Note: If you peruse the web you will find a myriad of definitions for a “Florida Cracker.” This rendition is about an old Floridia cowboy who used to crack scrub-cows on the Florida range. 

Living in Florida for ten years you hear all kinds of stories; I wrote this just for fun. Here are a few definitions to make this version easier to understand.

‘Cooter’ – soft-shelled tortoise

‘Chittlins’ – Hog innards

‘Catch-dog’ - Cattle herding dog

‘Pull’ – A swig from a whiskey jug

‘Scrub-Cows’ – Florida cattle

Florida Cracker

I came upon his dwellin', where he
said, "Come sit a spell." He
pulled up two old barrels, we sat,
said real stories he would tell.

He was wearin' faded, well-worn jeans,
rolled half-way up his legs.
His calves both wore some muscle,
from years of lifting corn-mash kegs.

His hands were grossly gnarled,
his skin leathered from the sun.
I knew he'd been around some time,
but even old age comin', he had won.

He took a 'pull' and offered me
the same, if I was willin',
have some 'cooter', or if I’d wish,
a heapin' dish of chittlin'.

His trusty catch-dog by his side
worked hard and earned its way.
In turn, he took good care; this
man's best friend was here to stay.

He told me stories of days gone by,
when times were "gosh darn" tough -
with crackin' scrub-cows on the range
and survivin' in the rough.

Before I left he said he wanted
to show me somethin' slick.
He went inside and came back out
carryin' his braided leather whip.

"Now git way back, and let me show
ya' what this whip kin do."
He flipped his wrist, I heard the crack,
sound echoed through and through.

I got up to leave, we said goodbye,
I thanked him for his time.
We took one more 'pull', he smiled
and said, "The pleasure was all mine."

Sage ©

Compassion’s  Song

Summing up my life like skating

over ancient sidewalks, carving distant

memories into crumbling

concrete.

Words come from old stale air as

I conjure up yesterday, a labyrinth

that is me.

I reminisce of decades old wallpaper

roses clinging onto clapboard walls,

like me, faded but still hanging on.

I hold on to solitary dreams,

remembering sweet fruits of long

ago kisses, a shared

reverie to embrace.

sage ©

Note: What follows is a true account of a history-making event that I had the privilege of participating. As it is told, I re-count the non-classified version. (PT)

What Fell From the Sky

The headline said it all:

“On Tuesday, January 24, 1978, a surveillance spy satellite fell to the earth, entering the atmosphere over the Queen Charlotte Islands off British Columbia.”

The encrypted message that came through my office contained classified information regarding Cosmos 954, a Russian spy satellite. Its purpose was designed primarily to monitor western powers’ ship movements, and to transmit, by radio, its findings to Soviet tracking stations. This practice is not unique; most of the new world does the same thing.

Cosmos 954 had been in orbit only since September 1977. Its normal scenario proponed that when its tracking mission was over, and that could be from one year to many, it would split into three components and its own rocket system would push the nuclear pack into a higher, safer path. There it would drift for thousands of years, as its radioactivity would dissipate. Unfortunately, the fate of Cosmos 954 would not hold the same history, as its premature, wobbled descent would shake the quiet, peaceful world of our neighbors deep into the Northwest Territory of Canada. Luckily, this area was void of any dense population.

Within minutes of re-entry the United States government offered assistance to Canada and they readily concurred. I was working for EG&G, prime contractor for the Department of Energy, as a Data Research Analyst. I was also a member of the Nuclear Emergency Search Team, (NEST) and was selected to be among those that would travel from Las Vegas, Nevada to far into the Northwest Territories of Canada as an integral part in this monumental effort. Thus, the events of what was later dubbed, “Operation Morning Light”, what fell from the sky in the early morning hours, came to be.

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. It was winter in that part of the world, where temperatures would stay well below zero most of the time. Out in the field our crew had to sleep with their sophisticated remote sensing equipment in their sleeping bags, in their specially constructed huts, to prevent the sub-zero weather from compromising their findings. Laboratories were set up for our team in Edmonton, at a Canadian Air Force base, where we were immediately given cold weather gear. Just walking from one facility to another took a great deal of effort, feeling the devastating effects of daily temperatures huddling around thirty degrees...below zero!

As if there wasn’t enough fervor buzzing about our camp, just four days into the retrieval operation the first major piece of the satellite was found. Two young American men, Mike Mobley and John Mordhurst, guided their dogsled around the bend at the Thelon River, approximately one thousand miles from our basecamp. They came upon a mysterious object protruding from the river’s ice. It appeared as though “An unusual event had happened here,” one of them had said. The two men were part of a six-man wildlife survey crew bivouacked in this remote area. They were on assignment from an American geographical magazine studying survival tactics of this indigenous population. As an added study they decided to make a pilgrimage to Hornby Point on the river, the site of the 1927 starvation deaths of trapper John Hornby and two of his companions. This is when these two eager American men made their discovery of the fate of Cosmos 954.

By their own account, Mobley and Mordhurst approached this odd looking appendage in the ice with much trepidation. About this same time, over their two-way radios, they had heard of the fallen satellite and promptly relayed the message of their discovery to the authorities. They were immediately warned, “Not to get too close.”  It was later determined that an enormous chunk of the satellite had indeed fallen in the area where these two young survey crewmembers had trekked. Subsequent reports told of parts of the satellite had strewn itself upon re-entry into the atmosphere, across thousands of miles along the barren land of the Northwest Territory.  This would become a monumental task, as everything had to be gathered in preparation for extreme scrutiny.

Soon a Canadian Armed Force Twin Otter aircraft touched down to take both men to Edmonton for intense medical examinations and questioning. Upon successful completion, they were brought to our camp where they readily attained superstar status. These two unpretentious young men captured our attention with their accounts of unique adventure and extreme tests of endurance. And thankfully in the interim their state of health was never compromised, as they boasted of this “bigger than life” experience.

Once the determination was made that Cosmos 954 was, in fact, a Russian spy satellite, (the Russians initially denied ownership) they later agreed with the United State’s findings. At best, the Russians were more than embarrassed at this unexpected turn of events, one being the multi-million dollar invoice that the Canadian government had issued to them. They were being sued for damages and after three years of negotiations an undisclosed settlement was finally paid.

Thankfully it is rare that a surveillance satellite becomes prey to a decayed orbital path, but at best some positive action did occur in its wake. Luckily no one was injured or killed during its descent to the earth, or in any of its retrieval efforts. And there is much speculation whether radiation leakage, if more than negligible, ever did occur, as experts confirmed that the core reactor burned up completely upon re-entry. It also stimulated the awareness in Canada and other countries that a federal nuclear preparedness plan was needed and was in fact, soon implemented. Also, a mandate was declared from the United States government prohibiting satellites containing radioactive materials to orbit the earth.    

In closing, I would be remiss if I did not mention the many dedicated scientists, engineers, archeologists, and statisticians that I, and our crew, had the privilege to work with in this corroborative effort in providing optimum public safety and awareness.

EG&G had already amassed a wealth of information regarding Cosmos 954, but the study and completion data would continue, as new personnel would relieve those of us who initially began the search and data collection effort.

After my assignment in Canada was complete, I prepared for my journey home. I was glad to leave the extreme temperatures, but I also knew I would have never traded this experience for anything. I stepped off the plane in Las Vegas and looked up at the sky thankful to be home. The 112 degree temperature sure felt good.  

PW 2003 (c)