The the budget cut for military bands, removed yesterday by voice vote yesterday, have been re-instated by vote. More and better info here at:
Frank Mullen's very unofficial source of poop, skinny and bitching for present and former U.S. Navy Musicians.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Surprise: House restores military band funding
By voice vote, the U.S. House of Representaves passed an amendment by Rep. John Carter (R-Tex) to restore full funding for military bands in the National Defense Authorization Act for 2012. "The facts about our bands are that they are an integral part of the patriotism
that keeps our soldiers' hearts beating fast," Carter said.
More and better information is available at
A salute to good fortune and a reminder the battle is not over. The battle shifts to the U.S. Senate. Have you written to your senator?
More and better information is available at
A salute to good fortune and a reminder the battle is not over. The battle shifts to the U.S. Senate. Have you written to your senator?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
It doesn't take a genius
I'm re-reading The Caine Mutiny for the 200th time. Though Herman Wouk's Pulitzer Prize-winning 1951 novel depicts the Navy during World War II, the Navy of my father and grandfather, it's the same Navy I served in in the '70s and '80s and, no doubt, the same Navy as yours, no matter when you served.
It contains the quote that was still passed around freely in my first band in 1975:
And it's a broad exaggeration; I met few idiots during my service, and fewer geniuses. But I did encounter a system that worked, sometimes sluggishly, sometimes incomprehensibly.
And sometimes unfairly. From the smallest of injustices ("I cleaned the urinals last week, it's the second squad's turn now.") to those of lasting consequence ("How did that lazy dirtbag get orders out of school straight to the Academy Band, when I've been auditioning for years?"), there was a lot to bitch about, and plenty of sailors to handle the task.
But the system worked. Not because a few geniuses wrote the manual for a fleet of idiots, but because a few centuries of self-correction can work the kinks out of any system.
Every year, I am amazed by the smoothness with which our Navy Musicians Association reunions run. Members report aboard. Word gets passed. Schedules are posted and followed. Newcomers are shown the ropes. Schedules get changed and the word gets passed again. We gripe: not enough free time, too much free time. We laugh at stories about shipmates we haven't seen in years, and mourn those we'll never see again. The ship sails on time, accomplishes its mission and, in a few days, the cruise is over.
It works. No geniuses, no idiots, just a self-correcting system operated by people who care. Some work year-round, some make their contributions during the few days we're together.
Does it change? Yes. For instance, our rock band is now an integral unit of the reunion, the logical consequence of the fact that we are now attracting members who are as at home with the music of Tower of Power as that of Count Basie.
But the important things stay the same. We get together to share our stories and talents with old and new friends, have the times of our lives and then go on a 51-week liberty pass.
Fifteen years without a mutiny. I'd say we're doing well.
It contains the quote that was still passed around freely in my first band in 1975:
"The Navy is a master plan designed by geniuses for execution by idiots."I thought about that a lot when I was a seaman, when I was a petty officer and, particularly, when I was a chief. It's a funny, concise summary of a life we've all lived.
And it's a broad exaggeration; I met few idiots during my service, and fewer geniuses. But I did encounter a system that worked, sometimes sluggishly, sometimes incomprehensibly.
And sometimes unfairly. From the smallest of injustices ("I cleaned the urinals last week, it's the second squad's turn now.") to those of lasting consequence ("How did that lazy dirtbag get orders out of school straight to the Academy Band, when I've been auditioning for years?"), there was a lot to bitch about, and plenty of sailors to handle the task.
But the system worked. Not because a few geniuses wrote the manual for a fleet of idiots, but because a few centuries of self-correction can work the kinks out of any system.
Every year, I am amazed by the smoothness with which our Navy Musicians Association reunions run. Members report aboard. Word gets passed. Schedules are posted and followed. Newcomers are shown the ropes. Schedules get changed and the word gets passed again. We gripe: not enough free time, too much free time. We laugh at stories about shipmates we haven't seen in years, and mourn those we'll never see again. The ship sails on time, accomplishes its mission and, in a few days, the cruise is over.
It works. No geniuses, no idiots, just a self-correcting system operated by people who care. Some work year-round, some make their contributions during the few days we're together.
Does it change? Yes. For instance, our rock band is now an integral unit of the reunion, the logical consequence of the fact that we are now attracting members who are as at home with the music of Tower of Power as that of Count Basie.
But the important things stay the same. We get together to share our stories and talents with old and new friends, have the times of our lives and then go on a 51-week liberty pass.
Fifteen years without a mutiny. I'd say we're doing well.
I'm alive.
I now emerge from a near-lethal dose of the creeping crud, having been laid low by a combination of reunion exhaustion and a day of close-quarters captivity in airplanes full of travelers exhaling the respiratory souvenirs from their own travels.
I apologize for my recuperative silence. The period immediately following the annual Navy Musicians Association reunion is always a time of reflection, not only on the events of the week, but on the memories the event always dredges up; the combination of sea stories and camaraderie is an effective memory prod.
Let's look at this as a mere delay, a modification of orders, so to speak.
Resume blogging. That is an order.
I apologize for my recuperative silence. The period immediately following the annual Navy Musicians Association reunion is always a time of reflection, not only on the events of the week, but on the memories the event always dredges up; the combination of sea stories and camaraderie is an effective memory prod.
Let's look at this as a mere delay, a modification of orders, so to speak.
Resume blogging. That is an order.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)