An Ordinary Guy

By Ken Holly

Ken Holly is just an ordinary guy with an ordinary past. He grew up in postWorld War II America as a middle-class boy in an old-fashioned suburban neighborhood, learning the value of hard work and absorbing the strong ethics of the Greatest Generation. But being ordinary is what makes Ken special.

Whimsical and honest, An Ordinary Guy shares Kens story of how a childhood spent in Houston, Texas, in the 1950s made a lasting impact on his life. Ken was a faithful church-goer who grew up surrounded by World War II veterans and was active in Boy Scouts; in this memoir, he reveals how each of these influences shaped him into the adult he is today.

He also discusses how his values sustained him in some of the most challenging times of his life. While serving in the US Navy as an aviation electronic tech and radioman, Ken had some close calls, but came out of them unscathed. Following his military service, he went back to school, built a career in electronics, and married his wife, Pat. He became a father twice with the birth of his two daughters and continued working until his retirement in 2011. Through all of lifes challenges, Ken never forgot those influential days of his youth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspiring Voices
• Release date: Mar 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781462404315

Ken Holly

Ken Holly retired from the corporate world in 2011. He has started a new career in writing and photography. This is his first book.

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Copyright © 2013 Ken Holly.

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ISBN: 978-1-4624-0432-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4624-0431-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013902501

Inspiring Voices rev. date: 02/25/13

Contents

Preface

1 Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean 1970 to 1971

2 Early years 1946 to 1967

3 Adventures in the Navy 1967 to 1971

4 Home Again 1971

5 Dresser 1972 to 1980

6 Honeywell 1980-2011

7 Retirement 2011

Epilogue

Preface

I started out making some notes on what has happened in my life along with some lessons learned for our two daughters. Then Kim, an acquaintance, suggested that I make it into a book to publish. When I told one of my friends about my intentions he said Who would want to read about your life? You haven’t gone around the world doing exciting things nor are you some rich or famous figure. You are just an ordinary guy. I felt a little discouraged. But then it hit me. Are not most of us just ordinary people who go about living our lives the best we can. We are different in so many ways but at the same time we are all very similar.

I didn’t live an exciting life according to some standards. Although some segments were exciting, to me anyway. Most of the time I was concentrating on completing my particular goals while trying to keep my head above water and enjoy life. I have always liked to read about events in the world and history of the world. I never wrote a book although in school a large percentage of my papers were very verbose.

My brother, sister and I were fortunate to grow up in the fifties and early sixties in a subdivision that today would seem to be quiet and relatively trouble free. A large percentage of the Dads on our block were returning WWII veterans. In most of the families the Dads worked and the mothers stayed home. Only one of my friends lived with a divorced mother. The drugs that are prevalent today were not around our corner of the world. The drugs came in the sixties. The worst thing that we got into was cigarettes and alcohol. However if we got caught we were punished. There were no gangs in our immediate area. A large majority of the families regularly attended church. A large number of the guys also belonged to the boy scouts and the girls to the girl scouts. We were constantly reminded at home, church, school and the scouts as to what was the right and the wrong thing to do. Our mother used to say I have eyes in the back of my head. She would find out about our transgressions because the neighborhood moms would call our mom.

Another similarity among our neighbors was that no one had much money. The parents didn’t have the money to purchase the items that some kids take for granted today. We wore hand me down clothes and didn’t have over a few changes at home. We better not wear our ‘good’ clothes to play in. We couldn’t participate in some extracurricular activities because the money was not available. Almost no one had a small black and white TV that was available in late 1949. We went outside to play while it was light outside. The boys used to petal all over the neighborhood when we acquired bikes. Almost every home had at least one gun in the house. We were taught gun safety at school and in the scouts. There were no gun accidents or shootings in our area of the neighborhood.

We had a very small amount of liter thrown in the neighborhood and an extremely small amount of vandalism. There were no car thefts or burglaries that I am aware of. We were taught to be respectful of each other and everyone’s property.

Outside our neighborhood in other parts of the city this was not always the case. In the sixties some of the Dads received promotions and the families moved out of the neighborhood into more upscale areas. Unfortunately some of the new home owners didn’t have the same disciplines and respect that the original homeowners did. Also the country was changing with the explosion of drug use, declining church attendance and less respect for each other. The neighborhood is going through a renaissance now. The old values are on the rise and what was our little corner is relatively safe and quiet compared to some other parts of the city.

I am calling this book fiction because I am not always sure if my memory serves me correctly. Anyway even if you asked each one involved in a particular incident you would get as many different versions as there are people. You can be sure that almost all of which I mention happened the way or close to the way I describe it. I have used only first names. Most of the names are pseudo names as I am not sure if that person would like me mentioning them. Sometimes I have just forgotten the name but the face is implanted in my mind.

I have been very blessed with a good family and good friends. I feel that I have been saved from injury or helped by the Almighty or His angels a number of times. I thank Him every day for his help.

I want to thank my wife Pat, our two daughters Sarah and Rebecca, and my sister Mary for their input and help with this book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it.

Ken

1

Somewhere over the

Atlantic Ocean 1970 to 1971

Fire! Fire! Uh radio to engineer fire number two engine. Engineer to radio, cutting fuel, let me know when it’s out. Roger radio to engineer fire out. I heard a few chuckles. Guess I was a little excited because I was sitting right next to the engine. The fire was spectacular as the flames followed the airflow above and below the wings.

This was late 1970 when I was an ATN2 (aviation electronic tech navigation and radio second class (E-5)) flying as a radioman in VW4 Navy weather squadron 4. This was the first flight when an engine fuel line broke and caught on fire.

Summer 1971

Early summer is the beginning of the hurricane season when the air crews would work out of Rosy Roads Puerto Rico Navy base while on a mission. Our crew was stranded on my first trip because the ‘big Buda’ toll tractor ran into our APS 20 airborne search radar dome and destroyed it. Consequently we had to wait until one was manufactured and shipped to us which would take ten days for the honeycomb fiberglass dome. For ten glorious days we were stranded in Puerto Rico. All we had to do was report in each morning and if we had no work, go play. All the enlisted guys were quartered in an old WWII barracks high up on a cliff overlooking the beach. The barracks were intended for thousands of guys and now there were only twelve inhabitants so we made ourselves at home and bought some coolers and filled them up with ice, beer and cokes. We also stocked up on snacks as there was no food or drink for a mile or more from the barracks.

Fortunately all the electronic guys (two radar and two radio/navigation techs) liked to explore and see the sites. The four of us rented an old Volkswagen Beetle and toured old San Juan, the Spanish fort and hiked up El Yunque, the mountain outside of San Juan.

The first Saturday we were awakened at the crack of dawn to the sound of explosions. We were fascinated to see a long line of old Higgins landing crafts loaded with Marines approaching the beach from the sea, just like the old WWII movies. Just below us were observers with radios watching the maneuvers on the beach.

Hundreds of Marines all landed and charged up the beach yelling and screaming when all of sudden someone blew a whistle and they formed up and commenced to march straight towards our barracks. Oh crap. We are in deep doo now, I thought to myself as they worked their way up the steep slope towards us. We were twelve swabbies with hundreds of Marines marching towards us.

As it turned out they were reservists on their two week training stint. They were confined to barracks when not out training. We became instant heroes when we started supplying beer, cokes and snacks at a healthy profit of course. That old Beetle made many a trip to the Navy exchange. The Marines were sad to see us leave when our time came.

One morning about two or three in the morning we were coming back from hitting the bars in San Juan. As the old Bug struggled up one of the steep hills we heard shouting and singing on the other side of the hill. We were startled as some guys came running over the crest of the hill carrying telephone poles. Who on earth are these guys I wondered out loud. We followed them down to the beach where they set their telephone poles down, stripped down to the swim trunks under their pants and put on flippers and a mask. They then waded into the sea and started to swim out into the inky blackness.

We found out later that they were SEALS in training. They swam out to some island a mile or two out, did something to prove they were there and swam back. They then ran with their telephone poles for miles up and down the hills to arrive at the chow hall just as it was opening. They always got to be first in line. Nobody was going to cut in front of them.

The radar dome was replaced and our ten days of fun ended. On a bright and sunny day we flew back to Jacksonville. Another crew had relieved us after it was evident that we could not complete our mission.

On a subsequent mission that summer to Puerto Rico we had another disconcerting incident. The runway at the Navy base ran right to the edge of the cliff that over looked the boulders on the beach below. One morning while taking off we got about ten feet up in the air when all the fire lights lit up on the flight engineer’s console. The plane commander instantly made the decision to abort. We dropped like a rock to the runway with all the brakes squealing and straining to stop our maximum loaded plane. The plane came to a stop, in what seemed like slow motion, just a few feet from the edge of the cliff. We slowly turned away while the starboard (right) wing hung over the cliff. The problem turned out to be an electrical problem that falsely caused the fire lights to shine brightly.

2

Early years 1946 to 1967

My earliest recollection took place a couple months before my third birthday in 1949 when my brother was born. I was with my father in the front seat of the car when we pulled up outside the hospital. My eyes squinted with the reflection of the sun off the concrete as the nurse pushed my mother and new little brother in a wheelchair down the long sidewalk to our car. The nurse got them situated in the back seat. Keep in mind that there were no baby car seats in 1949. I was so excited trying to see my new brother that I started jumping up and down to look over the high back of the front seat just as my father was pulling away from the curb. Amid my jumping I landed on the door handle which pushed down to open and the door flew open and I tumbled out of the car right on my head. I remember my mother screaming but all I could think of was that it’s a long way home and I wasn’t going to be left on the street. So I popped up running as fast as I could to catch the car which had now stopped. I don’t remember much more about that day except having to sit facing forward and being very still.

Another early recollection from my childhood was the time when I set the bed on fire. I woke up early before everyone else was awake and got my father’s cigarette lighter and crawled under my bed. I remember thinking that it’s cool the way the lighter worked. While flicking the lighter on and off the flame flared up and caught the box springs on fire. I batted at it without much success. I quickly ran into my parent’s bedroom, jumped on my father yelling FIRE! I can only imagine what he felt getting awakened that way on a Saturday morning. He quickly jumped up, threw the mattress off the bed and grabbed the twin bed box springs and threw it in the shower. The shower put the fire out in no time. Boy, did I get in trouble for that.

Best bud

Our neighbor next door had a boy about the same age as me. He and I were best buddies. We used to have a lot of fun running around and playing in our yards. I did get in trouble one time however. I had some cheap toy that he really liked. He offered me a number of items to trade for my toy. I was not interested until he offered me his piggy bank full of coins. I jumped for that deal. Both of us were happy with the trade. However his mother was not happy when she found out. She came over to see my mother with him and the toy in tow. I had to give the piggy bank back.

My buddy next door got leukemia around age six and died right after his seventh birthday. His parents moved shortly thereafter. This was my first time to experience the death of someone that I cared for. I didn’t understand why God let little kids get sick and die. I was very sad that I lost my friend and that we would not get to grow up together. Mom told me that only God knows the reason why this happened and that I would see my buddy again in Heaven.

Big Dog

Our neighbors next door keep a big dog in the back yard that they used when they went hunting. Besides the owners, my father was the only one who could get near the dog. We kids were instructed not to ever approach the dog. When the neighbors went somewhere overnight my father would go over and feed the dog.

One day while my father was feeding the dog I ran over and jumped on my Dad’s back. The dog immediately jumped up and bit me in the neck. It happened so fast that all I saw was a blur as the dog attacked me. I still remember sitting in the bathroom while my father cleaned all the blood up. Fortunately, Mom was not home at the time or she probably would have been hysterical. I sure learned a lesson then.

Cowboy

When I was five years old a traveling photographer went through the neighborhood with a saddled pony and various props. He convinced my mother to let him take a picture of Mark, my younger brother, and me sitting on the horse with some fancy chaps and a red cowboy hat perched on our head. Even back then I felt that no real cowboy would wear an outfit like that.

Tonsils

At about five or six I had to have my tonsils removed. I remember the staff wheeling me to the operating room and my mother waving at me. They put a mask over my mouth and nose and said to count. I shook my head no and held my breath. I overheard one of the nurses saying he will have to breathe sooner or later Sure enough I did breathe and then woke up in a high up bed in the hospital room. I remember wondering where Mom was as she had said that she would be here when I woke up. Well if Mom is not here, I’ll find her. I climbed over the railing and jumped on the floor. My throat was hurting really bad. I ran out the door and down the corridor. All of a sudden the alarm was sounded—runaway kid. Several of the nurses started chasing me. I turned left at the next corner and then left again down the center corridor. The hospital staff was converging on me near the elevator. Just as I was about to get cornered, the elevator doors opened and out walked Mom. She had gone to lunch because no one expected me to wake up so soon. The staff was not too upset with me. However I was sternly informed not to do that again. They did give me ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That was the only good part about this.

Chores

My mother told my brother Mark and me that we needed to learn how to do all the household chores. She taught us how to do everything around the house. I remember when we had to wash and dry the dishes while standing on chairs because we were too short. I never did like washing and ironing clothes but really took to cooking and baking. As much as Mark and I didn’t really like those chores, it did help us when we were older and out on our own. One of our chores on Saturday mornings was to cut and rake the grass. Mark and I would take turns cutting the grass in the front or back yard. We had an old push mower that was really hard for us during the peak growing season in late spring to mid-summer. When Dad finally bought a gas engine mower we thought we had died and went to Heaven. The rule was that we complete our chores before playing and you better not leave before completing your chores. One day Mike the troublemaker came over to see me while I was mowing the front yard. He wanted me to go somewhere with him right that moment. I told him that I couldn’t leave until I completed mowing the yard. Mike got mad and threw a pile of doggie poop at me. It hit me in the back of the head. That really made me mad. I picked up the poop and chased Mike until I caught him one yard away from his house. I smeared the whole pile all over his face. He never bothered me again while I was completing my chores.

Building

I always liked to build things with my hands. One of the things that I used to build was bridges and other items for a Ho scale railroad. I didn’t have one at the time but thought that I would someday. I made a number of bridges out of a combination of twigs, Popsicle sticks and matches. They were very detailed and intricate. One bridge was about three feet long. They all disappeared when my parents moved while I was in the Navy.

One day I very meticulously built a two lane highway about thirty feet across part of the front yard. I built a highway to handle the traffic. The grass was pulled up and a little top soil removed. Then gravel base with mud for concrete lay on top and smoothed out. It was in scale with some toy cars that I had at that time. Pop got home late that night but I proudly showed him what a good job that I did. He agreed that it was a fine highway. However I had to put the grass back tomorrow.

I used to build all kinds of plastic models also. Planes, ships and cars were my favorite. The planes were almost all military aircraft. I would hang them from the ceiling in our bedroom like they were in combat. When a model ship would get broken beyond the state where it was feasible to repair, the ship was designated to die in combat. I would put a little ballast in it to keep it upright. Then we would take it to the bayou or the ditch by the park. We would throw firecrackers at it and shoot it with our BB guns until it sank. All my models also disappeared while I was in the Navy.

Help from the neighbor

Our father traveled a lot with his business. Of course everything that was going to break did so while he was on the road. Our neighbor two houses down was Mr. Jones. He owned a car repair shop in the heights. He used to help us out by taking Mom’s car to his shop for the regular maintenance and repairs. He charged us very little because he knew that we didn’t have much money. Mr. Jones and his wife never had kids. It’s a shame as he seemed to really like kids. I used to go over his house and sit with him on the front screen porch and just talk about a variety of things. His wife would bring us cookies, milk and coffee. I think both of us really enjoyed those times. One of his hobbies was under water spear fishing in Galveston bay. He used to bring us some of the fish that he speared. We would have fish for every dinner until the fish was all eaten. The freezers in the old refrigerators would only hold about one square foot of frozen items. One time he caught a fish that lay on the left counter in and out of both sinks and ended on the right counter. I had never seen a fish bigger than me. I remember Mom looking at that fish and wondering out loud how we are going to be able to eat all of it!

Grocery shopping

When our father started traveling we didn’t have enough money to get my mother a car. Until about 1954 the only grocery store in the neighborhood was about a mile away from the house. We would walk to the bus stop which was about five blocks away and catch the bus that stopped about a block from the store. Apparently a lot of the mothers were in the same boat as the store had an old panel van that they would use to take all the mothers and their kids home in. Mom would sit in the front with the driver and we kids would sit on the floor of the cargo section of the van with the groceries. We did this for several years before buying a used 1949 navy blue Ford that was built like a tank. We kids thought we were in high cotton with a second car.

Glasses and grade school

In first and second grade I used to sit in the front of the class because I couldn’t read the blackboard from the rear of the classroom. All the girls used to sit in the front and the boys in the back. The boys would make fun of me always sitting with the girls. It seemed no explanation would keep them off my back. At the beginning of third grade I was hit in the eye while playing over a neighbor’s house. This precipitated my first trip to get my eyes checked. The doctor quickly came to the conclusion that I needed glasses. The glasses opened up a new world. I could finally read the blackboard from the rear of the classroom. I finally got to sit in the back of the classroom with the boys. However I was the only kid in the classroom with glasses. Now the boys called me four eyes. That didn’t sit well with me either, but at least I was with the boys.

The playground was larger than a football field. At the one end were two of the highest swings that I have ever seen along with other playground equipment. I used to love swinging so high that the swing would go slack on the upswing and pop back with a jerk. One time I fell off and knocked myself out. I woke up lying under the swing with a nun rubbing my face asking if I was ok. After that she had me recite a lot of long forgotten things and called my mother to come pick me up. Well I got out of school a half day anyway.

Big Tex

In third grade I met my best friend, Harold. When he was older some started to call him Big Tex since he was the tallest in the class. He was always about eight inches taller than me. Some people used to call us Mutt and Jeff after a couple cartoon characters. We went to parochial school together until eighth grade when we split up to go to different high schools. We were in the boy scouts together. He had two other younger brothers and one older sister. His mother adopted me as her fourth son. She was like my second mother. We all went to the same church and to a lot of the same activities at church and school. His mother was a really good cook. Every time I was over for dinner there was an enormous amount of food as all the boys used to eat a lot. Even though we ate a lot we worked it off running around all day. Harold’s parents had a weekend home in San Leon right outside Galveston on an inlet to the bay. His father built the house himself. They had a boat that we used to go fishing and shrimping in the Gulf. That was a lot of fun even though I am not a real fisherman. We used to go up there with his parents when we were smaller and by ourselves when we started driving. When we would go shrimping and crabbing with his parents we would always give the catch in the morning to his mother and sister. We boys would then go out further to do a little fishing. We had to watch his little brothers however. For instance one time his youngest brother caught a large stingray. In his excitement he pulled the stingray up in the air, over our heads and right into the middle of us. A couple of us almost had to jump overboard with the way that stinger was flicking around. After fishing all morning in the boat we would go back to a feast in the bay home prepared by his mother and sister. We would stuff ourselves until we could hardly move. Then we would lie around listening to the surf and enjoying the cool sea breeze blowing across the yard. It was really peaceful out there on late summer afternoons. We used to play cards in the evening out there. Big Tex turned into quite a good poker and blackjack player. Even though it was only penny anti games, I was too conservative with my money and was too readable. Big Tex could sit there with his poker face or continue a conversation without missing a beat while playing. You never knew if he had good or not so good cards. You always had to pay to see them.

Big%20Tex%20about%201973%20(1).jpg

Big Tex about 1969

In eighth grade Harold and I volunteered to be crossing guards. We thought we were really cool standing on the corners with our stop flag on the end of a bamboo pole. We would drop the pole to stop the cars and then let the younger kids cross the street. Big Tex’s Uncle Sonny who was a Houston Policeman used to come some days and direct traffic. He was also a member of the church.

The old nun

In third grade I had an old battle axe of a nun for a teacher. She ran her class with very tight reins. I liked my teachers before and after this class, I did not like this teacher, therefore I acted up a little and got c’s in conduct from her. This class was the class that the new altar boys were picked from. I sort of wanted to be one, however was disqualified because of my c in conduct. I think this broke my mother’s heart more than it did mine. Once I left an L out of my last name on a paper. This old nun asked me to stand up and tell her what my last name is. I told her Holly. She asked why I put Holy on my