Alumni Sandstorm ~ 02/03/18 ~ THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED - 1959
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6 Bombers and Don Sorenson sent stuff and memorial INFO today:
Jack GARDINER ('61), Jim HAMILTON ('63)
Bill SCOTT ('64), Terry DAVIS ('65)
David RIVERS ('65), Pam EHINGER ('67)
Don Sorenson (NAB)
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BOMBER BIRTHDAY Today: Gail DAWSON ('66)
BOMBER BIRTHDAY Today: Glenda LATTIN ('66)
BOMBER BIRTHDAY Today: Suzanne COWAN ('71)

BOMBER LUNCH: Class of '60, 11:30, 3 Margaritas (1st Sat) 

BOMBER CALENDAR: Richland Bombers Calendar
    Click the event you want to know more about.
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>>From: Jack GARDINER ('61)

2-3-59 a tragic day in American music history. It's a good
time to go to Youtube music and watch 3 stars by Tommy Dee or
Eddie Cochran. Tragically Eddie Cochran died in a automobile
accident the following April. Gene Vincent was also in the
vehicle but survived with just a broken leg.
 
-Jack GARDINER ('61)
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>>From: Jim HAMILTON ('63)

As I most often spend my mornings perusing car ads, I call it
"Coveting and Coffee". Today I notice a truck with a bit
of Richland history. The description states that it was sold
in Richland and there is a picture taken in front of an "H"
Housewith appropriate period minimalist landscaping.

Anyone know anything about it?

'49 Chevy Canopy Truc
				-jimbeaux

-Jim HAMILTON ('63)
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>>From: Bill SCOTT ('64)

Thanks to Don Sorenson's (NAB) response to my inquiry
regarding Hanford's seldom-mentioned status in Manhattan
Project lore. I too doubt there's ever been a novel written
about Hanford. But I think there's more to the reason "Atomic
Girls" and "Girls of the Atomic City" were written about Oak
Ridge. Unlike Oak Ridge, to the best of my knowledge (and I
welcome a correction if I'm wrong) there wasn't a large mass
of women working out on the Project during the war. I suspect
there were very few, and what few there were, were probably
employed in clerical support positions. Now, I don't mean to
be sexist, but that was probably the reality; there were no
"girls" at the controls of mysterious machines to look back
on and write about. Beyond that, I don't think it's a matter
of "second place". No, I think the eternal slight has more to
do with geography and an east coast parochialism among the
very large writing community there, as well as the general
public. Translate that as "nothing interesting happens out
West". Regarding the geography, I'm sure that during WWII
Tennessee was heavily populated, and though entry to Oak
Ridge was verboten, and its mission secret, its existence
would have been impossible to conceal. Thus it was much
better known then and now. To east coasters, then and to an
extent even now, eastern Washington, except for Spokane, was
a blank space on the map. When Hanford was set up, its
remoteness relative to any significant population was no
doubt second only to Los Alamos itself. It's still that way
today, though to a lesser extent. Because of that, the level
of awareness among the general public has always been quite
low. Still, I would think that anyone writing about any
aspect of the Manhattan Project would dig a little deeper.
But they don't. Maybe much of what went on out there is still
classified. We must be content with things as they are, I
guess, and realize that while it may be annoying to be short-
changed, it's not really that important.

-Bill SCOTT ('64)
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>>From: Terry DAVIS Knox ('65)

Happy Birthday, Bob ECKERT ('60) on 2/2.

Okay now, what you first need to understand about this story
is that I hold no ill-will towards the guy who was what you
might call the story's main character--or its star, you might
even say. I'm in the story too, and in fact it's really MY
story. But I'm not the star, because it's hard to be the
star when you're the victim.

So anyway... I'm in the 4th grade at Jason Lee. I live
basically right across Van Geisen and through Rik WILLIAMS'
side yard and across John COONS' back yard and up a short
slope and through the hinged gate leading into the safe haven
of my own backyard. Where nobody who's chasing me can get me.
Nobody. It's my own backyard, after all.

Now, that's an important piece of information here, because
I'm a mouthy little kid and I love to throw dirt clods or
snowballs at older kids, or shout dirty names at them as 
they ride by on their bikes on Van Geisen, and THEN run zig-
zagging between the houses on my block and disappear through
my back gate and hide there in safety behind the bushes along
our fence. That sort of thing.

Back then, there was a narrow paved road running up alongside
Jason Lee called Cadillac Road. It's still there, more or
less, but now its a legitimate wide street, and it isn't
called Cadillac anymore. But back when I was a mouthy 4th
grader, Cadillac was the road that separated the grassy Jason
Lee playground from a large, rough field, surrounded by a
barbed wire fence, where somebody kept two old horses. I've
already mentioned what a mouthy kid I was, and so in fairness
to myself I'll also tell you that I really liked these two
old horses. I mean, I liked them from a distance. I cant
remember why, exactly, but for some reason I was afraid of
them, and so I never actually went through the wire fence and
walked up to them, or anything like that. The closest I ever
got to them was to once in a while throw a couple of carrots
over the barbed wire and stand there and wait for them to
maybe come ambling over to pick up the carrots in their loose
lips. Like I said, I liked these two old horses, but I won't
even pretend to know how they felt about me. I honestly can't
even tell you if they were male or female. They were just a
couple of old horses behind a barbed wire fence in a dry
field there across Cadillac Road from the playground at Jason
Lee.

But I liked them. I liked them a lot. And I got really pissed
off when I came across Van Geisen and up Cadillac with a few
carrots one day and saw two high school age boys over in the
field with the horses, starting to climb up on their backs to
ride.

"HEY!!" I shouted. "HEY!! GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE!" And I
ran up to the fence. "LEAVE THOSE HORSES ALONE!"

One of the boys was already mounted, and he turned his face
partly towards me and yelled back: "Shut your little a*s up,
buddy, before I come over there and shut it for you." He
turned all the way round facing me now, and I could see who
it was.

He probably wasn't a bad kid, or anything, but he was a tough
high sophomore and I was a loud mouth 4th grader cussing at
him from over the fence.

"AW shut up yourself, sh*t face," I yelled. And I dropped the
carrots and picked up a dried horse turd.

"Don't even think about it, you little jerk," he said,
sliding down off the horse's back.

I threw the horse turd and ran.

I scampered down Cadillac to the corner of Van Geisen and
looked back, just as he cleared the barbed wire fence and
started after me.

Fast.

I got across Van Geisen and through Rik WILLIAMS' side yard
and began my familiar evasive maneuver route up among the
backyards of the block. Past the PETERSONs and across John
COONS' backyard. I went up the slope towards my back gate,
and suddenly, out of nowhere, he grabbed hold of my arm and
yanked me to a halt. I let out a scream, and he jerked me
around facing him. I screamed again, and he let go of my arm
and grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my head back. I
started to scream again, and he stuffed a dried horse turd 
in my mouth.

I gagged and thrashed back and forth, squealing, with his
palm over my mouth and his other hand gripping the back of
my neck.

Then he let go and ran down the slope and across John COONS'
backyard and between Rik WILLIAMS' and the Nevins' houses and
back across Van Geisen to somewhere else.

I fell down on the grass sobbing and spitting out remaining
bits of manure. And then I stopped sobbing, because you have
to gulp air in order to sob, and that's a bad idea with bits
of dung in your mouth. And, anyway, you sort of lose your
enthusiasm for sobbing when you're all by yourself. 

And that's the end of the story.

Except to say that I hold no ill-will towards him regarding
the events of that day, since, truly, I pretty much brought
them upon myself. But I never saw him again. Not ever. Not
even once.

But telling the story still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
(Thassa joke)

http://AlumniSandstorm.com/Xtra/Dav/180203-4th_Grader.jpg

-Terry DAVIS Knox ('65)
Sent from my Samsung Galaxy smartphone.
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>>From: David RIVERS ('65)

Re: The music never dies

That'll be the day!

-David RIVERS ('65)
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>>From: Pam EHINGER (Blue Ribbon Class of '67)

Dear Class of '68

I am trying to locate Roy SIMONIS ('68). If you know his
where abouts will you give him my email address! 

Thank You!

Bombers Rule
-Pam EHINGER Kindl (Blue Ribbon Class of '67)
Sent from my LG Mobile
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>>From: Don Sorenson (NAB)

Re: More about Hanford

Hanford produced over 2/3rds of the nations plutonium for its
defense and for the most part remained in the shadows over
those years. Besides Plutonium production over the years in
its early days Polonium 210 was created in its reactors. The
targets were sent to Mound Ohio so the Polonium could be
extracted and formed into a small ball that was encased in
Gold. The combination of these two materials emitted neutrons
to increase the effectiveness of the fission process. Its
code name was Urchin. This little secret really made fission
very efficient. Hanford's reactors provided other support for
the U.S. in ways you might not even imagine. Hanford looked
for Poltergeists in the '50s and created medical isotopes in
the '60s for a cancer patient in the Seattle area. Its more
than plutonium, more than weapons, its peaceful side has co-
existed for many years. 2nd fiddle? Perhaps to the unlearned
but not to those of us who worked there and know differently. 

-Don L. Sorenson (NAB)
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********************** MEMORIAL INFO ************************
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not a memorial - only INFO today

Janice HEIM Harlow ('61-RIP) ~ 1/28/14 - 1/26/18 

Celebration of Life: TOMORROW, Sunday, February 4, 2018, 1pm
	Einan's at Sunset, 915 Bypass Highway, Richland
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That's it for today. Please send more.
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