Subject: A Suggestion...
Dear Bill,
I have taken the liberty of addressing you as such as there are no letters after your name. My name is Robert Edward Watson, Springhill High School graduate, Class of 1964. Proud son of Robert H. Watson and Cecilia P. Watson, Owners of Watson's Feed Store in Springhill.(I wouldn't want someone else to get credit for my suggestion.) I also worked for Webster Parish Schools as a math teacher, under the very fine Harold Newsome, at Sarepta High School.
Firstly, I should congratulate you for completely destroying your high school's main rival, The Springhill Lumberjacks. You have completely eliminated a long history of humiliating defeats in many sports and academics. Cleverly done! The move may generate a tad of animosity.
You should consider, as a continuing cost saving measure, consolidating all the small schools near Minden into one. You could call it the South Webster Parish Gravel Pits, or "The Pits" for short.
As Always, Respectfully, Rob Watson
Saturday, April 11, 2020
One Quarter of a Master Point
By Rob Watson
Do you have some skill that, at a low level of involvement, you enjoy? Then when the involvement becomes concentrated and intense, you are first, very good and second, quite unhappy? I had such an experience some years ago.
The group with whom I worked, at the time, gathered at lunch each day and played bridge. As a way of expanding our joint experience we would occasionally attend amateur night at the local bridge club. That happened to be Thursdays.
The set up was this: tables for four were set up to accommodate all comers. The house supplied partners for the odd entry. Each table had four bridge hands dealt out. The pares would play each hand and keep score. The scores were compiled after every pair had played all the hands. (there is a name for this but it was long enough ago that I have forgotten it.)
Usually, my partner and I finished last, not just a little behind next-to-last, but a long way behind. I enjoyed myself immensely. My various partners seemed to as well.
One Monday I decided to go it alone. Not usually being the observant type, it escaped my notice that Monday was the night for the hard core, high end bridge players. (Daniel into the lion's den) My supplied partner was a local bridge champion. He appeared to be somewhat unhappy with his partner, but he was courteous and gracious all the same.
We began by discussing several bidding conventions and agreeing on how to play them. Then the game began. I was in a high state of concentration for the whole time, for every word spoken and every card played. (It felt like my blood pressure went up 100 points) When the score was tallied we were first... not just a few points above second but way ahead of second. My partner acted as if it was just another Monday night with the gang. For my part I was awarded one quarter of a master point.
So, if you want a happy-go-lucky, let the cards fall as they may, partner, I am your man. You want a winner, you'll have to look elsewhere. My reward for that kind of stress may be beyond your pay scale
Do you have some skill that, at a low level of involvement, you enjoy? Then when the involvement becomes concentrated and intense, you are first, very good and second, quite unhappy? I had such an experience some years ago.
The group with whom I worked, at the time, gathered at lunch each day and played bridge. As a way of expanding our joint experience we would occasionally attend amateur night at the local bridge club. That happened to be Thursdays.
The set up was this: tables for four were set up to accommodate all comers. The house supplied partners for the odd entry. Each table had four bridge hands dealt out. The pares would play each hand and keep score. The scores were compiled after every pair had played all the hands. (there is a name for this but it was long enough ago that I have forgotten it.)
Usually, my partner and I finished last, not just a little behind next-to-last, but a long way behind. I enjoyed myself immensely. My various partners seemed to as well.
One Monday I decided to go it alone. Not usually being the observant type, it escaped my notice that Monday was the night for the hard core, high end bridge players. (Daniel into the lion's den) My supplied partner was a local bridge champion. He appeared to be somewhat unhappy with his partner, but he was courteous and gracious all the same.
We began by discussing several bidding conventions and agreeing on how to play them. Then the game began. I was in a high state of concentration for the whole time, for every word spoken and every card played. (It felt like my blood pressure went up 100 points) When the score was tallied we were first... not just a few points above second but way ahead of second. My partner acted as if it was just another Monday night with the gang. For my part I was awarded one quarter of a master point.
So, if you want a happy-go-lucky, let the cards fall as they may, partner, I am your man. You want a winner, you'll have to look elsewhere. My reward for that kind of stress may be beyond your pay scale
Miss Regina
By Rob Watson
I have reported, in a previous post, First Dates, my ineptitude with women. This is a followup relating pleasant times and more ineptitude... and my second kiss. These event took place 48 years ago, yet parts are remembered as if they were today, especially the perfume.
Miss Regina was a rather attractive, (I have a strong attraction to attractive women) young woman that I met through my Best Friend. She was his classmate and a friend and carpool member with his future wife. She was the daughter of a chicken farmer. She was truly and deathly afraid of chickens.
I got to know her by spending idle hours between classes at college, in the carpool discussing religion. Along with being pretty, Miss Regina was very intelligent and always wore the same perfume, Emeraud.
Emboldened by close association, I requested she join me at the social event of the year, The State Fair. It was the style of the time that those taking dates to the fair would wear their best suit and bring a flower corsage for his date. Dressed in her best, Miss Regina was a beauty. I picked her up at her home and promised her father to deliver her back safely.
My parents were in the farm supply business and I liked to see the animal exhibits as well as the other sights. When we entered the chicken exhibit, Miss Regina froze. After some encouragement she agreed to walk across the narrow part of the building, never getting closer than 15 feet to a cage of chickens. We also engaged in the various other activities, including some of the game booths along the midway. One of these was a shooting gallery. By the greatest of coincidences all three of my shots hit the target (you do know those games are rigged, right?) thereby winning myself a choice of medium sized stuffed teddy bears. I insisted Miss Regina choose. Her look of pleasure and excitement was such that I still remember it today, as if it had just happened.
After an excellent day and the big football game, we drove the 70 or so miles back to her home. The front porch light was on. I walked her to the door, thanked her for a very pleasant day, then hesitated, wondering what to do next. Miss Regina solved that problem for me. She took my hand, pulled me into the darkened room and planted a heartfelt kiss on my lips... another seemingly recent memory.
One might think that would be an auspicious beginning. Unfortunately it was a rather dramatic ending. My habit of courting too slow cost me the very nice Miss Regina.
If you are a female, you should know, your perfume is as much a part of you as the sound of your voice. Speaking for myself and most men as well, if I smell your perfume in a crowded room, though it be someone else, I will think of you. And, if it is Emeraud, Miss Regina.
I have reported, in a previous post, First Dates, my ineptitude with women. This is a followup relating pleasant times and more ineptitude... and my second kiss. These event took place 48 years ago, yet parts are remembered as if they were today, especially the perfume.
Miss Regina was a rather attractive, (I have a strong attraction to attractive women) young woman that I met through my Best Friend. She was his classmate and a friend and carpool member with his future wife. She was the daughter of a chicken farmer. She was truly and deathly afraid of chickens.
I got to know her by spending idle hours between classes at college, in the carpool discussing religion. Along with being pretty, Miss Regina was very intelligent and always wore the same perfume, Emeraud.
Emboldened by close association, I requested she join me at the social event of the year, The State Fair. It was the style of the time that those taking dates to the fair would wear their best suit and bring a flower corsage for his date. Dressed in her best, Miss Regina was a beauty. I picked her up at her home and promised her father to deliver her back safely.
My parents were in the farm supply business and I liked to see the animal exhibits as well as the other sights. When we entered the chicken exhibit, Miss Regina froze. After some encouragement she agreed to walk across the narrow part of the building, never getting closer than 15 feet to a cage of chickens. We also engaged in the various other activities, including some of the game booths along the midway. One of these was a shooting gallery. By the greatest of coincidences all three of my shots hit the target (you do know those games are rigged, right?) thereby winning myself a choice of medium sized stuffed teddy bears. I insisted Miss Regina choose. Her look of pleasure and excitement was such that I still remember it today, as if it had just happened.
After an excellent day and the big football game, we drove the 70 or so miles back to her home. The front porch light was on. I walked her to the door, thanked her for a very pleasant day, then hesitated, wondering what to do next. Miss Regina solved that problem for me. She took my hand, pulled me into the darkened room and planted a heartfelt kiss on my lips... another seemingly recent memory.
One might think that would be an auspicious beginning. Unfortunately it was a rather dramatic ending. My habit of courting too slow cost me the very nice Miss Regina.
If you are a female, you should know, your perfume is as much a part of you as the sound of your voice. Speaking for myself and most men as well, if I smell your perfume in a crowded room, though it be someone else, I will think of you. And, if it is Emeraud, Miss Regina.
Firearms in Self Defence
by Rob Watson
This post contains graphic descriptions of people killing people with firearms. If you are upset by such information you should not continue reading this.
I have moderate experience with firearms. Early in my life I was allowed to have air rifles, a CO2 pistol, and a small shotgun. The pistol and the shotgun were both relatively expensive to shoot so I did very little with them. The air rifles were a nickle for 100 shots, so one or the other of them were almost constant companions. Eventually I learned to point and shoot them, without aiming, with moderate accuracy. This skill translated to long guns and persists today. In competition, where accuracy counts, I still shoot without using sights, unless the targets are small and at a distance, and I am using a long gun. I can "shoot from the hip" at center of mass size targets, at 40 to 50 yards(meters) and still score a high percentage of hits.
Handguns are a different matter. I almost always use the sights of a handgun. When not hurried, shooting at 6 inch diameter (20cm) targets at 50 yards (meters) I still get a high percentage of hits. When hurried, not using sights, frequent misses are the result. This is true even when the targets are large (center of mass size) and close at hand, 12 to 15 feet away. But then, I have never faced a loaded firearm or been shot at with anything more powerful than an air rifle.
There are a number of problems with using deadly force for self defence. The main one being hitting the target. Most people, under pressure, frightened, hurrying, do not hit their target, even at very close ranges. One video, I saw, showed two men on opposite sides of a normal retail counter. Each had a semi-auto pistol with high capacity magazine. One would pop up fire a shot or two then duck down. Then, the other would pop up, fire a round or two then duck down. At no time were these two more than 5 feet apart. They both fired all their ammunition. Neither was harmed.
At a timed shooting match, the regular champion was to shoot a series of targets. The fastest time, hitting all the targets in the series, wins. The first target was a 6 inch steel disk at about 20 yards. In his rush to hit and move, this guy fired 3 magazines full of ammunition, about 50 rounds, before taking down his target... much to the amusement of all of us whom he regularly bested.
If you recall your firearm training, it was mostly talking. Then you went to a range, fired a number of rounds from a fixed position, at a fixed target, and came away, perhaps thinking yourself trained. How will this help you when, as recently occurred in Missouri, a person twice your size reaches in your car window and proceeds to beat you about the head and face... then when you pull out your pistol trys to take it away from you.
The idea and practice that you will, when faced with possible assault by a deadly weapon, calmly retrieve your firearm from its hiding place, prepare it to fire, take careful aim, then slowly squeeze the trigger, is so far from reality as to be dangerous, even fatal to you. What you train to do is what you will do.
In the past I was friends with the firearms instructor for the Colorado Parks and Wildlife officers. He relates the following encounter by a team of his officers. ( a 'double tap' is two quickly spaced shots on a target ) Two officers pursued a poacher to a cabin in the mountains. One officer was cautiously walking along the length of the cabin's front porch. The poacher walked out the front door, rifle in hand. The officer did exactly as he had trained many times. He drew his pistol, flicked off the safety, cocked it, double tapped the subject, decocked the weapon, and holstered it. Fortunately, the badly, but not fatally injured, subject turned and walked back into the cabin instead of shooting the, now unarmed, officer. My friend has altered his training practices to include the step of determining if the target is down before disabling and holstering his weapon.
My point is one should practice frequently with one's weapon such that drawing and preparing to fire is quick and automatic. If one participates in various timed handgun competitions often enough , one will develop this skill.
This post contains graphic descriptions of people killing people with firearms. If you are upset by such information you should not continue reading this.
I have moderate experience with firearms. Early in my life I was allowed to have air rifles, a CO2 pistol, and a small shotgun. The pistol and the shotgun were both relatively expensive to shoot so I did very little with them. The air rifles were a nickle for 100 shots, so one or the other of them were almost constant companions. Eventually I learned to point and shoot them, without aiming, with moderate accuracy. This skill translated to long guns and persists today. In competition, where accuracy counts, I still shoot without using sights, unless the targets are small and at a distance, and I am using a long gun. I can "shoot from the hip" at center of mass size targets, at 40 to 50 yards(meters) and still score a high percentage of hits.
Handguns are a different matter. I almost always use the sights of a handgun. When not hurried, shooting at 6 inch diameter (20cm) targets at 50 yards (meters) I still get a high percentage of hits. When hurried, not using sights, frequent misses are the result. This is true even when the targets are large (center of mass size) and close at hand, 12 to 15 feet away. But then, I have never faced a loaded firearm or been shot at with anything more powerful than an air rifle.
There are a number of problems with using deadly force for self defence. The main one being hitting the target. Most people, under pressure, frightened, hurrying, do not hit their target, even at very close ranges. One video, I saw, showed two men on opposite sides of a normal retail counter. Each had a semi-auto pistol with high capacity magazine. One would pop up fire a shot or two then duck down. Then, the other would pop up, fire a round or two then duck down. At no time were these two more than 5 feet apart. They both fired all their ammunition. Neither was harmed.
At a timed shooting match, the regular champion was to shoot a series of targets. The fastest time, hitting all the targets in the series, wins. The first target was a 6 inch steel disk at about 20 yards. In his rush to hit and move, this guy fired 3 magazines full of ammunition, about 50 rounds, before taking down his target... much to the amusement of all of us whom he regularly bested.
If you recall your firearm training, it was mostly talking. Then you went to a range, fired a number of rounds from a fixed position, at a fixed target, and came away, perhaps thinking yourself trained. How will this help you when, as recently occurred in Missouri, a person twice your size reaches in your car window and proceeds to beat you about the head and face... then when you pull out your pistol trys to take it away from you.
The idea and practice that you will, when faced with possible assault by a deadly weapon, calmly retrieve your firearm from its hiding place, prepare it to fire, take careful aim, then slowly squeeze the trigger, is so far from reality as to be dangerous, even fatal to you. What you train to do is what you will do.
In the past I was friends with the firearms instructor for the Colorado Parks and Wildlife officers. He relates the following encounter by a team of his officers. ( a 'double tap' is two quickly spaced shots on a target ) Two officers pursued a poacher to a cabin in the mountains. One officer was cautiously walking along the length of the cabin's front porch. The poacher walked out the front door, rifle in hand. The officer did exactly as he had trained many times. He drew his pistol, flicked off the safety, cocked it, double tapped the subject, decocked the weapon, and holstered it. Fortunately, the badly, but not fatally injured, subject turned and walked back into the cabin instead of shooting the, now unarmed, officer. My friend has altered his training practices to include the step of determining if the target is down before disabling and holstering his weapon.
My point is one should practice frequently with one's weapon such that drawing and preparing to fire is quick and automatic. If one participates in various timed handgun competitions often enough , one will develop this skill.
Uncomfortable With War, A Letter to a Friend
By Rob Watson
Dear Friend,
Your comments about war caused me to evaluate my own feelings on the subject. As it happens, I recall sitting in Physics lab at College doing exactly that… quit school, join the army… (For some reason, at the time, I did not consider the Navy or Air Force as I did when the real decision was made.)
I had been in the Boy Scouts and gone camping in primitive conditions many times. I do/did not like cold, hot, bugs, hard ground, cooking out, and being dirty with no way to wash. I am somewhat uncomfortable with the unknown, but I can deal with it. I am very concerned about being shot at and facing bombs and shells. And, I knew I would become an officer, would be a strict disciplinarian and would die at the hands of one of my men, who did not like me messing with his drugs… so, I gave up the idea and went back to working on my assigned experiment.
When faced with reality later in the military, when they were lining me up to go to Southeast Asia, I actively sought out the opportunity to avoid that. With the help of God, I am sure, an unlikely series of events sent me to Little Rock, Ark. instead. While I am uncomfortable with avoiding that danger, I am exceedingly happy to have done so. (Over the years, I have met a few men who, like me, were able to avoid the danger of their time. Some are simply, again like me, uncomfortable with their action. One WWII vet who stayed in the US in the USO was positively ashamed of himself… enough that he would not stand and be recognized at a Memorial Day event, where all veterans were asked to stand and be recognized.)
I assume you have seen the painting of Pickitt’s Charge at Gettysburg. From time to time, I try to transport myself back to that time and place myself in one of those long, majestic, lines of infantry… the only emotion that comes to mind is the all consuming fear that I experienced when asking for a date the first time. (recounted in my blog “Fear”)
So, it is easy to see the difference between reality and experiencing power, glory, courage, etc. vicariously through films and reenacting.
My friend, Charles, was in training to go to WWII when it ended. He was trained to be a 40mm antiaircraft gunner on one of the big warships. He fully expected to be killed at his post by a Kamikazi attack. If I started to tell a “war story” he would stop me, saying he thought war was a senseless pursuit. (Charles thinks the atomic bomb saved his life and says so whenever it is brought up in the news) So, you should see that I am experienced with good and favored people who are uncomfortable with things associated with war… and these good and favored people retain my utmost respect for their views.
Looking foreword to seeing you Monday evening… Wife wishes me to remind you we have accepted your invitation to stay over for the 21st and leave on the 22nd.
Your friend,
Rob Watson
Dear Friend,
Your comments about war caused me to evaluate my own feelings on the subject. As it happens, I recall sitting in Physics lab at College doing exactly that… quit school, join the army… (For some reason, at the time, I did not consider the Navy or Air Force as I did when the real decision was made.)
I had been in the Boy Scouts and gone camping in primitive conditions many times. I do/did not like cold, hot, bugs, hard ground, cooking out, and being dirty with no way to wash. I am somewhat uncomfortable with the unknown, but I can deal with it. I am very concerned about being shot at and facing bombs and shells. And, I knew I would become an officer, would be a strict disciplinarian and would die at the hands of one of my men, who did not like me messing with his drugs… so, I gave up the idea and went back to working on my assigned experiment.
When faced with reality later in the military, when they were lining me up to go to Southeast Asia, I actively sought out the opportunity to avoid that. With the help of God, I am sure, an unlikely series of events sent me to Little Rock, Ark. instead. While I am uncomfortable with avoiding that danger, I am exceedingly happy to have done so. (Over the years, I have met a few men who, like me, were able to avoid the danger of their time. Some are simply, again like me, uncomfortable with their action. One WWII vet who stayed in the US in the USO was positively ashamed of himself… enough that he would not stand and be recognized at a Memorial Day event, where all veterans were asked to stand and be recognized.)
I assume you have seen the painting of Pickitt’s Charge at Gettysburg. From time to time, I try to transport myself back to that time and place myself in one of those long, majestic, lines of infantry… the only emotion that comes to mind is the all consuming fear that I experienced when asking for a date the first time. (recounted in my blog “Fear”)
So, it is easy to see the difference between reality and experiencing power, glory, courage, etc. vicariously through films and reenacting.
My friend, Charles, was in training to go to WWII when it ended. He was trained to be a 40mm antiaircraft gunner on one of the big warships. He fully expected to be killed at his post by a Kamikazi attack. If I started to tell a “war story” he would stop me, saying he thought war was a senseless pursuit. (Charles thinks the atomic bomb saved his life and says so whenever it is brought up in the news) So, you should see that I am experienced with good and favored people who are uncomfortable with things associated with war… and these good and favored people retain my utmost respect for their views.
Looking foreword to seeing you Monday evening… Wife wishes me to remind you we have accepted your invitation to stay over for the 21st and leave on the 22nd.
Your friend,
Rob Watson
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