Ready for sea, for real

I have gotten the feeling that I've been away from the blogosphere for too long- two weeks, to be exact. During this time, I started my job as an engineer- official title is Third Assistant Engineer- with America's largest employer of civilian seafarers- the US Government.

Two weeks ago, I started with a week of orientation in Norfolk. Lodging, food stipend, commuter bus and friends ( two classmates from the USMMA) were provided. By starting work at 6:30am, the can-do attitude of seafarers protected is from rush-hour traffic. One old salt remembered when all the per employment and new hire business was taken care of in one day. A sign of our times, a total of one hour was allotted to payroll and benefits, with many more hours given to human relations presentations discussing how we ought to be treating each other already. Between work, commuting, an afternoon workout, and fine dining during Norfolk's restaurant week.

One thing about this job is that it hasn't been a lonely beginning. For whatever reason, about a quarter of my class answered the call to "man the victory fleet". They will be coming in "flights" that start every two weeks, and their numbers will grow through the summer. Some tangible benefits of this job include extended port visits, safe working conditions in a managed-stress environment, camaraderie and commiseration, a 56- hour workweek (compared to 84 hour workweeks required by some American ship companies), a preferred union card after 3 years, should one decide to take shipping jobs from a union hall. One final benefit is transportation provided during "shore leave" in port. I remember on a coal ship I sailed as a cadet on, the freshly graduated engineer was shocked that it cost $50 to get to and from the closest strip mall by taxi. "That is the industry", remarked the wise chief mate.

On a per- hour basis, the pay is lower than what one could find on a commercial ship. Yet there is little fretting, because of the little perks, and the old saying, "money isn't everything". Taking a job "manning the fleet" is a lifestyle choice.

Pioneers, Oh Pioneers

When I think of patriotism, I conjure up memories of Reagan-era glories such as Rambo, the Battleships Iowa and New Jersey, tractors, Top Gun and Full Metal Jacket. I also think of hot dogs and the traditional family, with an overweight Dad with a suntanned neck. 

I do not forget the real patriots:  the daughters of pilgrims, the sons of Ellis Island, and the brides of World War Two. There is no more American story than one’s ancestors looking for religious freedom in the 1700’s; or arriving on the streets of New York in the 1890’s, penniless but ambitious and willing to work hard; nor the brides of Europe arriving home with ordinary soldiers who defeated the Axis in 1945.  This is a beautiful story, encompassing the narrative of (Caucasian) America.  In remembrance of our ancestors who embodied masculinity and the risk-taking of new ideas, it is due patriotism to “use government policy to incentivize work” (a.k.a., cut welfare), in conjunction with “letting the bull loose”, to recreate the Gilded Age that created the American Dream in the minds of our great-grandfathers. 

As I walked with my family in Washington, DC to the Fireworks on the National Mall on the Fourth of July, I saw many young Americans sporting attire boasting of American pride. Seeing the first several groups, I suspected that they were southern frat boys and sorority girls: Washington, DC is still the gateway to the South, where country music plays at large gatherings that include suburbanites, and talk of “open season” is not just a figure of speech. But it became clear to me that these Chubbie shorts-wearing, boat-shoe sporting, patriotic tank-top bearing, Oakley-popping peers represented a greater demographic than I had imagined.   

Here is some background: Facebook counted 26 million profiles bearing rainbow flags- enough, upon rough estimate, to represent one in seven Facebook profiles in the US. In addition to those “out and proud” about their sentiment on gay marriage, there must be many quiet allies who choose to appear neutral on the issue. I had reason to believe that a number of those young people I saw dressed like “Born in the USA” patriots…must support gay marriage. 

Smart and wonky conservatives sense something in the air. Editorialists and targeted papers, such as the Washington Examiner, have been poking holes in the presumption that the liberal consensus among young people is permanent. They have pointed to cases where young people have been more enthusiastic than their older counterparts in supporting Republican newcomers like Ed Gillespie and Ken Cuccinelli in Virginia, or Republican Patrick Mara’s base of support in DC’s shoebox-condo neighborhoods. (Perchance, Gillespie and Mara are moderate and liberal, respectively, on bedroom issues). With young voters, Republican luminaries accept that no news is good news: many young people are apathetic about politics or are registered Independent- an opportunity for party growth. They look at young people and their love for disruptive technology like Apple’s I-Phones or Uber, and their impatience with government interventions like liquor license moratoria. Furthermore, they don’t like being un-employed or under-employed, and have an aversion from joining unions (Chicken or Egg?), instead, preferring to “compete on the open marketplace under a new relationship with their employer, where individual initiative is rewarded”. That phrase- originally a talking point in the Washington Examiner- slipped into my subconscious and got me in trouble with a relative last Thanksgiving. To these editorialists, the app-using, uber-riding, condo-living, “millennial” young people; who are mostly pro-gay marriage, but delightfully queasy on abortion and undecided on immigration; are patriots who are looking for direction from the fatherly hand of the Grand Old Party, with reasonable accommodation for their support of gay marriage. 

Neither is every Chubbie-wearing bro a member of the College Republicans. (They are the group whose 2013 report shocked the Party leadership’s assumptions about young adults).  You can be patriotic, and staunchly liberal. The thirty-something financial analyst who licks his chops about putting a true conservative on the Supreme Court to reverse a punch-list of 5-4 decisions, has no higher moral ground than the twenty-something arts major bemoaning the democratically elected Republican leadership of Capitol Hill. Better, ask this question: do your liberal friends love to participate in flag burnings? No.  John F. Kennedy, a so-called Cold War Liberal, had this to say in his Profiles in Courage:

“If by a "Liberal" they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind, someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people-their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights and their civil liberties-someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies abroad, if that is what they mean by a "Liberal", then I'm proud to say I'm a "Liberal.”

Kennedy may have identified himself as a liberal for that era; yet it is hard to deny him his status as a true American patriot. Despite the media narrative, it’s important to remember that we are not divided as ‘red states’ and ‘blue states’; but the shared experiences of rural, suburban , or urban life, with regional variations, unites communities across state lines and the two great continental mountain ranges, the Appalachians and the Rockies. We are one nation under Oakleys, Chubbies, and Vineyard Vines.

Tiki, Travels, and Taking a Job

Last Saturday, I graduated from the US Merchant Marine Academy in Kings Point, NY with a degree in Marine Engineering and Shipyard Management, as well as an Engineering Officer's License for ships of any size.The Saturday commencement was a capstone to three days of event, and late nights spent wishing farewells, rather than studying for a test. My greatest personal accomplishment was winning the Seabulk Tanker prize, earning a pair of binoculars and my name on a plaque in the Marine Transportation building, or Bowditch Hall.  

In addition to the pomp and circumstance, I had to make logistics happen to "leave no trace" upon my departure, asides from my name in Bowditch Hall. Since I had my own room for the last half of Senior Year at the Academy, I never felt that I had too much "stuff". Because Washington, DC, my home, is within driving distance of Kings Point, NY, I kept items that my farther-traveling classmates left behind: things like home accessories, Academy gym gear, class notes, and textbooks. This past week, I have been going through the plastic tubs to determine what I actually ought to keep with me for the future, what will stay at home, and what can be sent to Goodwill. The weekend came as a conclusion to this routine, and Mom treated me to lunch at a restaurant in the local Chinatown known as "Eat First". I couldn't help but notice the drink menu. It was a near facsimile of a 1960's tiki menu I had saved on my computer. Many of the drink names evoked a particular island, Oriental destination, or means of getting there: "Lava Mountain" for Hawaii, "Singapore Sling", "Mai Tai" for Polynesia, and "Navy Grog" are a few of the example.  That was a throwback, as well as an appetizer for my future career.

During my Sea Year at the Academy, I had the fortune to visit a handful of island ports: Saipan, Guam and Hawaii, all associated with the United States. Saipan was where I had spent considerable time among the locals, and got to try the local cuisine.
As for the Orient, I visited a small town in Korea, where the gastronomical specialty was meat roasted on a stick, accompanied by kimchee.  This was pretty similar to the Philippine-inspired dishes found in Saipan consisting of roast meat with rice or noodles. Indigenous dishes consisted of fish and roots. Of course, a proper tiki menu could be found at the major resorts that catered to tourists, most of whom traveled five hours by air from Japan and Taiwan. To better appeal to American tastes, tiki restaurants often used Chinese food to supplement a Polynesian menu. Tiki torches and lei are much more appealing to tourists than acknowledging the realities of working-class life in the Marianas.

"Eat First" in DC is not the only Chinese restaurant with an inclination for tropical drinks. The more upscale Elena's near Kings Point, NY does this as well, and I am sure that many other Asian restaurants keep a tropical theme, as well.  You can order a tropical drink and fantasize about the tranquility of tropical islands and the exoticism of the Orient. Sailors young and old have been, or will go, to these far-flung locales.
The difference between today and Tiki's heyday fifty years ago is the ease of travel by airplane, and the resorts that cater to travelers' material pleasures. So-called exotic islands are no longer the sole domain of sailors on merchant ships and the Navy's Seventh Fleet, or Marines who stormed the beaches during World War Two. The mystique is less mystifying.
 

 

Finished With Engines (Part II of II)

     Once you get through the first license test, you know what to expect. With anxieties lowered, all you need to focus on in the material. And if you do not feel confident in the performance of your test, never look back once the test is over. I invoked this principle several times when classmates asked me about specific questions on exams that were already done. Triple-check your work: Transpositions of answers can sink an otherwise stellar performance. If you think you failed, count the number of questions you have no idea about (100% wrong), then add those questions you guessed between two choices (66% wrong), and figure out how many you are uncertain about (33% wrong). Add these up, with the proper proportions. When the final results came out, I was surprised by how accurate my metric served me. Call it Sawatzki’s Rule. 

     Monday was dedicated to Diesel engines, the primary mode of propulsion of merchant ships. The easiest subject was Safety, which I studied for. This was advantageous, as I finished first and had plenty of time to study for the next test, Generals. The toughest exam was Generals, and Electrical was an unexpected blessing. The final two exams were on Steam propulsion, which is present on older vessels, as well as in niche applications such as liquid gas carriers and nuclear ships. The class expected to do well, as much of our classroom instruction focused on elements of steam systems, from turbine design to thermodynamics.  

     On the final test, I did a full triple-check. This was the end, and there was no need to rush. Most engineering midshipmen pass all tests on the first round, but sometimes it is quite arbitrary who fails a single test. I bided my time by packing my belongings to take home. Lunch was catered from Chipotle, which was enjoyed by all. We were told to report to Wiley Hall at 2pm for the results to be posted, but there was a bit of a delay. During the meanwhile, classmates talked with nervous anticipation, never making plans for next week (so as to avoid a ‘jinx’). Results were posted just a few minutes before 4pm. 85% passed all seven tests the first time, and another 10% had one test to remediate in the next week. My parents had traveled from DC for the bell-ringing ceremony, so the stakes were raised on me passing the first time. Which I did: a low of 79 on Generals, and a high of 100 on Safety. 

     My mood was a bit subdued, in solidarity with those who were retaking their tests on the following Wednesday. But for those who were truly uncertain about their results, a passing result was cause for immense celebration. To me, ringing the bell was an effort in maintaining old traditions, tethered by my parents’ wish of a solemn event, despite efforts of the Academy’s administration to formalize, and tame, the occasion.

  

     After the bell was rung, and the tassel removed for the sake of peace-and-quiet, the local park was filled with gleeful seniors who earned their stripe. After sunset, the convoy filled the local firemens’ outfit. I had a fine dinner with my family in Roslyn, but upon the advice of my company officer, a 1977 graduate, I made sure to spend time afterwards with my Kings Point family of classmates. With the significant number of seniors beginning their travel on the next day, the celebrations ended fairly early, to the pleasure of the “townies” in Great Neck.  

All Boilers Firing (Part I of II)

The final trimester started in March with General Dempsey’s visit to the Academy, followed by St. Patrick’s Day and a celebration for 100 nights before graduation, all in the same week. License preparation books had been issued at the start of the year, and had been referenced on occasion to study for tests in other practical engineering courses.  But for now, the spiral-bound books, 1000 pages in total, sat on the shelf, as license exams were safely 75 days away. There were exact reasons why the festivities were packed into one week: Capstone and License Prep.

For senior-class engineers, Capstone in the third trimester is the culmination of a year’s worth of research, calculations and reports. Third trimester gives the opportunity to finish up on tasks left incomplete before Spring Break, as well as preparation of a presentation to industry specialists. We finished on April 9^th, and, with known intentions, the pace of License Prep picked up to fill the void.

The challenging part of License Prep was weekly tests. As engineers, you would aim to score an ‘A’ on Monday each week. That meant an exemption from the Wednesday test, so you had a full two extra days to study ahead for the next section of material. As we got acclimated to the material, the pages of studying each week increased from 40, to 60, to 80, and then 110 pages per week. Over the course of these 9 weeks, I took a day off for a high school reunion, and then a Saturday evening in the final week. Almost every waking hour was committed to productive use in the classroom, in the books, playing sports, eating, or it was mourned as lost. Midshipmen you never knew as studious were found in the library. As I had a private room, I took advantage of the sunlight and turned a dresser beneath the windowsill into a desk.     

As I mention in my last post, the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy is the only federal academy whose graduates must take these tests. In exchange, from the 1940’s to 2012, graduates received the equivalent of a warfare pin two years before junior officers from other academies. While graduates of the other academies had a relatively easy semester academically, and were now on “Post Graduation leave”, we were hunched over those license preparation books in our rooms, the library, or in the outdoor sun.  Saturdays were happy study days, as you’d feel as if you were prudent, and always hoped to get far ahead enough to enjoy the evening off-campus.

 Our license prep coordinator then prescribed a dose of rest and relaxation during Memorial Day Weekend, which started on Thursday evening after final exams. That was favorable news that I and a number of classmates took with a grain of salt. It was Fleet Week in New York. Haze gray ships were in the harbor, and Blue Angels were flying over the South Shore of Long Island. A question arose about saluting graduates of the same class, who happened to have an earlier commissioning ceremony. A bit of research uncovered that, in a change from days of old, Naval Academy graduates now share the same official commissioning date as NROTC graduates from other colleges.  

That rest and relaxation was anticipation for “self-disciplined 12-hour days” of studying. During the following week, I read through those three spiral-bound books again. I then read old notes, took practice tests, and read good textbooks on pertinent subjects: electric motors, diesel engines, and refrigeration. I even took a look at the sea projects I completed while sailing the world as a cadet. A strange mood enshrouded the senior class. We knew that the underclassmen were enjoying the sunlit evenings and neon nights with weekend passes, but we had a mission to pass these license tests that were 6-5-4-3 days away.  I never “talk shop” in the dining hall, but that was most of what I heard this week. To break the heavy mood, I’d ensure that I sat with a “deckie” major for meals, since we had no tests in common, and therefore had to talk of more pleasant things.

Eventually, it was Sunday night. I confided that I did the best I could with time I had to study, and said a prayer. License Week is when regrets come to hit, if you have blown away time. I prepared the materials I needed for the test ahead of time; placing calculator, ID, pencils, eraser, and a straight-edge in a Ziploc bag. In the morning, I gave fifteen cents to the Amphitrite Fountain, an age-old tradition. Someone had loaded the fountain with rubber duckies, each bearing the message “Good Luck”. That was a pleasant touch. We flocked under the Truxton Archade, and savored the moment, since one should not start a test in fear. We were about to cross a bridge that each graduating class has crossed, and complete the transition from midshipman to mariner. It was 7:45am on June 1^st, and we were ready to win this final game.

If I ran Annapolis

First, we should strike at the notion of the four-year do-as-you-please degree. Nowhere in the Code of Federal Regulations is Annapolis required to give history degrees. If you wish to study history, visit the library, which is open every day except Saturday. We will become a career-focused college, so kiss your physics degree goodbye. The Navy hires young brainiacs from MIT to figure that stuff out. You will finish three years on campus together as a class, then as you choose your warfare community, you will spend senior year learning your job. Surface Warriors will attend Kings Point in New York; Aviators will go to Embry-Riddle, and so forth. You can all come back to Annapolis for graduation day, unless duty calls. But first, second-semester seniors need to learn to keep their heads down, so we’ll give them a grand finale of tests right before graduation. Some of you like to play Division One Sports, and wish to be on campus for four years to do that. Well, let me tell you that you picked the wrong school if you’re here for sports. The needs of the service come first. Besides, you can apply all that free time to academics or the brigade.

There are a handful of exceptional midshipmen who do not enter one of the five big warfare communities. They go into intelligence, medicine, and graduate school, and will spend their senior year in Annapolis. As the last handful of seniors residing on campus, they can reminisce with older alumni about how things used to be in the past. Some of the dorm space left over will be used to house students of the new United States Public Service Academy. They’re the civilian-attired classmates in your classes. But there are benefits for you: Some more rooms will be given to midshipman officers to sprawl out. Also, If you like your roommates, you can keep them all year. Other dorms will be locked up, and become the source of ghost stories.

Month-long summer vacations are decadence that can be used to ready you for the fleet. For example, you Surface Warriors take a 6-week course after graduation. That should be completed as a midshipman, and you’ll still have two free summer vacations. To meet academic requirements from the Navy, the Coast Guard, and the United Nations, you will do some correspondence projects while on your training cruises. Make sure that your officer knows that it’s important that these projects get done; they should know not to work you more than 12 hours per day, so you have time to do your homework in the wardroom.

Plebes should learn how to handle mop and broom. You are never too busy, and there is dignity in all work. Midshipmen should say good-bye to Tricare benefits, and be required to carry their own insurance policy. They should also save up for senior year, when they might have to pay exorbitant New York rates. You should also learn how to fill out a worker’s comp. form, in case they are injured while playing sports. Be careful, though, as a bad-timed injury will cost you a fifth year at the Academy. Get used to more deep-fried food in the dining hall. It’s easier to cook, and saves money. Since you’re all active young men and women, you’ll be able to burn off the grease during the day. On that note, morning PT will be mandatory, since not everyone’s been going to the gym.

Johnson’s Rule of Scheduling states that Bancroft Hall (the dormitory) should be utilized year-round, and experience from Kings Point shows that teachers can teach 11 months per year, instead of 9 months. One-third of your class should do their summer training during Christmastime, while taking classes during the summer. Your superintendents should rotate on a 17-month cycle; likewise, other faculty and staff should retire or move on midway through the semester, since it’s easier to keep the classroom momentum going. To quickly implement changes without support of longtime staff, there are two phrases you need to know: “It’s WRONG!”, and if you need further explanation, mention the “Culture of Complicity”.

Some of these proposals are definitely controversial to those accustomed to doing things a certain way. As future military leaders, you have to adapt to changing situations. Annapolis, after all, is a leadership laboratory. That said, you also get to keep some of your quaint and arcane traditions that do not serve a training purpose, like climbing the Herndon statue. Make sure you do it in dress attire, to promote good order and discipline. As an outsider, you have to be mindful of existing institutions and cultural traditions. Risk of conflict is why it’s rare for the big-three service academies to let outsiders lead. Some of you brass captains have a length of rope, and wish you knew how to tie a knot around my neck. Here’s a deal: I’ll leave your Academy alone if you let my Academy keep doing its own thing.

Reclaiming Earth

It’s been 45 years since the first Earth Day. Look outside at the blue sky and clear water, and imagine life half a century ago. Look on YouTube, and you can find old films of rivers catching on fire from the sheer concentration of chemicals at the surface of the water. Find videos of Pittsburgh in heavy smog. Love Canal was associated with cancer. How did people allow this to happen? Wartime necessity demanded guns and materials. High marginal costs came at the expense of not just dollars, but public health. In the UK, London’s killer smogs of the 1950’s were a result of burning low-quality coal at home, a holdover from the war days. Suburban living offered an escape from city pollution. For the most part, environmental issues were handled at a local level, and by the initiative of local citizens wanting to protect quality of life. For one, President Eisenhower believed that river pollution was a state issue. Without environmental regulations, business and citizens entered a guns-versus-butter debate that sometimes required local sacrifice for economic good of full employment. | Even to social justice advocates of the early 1960’s, environmentalism was not an important onjective. In fact, focus on environmental issues was seen as a middle and upper class “distraction” from the civil rights issues of education, housing, employment, public accommodation, and voting. Along the decade, though, it became clear that environmentalism could cure aspects of injustice, including health disparities. In 1962, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring brought attention to the unabated problem of pollution. What is the point of amenities if you can’t enjoy nature? Faced with the prospect of new or increased pollution regulations, a number of big-time polluters were willing to take low-cost measures such as smokestack filters, though they most certainly tried to shirk liability for previous damages. Lean manufacturing methods, developed in Japan, meant less waste and more reuse of raw materials, benefiting both the earth and the company’s bottom line. | Fast forward to today. To some greens, the deindustrialization of America is not the problem; it’s a solution. To some, the auto bailouts of GM and Chrysler represented everything wrong with car culture. Kswami Sawant, a Socialist elected to the Seattle City Council, calling for Boeing to retool its factories to make mass transit vehicles. (Boeing actually tried that in the 1970’s, but were unable to make good light rail trains). | Freeways were one visible aspect of the environmental movement. Providing efficiency to many, but unpleasantness to neighbors, they incarnated the guns-versus-butter debate on environmentalism. Just outside of Washington, DC, two miles of the Capital Beltway was built through an aquatic ecosystem without environmental review or engineered protections in the early 1960’s. In New York, Robert Moses came fairly close to putting a freeway through the Cast Iron District of SoHo. | Give the people clean water and good parks, and you’ll win support. Regulate citizens’ lifestyles, from bag taxes to mandatory recycling, and you can lose support fast. Ordinary citizens have certain limits on environmental rules that affect their way of life. In Maryland, chicken farmers were miffed about an impending law that would end the long-standing practice of using chicken manure for fertilizing fields, on account of ammonia run-off concerns. A so-called “Rain tax” on asphalt parking lots and driveways led to the election of a Republican governor there. This past legislative session in Virginia, the use of wood-burning stoves became an inalienable right. | What do we understand now that we didn’t 50 years ago? Resources are finite. Chemical and pH balances of stream are essential to the survival of fish and amphibian animals. Tilt this gentle balance, and you lose your ecosystem. In an era where business interests lead government, we need to hold leaders accountable for protecting swamps and wilderness for peoples’ enjoyment. Today, an educated person can make an argument for abolishing or curtailing the roles of the EPA, and not be chased off stage. This fact speaks for how far we’ve come in the stewardship of our environment. Reference: “Give Earth a Chance”, Adam Rome