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Slowly I was drawn from sleep by the thump-thump-thump of a helicopter flying around behind my home. This was overtaken by the annoying rattle and buzz of my windows, vibrating from the power of the helicopters blades.

“What the hells going on?” I mumbled as I crawled from bed to look out my bedroom window.

All I could see was the Washoe County Sheriff’s Departments RAVEN Helicopter making tight passes over the neighborhood. I checked the radio, the television and finally the Internet for any more information.

Nothing.

About an hour later my housemate, Kay came pulling into the drive way. She came inside and said, “I don’t know what’s going on but I jus’ saw and FBI man up by Shaw.”

Really?

Two and a half hours later the TV news comes on reports that Spanish Springs High and Shaw Elementary Schools had been on lockdown – but that lockdown had been lifted. The newscasters went on to say, “A bus driver has seen a man possibly carrying a rifle near the high school.”

What?!

Furthermore the news anchor said, “…after a lengthy search, the man was not found.”

You’ve got to be kidding me!

When did it become illegal to carry a gun on a public street, near a school? To my knowledge – it isn’t against the law, so why the fuss?

So far the only answer I’ve been given is that the county and all other reciprocating agencies respond to prevent a possible school shooting. On the surface it sounds like an okay idea – but think hard on the subject and you may come to differing conclusion, like I have.

There ‘s no threat in simply carrying a rifle with you, especially in the unincorporated parts of the county. People go out target shooting – or plinking as its known – everyday around here.

Worse yet, precious resources are wasted every time somebody “thinks” they’ve seen something. The taxpayers money would be better spent teaching county and school district employees what a real threat is – and isn’t – rather than on wild goose chases.

Then maybe I can continue sleeping peacefully.

Watching TV shows and movies regarding “the War on Drugs,” where U.S. Forces sought to cripple the cocaine trade between Central America and North America, I see one glaring error, time after time. Our guys are packing the wrong weapon!

Oh, certainly you see the M-16 or the AR-15 – but those were the arms issued to us. I’m talking about the weapons we used in the field, where “prying eyes” couldn’t see.

Often times when “in country,” we used the AK-47. That’s the Soviet made assault weapon, which has made its name in a number of battles – especially where revolts are concerned.

Yes, we trained with AR-15’s and M-16’s, etc., but in the field, to hide our presence and add confusion during raids, we used captured AK-47’s. They were plentiful as was the ammo – and it cost the taxpayer nothing.

Recently, I met with a buddy of mine, a Marine Gunny, who quipped, “We know more about this rifle than we know about the one issued to us.”

It’s been six-years since I was “deuced” from my last job. That’s the term used for firing someone for blogging about company business — disparaging or not.

It’s possible it could happen again. I hope that’s not the case though.

The last few days I’ve heard all sorts of rumors floating around why the radio station’s afternoon talk-show host Bill is gone. My favorite has been, “Did Senator Harry Reid have anything to do with it?”

Nope.

Other conspiracy theories include, “This is the beginning of the fairness doctrine.” Another is, “…was getting too big and knew too much and had too be silenced by the government.”

The truth, mundane as it is, comes down to one deciding factor.

When the new company purchased the station in 2010, it was known that the new ownership would more than likely come in and cut five to 10 percent of the staff from each station at every property. That’s the nature of the business.

Along with Bill, four other people were released from the properties, including my long-time friend of 25-years, Elizabeth. Again, this is the nature of the business.

Furthermore, it’s been known that the new ownership has in place a policy stating every Program Director of each station at every property shall hold down a full-time air shift. The PD for our station is Dan, who’s been successful in this position since the mid-90s.

So it was a simple business decision. The stations PD has taken over the afternoon hosting slot once held by Bill. This too is the nature of the business.

Yeah, I wanted the Reid conspiracy theory to be for real too, but in this case as with all – the truth wills out.

It was a little before midnight Saturday, when I heard chatter on the newsroom scanner that a man had been struck by a hit-and-run driver near the University of Nevada, Reno’s campus. It was obvious from the sound of thing he was in bad shape.

A minute more and I heard someone clearly say, “Its Channel Two’s sports guy.”

While hearing that stunned me, I quickly started calling around to see if I could get confirmation of what I believed I had heard. It took another hour before some one told me what I was afraid I already knew.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say anything as the information remained unconfirmed. I ended up going home that morning know who the victim was and that he was in critical condition.

It wasn’t until waking up later on Sunday, that not only did I have the correct information — that information had gone from bad to worse.  KTVN’s Sports Director, 41-year-old JK Metzker was dead from injuries received the night before.

I knew JK only in passing — many around me knew him better.

They all say he was not only a nice guy, a good family man and fantastic husband and father, but he also had a sense of humanity. I’m told that at the end of the day, he realized we all lived in a small community and because of that competition was only a job, but being decent was a committment.

Two things stand out in my conversations with his co-workers and friends: He’d have had a joke or a quip about all this fuss over his death — and he’d probably be the first to forgive the person who killed him.

Of course they speculate, while I report.

Meanwhile, the case continues as a 23-year-old Sparks man has been arrested in connection with the hit-and-run incident. Ryan Rhea is charged with one felony count of hit-and-run causing the death.

Rhea moved to the area from Carmichael, California after serving in Iraq with the Army’s 82nd Airborne. He has been going to college while living with his father in Sparks.

Investigators said alcohol appears to be a factor in the incident. They add additional charges may be filed pending results of blood tests.

Funeral services are scheduled for 2pm Friday, at Our Lady of the Snows on Wright Street. A fund has also been set up in the Metzker Family name and donations can be made at any Wells Fargo Bank.

I’ve been sitting on this for a long time…

“Adam was born on August 4, 1963 and passed away on Monday, January 25, 2010. Adam was a resident of Hydesville, California.” That’s all the online obituary reads.

Are you fucking kidding me?! Two friggin’ lines meant to cover 46-years of life.

Bullshit! This pisses me off and I won’t stand for it!

Adam is my brother, and I can tell you, there was much more to the man than what this paltry piece of crap obit has in it!  Goddamn it, I find it disgusting that his children and widow care so little of him they’d allow this to stand!

Okay — now  that I’ve calmed down…

They got his date of birth right, but let me add, he was born at Mather Air Force Hospital in Sacramento, California. Adam, like me, was born a military brat.

The following year we moved to Klamath, California. Adam attended and graduated from Margaret Keating School.

Adam also attended Saint Robert and Ann’s Catholic Church in Klamath. He received first communion in 1971 and often talked about being a Priest, like many young boys his age.

Eventually he outgrew the idea of becoming a priest, focusing instead on acting. Adam was talented, doing impressions of famous people like John Wayne and Groucho Marx and telling jokes at the drop of a hat and everyone had to beware of his sharp tongue.

He eventually acted in a couple of plays during high school, but found he loved weight lifting and boxing more than being on stage. It was from that discipline he would draw strength to push through the disintegration of our parents marriage.

At first he moved to Fortuna with our mother and two sisters. Eventually, though Adam chose to come live with me in Crescent City and return to Del Norte High School, where he graduated in 1981.

While attending school he maintained a steady job as a busboy, dishwasher and a sometime line cook. In speaking with Pete Kaufman, who managed Rowland’s restaurant, where Adam worked, he said he had no one else who could laugh and carry on with employees and customers and get his work done as well as Adam could.

In short Adam busted his ass.

Adam joined the U.S. Army and after completing basic and advanced infantry training was assigned to Pusan (now known as Busan,) South Korea. He finish two years of duty overseas and was transferred to Fort Irwin in the Mohave Desert, where he continued to work as a dental technician.

There is more to this part of his life that’ll be shared at a later date.

He left the service in early 1986, taking a job as a security officer with a lumber company. He held this job for over a year as he completed the basic requirements to enter college on a full-time basis.

He also got married, adopting his wife’s daughter, Jasmine, from a previous marriage. Together Adam and Sonja had two more children, Jayce and Lynda.

At first he couldn’t settle on a major, first attending the law enforcement academy at the College of the Redwoods. After graduating from the course he discovered a desire for nursing and proceeded on a path towards his degree in that.

He was sidelined unfortunately after being accused of participating in the murder of a man who  was harvesting a pot field. Initially he was sentenced to two-years at San Quentin, but due to overcrowding, served his time in the Mendocino County jail.

By the time he completed his sentence, Adam was well on the road to depression. It took him a year and a half to finally seek help from the local V.A. clinic in Eureka.

Adam was never the same though. His mood swings were wild and often times caused him to seek the self-medicating path of alcohol and marijuana.

Adam suffered another setback when he and Sonja divorced. By this time he was talking about taking off to Europe and getting lost once his children were all grown.

However, he appeared to be on the road to recovery by the time he married his second wife, Kelly. It was  “a dream come true,” he would tell me the day of the wedding.

Sadly, that dream wouldn’t last very long.

Near the end of January 2010, he checked himself into the V.A. hospital in San Francisco, suffering from severe depression. It was while there he self-administered a mixture of prescribed medication that ended his life.

While I haven’t his all the points in Adam’s life, I have shared enough so you’ll know he was far more than the two-lines given in the only obituary I’ve been able to locate for him. Meanwhile, his death has had an effect on not only me but his sisters as well.

Furthermore Adam’s friends from throughout his life are coming forward, wanting to know about him. Slowly and painfully I’ll give out all I can recall despite my desire to keep a part of him for myself.

That would selfish — and no better than he’s been given by others closer to him than me.

A Marine Sergeant wrote this in response to an Army guy who posted a comment on the Marine Corps site that he was sick and tired of “Marine arrogance”.

The Sergeant writes:

“I think that’s what makes Marines special, if only in our own minds, is that elusive Quality of Esprit D’Corps. It’s the fact that we, as individual Marines, don’t feel that we are individual Marines. When we wear our uniform, when we hear our Hymn, when we go into battle, we are going with every other Marine who ever wore the uniform.

Standing behind us are the Marines who fought during the birth Of our nation. We’re standing with the Marines who fought in WWI and gave birth to the legend of the “Tueful Hunden”, or “Devil Dogs”. We are standing with the Marines who took Iwo and Tarawa and countless other blood soaked islands throughout the Pacific.

We are standing with the “Frozen Chosin” and our beloved Chesty Puller. We are standing with the Marines who battled at Hue City and Khe Sanh and the muddy rice paddies of South East Asia. We are standing with the Marines who fought in Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom and now, are fighting in Afghanistan.

Like real brothers, their blood courses through our veins, and when we go into battle, we would rather lay down our lives than be a disappointment to them. We carry on our backs, their legacy, their deaths and their honor. We carry that for the rest of our lives.

The Marines Corps uniform doesn’t come off when our active duty is over. We wear it daily in our attitude, and our love of Corps and country. We wear it on our tattoos and our bumper stickers. We wear it in our hearts.

It’s why, no matter where we are in the world, on November 10th, every Marine celebrates the Marine Corps birthday. It’s why we’ll never be an army of 1. It’s why we never stop being Marines. It’s why, for most of us, being a Marine isn’t something we were. It’s something we are.

It’s the most important part of who and what we are. Some say we’re arrogant. We say we’re proud. We have a right to be proud. We are the United States Marines The most feared and ferocious group of warriors to walk the face of this earth.

When Americas’ enemies formulate their battle plans, they plan on going around Marine units, because they know Damn well that they can’t go through them. We are what other branches wish they were.

We are the modern day Spartans. This isn’t bragging. It’s written in the battle history of our country. When there’s a parade and the Marines march by, everyone pays a little more attention. Some say “arrogance”. We call it “pride”. It’s why, in a crowd of service men, you can always spot the Marine.”

Why are Marines special?  I don’t know.

We just are.

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When I first met my friend Kay in 1995, she had jus’ started down the long road of recovery from a having a brain tumor surgically removed. I was working as a driver for CitiLift and she was a reservationist for Reno Air.

By the time I’d pick her up from her work place to transport her home, she would be physically exhausted and nearly unable to speak. She’d be talking to me, but I’d be unable to understand some of the words she was saying.

Later on as we got to know one another better, she confided in me that she did a lot of writing after getting home. She told me it was the only way she could express her thoughts and feelings after a long day on the telephones.

In fact she became so compulsive about writing, she would use most anything available from a napkin to post-it-note. And all this material, she wrote was kept in a set of boxes she purchased through Avon.

About five years later, she became involved in a religious sect that invited her to give up all of her worldly possessions, which she did. This not only included her house-trailer and car, but all of her writing as well.

These days she refuses to write anything even though we’ve bought her a couple of journals. However she will spend 15 to 20 minutes a day texting her daughter in Las Vegas.

So go figure.

We had jus’ moved the KHIT studios from Neil Road to South Virginia. At the time I was working as the overnight jock.

As normal, I came in about half-an-hour early jus’ so I could get a pot of coffee on and so the person I was taking over for would not have to worry about whether I’d be on time or not. Plus it gave me a chance to relax prior to air time.

This particular evening I came in to find I had a piece of mail. It wasn’t often that got mail so it was kind of nice.

The woman who was on the air at the time knew I had this mail and appeared jus’ as curious as me to know what I had been sent. The medium-sized envelop didn’t have a return address, which piqued our curiousity even more.

So, I ripped it open in the control room, where we could both see what I had gotten. Out fell a pair of royal blue panties and a brassiere.

I was instantly red-faced as I picked the items up and stuffed them back in the envelope.

Two days later, and having forgotten about the incident, I was called at home to come to the station to discuss a matter. My boss at the time was hesitant to tell me what that matter was and so I drove to their with a ton of worry on my mind.

Once inside I foundI was being counselled and written up for sexual harassment. The woman I opened the package up in front off was offended and reported me.

She must have never seen a bra or a pair of pants before.

When I left my barracks room, my bed was perfectly made. There were no bumps or wrinkles in it.

The same couldn’t be said by the time I returned from class. There was a fairly large lump in the center of the mattress.

At first I thought someone had jus’ stuffed something under the top blanket, but I discovered differently once I pulled back the covers. The lump turned out to be a rattlesnake.

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest the moment I saw it. I must have looked funny plastered against the far wall of my room with my eyes as wide as saucers.

It took me less than a minute to figure out the reptile wasn’t alive. Rather it was made of plaster and painted to look like a rattlesnake.

I took it out into the hallway —  where everyone was snickering and giggling — but where no one was confessing to putting it in my bed.

One of the smaller military bases in the U.S. is located in the Nevada desert, north of Las Vegas. It also plays one of the biggest roles in the nation’s war on terror.

The airfield that now bears General Wilbur L. “Bill” Creech’s name was originally built by the Army in the early 1940s to support the war effort during World War II . A month after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Army began building the training camp.

Known as Indian Springs Auxiliary Army Airfield, the base was used as a “divert” field and for air-to-air gunnery training, supporting the Western Flying Training Command Gunnery School at Las Vegas Army Airfield. The post also serviced B-17s and T-6s until March 1945 when the Army put the base in stand-by status.

When Las Vegas AAF deactivated in January 1947, Indian Springs also closed down. However the base found new life when it re-opened in January 1948, receiving its first permanently assigned Air Force unit two years later.

Come August 1951 the base became an auxiliary field once again and by July 1952 was transferred from Air Training Command to the Air Research and Development Command. The base now reported to the Air Force Special Weapons Center at Kirtland AFB in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

The base transferred to the Tactical Air Command in 1961, where it officially became known as Indian Springs Air Force Auxiliary Field. It was also the remote training site for the USAF Thunderbirds.

Wile practicing on January 18,1982, the Thunderbirds crashed at Indian Springs. The four pilots were performing a line abreast loop when all aircraft had a controlled flight into terrain impact along the runway in front of the base Fire Station.

By 1992, the base had become a component of Air Combat Command and remained such until June 20, 2005, when Indian Springs Air Force Auxiliary Field officially changed its name to Creech Air Force Base. The name was selected to honor Creech, a former commander of Tactical Air Command and who was also known as the “father of the Thunderbirds.”

Creech was born in Argyle, Missouri, March 30, 1927. He was commission in September 1949 rising to the rank of General being promoted May 1, 1978.  Creech retired from the service December 31, 1984, and died August 26, 2003.

By October of that same year, the 3rd Special Operations Squadron was activated at Creech joining the 11th, 15th and 17th Reconnaissance Squadrons, becoming the first MQ-1 squadron in the Air Force Special Operations Command. The Joint Unmanned Aerial Systems Center was also established at the same time.

The 42nd Attack Squadron was formed at Creech in November the following year as the first Reaper squadron. On May 1,2007 operational control of the base was moved from Nellis to the 432nd Wing  which was reactivated and assumed control of the base.