Read Online Thunder Dog by Michael Hingson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Hingson
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made it happen.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. I smiled, big.
I was proud of my dad. Chalk one up for a man who never went beyond the eighth grade but who could wield a law dictionary when necessary. I learned that it is appropriate to take a stand and to defend a principle even if you have to knock on the governor’s office door in the process. Sometimes the little guy wins.
High school went smoothly after that. I was pretty quiet and a bit of a nerd. Dad and I loved our ham radios and were part of the Civil Defense network called RACES, as well as the Military Affiliated Radio Service (MARS), the network of amateur radio operators who helped military personnel overseas communicate with loved ones here in the States. I kept busy with Boy Scouts, church choir, and academics. I joined the math club and became a mathlete, part of a mathematics team that participated in team competitions solving difficult math problems. I did all the work in my head and was pretty competitive.
I loved big band music, and my favorite singing group was the Kingston Trio. I also loved musicals, and my cousin Rob and I drove our parents crazy singing the songs from Music Man at the top of our lungs in the car on a family trip to Yosemite. There was a lot of “Trouble in River City” on that trip.
Then I fell in love. Not with a girl, but with old radio shows. I loved Jack Benny and Fred Allen. Their quick and self-deprecating brand of humor tickled me. I listened to a military show called Command Performance featuring performers such as Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, Jimmy Durante, Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Dinah Shore, and the Andrews Sisters. The Beatles were just getting popular, but I loved the old stuff. I still do. I also listened to action shows like Gunsmoke ; Yours Truly , Johnny Dollar ; and Have Gun, Will Travel . When I got to college, I made some serious money through my love for old radio programs. My dad let me use his tape recorder to tape radio shows. I created a database of my collection and sold copies of old shows to collectors. I still enjoy them and have more than fifty thousand vintage radio shows in my collection. Decades later, the shows never grow old, and they never stop making me laugh. As Jack Benny would say, “Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
I was too busy with school and scouting to think much about girls yet, although my parents made me take dance lessons. I also learned how to play piano, but I wish my piano teacher had let me play by ear. I hated having to read music by Braille because you had to play one-handed while the other hand read the notes. Michael Blizzard Hingson did not like to slow down.
Even so, there are times when leaping out in front may not be the best choice. One day, many years later, a trip down the stairs would require a 100 percent team effort.
In the stairwell I start using an old trick the Boy Scouts taught me, checking the heat by touching the fire doors on each floor. I loved being a scout. I’m an Eagle Scout and a member of the Order of the Arrow, Scouting’s honor society. Two million young men have earned the Eagle Scout designation, while only 180,000 have earned the right to don the Order of the Arrow sash, which recognizes cheerful service to others. Once an Eagle, always an Eagle.
Then, more panic. Overwhelmed by the burn victims, the smell of the jet fuel, and the overall terror, David Frank’s voice begins to quiver. “Mike, we’re going to die. We’re not going to make it out of here.”
My hand tightens for a moment on Roselle’s harness. She looks up at me, I know, watching my face and listening for a command. I relax my hand. I need to stay calm for Roselle. I cannot panic. I cannot let her sense any shred of fear in me .
“David,” I say quietly, so only he can hear. I use my best managerial voice. “If Roselle and I can go down the stairs, then so can you.”
I’m not afraid of the fire.
I was proud of my dad. Chalk one up for a man who never went beyond the eighth grade but who could wield a law dictionary when necessary. I learned that it is appropriate to take a stand and to defend a principle even if you have to knock on the governor’s office door in the process. Sometimes the little guy wins.
High school went smoothly after that. I was pretty quiet and a bit of a nerd. Dad and I loved our ham radios and were part of the Civil Defense network called RACES, as well as the Military Affiliated Radio Service (MARS), the network of amateur radio operators who helped military personnel overseas communicate with loved ones here in the States. I kept busy with Boy Scouts, church choir, and academics. I joined the math club and became a mathlete, part of a mathematics team that participated in team competitions solving difficult math problems. I did all the work in my head and was pretty competitive.
I loved big band music, and my favorite singing group was the Kingston Trio. I also loved musicals, and my cousin Rob and I drove our parents crazy singing the songs from Music Man at the top of our lungs in the car on a family trip to Yosemite. There was a lot of “Trouble in River City” on that trip.
Then I fell in love. Not with a girl, but with old radio shows. I loved Jack Benny and Fred Allen. Their quick and self-deprecating brand of humor tickled me. I listened to a military show called Command Performance featuring performers such as Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, Jimmy Durante, Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Dinah Shore, and the Andrews Sisters. The Beatles were just getting popular, but I loved the old stuff. I still do. I also listened to action shows like Gunsmoke ; Yours Truly , Johnny Dollar ; and Have Gun, Will Travel . When I got to college, I made some serious money through my love for old radio programs. My dad let me use his tape recorder to tape radio shows. I created a database of my collection and sold copies of old shows to collectors. I still enjoy them and have more than fifty thousand vintage radio shows in my collection. Decades later, the shows never grow old, and they never stop making me laugh. As Jack Benny would say, “Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
I was too busy with school and scouting to think much about girls yet, although my parents made me take dance lessons. I also learned how to play piano, but I wish my piano teacher had let me play by ear. I hated having to read music by Braille because you had to play one-handed while the other hand read the notes. Michael Blizzard Hingson did not like to slow down.
Even so, there are times when leaping out in front may not be the best choice. One day, many years later, a trip down the stairs would require a 100 percent team effort.
In the stairwell I start using an old trick the Boy Scouts taught me, checking the heat by touching the fire doors on each floor. I loved being a scout. I’m an Eagle Scout and a member of the Order of the Arrow, Scouting’s honor society. Two million young men have earned the Eagle Scout designation, while only 180,000 have earned the right to don the Order of the Arrow sash, which recognizes cheerful service to others. Once an Eagle, always an Eagle.
Then, more panic. Overwhelmed by the burn victims, the smell of the jet fuel, and the overall terror, David Frank’s voice begins to quiver. “Mike, we’re going to die. We’re not going to make it out of here.”
My hand tightens for a moment on Roselle’s harness. She looks up at me, I know, watching my face and listening for a command. I relax my hand. I need to stay calm for Roselle. I cannot panic. I cannot let her sense any shred of fear in me .
“David,” I say quietly, so only he can hear. I use my best managerial voice. “If Roselle and I can go down the stairs, then so can you.”
I’m not afraid of the fire.
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