Some one at the radio station had Chinese take out and I found this small slip of paper that obviously came from a fortune cookie. It reads: “You have a flair for adding a fanciful dimension to any story.”

Thanks for the inspiration — whoever left it.

After leaving the Marine Corps, I found myself in a strange situation. I discovered that making small decisions were sometimes next to impossible. One afternoon, my soon-to-be-bride and I were in Sak-n-Save, a local grocery store. She was doing the shopping while I was tagging along.

She asked me to go get some cereal while she headed for the check-out stand. Without hesitation I said okay and off I went.

She says I was gone for over 15 minutes and eventually had to come find me. She finally located me still in the cereal aisle, looking at all the assorted boxes.

When she called my name, I looked over at her. She told me that I had this “wild and dazed” look on my face.

I never did select a box of cereal that day.

Instead, I left the store in a cold sweat, pale and shaky. My soon-to-be-bride had to check out without me.

This wouldn’t be the last time I’d have a difficulty deciding something like this. And eventually I learned to “adapt and overcome,” the cereal aisle when it happened again.

My plan is simple: Get Cheerios®.

Magician and Miss USA judge Penn Jillette says he’s happy a pageant queen from Tennessee lost to Miss California USA Alyssa Campanella. He comes to this conclusion because of her onstage answer to a question about burning Quran’s ran afoul of the First Amendment.

The vocal half of illusionist duo Penn and Teller says on Twitter that he’s glad to have helped Miss Tennessee USA Ashley Durham lose the competition. Durham placed second in the pageant.

Durham responded to a question about whether burning religious items should be afforded the same constitutional protections as flag burning by saying it crossed a line and shouldn’t be allowed. Of course, Campanella’s answer about marijuana was completely overlooked.

‘Well, I understand why that question would be asked, especially with today’s economy, but I also understand that medical marijuana is very important to help those who need it medically,” she said. “I’m not sure if it should be legalized, if it would really affect, with the drug war. I mean, it’s abused today, unfortunately, so that’s the only reason why I would kind of be a little bit against it, but medically it’s okay.”

Guess, one can’t expect much more than that from a 21-year-old California-New Jersey transplant. Her next stop — the Miss Universe 2011 competition in Sao Paulo, Brazil, September 12th.

Now, if only Penn would magically disappear.

Mom used to say to us kids when we were rough housing too much for her liking: “You guys aren’t going to be satisfied until someone gets hurt or gets pissed.” Eventually, that’s exactly what would happen.

Given what has been going on after dark at the radio station it was bound to happen. With all the weird noises and strange sights – somebody was going to think it was a good idea to scare someone.

It was jus’ after 10 in the evening when I decided to go to the men’s room. I was standing at the urinal when a co-worker suddenly popped out of the stall behind me, with a shout of, “A-HAAA!”

Needless to say –- I jumped and yelled back. I also turned around, thinking I was going to have to defend myself some how and I unintentionally whizzed all over his legs.

Once again, Mom was right.

It was during a family vacation that saw first hand how the state of Nevada shared, at least in some small part, a bit of history with Mount Rushmore. First though a little bit more from the personal side of this story.

My bride’s father was raised near Mount Rushmore and he had at least one family member who worked on the sculptures at Mount Rushmore. I spoke with Don Conklin prior to his passing in 2006, and he confirmed his cousin Reuben worked there throughout the entire project.

And before having ever gone to Mount Rushmore I had learned the creator of the monument also carved the statue that stands in front of the Mackay School of Mining on the University of Nevada, Reno Campus. I knew this because I had read some six-year previously, that a team of conservators had made a rubber mold of the statue so it could be recreated for display at the Rushmore Borglum Museum.

Unfortunately, at the time I was visiting the wrong museum. The rubber mold was for the Rushmore Borglum Story Museum in Keystone, South Dakota.

I recently called the museum in Keystone and no one there knew what I was talking about.

In 1906, the family of John Mackay presented the university with a financial gift that enabled the construction of the Mackay School of Mines building on the north end of the Quadrangle. In front of the building is the statue of Mackay.

Mackay was an Irish immigrant, who along with three other key figures of the time, discovered perhaps the greatest lode of silver ever found in the world. The discovery eventually led to the establishment of the Comstock and eventually the state of Nevada.

I think that the greater story of Mackay’s legacy is in the communication companies he formed.

In 1884, with James Gordon Bennett, Jr., Mackay formed the Commercial Cable Company in order to lay a transatlantic cable. Two years later and in connection with the cable company, he formed the Postal Telegraph Company as a domestic wire telegraph company.

Until Mackay and Bennett entered the field, all underwater cable traffic between the United States and Europe went over cables owned by Jay Gould. A rate war followed that took almost two years to conclude.

The American financier finally quit trying to run Mackay out of business. He was quoted as saying, “You can’t beat Mackay, all he has to do when he needs money is go to Nevada and dig up some more.”

Once Mackay had conquered the Atlantic with the Commercial Cable Company and the U.S. with the Postal Telegraph Company he turned his sights on laying the first cable across the Pacific. He subsequently formed the Commercial Pacific Cable Company in secret partnership with the Great Northern Telegraph Company and the Eastern Telegraph Company.

He died on July 20, 1902 before this was completed, but his son Clarence, saw the project through to completion. By 1906, Commercial Pacific had cable lines laid from San Francisco to Manila, via Hawaii and Guam, with a subsequent spur that went from Manila to Shanghai.

The Mackay System eventually purchased the Federal Telegraph Company, its radio stations and research laboratories, in 1927. The entire system was later bought out by International Telephone and Telegraph a year later.

In 1908, sculptor Gutzon Borglum finished the statue after nearly two years of work. Originally, it had been commissioned to be placed on Nevada’s Capitol grounds, but the state legislature rejected the idea, believing it would diminish the grounds’ appearance and proposed placing it in an alcove in the Capitol’s library annex.

Needles to say, Borglum was offended by the legislatures rejection. However, Joseph Stubbs, president of the University at the time, offered the site at the north end of what later became the university quadrangle.

Both the Mackay statue and the Mackay School of Mines Building were dedicated on June 10, 1908. The statue was rededicated April 25, 1996.

From the February 8, 1908 issue of the Carson City Daily Appeal stated, “Some time last year the Board of Capitol Commissioners passed a resolution that a bust of Governor Sparks be placed in the center of the tessellated floor of the lower rotunda. When Gutzon Borglum, who made the Mackay statue, visits here the coming June, he will begin work on modeling the head.”

The bust was never completed — but I have a hunch where the unfinished piece is – I jus’ can’t prove it yet.

It was a lovely memorial service, as memorial services go. I actually think of memorial services are really funerals without the presence of the casket.

For an hour and a quarter I stood in the back of the church as we paid our final respects to our friend. I had given my seat up to a young woman who arrived about the same time I started to sit down.

I learned that bit of politeness from Dad.

Standing for an hour-plus like that isn’t as bad as it sounds. I one time stood for a period of four-hours during a military funeral service as the wind blew a blinding snowfall sideways across a Nebraska cemetery.

As the service was ending, two men got up and left the church, obviously to avoid the coming crush. That’s when the woman I had offered my seat too, looked up at me and mouthed the words, “Come, sit beside me.”

With the movement of her lips, she also patted the seat next to her with her hand. I felt like a puppy dog as I dutifully moved to the chair and took a seat.

Jus’ as I sat down,  the Cantor chimed her bell, which announced the service had ended and everyone was expected to stand as protocol warrants in such situations. The woman and I looked at one another and giggled at the irony of my having jus’ taken the seat.

That’s when I really looked at her. On her left foot, tattooed in cursive were the words, “Live life to Love,” and on her left shoulder-blade was the inked artwork of a growing flower — a Morning Glory, perhaps.

“My names Tom,” I whispered as I held my hand out to shake hers.

She grabbed my hand, “Dominique, pleasure to meet you,Tom,” she replied.

I was instantly smitten — but it quickly faded and I felt myself sigh. Dominique is a very beautiful woman — and I — well — I’m but an old man.

While working for a nationally known package delivery company, I was required to wear an identification card showing I was employed by the company, therefore authorized to be on the loading dock at the time. However, one morning I made the mistake of not having the badge on as I walked through the buildings doors.

That’s where I was grabbed by the companies dock supervisor – literally. He latched on to my left arm and swung me around, yelling “You can’t be in here!”

I don’t like to be touched by anyone I don’t know – it freaks me out.

My reaction was to cock my fist, throw a punch at him and shout, “Don’t you ever effing touch me!”  Another of the other supervisors grabbed me by the waist and dragged me out of the building.

Meanwhile, the plant manager stepped in front of the dock supervisor, directing him into a neutral corner so to speak. Their actions calmed the situation down immediately.

The next day I found myself apologizing to the dock supervisor for having threatened him as I did. He in turn apologized for having grabbed me.

Where this is leading and why it’s relevant is that recently a candidate for Nevada’s Congressional District 2 seat, vacated by now Senator Dean Heller, threatened a Las Vegas Review-Journal reporter with arrest for touching him. It’s a situation I can fully empathize with.

According to an online blog report from the same news paper, reporter Ed Vogel approached Former Navy Commander and current CD-2 candidate Kirk Lippold to ask him a question or two about some statements he made during the debate. The blog reads, “Vogel touched him on his suit coat with two fingers and asked for a more complete answer.”

“Two fingers,” –really?

When someone goes to the extreme of pointing out how many fingers touched the other person, instead of simply saying “touched,” I get more than a little suspicious.

But what the blog’s author fails to include in the article is what is in the back of everyone’s mind: Did Vogel introduce himself as a reporter or did he simply walk up to the Skipper and ask him a question point-blank?

If he did introduce himself – did Lippold hear him? This is still an unknown. What is known is that Vogel made inappropriate contact with the former Commander.

This is known as assault – or rather – the threat of violence. It occurs when a person feels his or her space has been violated in a manner that leaves them feeling unsafe.

Now — a little background on Carson City native  Lippold — he was the Commanding Officer of the USS Cole (DDG-67) on October 12, 2000 when the ship was attacked and bombed by Al-Qaeda terrorists during a refueling stop in the Yemeni port of Aden, killing 17 sailors.

Hypersensitive to personal safety? You bet!

As for Vogel, according to the blog article, he has been a newspaper reporter for more than forty-years, including 34 with the Review-Journal. The same story adds, “… this was the first time anyone has threatened Vogel with arrest.”

In speaking with others who know reporter Vogel, they say he has been known to assume everyone knows who he is – therefore he may have expected Lippold to recognize him without question. This is a case of ego, poor judgment or bad manners, take your pick.

Then there are the few who say Vogel sometimes practices “gotcha-journalism.” It was explained to me by three people, that he often fails to introduce himself and acts rather like “jus’ another interested person,” instead of a professional journalist.

The online posting states: “One of the debate coordinators who knew Vogel told Lippold he was a veteran reporter, and only then did the candidate answer his questions.”

This doesn’t square up with what else is reported in the same piece. The article claims Vogel spoke to Lippold, asking him questions, where upon Lippold “briefly answered, turned and started to move away.”

If he briefly answered – then one can conclude the Skipper knew Vogel was a reporter and felt he had answered the question. Why then would Vogel need to be pointed out as a “veteran reporter?”

I’d love to hear the entire tape, Vogel is said to have had with him at the time, so we could know exactly what went down.

We sat there in the newsroom a few minutes before midnight, mesmerized by the drama unfolding over the scanner. The male-voice called calmly to the dispatcher, “I’m rolling code-3 with an unconscious man in my backseat.”

It was obviously an officer — we couldn’t tell whether he was a “County Mounty,” a “Super Trooper,” or perhaps a “Toy Cop.” But we knew he was en route towards Sparks from USA Parkway on Interstate 80 jus’ west of Fernley.

I have driven that stretch of road, having worked for a now defunct ambulance service — and it can be very challenging after dark.

All radio traffic had come to an abrupt halt — save for the dispatcher, who was sending an ambulance to meet the officer. Silence like that can be terribly deafening.

“I have to pull over — I can’t tell if he’s breathing or not,” the officer stated in near-monotone voice.

“Is he responsive?” the dispatcher asked.

Pause — we waited — hanging, suspended by the wait. Then he answered, “Barely.”

“10-4,” the woman behind the dispatch mic returned, adding, “Meet the ambulance at the Mustang exit.”

“Roger,” the officer answered, calmly including, “I’m code-3, westbound.”

We never found out what happened as all radio traffic ceased between the officer traveling at a high-rate of speed, with lights and siren announcing the urgency of his mission. I can only assume he met the ambulance and made the transfer, turning what was a victim into a patient.

In the end, it didn’t matter whether he was a sheriff’s deputy, a state trooper or a security patrol officer — he was there when needed.  And though I don’t know him and probably never will — thank you — whoever you are.

On 17 June 1898, the Hospital Corps came into being. Since then help has been but a shout away: “Corpsman!”

The Corpsman has had the back of the Leatherneck in every conflict since. The number of Corpsmen killed in action is 2,012, with 22 Medal of Honor recipients, 174 Navy Crosses awarded, 31 US Army Distinguished Service Medals given, 946 Silver Stars earned and 1,582 Bronze Stars issued.

Previously, the Corpsman was commonly referred to as a Loblolly boy, a term borrowed from the British Royal Navy, and a reference to the daily ration of porridge fed to the sick. The nickname was in common use for so many years that it was finally officially recognized by the Navy Regulations of 1814.

Often sand was used to keep the surgeon from slipping on the bloody ship deck. Their primary duties were to keep the irons hot and buckets of sand at the ready for the operating area as it was commonplace during battle for the surgeons to conduct amputations and irons were used to close lacerations and wounds.

In coming years, the title of the enlisted medical assistant would change several times—from Loblolly Boy, to Nurse, and finally to Bayman. A senior enlisted medical rate, Surgeon’s Steward, was introduced in 1841 and remained through the Civil War.

Following the war, the title Surgeon’s Steward was abolished in favor of Apothecary, a position requiring completion of a course in pharmacy. With the Spanish-American War looming, Congress passed a bill authorizing establishment of the U.S. Navy Hospital Corps, signed into law by President William McKinley.

During World War I, Hospital Corpsmen served throughout the fleet, earning particular distinction on the Western Front with the Marine Corps. 20 Corpsmen gave their lives in the “war to end all wars.”

In World War II, Hospital Corpsmen hit the beach with Marines in every battle in the Pacific. Between 1941 and 1945, 1,170 Corpsman lost their lives serving this nation and the US Marine Corps.

Hospital Corpsmen continued accompanying Marines into battle during the Korean Conflict and Vietnam wars. Between 1950 and 1953, 109 Corpsmen died in the field of fire and from 1962 to 1975, 639 Corpsmen answered the final call of duty.

Fifteen Hospital Corpsmen were counted among the dead following the bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut in 1983. Many were crushed in the debris of the destroyed building along with the 220 Marines they were serving side-by-side with.

Corpsmen have hit the beaches and humped the boonies in defense of liberty and democracy in places like Nicaragua, the Dominican Republic, and Granada and throughout Central America. They’ve also served in clandestine operations that are still classified.

Today, hospital corpsmen continue to serve in both the Iraq and Afghanistan theaters. Since March 20, 2003, 42 Corpsmen have laid down their lives in combat.

Semper Fi!

Fortunately I’m not the only person in the station to have seen the strange sight of the pale white, skinny, bony figure. But I am the only person to openly write about my sighting.

It’s one of the reasons I don’t like to go into the Claire Wilson Conference Room without having the lights on. I used it one late evening as a short-cut between the kitchen, where my locker is and the newsroom.

This particular night the room was dark as I strolled through it with a cup of coffee, my brief case and my headphones. Jus’ as I reached the other side of the room I noticed someone standing near the end of the table by the door.

At first it didn’t fully register that I had seen a person standing there and I continued walking. Then, like a light flicked on in my brain, it dawned on me was I had seen — so I took a couple of steps back.

There was nothing there. But I know I had seen someone — or should I say something.

The figure was between 5′ 10″ and six-feet tall, extremely skinny and bone and very pale, almost translucent. It was the only time I have seen this thing.

A co-worker, R. Boogie, told me that he also saw the figure, though we couldn’t agree exactly on a description. Yet it had some striking similarities including the skinny, bony features I had seen.

Boogie was walking down the hallway after take transmitter readings when he spotted someone out of the corner of his right eye. The person, as he calls it, was standing in a production studio, looking out the window as he passed by.

And like me, it didn’t register right away that he had seen something. And jus’ like I did, he had to stop, step back and look.

Once again, whatever had been there — disappeared. Boogie even opened the studio door to look behind it in order to make certain.

Still another person, who works in the building during the day, claims she saw the same thing out of the corner of her eye.  She says that whatever it was, she was unable to focus on it when she’d turn her head to look at whatever was moving jus’ outside her vision.

Perhaps this is the energy that has been reported to make noise walking up and down the hallways, opening and closing doors and rattling desk drawers. Half-of-me wants to know, while the other-half says, “Leave well enough alone.”