It Ain't Like Coolidge Street

I recall one time as a kid helping my Dad paint the outside of our house on Coolidge Street in Phoenix. (That was before they installed the vinyl siding.) The original brick exterior was white. We painted it gray. For access we had an extension ladder and a simple stepladder. That involved a lot of climbing up and down the ladder, carrying paint cans and roller pans, not to mention brushes and rollers, and rags, and edgers, and all the accoutrements of DIY housepainting. I don't remember how long the project took, but I imagine quite a few days...a bonding experience for Dad and son.

Recently a Japanese contractor repainted the exterior of our house here on the Yokosuka Navy Base. The process would have fascinated Stuart.

First, a very nice Japanese lady who speaks excellent English stopped by to inform us that this project would take place over about a two week period. She also provided us with a detailed written game plan, telling us exactly what to expect on any given day. Follow-on daily notes stuck to our front door documented progress to plan, which included some unavoidable weather delays. Sometimes the nice Japanese lady would stop by, with the non-English speaking foreman, to provide verbal updates and a preview of the day ahead.

Several days were devoted to erecting elaborate scaffolding encircling the entire house. I am reminded of the erector set with which I whiled away countless childhood hours on Coolidge Street. 

Then the entire house was powerwashed. Following this step, an outer veil of material was attached to the scaffolding, presumably to keep paint spray and debris from escaping into the environment. It could also shade the painters as they worked in unseasonably high temperatures and afternoon sun.

Following the actual painting, a series of inspections resulted in another day of touch-up work. Then another inspection before the contractor was allowed to tear down the scaffolding. This step took two days. A final inspection authorized the contractor to actually remove the disassembled scaffolding to the next house down the street.

Careful advance planning. Attention to detail. Daily documentation of progress to plan. Frequent communications with the customer. Rigorous quality assurance. All resulted in a very nice-looking product. A good model for business, or for government.

I wonder how that house on Coolidge Street is looking these days.

Faces and Feet on Mikoshi Day

A mikoshi is a portable Shinto shrine. Shinto followers believe that it serves as the vehicle of a divine spirit in Japan at the time of a parade of deities. These elaborately decorated mikoshi  are very heavy. This requires a few dozen people to heft and carry it on their shoulders by means of two to four large poles.

During a matsuri, or Japanese festival, people carry the portable shrine around the neighborhood. At certain festivals, the people who bear the mikoshi wave it wildly from side to side.

Each fall the City of Yokosuka and Fleet Activities Yokosuka (our Navy base) sponsor a mikoshi parade. This festive event begins in the city, processes down the main street, and then enters the Navy base. Interspersed among the various mikoshi, carts or vehicles carry taiko drummers whose rhythmic percussion provide a fitting accompaniment to the festivities. Most impressive, however, is the enthusiasm of the people, from the very young to the very old, in a typically Japanese show of community spirit and enjoyment. The faces and feet tell the story far better than words can.

We are truly privileged to live among such joyous and wonderful people and to experience their culture and traditions.

CPOs, Arriving

I love September 16.


Every year on this day the Navy refreshes its cadre of deckplate leaders by making new Chief Petty Officers. Today 7th Fleet and USS BLUE RIDGE held a traditional pinning ceremony, as did most Navy commands around the globe.


Chiefs run the Navy, as any senior officer will avow. Without our Chiefs' Mess the ships would not sail, the airplanes would not fly, the sailors would not get paid, supplies would not move, healthcare would not happen, the Navy would grind to a halt. Any sailor worth his salt knows what to do when faced with high challenge, stress, or ambiguity. Just ask the Chief. 


As an honorary Master Chief, this is the one day of the year that I really get to feel like I'm a part of that special community of Navy leaders. I proudly don my service khakis, my khaki combination cover, and my Master Chief's anchors, and I stand up with the real Chiefs to proudly salute these new Chief Petty Officers and welcome them to The Mess.


Officers who achieve success in accomplishing mission or furthering their own career will tell you, by name, the Chief Petty Officers who pointed them ever so subtly (or not) in the right direction on their way to success. 


I have been honored to serve with many outstanding Chief Petty Officers, and I respect and appreciate every one of them. Six played particularly cogent roles in my development and success as a senior officer. For our newest Chiefs, I fondly hope that they will some day stand alongside those true giants whom I am extraordinarily proud to call, "Shipmate":


Master Chief Paul Thomas
Master Chief John Prus
Master Chief Beverly Leedom
Master Chief Laura Martinez
Master Chief Marcos Sibal
Senior Chief Chris Moore


Navy Chiefs! Navy Pride!

Fish Out of Water

This morning USS BLUE RIDGE, Flagship of the U.S. Navy 7th Fleet, got underway from Pier 12 in Yokosuka, Japan. On past similar occasions I'm usually standing on the deck or the bridge wing taking pictures of the pier and harbor as they recede into the distance. In this novel view, BLUE RIDGE herself recedes as I photograph from the pier.

Watching your daily workplace and frequent home away from home take off without you makes for a strange feeling, like missing a plane or train to a new destination. Some of my friends and shipmates will not set foot on this ship again, for soon they will soar off into the distance to a new Navy life adventure. For them, this view may be all the more poignant. One can barely fathom the memories and experiences left behind on that haze gray floating edifice after a two to three year tour on the Fleet Staff.


But for most of us, it's only a temporary separation. The mighty BLUE RIDGE will simply transit a few hundred yards to its new berth, an imposing dry dock at Yokosuka Naval Base. There the ship will undergo DSRA, or Dry-Docking Selected Restricted Availability.


During this phase of her life, the 40+ year old veteran of the Western Pacific makes herself available for repair, rehabilitation, refurbishment, upgrading, and other maintenance intended to extend her life expectancy. This would be analogous to taking scheduled time off from work for a facelift or liver transplant. (A more effective air conditioning conduit for the Fleet Surgeon's stateroom is in the plan. I understand that a liver transplant may be less technically challenging, so we shall see.) 


For the ship to really be available for this major work, the crew and Staff have to disembark entirely. So this week we moved to our alternative workplace, a barge floating behind the dry dock. Definitely not an upgrade, this barge will be our office away from home for the next several months. This is disruptive. On the positive side, we get to go home every night. (Hopefully our families see that as a positive disruption.)


So BLUE RIDGE and her occupants are now fish out of water. The changes experienced this week sit upon us uncomfortably, at least initially. Experience tells us that strange will become familiar over time, whereupon a new change will occur, and we will begin another cycle of going to sea. We'll be ready for that, I think.


Whether we choose it for ourselves or it chooses us, change always spins our life into a different direction. We may or may not be prepared. We may or may not like it. Watching change happen to my workplace and alterhome, I pause to reflect on the more significant changes that have affected me, my loved ones, friends and shipmates in the last year. The litany is long and profound, some events incomprehensibly tragic and sad, others more joyful and lighthearted. Some were expected and some were well beyond imagination. Some were weathered well, others barely tolerable. And yet life rolled on, for most.


And we humans thus affected have changed as well. From time to time we are all fish out of water. Can we always hope for a better ocean ahead?