Feisty’s college connection: Party Without the Pain

Posted on by Sandy

There’s a cliche out there that you’re supposed to party hard while you’re in college. What they don’t tell you is a night of partying can often end face-first in a toilet. I’ll lay my cards on the table: I’m not a big drinker and never have been. So, on the one hand, I can’t tell you what it’s like to experience a night of puking into the tub. On the other, I can share my reflections from years of watching the club and bar scene with a sober eye, seeing who gets the guy and who makes a fool of themselves dancing on the bar.

I’m not going to give you all the tips you’ve heard from your roommates and dorm buddies. You know more about hangover cures than I do, I’m sure. (And if you find one that actually works, let me know.) Instead, I’m going to give you three tips to make sure you have a great time, whether or not you’re drinking.

1. How do you want to feel?

Before you go out, think about what you want the evening to be like. Be honest. If you really want to get plastered and don’t mind dealing with the consequences tomorrow morning, go for it! If you want to keep your wits about you and only have a few drinks, figure out how you’re going to manage it beforehand, whether that’s by taking along a non-drinking friend or only putting $20 in your wallet. Thinking through your night for even five minutes before you head out the door will save you a lot of unnecessary problems later.

2. Plan your morning the night before

Pop quiz: if you knew you’d have to go to a morning workout, would you have six drinks the night before? Didn’t think so. Now, I’m not advocating Sunday morning workouts (though you can, of course), but think through what you want to do the next morning BEFORE you go out the night before. That way, you’ve got something to look forward to besides a hangover.

3. There’s more to nightlife than clubbing

Most of the time, when people hear “party,” they immediately think, “going out drinking.” But it doesn’t have to be that way. There’s tons of fun stuff to do that doesn’t involve alcohol at all, like rallies, festivals and cheering on the home team. I had an amazingly active social life in college and didn’t spend too much of it in bars. If you like bars, that’s great. If you don’t, check the posters around campus and see what else is happening.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

For most people, the post-college years feature far fewer “puking into the toilet” nights, and that’s a good thing. You’ve probably passed through the gauntlet and emerged on the other side. Congratulations! Just remember, the tips above are still useful for anyone painting the town red, not just the college crowd.

Feisty’s College Connection: How to Ace Your Finals Without Cramming

Posted on by Sandy

It’s that time of semester again: midterms. I have bad news and good news. The bad news is that if you still haven’t started studying for midterms, there’s not much I can do for you. The goods news is that I can help you for your finals, which are probably worth more anyway. It won’t take a lot of time, it’ll wipe out overnight cramming, and it’ll dramatically cut down on end-of-semester stress. It’s as easy as 1-2-3.

1. Take notes by hand and skim them the same evening. 

I know it’s fashionable to bring laptops to class, but write by hand anyway. For one, it’s easier to be freeform when hand-writing. You can write notes in the margins, draw diagrams, and focus on the main ideas, not hunting for the graphing function. The amount of notes you take is a matter of personal style, but focus on the concepts, not scribbling every word the prof is saying. Don’t worry about making your notes look nice. Just write. Every evening, spend 15 minutes skimming that day’s notes. This helps it stay in your brain and acts as an early-warning system for stuff you don’t understand.

2. Type or rewrite your notes on the weekend.

If your hand-written notes are anything like mine, they’re pretty messy. Now’s your chance to fix that. Block off a weekend afternoon and rewrite or type out all your notes from the week. Focus on aesthetics, organization, and structure. Don’t be afraid to rearrange, expand, cut, or color-code. Rewriting does two things. First, you review what you covered in class. Second, it gets your notes into a presentable, useable condition. When you’re done, throw out your hand-written notes. You won’t need them. Heck, you might even get people asking to buy your typed notes. (I did!)

3. At the end of semester, read through your notes.

I didn’t say pour over or cram. I said read. If you’ve never followed a system like this before, “just reading” might be a strange concept. But I promise if you’ve done steps 1 and 2, you won’t need to cram. Seriously! You’ll remember so much from your evening skimming and weekly rewriting sessions that a simple read-through should be all it takes to jog your memory. Now’s the time to look for bigger themes that span large portions of the course. What are the topics that come up repeatedly? What are the links from one unit to the next? Since you don’t have to decipher disorganized chicken-scratch, you can devote yourself to higher-level study and still have more time for relaxing.

And that’s it. Fifteen minutes a day and one afternoon a week to a stress-free end of semester. I dare you to try this. You’ll never go back.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

This is probably my most college-specific post to date, but there are still nuggets for you. No matter what you’re trying to remember or retain, daily and weekly reviews will be far more effective than sporadic info-binges. Try using this technique with updates in your field and see how much more you remember… effortlessly!

Feisty’s College Connection: Dorm Room Diet

Posted on by Sandy

Are you dreading the Freshman 15? I won’t lie to you. I was a victim of the Freshman-and-Sophmore 25! In fact, it took me all the way to grad school to figure out how to eat properly on campus. Campus cafeterias are full of temptations, from all-you-can-eat buffets to twice-daily desserts. But I learned how to beat them, and you can, too. Here’s a list of tips I wish someone had given me when I started university.

1. Save yourself for the really good desserts

If your cafeteria is anything like mine was, you could eat two desserts a day. That is the path to the Freshman 50! But you don’t want to deprive yourself. What’s a girl to do? I came up with a simple rule for myself: eat only the really good desserts. My college had a dessert night every few months with gourmet pastries. Every few weeks, we had a fancy dinner with luxury cakes. You know what, if I’m getting gourmet desserts every few weeks, I don’t mind missing out on the three-day-old apple strudel on the lunch cart today.

2. C is for coffee (That’s good enough for me)

Getting up for an 8 am class is hard. Sometimes your brain needs a little kick-start. But that doesn’t mean to grab a Venti Frappuccio. If you do, you can down 500 calories before you’re awake to enjoy it! To get your caffeine hit, get a regular coffee, load it with milk and sugar, and it’ll still be less calories than a “coffee drink.” If you want to consume 500 calories in a drink, that’s great. But just remember point #1. 

3. The new SS: soup and salad

Here’s a trick I learned from Barbara Rolls’ Volumetrics. If you eat a bowl of soup before your meal, you’ll naturally eat less of the main course. And you can eat a ton of salad, feel full, and not consume too many calories. It’s probably a good idea to eat at least one salad a day, anyway. And if someone else is preparing it, why not! A word of warning, though: stay away from the cream-based soups and go easy on the dressing. Those calories add up!

4. The janitor doesn’t cares if you finish your vegetables (or anything else)

Maybe you’re from a family where Mom wouldn’t let you have dessert if you didn’t finish your veggies. Maybe she used the “children are starving in Africa” line. This may have led you into the bad habit of cleaning your plate, even if you’re full long before that. Now that you’re on your own, no one cares! Certainly not the janitor who’s collecting the plates or emptying the garbage! Eat until you’re full, then stop. And remember, it takes the stomach 20 minutes to send the “I’m full signal” to the brain, so don’t rush for seconds right away.

5. Don’t eat out when you’re eating in

Most cafeterias I know offer some good choices… and some really bad choices. I could have had pizza and burgers twice a day for a year, if I wanted. But I bet you consider those “eating out foods” already. Think about how often you want to eat out and plan accordingly. Sure, grab a burger every now and then, but don’t make it your first pick.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

Okay, maybe you’re now faced with cooking your own meals. Spending hours cooking can be a time drain. But on the other hand, you can control exactly what you put in your body. You’re not subject to the whims of the Olga the cafeteria chef. Everybody can use the tricks above, not just college students. Just make sure that indulgences are special occasions, not everyday events.

Memories of World War I by Robinson Shepard (my grandpa) – page 6: Where Grampa finally gets to France.

Posted on by Sandy

After welcoming speeches by dignitaries we marched to, and boarded, one of the peculiar looking British trains. We rode as far as Winchester, where we marched up a steep hill to a British rest camp, “Winnal Downs.” There we had a meal of what the boys called “Oak Leaf Stew,” a very thin and tasteless watery soup, with a few things that looked like oak leaves floating in it.

The next morning we boarded a train and set off in the general direction of London. I was hopeful we were going through London, but a few miles short of there we turned off and pulled up on the Docks at Southampton. The Harbor was very busy and I saw the Narraganset! It looked like home and I realized what we were missing in England were Indian names.

On the docks at Southampton all the boys who were in evidence were put to work, but a few including me managed to keep out of the way behind piles of barracks bags and slept off the afternoon.

We got on a little Channel steamer and cast off in the middle of the night. We steamed as fast as possible across the English Channel with no zigzagging as had been done across the Atlantic. Rain began pouring down so everyone went inside and were four or five deep on the floor. Very rough passage and some were seasick. I wasn’t and went back on deck to avoid them.

Sunny France at last!! Charbourg at 3:30 a.m. pitch dark and pouring rain. After we got organized we started up a steep hill. Some of the boys started to sing and were promptly ordered to “shut up, the Germans will hear you.” With the rain pouring down and pitch dark, if any Germans were within 200 miles they were in a plane whose engines roared so loud one couldn’t hear himself think let alone soldiers singing, on the ground, to keep up their courage.

Next day I was on Guard duty and saw my first duty as an American soldier in France and I was to keep Portuguese soldiers out of a British Rest Camp. They had a camp nearby and tried to get in for more food, so it was said. They were all tall and big men, much larger than I and I had no arms of any kind, but I looked as fierce as possible and told them no admission, so they all turned around as meekly as possible, to my surprise and relief. Don’t remember how long we were in this camp, but came down to Cherbourg to a troop train. On the way down we passed a house where someone said Dumas wrote Les Trois Mousquetaires.

This train was composed of 40 and 8 cars. The first we had seen, but far from the last. Finally we started in the direction of Paris. Stopped in the freight yards of Caen (a good sized city, home of one of the professors I had at Besancon. Think it was Chauvenet, the Chemistry one, but am not sure.) Stayed there some time and on the next track was a string of freight cars, each composed of two immense wooden barrels. The word got around that this was wine, so a lot of boys got some in their mess kit cups. All you had to do was turn a spigot at the bottom of the barrel. However it was very cheap and very sour “pinard” issued to the “frogs” which is what the French soldiers were called in camp. Very few of us, if any, went back for seconds on the wine.

Memories of World War I by Robinson Shepard (my grandpa) – page 5: Where Grampa’s ship is the only American ship to land in Wales during the War.

Posted on by Sandy

Finally the convoy of 23, with the British cruiser “Berwick,” started for Europe. The convoy was faster than the Berwick and several times had to wait for it to catch up. One day we had a submarine scare and the Berwick left (us) to chase the Sub and we never saw the Berwick again.

One of the unpopular aspects was the necessity of a daily shower. The shower room opened on the deck at both ends (no doors). A cold salt water shower in mid-Atlantic with a stiff wind blowing on you is not the most comfortable thing in the world, and it is also hard to dry off from a salt water shower.

Two days (although we didn’t know that) from the other side, two U.S.A. 4-stack destroyers appeared and how the boys cheered to see them, the Stars and Stripes. They were fast too, and kept circling the whole convoy, and once included a submarine scare and I thought sure we were hit. However, it was our guns. We had one in the stern. When our guns were fired the old cattle boat just shivered with the recoil.

The night before we landed those who could find a place were allowed to sleep outside. I found a place on one of the forward hatches and with overcoast under me and poncho over me went to sleep. About 3 a.m. came a driving rain. With the first few drops I wakened and retired to the Orlop deck and the poncho kept off most of the rain, but some of the boys were soaked to the skin.

LAND and were we glad to see it. We separated from the rest of the convoy and sailed up the Govars Estuary, docking at Cardiff, Wales on July 31st. I understand it was the only American Ship to land there during the War.

Solid ground again! What a welcome we got from the inhabitants!! It must have seemed miraculous to the war weary people, who had been at war for nearly 4 years, to see a shipload of soldiers appear from over the horizon, to be on their side.

Cardiff reminded me a lot of Boston – narrow crooked streets and buildings of 7 or 8 stories (the limit in Boston at that time). We marched, full pack, up the main street to the Welch [sic] Capitol building. It was extremely hot and carrying full pack and coming from weeks of relative inactivity many fell out and sat on the curb. As soon as a soldier did this a native would rush to him with a drink from a nearby Pub, and seeing this more and more feel out. When we got to the Capitol Plaza they played the Star Spangled Banner and while standing at attention several passed out.

Memories of World War I by Robinson Shepard (my grandpa) – page 4: Where Grampa heads towards the Front and sees the Halifax fire

Posted on by Sandy

NOTE: The most amazing part about reading this part of my Grandpa’s diary is that H (my “James”) and I were in Halifax for our honeymoon – and the historian who was showing us around told us about the fire that destroyed most of Halifax. Little did I know that my grandfather had been a witness to it!!!!!!!!!!!

+++++++++++++++++++

July 8 or 9th we got on the troop train and headed for New Hampshire. I was pretty excited when we stopped at Tilton for a few minutes, but I didn’t see anyone I knew. The curtains had to be down, but for some reason I was on “guard” and could go from one car to another so I stayed on the platform for some time hoping to at least see the taxi man, who would have told Father he had seen me – but no such luck. I had never seen beyond The Weirs, so Plymouth, West Rumney, Woodsville also was new to me. (Little did I suspect My Future – 1931 – was living in West Rumney, New Hampshire. I wonder if she saw the train go by.) [This was a note with respect to my grandmother – and the best part is the NEXT note is written BY my grandmother – MES – Myra E. Shepard!!] (NOTE: In July 1918 I was at home in summer, South Wentworth, but lived in Orford during the school year. MES) Near the Canadian border, the milkmen were just arriving and htey had dish pans of real cream that were passed around and everyone had a big drink. I remember how good it tasted.

Eventually we got to Montreal and backed down to the wharf and got our first sight of “HMT” Durham Castle, an old cattle boat used between England and South Africa. The “HMT” stood for “His Majesty’s Transport,” but it was always referred to as His Majesty’s Tub and was our home for the next three weeks. I was assigned to the orlop deck, two decks below waterline. The bunks were five high and htere was a great scramble to get the topmost. I got one next to the top, and luckily the fellow above me wasn’t seasick. Came up on deck in time to see us pull out and a fellow on the pier semaphored “Bon Voyage.” Started down the St. Lawrence River, but ran into a sandbar at Three Rivers, after a while we got off and the next morning passed quite near Charlettetown P.E.I.  Sunday morning and we could hear Church bells. Very peaceful passage and smooth sailing. However, after leaving the lee of the Island, it was very rough. I remember coming up from below as fast as I could, feeling very seasick. When I got to the deck, someone turned around and saw me and let out a yell so the crowd quickly parted and I got to the rail where a deep breath of fresh air cured me, and I didn’t whoop. Some of the boys seemed to think I put it all on, to get to the rail – but I stayed there! Should say the soldiers had only one deck, and there were so many that only one out of 5 or 6 could get to the rail. All the first class and ohter decks were occupied by the officers, and nursers, about 100. I heard that one officer was disciplined as he was overheard asking a nurse if she wanted to go down “to see the animals feed.”

Finally we got to Halifax and a calm harbor and stayed htere 3 days, until the convoy – 23 ships – among them the Mauretania – assembled. We were near enough to the city to see some remnants of the fire which had wiped out a good many buildings. We saw a long train which we fondly thought had come from Boston. There was one that used ot be at 9 p.m., Boston, whihc was due in Halifax about the time we saw this.

Those who wished could dive in for a swim, but remembering my Still River experience, I didn’t. Once we had to get into a small boat (don’t recall how) then with a pack (knapsack) climb a swinging rope ladder 25 feet or so back up to the boat. I thought I’d never make it! Toward the end I had all I could do to hold on and was glad then hands grabbed me and pulled me in. I guess others were the same and everyone seemed to be pulled in.

 

Feisty’s College Connection: Living Your Passion NOW

Posted on by Sandy

Psst, here’s a secret: the college years are probably the only time in your life when you’re not only encouraged but expected to live a passionate life. People expect young adults to be full of energy, enthusiasm, and idealism. This means that now’s the time to start exploring and pursuing the things that really interest you.

Your passion is unique. I can’t tell you what it is. It might be social justice, writing poetry, or playing a killer game of basketball. Maybe your passion is green living or hosting medieval feasts. Maybe it’s swimming with dolphins. But I guarantee that there’s something in your life right now that makes you feel tingly and happy inside whenever you’re doing it, or even thinking about doing it. 

Now, what are you going to do about it?

College is great because you’re surrounded by people who are just as passionate as you are. So a lot of the institutions that people already off in the “real world” need to hunt for, you’ve got at your fingertips. Here are a few:

Find or start a student club.

No matter what your passion is, there’s probably a club set up on campus devoted to it. If there isn’t, create one! You’d be surprised how many people flock to you once you start putting the word out.

Read the campus paper.

Your campus paper will give you tons of information, not only on campus politics and local happenings, but also on upcoming events and gatherings. And if there’s something you want to say, submit a classified ad or write an article yourself!

Go to events that interest you.

Most university websites have an “upcoming events” page. Get in the habit of checking it. You’ll probably find things that interest you. No matter how you hear about interesting things — like rallies, guest lectures, or homecoming games — go! There’s no time like the present!

Meet your new friends.

If you’ve done everything (or even a few things) listed above, you’ll start running into people who share your passion. Congratulations! You’re well on the way to having a new social clique. Just remember: always be on the lookout for more opportunities. You never know when you might find one.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

True, it might not be as easy for you to find the resources (or the time) to pursue your passion once you move beyond the hallowed halls of academia. But it’s still possible. There are still guest lectures, groups, and specialty magazines to connect you with “birds of a feather.” Even better, the people you meet will probably have lots of experience and knowledge to share!

Australian Wildfires

Posted on by Sandy

The article below appeared in The Age (a Melbourne newspaper) yesterday. It was sent to me by a Bond Girl down “under.” If you have the time to read it, its an incredible story.  As they say in Australia, I don’t know “how I would go” in the same situation!

I now understand the word ‘firestorm’

 

Luke van den Berk is the caretaker of a 33-hectare Kinglake West property, owned by the Macedonian Church. When the firestorm hit, he was trapped in the house with his children — sons Aaron, 13 and Khyle, 12, and daughter Brodee, 16 — and his girlfriend, Lois MacDonald, 42. This is their story

 

THERE wasn’t much warning.

 

I’m on a good basis with the national park rangers … they are over the fence from me. Ranger Tony Fitzgerald was giving us updates on what was happening, but as we got our last update we could hear the fire coming up the ridge behind us. He went down the hill of the national park on one of the tourist roads and came back up and said the fires were 700 metres away. He said: “You can leave now if you want to. If you want to stay we will help you out if we can.”

 

We decided to stay in the house. Within three minutes the flames were 30 to 40 metres high. There were horizontal sparks and embers — the wind was just incredible. The word “firestorm” — I have a clear understanding of it now.

We were inside the house and the noise outside was incredible. Sparks and embers were bashing up against the roof and the windows, the fence had caught fire, the woodpile against the house caught fire.

Then the windows started exploding — it sounded like a 747 taking off. It was broad daylight but it went dark because there was so much smoke and stuff — it just went dark.

The house was on fire. I had three attempts at getting everyone out safely — they were all in the lounge room. I kept going outside to see if we could get a decent path out, but the radiant heat was the killer. The first two times I went out, the radiant heat just forced me back in the house.

At that point I knew I had to wait for that initial part of the storm to pass over. Unfortunately, it consumed the house while we were in it. I shut all the bedroom doors.

We lost two cats and five kittens — I had to shut the bedroom door and we listened to them die. We saved our little dog, Cougar. It was traumatic for the kids. I had to shut the door because the windows had exploded and the bedrooms were on fire.

I made my third attempt at going outside. The radiant heat had passed a little, and I just thought, “We have to get out.” I had buckets of water outside. I took them in and got sheets and towels, dipped them into the water and wrapped everyone up over their heads and their faces and told them we had to go.

When we were 100 metres from the house, the roof collapsed. That was one or two minutes after we got out.

We ran out into the street. There were flames everywhere. You just looked down the street and there was devastation. It was like the army came in and bombed the whole thing with napalm.

We were running down the street. Gas cylinders were exploding. A lot of the cylinders had safety features on them … apparently when a gas cylinder heats up, a valve releases and all the gas comes out of the cylinder, so there was lots of shhhh noises.

A lot of cars were exploding — it was like a war zone. We had to step over power lines, go under power lines, there were power poles falling over in front of us, trees coming down everywhere.

And the noise — all I can compare it to is the sound of a 747 taking off. We were running down the street and the radiant heat was getting at us. We had to keep moving. If you stood still you would have shrivelled.

We ran down the street for about a kilometre — there was just no one, no one to help. My girlfriend was going, “Where the hell are the fire brigade?” I said, “We are on our own, we have got to go.” I just had to keep them going, I said, “Keep going, keep going, faster.”

We got to one house about a kilometre away and there was someone there spraying water on it. We took refuge in their house. There was a lady inside. We were probably there for about 10 minutes.

I was popping in and out of the house because I was paranoid about what was going to happen. His pump stopped working and then his balcony caught fire and I just went back in and said, “We gotta go.” My girlfriend didn’t want to leave. I started swearing: “We have got to go f—ing now.” We got the kids and the dog and we left … we left those people there. Fortunately we caught up with them at the third house we got to — our final refuge.

We went to another house where a man was watering down his house. He had his son with him. He told us to get inside and we felt quite safe. He was outside running round, wetting it all down. Then another 10 minutes went past and he said, “I can’t save it — we’ve got to go.”

We had to go only 50 metres over the road to the third house. It was owned by a lady who was a CFA member and she had left the firefighting front to come home and save her home. She was really well set up. She had fire pumps.

The kids sheltered in the basement part of the house — they were very traumatised. My daughter was having an asthma attack at that point. We had no medication and we had to get her down low on the floor because it was all full of smoke under the house as well. I just had to talk her through it, telling her, “You have just got to calm down, you have to breathe through it slowly, just relax, we are safe now.”

When she was feeling a bit better I went out and helped the men. We were there for about half an hour until the bulk of the flames had left. Then we were just going around the house blacking out spot fires.

We stayed there for probably about an hour and then went to the local CFA and slept on the floor there for the night.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

These fires were most likely set by people – arson. I heard on the news the other day that their Prime Minister (believe it was) stated that when (not if) they catch the folks who did this, they’ll consider it mass murder. I couldn’t agree more.


If you would like to donate to help specifically towards the Victoria Bush Fire, here is a link to the Red Cross’s appeal for the crisis.

The Passport Photo: Following My Own Advice

Posted on by Sandy

passporgt stampsOkay, SO. About a year ago, I was fat (happy), and in need of a new driver’s license. Contrary to my own good advice in my book fEmpowerment, I basically went down to the DMV, and took the photo.

I’d put on the makeup, I’d done the hair, but….BAAAAD. So VERY VERY BAD. Lordie lordie.

Of course, it doesn’t help that my last Driver’s License photo (and my last passport photo, I might add) where fantastic. How that happened, I have no idea – we all know how bad “those photos are.” But there you go.

So I have a driver’s license photo that looks like I’m Frankenstein’s stepsister (I actually keep the old, expired one in the little driver’s license “window” because the new one is so frightening). I wasn’t gunna let that happen with the passport.

Why the passport right now? Well, we’re going on a phenomenal journey to Peru in June…so I thought I’d have plen-tee of time to lose the weight, etc., especially as I started losing at the end of last year. As I have posted before, weight-wise, I am 1/2 way there right now. HOWEVER, I recently won a trip for 2 to Cozumel, through SendOutCards. (Hey, it’s NICE to have a job that, if you do well, gives you things like camera, jewelry, trips…love it!) The “rule” for cruises to Mexico now is that your passport has to have 6 months “left on it” for you to go.

The problem? Mine expires in July! I thought I might want to get one for the June Peru trip – but not for Mexico in March! Yikes!

So again, I’m 1/2 way to my weight goal – but we all know that the face fat is one of the last “to go.” But I needed to get the passport goin’ ASAP.

THIS time, following my own advice from fEmpowerment [click here, then search for pages 84-86], I set the day aside. First, I went to the hair gal. She did me up. Then I went to my friend’s house who is a whizz at makeup. SHE did me up. Then I went to the passport photo place – which is also where my mailbox is – and since the gal there was not busy…I made her take TWENTY (digital) photos. Click-flash-look. Too serious. Click-flash-look. Hair too weird. Click-flash-look. Head too tilted. Click-flash-look. Too goofy. You get the…picture.

The gal was just laughing and shaking her head. But she was a good sport. Of course, I also handed her a $20 bill for the $12 passport photo charge and “waved” for her to “keep the change” – my guess is none of it will go in the till at all – but she was more than happy to keep snapping. We got it down to one, but I thought it was a little serious, and my head was kinda tilted (and I still felt my face looked fat), but she liked it well enough. I went to the post office to get the passport info in – and the passport folks had gone home early. I looked at the photo and went BACK – she was still there, shook her head when I walked in…and we took more (she didn’t even charge me). I finally wound up with one that I liked mo’bettah. So tomorrow I’m off to get it passport-i-fied.

The photo isn’t as great as the AWESOME one currently on my passport. Of course, I’m also at least a decade older, and “wiser” (or is that just “a decade more of life/work/stress under my belt”?) But heck, the photo is SO MUCH better than I think 90% of the passport photos I’ve ever seen – and LIGHT years better than my Franken-driver’s license.

Sure, I wish I could have taken it in a couple months like planned – so my face wouldn’t be “showing the heavy” quite so much. But it is FINE. And I did “what I said to do” in the book – I had set that passport photo as a goal and was working towards it – I just didn’t know that I would need to push the goal “forward” about 3 months!

I feel SO relieved though, because compared to the driver’s license, I’m a Hollywood starlet. Phew!

Memories of World War I by Robinson Shepard (my grandpa) – page 3: Where Math wins the day and Grampa joins the Masons

Posted on by Sandy

Once in a while, you could get a pass to go to Ayers. There in the basement of the Odd Fellows Hall, were a couple of pool tables. If the soldier, or his father, was an Odd Fellow he could use the tables. By virtue of Father’s being an Odd Fellow I played pool several times – the only times I ever have.

In the spring, we went on a hike to Still River, Mass., the artillery range and camped in pup tents, under artillery fire. One night it rained hard and the boys who hadn’t bothered to lie a “traunch” as per directions, got soaked. Glad to say my tentmates and I stayed dry. Coming back to Devens, 5 miles or so, I got a ride iwth a motorcycle carrier. I rode behind him on the baggage rack; I stuck on, but wished I had walked.

Our mess sergeant was a fellow named Carroll, from Lawrence, Mass. Among other things, he had to figure on an allowance of 37-1/2 cents a day, per man, for food. Once I happened to see him scratching his head on his figuring, so I did a little very simple figuring for him. He was amazed and wanted me to keep on. I pretended it was very complicated (as he thought) but said I’d try it, if I was free of other duties (fatigues, KP, etc.) As the company was doing nothing but moving a big pile of coal, in wheelbarrows, from one place to another and back again to take up the time, I didn’t feel I was shirking anything. Carroll jumped at the chance and said I could be “dining room orderly” and have nothing to do but figure out meals. So I strung out a 15 minute job to about 2 hours, accompanied by considerable sweat, which he thought was normal. I kept this job for about 6 weeks, until I got sick of it, and went back to moving the coal pile. Another thing during my tenure as DRO, the company was quarantined for measles, with only the officers being allowed to leave camp. (Apparently the officers wouldn’t spread measles!) Since I had to go to Ayer to the bank every week, I got a pass. This, by the way, was one of the inducements to taking the “job.” Prior to the DRO I got the German measles and was in the camp hospital for a while. I don’t remember how long. In the hospital room were two rows of beds, probably 12 to a row. About all I remember is that early in the morning basins of water were distributed and everyone had to get up and wash (scrub) his bed.

Out at Still River I am sure Harold Holliday saved my life. There was a Lake and everybody had to go swimming. I got a cramp, or something, and couldn’t swim and sank, then came to the surface and yelled for help. Harold was about 10 feet away and grabbed me as I was going under and towed me to shore.

I was initiated into Masonry while I was at Camp Devens. Getting a pass to go home was uncertain, so the Master (Dunbar Seamans) got a special dispensation in order for me to have the 2nd and 3rd degrees the same night. The Lodge at Ayers, by request, “worked” many soldiers for other Lodges, therefore had a meeting at least 5 times a week. After I became a Mason, I could, and did, visit their lodge a good many times. Which was more pleasant than staying in the Barracks if you weren’t on duty – such as fatigues, KP, stables, etc. After the War during our last year in Harvard College, Harold Holliday’s father was District Deputy Grand Master for the district around Boston. He had a visitation twice a month or oftener and always had two extra tickets (for banquets no doubt – he [Grampa] stopped there. steno [this might have been my grandmother)]

Several times I got an overnight pass to go home and would take the trolley to N. Chemsford and the train from there to Franklin [New Hampshire]. The trolley was always packed and the train always stopped at N. Chelmsford for the soldiers. Towards the end of spring I got a 3 day pass to go to Bangor [Maine] and see hte folks there. That was a “furlough pass” and 1 cent per mile was in effect, and a form had to accompany the request and there was only one form available, so I paid $2.50 one way and nearer $10 to come back. Great! About June we turned in the heavy woolens and got khaki uniforms which felt fine and lasted two weeks, when we went back to the woolies for overseas. Of course, all sorts of rumors were around and it was understood the quartermaster’s corps was the only ongoing overseas so I applied for a transfer. However, the whole division went, so I withdrew my application.