baggy suit dried out. Ever notice how the alleged "tie" strings stretched when they got wet.. Well, thus an adventure.
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Well, Dhahran was hotter than the old man's kitchen during a double run. (Which I had already been to several times to bleed off a little high quality first run to lead some unsuspecting damsel astray.) After all, it was the day of the big event. RT was having their Tri-District Dance and returning students were foaming at the mouth for the Arabian Nights to come.
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It was a very hot day, July 4th, 1967, and I was with Chris Mohlman, Linda Mestrezat, and Peter Pestoni.
We had been standing by the tower and noticed that there was a kinda ladder running up one side...so, as if you didn't know, we decided to climb up. Incidently, the tower was off, or at least there was no noise. We got about three fourths the way up when we found a little trap door, so in we went. Man, what a neat place for a hangout.
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I guess that my familiarity with Lava soap came about differently than most of you. Seems as if I went to the Dhahran Library and found a neat book. This had to be about the eighth grade, and we were all just fascinated by how the Government would censor all the magazines with black magic marker or cut out pages. They did this for anything to do with sex, religion and, of course, Israel. Well, wanting to learn new words, and you can guess the direction this is heading, I managed to find the "FORBIDDEN" book of "American Slang" that was kept on the top shelf of those old steel shelves in the library. Well, these shelves were mighty tall, and myself and another young man (now a damn sight further along into geezerhood than I), decided to climb up the book shelf to get this book of wondrous words.
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It was a wonderful May in 1962. We were living in Ras Tanura and we always did something to out do each other on our birthdays. So, I felt that when I got up that morning, it was PARTY time. Here I was, a stud TEENager, and I knew that it was time to plan the BIG one.
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Here is the reason why there were so many beer bottles in reclamation: In 1947, beer was legal in Arabia, and the Local Police Chief of Dhahran (Saudi) had beer at a Christmas party in Dhahran. He, and six others, left very intoxicated, and while driving on the Dhahran to RT road, hit a dump truck head on killing them, himself, and his passengers. The driver of the dump truck ran away, but Saudi government trackers found him, and as luck would have it, he was the local Emir's son. Despite pleas of mercy, the son was beheaded.
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Coming home to Dhahran after a year away at San Marcos Military School, I got off the plane, went to my knees from the blast of humid air, and finally headed towards the Customs area.
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Well, if you have to tell sad stories, they might as well be interesting and have a touch of humor. So was my first love, a puppy love in the 9th grade, sad. I was playing football, GO BEARS, and saw that Dhahran clearly had the most beautiful cheerleaders. As a red-blooded boy, I found one particularly interesting, the new girl in town, the one who was teaching some new cheers. Well, Steve Reed passed off the ball to Bill Cohea, who gave the damn thing to me. The RT Blue Devils were pressing hard and I thought that the best way to impress this beauty was to run the ball for a touchdown.
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I'm sure that many of you went sand dune racing in company trucks at one time or another. Well, here's my version of why desert seduction doesn't always work..
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It all seemed very reasonable to me, and even now I still don't think the punishment fit the crime. Afterall, it was just one of those days.
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Half Moon Bay Motorcycle Mania |
I guess most of you remember how we used to have picnics sponsored by Student Recreation (Student Rec), etc. at the old Half Moon Bay.
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Many of you, as scouts or just bedus, visited the site I'm about to tell about. But many of the folks from the 1980's on never even knew about it, so.....
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Well, it all started out fine. I was in class in Miss Carter's art class and we were in the process of learning water color. It was raining really badly outside and water was everywhere. Outside of the windows of the art class room you could see the open area that faced the library. Right under the windows was a flower bed, made of concrete and mortar, new about forty feet long and empty.
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Perhaps it was due to Mom being a Nurse, or perhaps it was the initial capitalist beginning to establish itself within me, but immunizations and blood giving were profitable and life threatening to me simultaneously.
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One of my favorite stunts as a returning student was to take the tickets Dad had sent, from who else - Kanoo - and turn them into an adventure. Dad, being all wise and knowing that I was a foolish lad, would try his best to make the trip from Texas to Dahahran straight as an arrow. I would try to get as many stops where the plane arrived late and the airline had to put me up at their expense at hotels, feed me, and then off to see the sights I would go.
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Father Roman and My Crusade |
Ahhh, it's Friday, and although not Sunday, it is Sunday Service in Dhahran. But, before I relate the end of the story, perhaps a short trip as to how Fr. Roman and I developed a particular meaning to the word "Altar Boy".
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