Drudge has a link to a story stating that Madonna kissed both Britney and Christina at the MTV VMA Award Show last night. I'm glad I didn't see it; I might've passed out and crushed our cat.

It looks like the number one suspect in the "MSBlaster" worm case is an 18-year old kid. Good...hopefully he'll get some serious prison time. Don't be fooled; this is terrorism and it hits all of us economically.

Han Solo has chimed in on America's foreign policy. Thank God we've finally heard his opinion! I knew there was a reason why I couldn't sleep. Harrison: memorizing a script and playing yourself in every film doesn't make you an expert on anything. In fact, it only means you're pretty and have good hair. Learn your place.

Jessica Lynch is out of the Army. The military doesn't often keep celebrities in its ranks as this can cause problems with unit cohesion and morale. In Lynch's case, her injuries would've kept her off duty for probably another year, so it's understandable. As the story mentioned, there is a book/movie deal in the works. While I don't begrudge her the 15 minutes, I can't help but wonder about the SEALS and other Special Forces men who rescued her. Will there be a big payoff for them? Of course not; it was just another job to do, something they train for. It bothers me on some level that a young private how was part of a unit that got lost in the desert becomes a household name while these SEALS (most of whom got pulled out of Afghanistan for Iraq) will never be known. That's the way they would have it, I know; there's just no cosmic justice in it.

Howard Stern is on vacation this week, so they're running "best of" shows. Stern did a great (and serious) interview with Mia Farrow when the news about Woody Allen and Soon-Yi first surfaced. I am amazed at how intelligent and compassionate she is. She has adopted nearly 14 children; all of them are from third-world countries and most of them have disabilities. She first got involved with children during the Vietnam War when she first came in contact with orphanages there. At first, she only raised money or collected supplies. Later, she actually began to go on visits to Vietnam. It was there she discovered that no one wanted to adopt the handicapped or older kids. These were the children she adopted. I have a new-found respect for her and a new loathing for Woody Allen for treating someone of her caliber so badly.

I stepped out this morning at 5:51AM and looked at Mars as it made its closest approach to Earth in 60,000 years. I left the binoculars at home, so I had to use the ol' naked eye. If you're out tonight around 10pm, Mars will be up. From only 35 million miles, you can really tell it's a planet.

One of the things that frustrates me most in life is being far away from a situation involving people I care about and being able to do nothing about it. Kelli told me long ago that men and women are different in this; women just need to express how they feel about a situation whereas men need to fix it. I guess this is why men have fought wars throughout the ages. If we can go blow something/someone up to fix a problem, count us in.

The heartbreaking thing about this long-standing issue is that friendships will end over it before all is said and done. I have come to learn in my short life that friends should be measured by quality and not quantity. I do not have "friends of convienence" or networking buddies. If you are my friend, you have my love and loyalty. Thus, when friends fight, it hurts me deeply. The funny thing is, it is these friends who make me the most angry. I want to grab some of them and say "Do you know what you are throwing away? Do you know how rare this thing is?" But it wouldn't matter. They will have to lose those precious things before they realize how valuable they really were.


Speaking of losing things (like a brain), Boss left me a voice mail concerning some software problems we had last week. LAST WEEK---keep that part in mind. Anyway, the tone of his message implied that he was SURE I had done something that resulted in some double entries. I'm not even here during the day and I know what really happened. Am I going to tell him? No way. My answer will be something like, "Gosh, Boss, I don't know. I checked all the logs and everything here looks OK." Then I will laugh, knowing that it will take him hours to solve a very obvious problem. Look, I know what Jose Ferrer said in 'The Caine Mutiny'---"You're loyal because he's the Captain or you're no good." I'll take Captain Queeg any day.

I registered the new domain tonight. It's going to be www.opaquelucidity.com (don't go there yet; there's nothing there). When I get ready, I will post a link here for you to follow. Then, the Dattblog will move on down the road, hopefully by the first of September.

My aunt hosted a family reunion today for my father's side of the family. It was nice to see everyone, but it was sad to realize that I only recognized about half the people there. I have 25 first cousins, most of them have children, so it's almost impossible to know everyone. Promises of better communication were made, but I know most of them will never be kept; not out of apathy, but out of the sheer busyness that encompasses most of our lives.

As I looked at my family, I realized that we (just like many American families) have had a hand in most of the big events of the 20th century. Amongst us are veterans of every war since World War One, survivors of the Depression, protestors of the Vietnam War, participants in the Civil Rights movement and countless local events. Unfortunately, almost none of it is written down anywhere. Every day, thousands of stories about heroism, sacrifice and faith are lost as people pass away. Tales that would inspire future generations are gone forever in the blink of an eye. I realize that it has always been this way, but that doesn't make the thought any less sad.


I am probably going to be moving the Dattblog soon to a new website. It will still be me rambling on about events personal and public, but with more added stuff like pictures and a "links" section that will allow you to follow my surfing habits. Stay tuned.

From the Washington Times:

"We have obtained a Defense Intelligence Agency report that states four American prisoners of war from the Korean War were sighted in North Korea in 1993.
A North Korean defector reported seeing the four POWs at the Changkwangsan Hotel coffee shop in Pyongyang in August or September of 1993.
The POWs were described as being in their 50s or 60s and were under the control of the North Korean military's reconnaissance bureau. They were in the North Korean capital to give a lecture on American "armed power."
The POWs were being transported in a Mercedes-Benz.
The report, declassified at the request of the Coalition of Families of Korean and Cold War POW/MIAs, also said that as of 1990 at least 10 U.S. prisoners, including "an unknown number of black men," were being held by North Korea in the Sungho district of Pyongyang.
Also, in 1986 two Americans were spotted in Pyongyang teaching "western customs, western lifestyle and English" at a North Korean Communist Party school.
The defector stated that he estimates that as many 60 American POWs are in North Korea.
The declassified DIA report comes after admissions by North Korea that its intelligence services kidnapped Japanese nationals and held them for decades.
Japan's government wants the issue of its abducted nationals to be raised during the six-party talks with North Korea on its nuclear program. American POW activists want the issue of missing American soldiers in North Korea raised at the Beijing talks as well, we are told."

The term "brain-washing" was invented during the Korean War to explain what happened to some POWs who ended up in Chinese hands. Thus, it is possible that some of these men are defectors who chose to stay in North Korea of their own "free will". But what if they didn't? Can we turn a blind eye to this?

Blackout Blues. Very, very well done.

I was thinking last night about what the world was like when I was 12 (twenty years ago). I was thinking about this after having a conversation with a friend about his child's busy schedule. It seems that, today, many of the pre-pubescent children I know are involved in so many things that they have to schedule their lives the same way their parents do. Since we do not have children, I will not debate the merits of that here. However, I think there may be some solid reasoning behind it. Here's why:

In the summer of 1983, I was getting ready to go into the 7th grade. I don't remember that summer separately from the ones that came before, but I do remember that I rode my bike alot. Something else----I was bored most of the time. It wasn't that I sat at home all the time (although there was probably too much of that for a boy my age), but my world was not filled with anything that was mentally challenging. I wasn't alone in this; all the kids in the neighborhood did more or less the same things. Our lives were not hurried, but they were not especially interesting, either. There was no internet, MTV was in its infancy and only one family on our street had cable.

I can't imagine being twelve today. The number of outside influences on a child has increased exponentially. We were not ignorant of the outside world, but it was not broadcast to our homes non-stop, 24/7. This is why I don't get as bent out of shape when I hear someone say how their child is very busy----what would they be doing otherwise? If I had had an internet connection in my room in 1983, I would still be there, probably looking like Jabba the Hutt. Back then, an old Playboy was worth its weight in gold. How different would I be if I had been surrounded by Britney, Christina and JLo' rear end like kids are today?

I stooped to watch Bill Maher's latest embarrassment on HBO, but only because Anne Coulter was on. Of course, Maher only had her on as part of panel which also contained Orlando Jones. I could almost smell poor Orlando's brain burning as he tried to keep up. Someone told me that he has a talk show. That must be a reeeeaaaal treat.

I've talked about this before, but seeing Maher again (I won't repeat that mistake any time soon) made me relive my thoughts concerning the victory of the cynic in the media and pop culture. Bill Maher, the unfunny, grey serial monogamist who finds it appropriate to mention that he once had sex on Arriana Huffington's couch, has only found success because he can poke fun at the real participants in life. Somehow, questioning the President's intelligence with one-liners instead of thoughtful discussion is appealing to many people. Why, you ask? Because it's easy on your mind. It's like the grade school playground with lights and a nice set.

After I had written off my old Yahoo! account (with calendar and addresses) as gone, I received an e-mail today telling me that it was back to normal, no hard feelings. You gotta love technology.


My friend Robert left for Parris Island today. I met him about 18 months ago through the radio show and I immediately liked him. Like me, he was raised Catholic and comes from a big family. He was getting ready to finish his junior year of high school then and the Marine Corps was still just a possibility. He follows his father, who went through Quantico in the '70s, into the Corps. One thing that Robert has going for him is that he is not a whiner; the ability to do unpleasant things without complaint can carry one far in the military. Another thing in his favor is his size---he's skinny, but not underweight. When I went through Navy boot camp in Orlando, us bulky guys had to work that much harder to shed the pounds, keep up during runs, etc. I can't imagine what horrors Parris Island would've introduced to my body.

I have had the honor of knowing several Marines well enough to know their families. Every one of them is better for their experience. It is amazing that all the branches of the military, but especially the Marine Corps, takes teenagers and chisles them into men and women in so short a period of time. Robert will be no exception; he will come back a man. Even though you probably won't be looking at this blog for quite some time, my friend, know that you are in our thoughts. Thank you for your service. Semper Fidelis.

Test. Move on; there's nothing to see here.

I'm a pretty big science-fiction fan. I've haven't read much of it in the past 15 years, mainly because some of the writing is questionable (it's like a lot of Christian and Country music; it wouldn't cut it anywhere else). But I love Sci-Fi movies, mostly Star Trek. To appeal to me, it has to be good science fiction; I'm not one to watch "Plan 9 From Outer Space" just because it's on.

Today, I saw that the Sci-Fi Channel is going to be presenting a Battlestar Galactica mini-series. All the hardcore fans are pissed because, evidently, it doesn't bear much resemblance to the original show. I was eight or so when the show first aired, and I thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. When I see old episodes now, they seem incredibly cheesy. However, you have to take them as 70's TV and move on. They were great for their day.

One series I have been pining for is Space: Above and Beyond. "S:AAB" was a sci-fi show that ran on Fox in 1995-96 for 24 episodes. It was about a squadron of Marine Corps fighter pilots in 2063. By that time, the US Navy is the space-faring arm of the military; all the carriers, destroyers and cruisers are actually spacecraft. This seemed kind of far-fetched for only 60 or so years in the future, but work with me.

Anyway, our brave pilots are fighting against an unknown alien race which destroyed a human colony on Tellus. The series was done by the same team who did "The X-Files", so it was rife with conspiracy theories and dark content. One thing that hooked me early on was how the viewer didn't know anything more than the Marines. Early on, each hit-and-run mission seemed to exist on its own. But as the season progressed, you were shown more and more of the big picture, leading up to Operation Anvil (why do I remember stuff like this?), the invasion of the alien homeworld. It was only then that you realized that there was really an Allied coalition of sorts, made up of Chinese, British, Norwegians and French forces all carted around this part of the galaxy by American "ships". The season ended with a cliff-hanger of sorts, which led me to believe that the producers expected a second season. It was not to be.

Damn, I'm a geek.

I just had my first run-in with the Blaster worm. If you are running Windows NT, 2000, XP or 2003 Server, please, please, please update your OS and your virus definitions. This is, by far, the most widespread worm I have ever seen. The next time it comes around, it could be carrying a payload.

I don't often post up-to-date news here because I normally only post once a day. However, NYC and must of the Northeast corridor are in the dark right now. There are rumors that the Blaster worm may have something to do with it (doubtful, but you never know), but what has impressed me the most thus far is how well the people of New York are handling this. Los Angeles would already be on fire.

Here is the complete list of candidates in the upcoming California recall election. This is the first time in my life I have wanted to live on the Left Coast. As I see it, there are really only two choices: Kurt E. Rightmyer--middleweight sumo wrestler (He's a sumo wrestler!!! I mean, how cool would that be? He could wear that big underwear thing to the office) and Ned Fenton Roscoe--cigarette retailer (I would love to see all the Tobacco Nazis if this guy won. Where would they go next? Mars?).

Of course, this is Ahhhnold's race to lose. Funny thing about that: can anyone name something that he's for or against and why? I can't either. People like him because he's Conan and the Terminator. That's pretty alarming, but then you guys DID elect Gray Davis. To quote Larry Flynt (concering Davis), "that guy's ready to be embalmed."

Kelli and I are headed up to Notre Dame on Sunday. The plan is to make the drive there and back in one day, stopping at her sister's apartment to set up a wireless network. She could probably do it herself as easy as all that stuff is getting these days. I recently set one up in a couple's home in under an hour and that included upgrading one of the machines from Win95 to Win98. Oh yeah----I'm the man.

I have talked here before about divorce, but an event that occured today got me to thinking about it all over again. Those of you who read this blog regularly know about the very bitter and public divorce that someone with whom I am on the radio went through. Of course, I understand that divorces happen and no one knows what goes on behind closed doors. But this clown, just today, forwarded an e-mail from his ex-wife to everyone on his mailing list. I could almost understand this if both parties were in high school, but this borders on insane. This cat's need for approval is so strong as to make me wonder if he does not have some sort of psychological disorder. Couple this with his very obvious butt-kissing to people and companies who provide him with free services and you begin to understand why my only connection with him is for three hours on Sunday. SHHEEEESHH!!!

I wrote the first page of the next book early this morning. It's just a page, but that has always been the hardest one to write. We shall see.

Sorry about the lack of posts over the weekend. It seems that, more and more, our weekends consist of running errand after errand, with the occasional movie squeezed in for good measure. I don' t mind this at all; in fact, I love a quiet weekend with my wife. It just doesn't leave much time for writing.

Last night, we went to the in-laws for my father-in-laws famous chili (great idea in August!). I have been trying to watch my diet more closely lately, which means a lot of chicken, lean meat, vegatables and the occasional portion of rice. Sunday was the first time I have had chili since January or so. I don't know if there is a connection or not, but I had three distinct, horrible nigthmares last night. One dealt with me stumbling onto this "farm" where women were kept in vats of creamed corn (hey, I don't know either) and fattened up for some undoubtedly gruesome reason. I tried to free them but ended up in a vat myself, which was patrolled by this robotic eel that stopped by to shock me on every once in a while. Since the vat was filled with corn, I couldn't see him coming.

The second dream had Kelli and I in the country where we broke down and walked to a nearby farmhouse. When we entered the house, we found a family that was being terrorized by the father (who, no joke, looked like Boss). I ended up stabbing the guy with a carving knife, at which point the entire family turned on us. This one was the most psychologically disturbing because it makes me wonder what goes on in those little dark corners of my mind.

The final had Kelli and I on a road trip (again), except this time we stopped at a small town motel which looked amazingly like one I actually stayed in in Tennessee once. There was a group of ghoulish looking guys next door who broke into our room. Once again, I killed them all (this time with a shotgun that I must've been sleeping with) and we immeditately hit the road. Once on the road, we noticed a car gaining on us at high speed. It was the four men, all alive and all staring at us. I guess they were the undead or something.

Funny thing about this is that I woke up after each dream, something that I almost never do. In fact, I can't tell you the last time I had a dream that I remember. I'm wore out.

My posts from the last couple days have not shown up yet. Perhaps this post will bring things up-to-date.

So Ahhhnold is running for governor. As I have written here before, I am not a fan of this recall movement. However, it will certainly make for good entertainment. I also read that Gary Coleman (yes, THAT Gary Coleman) is running as well. Only on the Left Coast.

Pride is also a sin, your Excellencies.

So Boss comes back today. He will go back to what he was doing before he left, which is essentially nothing. What was amazing about this vacation (his fifth? this year) is that he didn’t even bother to tell me, one of his employees, that he was leaving. Next Tuesday, I will begin training on the new software that is slated to replace our current Picassso/AS400 setup. Who do you think went to the trouble of rescheduling the training so I could get some sleep? Who do you think sent me an e-mail telling me about the schedule? Boss, you say? HAHAHAHAHA!!! It was Grant, our Network Manager and my personal hero. If Boss had his way, my training would arrive on my desk in the form of some sheets of paper he typed out. “UMMM, here Matt; read these over and let me know if it makes sense.” He will be infuriated when he finds out that he will not have any say in my training on this new system. I am the last person he has any type of authority over even though, on paper, he runs the entire department. You know what, Boss? I’m sorry that daddy didn’t love you, but it’s no longer my problem. We will all be happy to see you go...and the sooner the better.

Interesting factoid: California is the largest dairy-producing state in the nation. The largest herd out there is 14,000 head. Considering that dairy cows are milked multiple (three?) times a day, that must be one amazing operation.



Something happened to me the other night that filled me with both a sense of sadness and a renewed appreciation for the educational opportunities I have had in my life. I stopped on my way to work to get gas and, while I was on my way inside to pay, a man approached me and asked if I could give him some directions. He was holding a piece of paper with a Westport Road address typed on it. Westport Road is about 15 miles from where I was standing, so I did my best to give this man (obviously a delivery driver) concise directions from off the top of my head. I looked back down at the piece of paper while we were talking and I noticed that there were written directions at the bottom of the page that I had not noticed before. It was then I realized that this man, probably in his 40’s, couldn’t read. He probably made deliveries in a set area (his van was from out of state) where not being able to read road signs didn’t create a problem for him. But here he was, far from home, lost and unable to do something as simple as read a map.



We could look at a man like that and wonder why he hasn’t taken matters into his own hands and learned to read. After all, there are numerous adult literacy classes in every city. But I don’t think any of us can imagine the sense of shame that must come with having to admit you lack a skill which so many of us take for granted. It would have to be a grating constant in your life.



I was also thinking about the joy that reading has brought to my life. We all know people who haven’t delved into anything more heavy than an issue of Sports Illustrated since they graduated from school, but at least they have the capacity to do so. To not know the joy of a good book that will NEVER be made into a movie is almost incredible. That there are people in this country today who will never know the printed word is a disgrace.

I almost forgot: I have enough spare parts here to build an older PC. I think I may build one tomorrow, connect it to the router and keep my Blogger account open while I'm home. This way, it may become a stream-of-conciousness thing; if I think it, it goes here. We'll see.

I just noticed a recently update blog: "shut your fucking piehole"...I'm going to run right over there.

I spent a great deal of the weekend cleaning. For some reason, doing the cleaning puts me in a good mood. Thinking about the cleaning depresses me. I can not stand a messy house; I guess I get that from my mother. I am continually amazed at the filth some people will live with. I'm not talking about dust in the corners; I mean a weeks worth of dishes in the sink and a shower that is moldy. YEEEECHHHH!!!.

It's time for the McIntyre story. Kenny McIntyre was one of my classmates in Nuclear Field 'A' School in Orlando. He was married, so he and his wife lived in what we called "navy housing", a little annex area full of tiny houses that was located between our base and the Orlando airport. McIntyre, while certainly intelligent, was the biggest slob I have ever known. My friend Peter and I used to entertain ourselves thinking about how long it would take for the navy to boot McIntyre out on his ass with a dishonorable discharge. One day in late October, 1990, as I was packing to go on leave, Peter began to tell me how dirty McIntyre's house was. His tale was so bad that I was sure he was pulling my leg. When I told him so, he decided that, on our way to the airport, we would stop by the McIntyre house.

So, resplendent in the dress blue uniform of a newly-minted petty officer, I went to Kenny's house with Peter and his then-wife Kelley. OH MY GOD....THE HORROR!!! To this day, I have never seen a house this dirty. Here' the run-down:

1. Several layers of clothes spread evenly over every square-inch of floor space (dirty).
2. Every pot and pan in the house, dirty, piled on the stove (moldy).
3. A bird flying free in the house, shitting at will (birdcage standing open).
4. Open 2-liter bottles of Coke on the coffee table, growing a thick layer of something (penicillin?).
5. Pizza boxes (some empty), piled so high at various places around the living room that they seemed to be defying the laws of physics.
6. A constant, loud scratching/wailing noise coming from the utility closet that turned out to be a cat and a ferret sharing that small space.
7. A smell so bad that I can still conjur it up to this day if I think about it.

As I stood in the middle of living room, worrying that the damn bird would decide to take a dump on my uniform, I decided that I had to go. I bolted for the door, muttering something about needing to cool down a little (it was about 74 inside and 85 outside). Peter and Kelley came out soon afterward; the three of us must've looked like we had witnessed a beheading.

As bad as all that was, the hits were just beginning to arrive. Kenny and wife got KICKED OUT of navy housing about three months later, an act that we didn't think was possible (we imagined the navy deciding to burn the house down instead of cleaning it). On a roll, Kenny then got disenrolled from the Nuclear Power Program for writing checks on a closed account. Then, to put the cherry on top, he got busted for smoking pot. By this time, his wife was seven months pregnant (I'm not making this up). I saw Kenny one more time before I left Orlando; he was busted back to Seaman Recruit and I was a Petty Officer Third Class. He was still his goofy, happy-go-lucky, the-world-hates-me-but-what-the-hell self. I would give a significant amount of money to see him today.

I've been pretty angry for the last 20 hours or so. Our ISP here at home, InsightBB, does not give us the ability to check our e-mail remotely. Kelli set up a Yahoo! account some time ago, but I resisted because of the small amount of storage space (4MB) that comes with a free account. In June, I finally decided to give in and go web-based all the way. Not only did I set up a Yahoo! e-mail account, but I also transferred over my entire address book and calendar from Outlook. Lo and behold, I found out last night that my account has been deactivated. Why? I have no idea. The last e-mail I received was from a friend who thought it was a good idea to forward me a pretty interesting PowerPoint file (it was really nice). Contacting Yahoo! is an exercise in frustration; if you fill out a "Customer Care" form, you are sent a reply telling you to fill out a "Customer Care" form. So I gave up and created a new profile. The e-mail link on the left will send you to my original InsightBB account, which is forwarded to my new address. However, I have to completely rebuild my address book and calendar since I do not have the original Outlook files. If anyone out there knows a Yahoo! employee, please let me know how I should proceed on this. I can live with deactivation, but I would like to have my old mail back.

I sell old computer components on ebay every now and then. I recently sold some stuff to a young person in Texas who, after winning the auction, proceeded to dictate payment terms to me. I met the guy half way (I will leave negative feedback after he leaves some positive feedback for me), but this is not the first time I have had an experience such as this. Each time, the perp was someone young (under 25). Maybe I'm getting old and forgetting what I was like then, but I would like to think that I paid attention to the rules. It's as if there's a trend to think "Well, gosh, that really doesn't apply to me, does it? I mean, I'm very special, so we'll just do it my way." What really steams me is that this guy didn't even realize what he had done. It goes against my fantasy image of an orderly society.

DLP is in the process of changing his blog into more of a full-fledged website. I've updated the link on the the left.

I mentioned some time ago that I contribute a little “This Day in History” post to a website of some friends, which explains why my history postings here have decreased. Today, however, is a pretty important day in history because the events of sixty years ago helped shaped the character of a man who became, by some standards, one of the greatest presidents of the 20th century. So, I have decided to be lazy and repeat my post here:

Today in 1943, PT-109 was cut in two by a Japanese destroyer during a night patrol. PT-109 was a PT boat, the famous wooden patrol boats the US Navy used in both the Atlantic and Pacific Theatres during the Second World War. They were fast and deadly, carrying various heavy caliber machine guns and four torpedoes. They were also dangerous vessels to serve aboard; one lucky shell could blow the 80-foot craft to pieces.

PT-109 would come to hold a special place in history, for her commanding officer was Lt. John F. Kennedy. That fateful night, Kennedy's boat and the other craft of the squadron were spread out off the coast of Kolombangara Island, waiting for Japanese destroyers that were known to be in the area. Critics of Kennedy's seamanship skills wonder how a small boat capable of 50 knots could be run over by a slower ship. The truth of the matter is that PT-109 was barely idleing when she was hit. It was a common tactic of the time for the PT's to spread out and lay in wait. Movement by night at speed was dangerous because the wake of the boats was visible for miles and attracted Japanese night bombers, which could not be heard above the sound of the boat's three aircraft engines.

There was a strong haze that night and the lookouts aboard PT-109 had almost no warning. The destroyer loomed out of the darkness, cut the boat in two and continued on her way without firing shot. Two of the crewmen were killed, but the eleven survivors, including Kennedy, swam to a small coral island nearby. Kennedy swam back out to try to flag down any passing PT boats, but the current carried him away from his destination. When he arrived back at the island, he was exhausted and in excruciating pain from a back injury that would plague him for the rest of his life.

Several days later, the crew swam to another nearby island where they made contact with some natives. Kennedy scrawled a message on a coconut, which the natives took to an Allied coastwatcher nearby. The crew was soon rescued and Kennedy was awarded both the Navy and Marine Corps Medals for gallantry in action. The coconut ended up with a special place in the Oval Office.

Last year, while doing some research about a novel I was considering writing, I came across an autobiography by a man who had served with Kennedy. The man said that when Kennedy turned up missing, the rest of the squadron assumed that all hands had gone down with the boat. But what amazed the author was how quickly PT-109 was written off---there hadn't even been a search party dispatched.