From James and Rebecca.

Received this nice note from James / Rebecca today. As always they bring a smile to my lips, and joy to my heart. James story is now posted at his site listed below. James is right, the RBC is creeping up on us. Hope all are running well.

John,

We've been really enjoying your write up on the Team Slug site. So many kind words from the heart. Let's just enjoy life, what ever it brings. Looking forward to RBC.
There is a Badwater repot I posted, that I would like to share with the Slugs. It's on the VHTRC site and also on my site at www.1morun.com.
Looking forward to seeing everyone at the RBC. How many thousand entries have you had to turn down? Might be time for the "Lottery"..

Sluggett said Hello.

Allnighter

ole sluggo say, "DNF much better than DNS...."

I've got a few old buddies that have had some dnf's this summer; and i've been thinking about the "real good" possibility that i'll experience that feeling again...and hopefully soon. i remember the old days not worrying about a fifty miler. we were doing thirty every weekend, and lining up for a fifty we were running for time. i always wanted to break nine, but i never did. (closest for this 'ole sluggo was 9:04). anywho, the early years flew by, and i was getting a bit "big-headed" fer my running shorts. i always wondered why runners "quit". in my mind i often thought, "not me, i'd never quit; i'd run through hell with a broken leg if i had to, but i was coming to the finish line." and then i lost my mind; that's right, somehow i imagined i could finish barkley. just don't know what got into me, but, i sent in the app. and gary let me run. no need to go into details, but i assure you it wasn't pretty. best part was gary didn't acknowledge lap "ONE" dropouts in the results. at least that was a blessing. so i had my first DNF at barkley. no shame in that, and others followed. NOW, i'd love to have a DNF at a fifty miler. haile, just standing on that start line would fluff my feathers. i miss the guys, and gals; i really do. so you folks out there dnf'ing are my heroes. always. never quit...TRYING....with a little luck, and if the water don't rise; soon, i'll be back out there with ya. til then, happy days, da' hitman.

A Stuttering Cat (NUC)

Y'know i never ever forward jokes, but it's been a hard month and for some reason this one made me smile. I borrowed it from myspace. Hope all are running well; and having a great weekend.
P.S. I like cats/animals! no mean mail please :)

A STUTTERING CAT
>
> A teacher is explaining biology to her 4th grade
> students. "Human beings are the only animals that
> stutter".
> A little girl raises her hand. "I had a kitty-cat
> who stuttered", she volunteered.
> The teacher, knowing how precious some of these
> stories could become, asked the girl to describe the
> incident.
> "Well", she began, "I was in the back yard with my
> kitty, and the Rottweiler that lives next door got a
> running start and before we knew it he jumped over
> the fence into our yard!"
> "That must've been scary", said the teacher. "It
> sure was", said the little girl.
> "My kitty raised his back and went 'Fffff,Fffff,
> Fffff'...
> And before he could say F@#k, the Rottweiler ate
> him!"

Need some motivation sluggos....check this out....

....order information follows below.

"The band of 55, shambling along in a procession of Gothic horror, closed their ranks and refused to yield. They now resembled the crew of a shipwreck, rather than trained athletes. Every foot and leg injury, short of fracture, was eased gently Eastward. shins swollen grotesquely, soles blistered like paint exposed to heat, strained tendons and pulled muscles, festering dog bites. The men's skins had now been tanned so dark that Payne, or for that matter Gardner and Cotton, were no longer readily identifiable. A threadbare track suit was aristocratic garb. Many had their clothes hanging in rags. Bandages that would have brought shudders of distress in Crimea were wrapped around the wounds. Rivers, who took a shoe size of 6 1/2 could only continue in size 11. For 45 of these gallant men there was no incentive beyond pride left. Even the eleventh-place man, Harry Abramowitz, was well aware that he was incapable of making up twelve hours on the man in the last position for prize money, John Cronick."

No this ain't Claude's Big Butt, Team Slug's Fattest Butt, or any current event. But, this was a real, genuine footrace. If interested book ordering information is below. It's a doozy. happy days, john

TSI Recommends... C.C.Pyle's Amazing Foot Race

In the Roaring Twenties, endurance fads were all the rage. From dance marathons and flagpole sitting to kissing and kite-flying competitions, it seemed there was nothing that someone wouldn’t attempt. Some wanted fame, fortune or fun, but for those not dressed in tuxedoes or feather boas, living the good life that the Jazz Age afforded, an endurance competition meant a chance to change one’s luck.



And then there were those who made their own luck, like C.C. Pyle, a regular P.T. Barnum in the 1920s, a notorious sports agent who almost single-handedly took football from the amateur hour to the professional leagues. Best known as the promoter of football legend Red Grange, Pyle will soon be a main supporting character (played by Jonathan Pryce) in George Clooney’s film Leatherheads, due in theaters this December.



But even more than his contributions to professional sports, Pyle’s greatest—or most notorious—offering to sports history began April 26, 1927, when he stood before a room full of sportswriters and proposed a foot race across the United States—from Los Angeles to New York. Runners would travel 30 to 50 miles a day, sleeping in towns along the way. The runner with the lowest total time would win $25,000 in prize money, a jaw-dropping dollar figure at the time.



In C.C. PYLE’S AMAZING FOOT RACE (Rodale / July 2007 / Hardcover / $25.95), Geoff Williams tells the tale of what would officially be known as C.C. Pyle’s First Annual International Transcontinental Foot Race, From Los Angeles to New York. In an age of partially paved roads, shoddy shoes, and dubious foot care, sportswriters mockingly dubbed Pyle’s grand scheme the “Bunion Derby.” But it seemed less ludicrous to the 199 runners from all over the world, many of them hapless underdogs, who took their mark on March 4, 1928, for the chance to change their luck…their fortunes…their lives.



The race was grueling in predictable and unpredictable ways, as runners endured harsh weather, crippling ailments, death threats, and startled motorists—but an astonishing 55 participants managed to stagger to the Madison Square Garden finish line 84 days later. This from a field of starters that boasted very few professional runners, and included a postal worker, a cowboy, a streetcar operator, and even a baker. The diverse competitors vying for the prize money included:



· Andy Payne, a 20-year old Oklahoman and part Cherokee who wanted to win over the girl of his dreams and pay off the mortgage on his family’s farm

· Paul “Hardrock” Simpson, a college student from North Carolina who had already survived being hit by a car, enlisting in the army at age 15, and a 500 mile race against a pony

· Mike Kelly, formerly known as Dean Pletcher, a luckless boxer from Indiana, who changed his name before beginning the race that he hoped would change his life

· Ed Gardner, one of four black runners whose encounters with bigotry along the race route made reaching New York a deeply personal quest.

· Arthur Newton, a record-breaking runner who, according to Pyle’s race program, “was passed up for the last two Olympic Games because the 26-mile marathon was too short for him”

· Charles Hart, a 63-year-old Englishman, whose world-record for fastest time over 100 miles had just been broken by rival runner Newton

· Morris Saperstein, the last surviving participant in the Bunion Derby, passing away in February 2005, who for unknown reasons went to his grave without ever mentioning a word to his family about the monumental race



Drawing from the firsthand accounts of those who were there, never-before-published material, and interviews with many living descendents, Williams reveals a cast of characters colorful enough to rival any of today’s reality television contestants. By the end of C.C. PYLE’S AMAZING FOOT RACE, readers, like the runners who crossed the finish line, will be tempted to believe C.C. Pyle’s boast: “I’m the gent that makes dreams come true.”



Geoff Williams is a freelance journalist, whose articles have appeared in publications as diverse as Entertainment Weekly and LIFE. He frequently contributes to Entrepreneur and pens a monthly humor column for the parenting magazine, Babytalk. He lives with his wife and two daughters in Loveland, Ohio.

If you would like to receive a review copy for your newsletter, I would be happy to send one to you.


Beth Tarson
Senior Publicist | Rodale Trade Books
733 Third Avenue New York, NY 10017-3204
(P) 212-808-1684 (F) 212-573-9940

Pres. Bush interrupts TSI training!

Catoctin in the Summer-time!!! Bears, NO; drought, NO; Pres. Bush, YES! With the President headed into Camp David, i was forced to adjust my weekend long hike / run. And, it's all good. Many summers i've been blitzed by the prez's helicopter, Marine Corps One; as the big ole chopper hauled U.S. Citizen Number One; da' president himself into Camp David. I have no reason to believe da' prez is doing it on purpose; but there's no doubt he know's about Team Slug. Particularly after the Houston Marathon in 2006. His old man wanted that shirt bad. Any-who, Cal Ripken is in the Hall of Fame; and I got my long weekend run in; it's ALL GOOD! Slugs; i hope all is swell in your world today. Peace on Earth! flatfoot freddie

on the comeback trail....again :)

"There will be days you don't think you can run a marathon. There will be a lifetime of knowing you have."
Unknown

i know it's pitiful, but I'm still only walking an hour a day. my goal is to try slogging again come one august. that's next wednesday if your keeping score, and then be ready to deathmarch baltimore by the end of october...sounds reasonable...i spend most of that time in the woods; tomorrow morning will be back at catoctin and take me two or three precious hours; of which i will love every minute. i tell you this because i don't want you to take your daily runs for granted. they are a gift, gliding and breezing through time and space, and for each step you take you should remember just how lucky you are. an injury can quickly set you down; and pull in those reins. so have fun out there; think of me; and hopefully i'll be seeing ya real soon. john.

From James' website... A GREAT EFFORT...

....CONGRATS JAMES; for giving it your best shot. I remember standing on the starting line at the 100-mile run at 4 A.M. some years back. It was a surreal feeling; the night was at its darkest -- with ominous animal noises threatening our senses --- in the deepest hills of central vermont. Morning dew was trying to find it's way onto leaves, and drizzle was scattering the dust all around us. Glancing around the ultarunner's had a certain look on their faces. A certain glaze in their eyes. These runners were not attempting this feat on a whim, and weren't doing it for trophies, or fame. These folks had an insatiable force inside them, driving them to the limits of their imagination. After finishing the marathon, something inside these folks turned on, and wondered just how far they could go. This force had to know what secrets, what emotional thoughts and feelings may await in their souls. And on this night, they would begin the search for that feeling. Standing on the line of the 100-mile run, was standing among human greatness; sharing fresh air with men and women who knew what they wanted, and were willing to sacrifice for their dream. That night some made it, and some didn't. However, all who stood on that line, were already heroes. Facing the monster that is an all day and all night run, and not giving in. Running, Walking, Crawling; until they can no longer move, and no longer can remember why they came. But the day comes when you remember; and that is a glorious moment in time. Realizing a dream is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself. A personal treasure that no one, or time, can ever take away. I was blessed to receive this gift, and it changed my life. There are many folks who were responsible for me getting there and finishing; but i can thank no one any more than i would have to thank James and Rebecca. They're not only running heroes of mine; but rather life heroes; and i am proud and thankful to call them friends. Tonight I say a prayer for all my friends; and hope that each of you come to meet / know / and love the Moore's as my family does. God Bless Each of you, john.


News From California:

"Not Crying in my Beer" James called from Lone Pine. He was upbeat. He didn't feel that there was anything wrong with his training. It was just not his day. He wanted to be sure that all knew that he was fine.

The team will go back to Las Vegas and then fly home tomorrow (Thursday).

The future for James? Right now, it's just regular runs like 50 kms and JFK.


DNF: John Dodds called at about midnight (our time). It wasn't to be. James was not moving fast enough and just was not going to finish within the 60 hour time limit. So James ended his quest at Panamint Springs and drove to Lone Pine.

Badwater is not just hard. It is a very different challenge from other runs. It requires knowledge and experience of its unique environment. It sounds like Jim did not have his eating, drinking, and pace down for this run.

James has done incredible runs. He has not always been successful. When he did the C&O Canal Towpath both ways, he had to cut out one section. James's strength is that he has the courage to set high goals and risk not attaining them. He can do this because he has a positive attitude. That attitude gets him through the runs, the success, and the lack of success.

So Jim is fine. He has had a beer and is smiling. He gave it his shot.

I bet he is thinking about next year already. Just don't tell Rebecca!

BTW: Jim gave us vicarious entertainment. He didn't blood dope, take money to not call fouls, or host a dog fight. It might be a good time to show him that you respect what he is. It's not too late to make a contribution.

Praying for James

What an incredible journey James is on. Always looking forward, always looking up, and always smiling. Wandering around, race to race, sharing joy and love; and extending a hand of friendship. James is one of the good guys, and it is a blessing to share time and space with him on our wonderful planet. James' life and his actions are fine examples for each of us; challenging and inspiring; forcing us to examine just what we're capable of. Tonight I'm praying for him, Rebecca, family, and his crew; whereever they are. I hope you'll all find it in your hearts to do the same. God Bless each of you.

Badwater Update --- James at Furnace Creek!!!

Hope all are following Brother James, and saying "little prayers / sending positive vibes" for him. Badwater Ultramarathon started this morning at 8:00 A.M. and James reached the first stop, Furnace Creek, at 11:51 A.M. Elapsed time is 3:51, and he's averaging 4.5 mph. For the record the current airtemp at Furnace Creek is 111.1 degrees farenheit. I checked it on WeatherBug. Enjoy your cool homes this evening :)
Go James!!!

Thinkin' of Badwater...

...and brother slug james moore. you can follow his site off the tsi front page, or the badwater site at http://www.badwater.com/ james has a long list of incredible running achievements over the past couple of decades; and i was blessed to know him much of that time. i met james and his lovely wife rebecca about fifteen years ago. he called me the summer of 1992 and requested information on an upcoming slug run in hampton, virginia in september. i assured him that this could barely be considered a race, gave him the old "ya really don't wanna come here" spiel, but if ya really ain't got nothin' better to do, you are welcome to join us. that fall we ran the september 50k on a middle school cinder track in newport news. james and rebecca arrived early that morning pulling up just in time to observe our slug skeleton crew scuttle around in the heavy rain. we started six runners that morning, and believe james finished second behind bruce "the running man" chituck himself. while that day was the beginning of a long friendship between james / rebecca and da'slugs, there are other fond memories from that overgrown and forgotten cinder track. that day rebecca gained the title "sluggette" and has worn it proudly ever since. for her efforts she was rewarded with a bottle of crazy horse ale (voted "worst beer in america in 1991" --- i ain't making that up --- just ask james). that day also saw one of the great ultra performances of ALL TIME, as john "mr. clean" sorenson, of des moines, iowa finished the 50k following "hitman training - that included lots of beer, and long runs of no more than three miles - all summer long." mr. clean finished the run, lay down on the cinders, and swore never to talk to me again. of course, he lied :) he just didn't know it at the time. fifteen years have passed; and james / rebecca have stuck with da' slugs, for better or worse. tomorrow morning james will wake up with miles to go, across the hot desert. so tonight, james and rebecca are in my prayers. if ya think of it, and yer so inclined; say a little prayer for them too. they'se good folks. happy days, john.

Congrats Pokey-Slug, and all Big Butt Finishers, including Angela Ivory :)

...who took first place in her age group at the Greater Wyoming Buffalo Stampede 10K today in Delaware. She received a very nice Buffalo Trophy for her efforts and in her note referred to it as "pokey slug luck." I think it was the God's smiling down and rewarding her genuine kindness for all around her. Hopefully that energy will carry us both into the fall, and get us a Slug-finish at Baltimore. Good luck at the North Face 50K ms. pokey. I'll be looking for a report :)
P.S. Also congrats to all Big Butt Finishers, the RFH and Claude for yet another outstanding event in Lancaster, SC today. Claude reports, "The race started with the firing of an 1860 Colt 44 Caliber. Tim
Carter of SC led from the start and actually had negative splits the
second half. Ray Krolewicz used the run for a warm-up for the World
Championship 24 hour run next week in Canada. Lisa Arnold of NC also
led from the start and took the female honors. In addition of
getting a shirt they can not wear in public the winners got a wood
plate with the BIG BUTT logo that can't be used to eat out of." Also, big congrats to ms. angela ivory of nashville; representing the slugs well with a sweet 6:14:01.

The Outlaw's Prayer

I heard this song on the radio early on the way home today. I remember it from year's gone by. It was recorded in 1979 by Johnny Paycheck, and written by Billy Sherrill and Glen Sutton. It got me to thinking about the way we treat each other, and all the little chances we have to serve others; yet still pass up. Maybe we don't follow our hearts because we're tired, or lazy, or frightened, or shy. But try to remember that every chance you have to share a smile, or a kind word; you should do it. These positive interactions matter. The past two weeks have been very difficult for me and my family. Whether i've been at WalMart getting groceries, or stopping for gas; somehow i seem to notice those around me more; and appreciate the smiles and kindness they share with me. I hope you're able to share kindness today. I wish each of you peace, love, and eternal joy. Friends always, john.


"You know, I worked the Big Packet show in Fort Worth, Saturday night,
We had all day Sunday to rest and relax, before I caught another flight.
So I decided to walk down town an' get myself a little fresh air.
Before long, I found myself in front of a big church on the corner of the square.

Boy, I could hear that singin' way out in the street, sure was a beautiful sound.
So I just walked up the steps an' opened the door an' started to go inside an' sit down.
But before I could, a young man walked over to me an said: "Excuse me, Sir,
"But I can't let you in with that big black hat, those jeans, that beard an' long hair.

So I just left, went back outside, sat down on that kerbing, an I thought to myself:
That's the house of the Lord. That guy's got the hell of a nerve.
Tellin' me I can't worship anywhere I please.
So right there, in front of that Church, I just knelt down on my knees.

I said: "Lord, I know I don't look like much, but I didn't think you'd mind.
"I just wanted to be with your people, Lord: it's been a long time.
"A while ago, a saw a wino over there in the alley, all bent over in tears,
"An' I thought how one stained glass window, from this Church, would feed his family for years."

"Then there's those fine cars parked outside: too many for me to count.
"Made me think how people walked for days to hear your sermon on the mount.
"Then there's those fine ladies in the choir, Lord, singin' like they really love it.
"Hell, last night, they were dancin' on the front row of my show: drinkin' beer, screamin: 'Sing Shove It.'

"You know, even John the Baptist wouldn't be welcome in this place,
"With his coat made of Camel hair an' sandals on his feet an' a long beard on his face.
"You know, Lord, when you come back to get your children, an' take 'em beyond the clouds,
"To live forever in Heaven with you: well, I'd sure hate to be in this crowd.

"You know, Lord, I'm not perfect; some even call me no count.
"But I'll tell you: I believe a man is judged by what's in his heart, not what's in his bank account.
"So if this is what religion is: a big car, a suit an' a tie,
"Then I might as well forget it Lord, 'cause I can't qualify.

"Oh, by the way, Lord, right before they kicked me out, didn't I see a picture of you?
"With sandals an' a beard. Believe you had long hair too."
"Well, this is Paycheck, signing off.
"I'll be seein' you Lord, I hope."

Black Squirrels, Sore Butt Cheeks, and Ginger Brandy

Waves of emotion continue to roll up onto the shores of my soul; and I joyfully accept each one. Today I am thankful for all feelings, for every moment, and each precious breath of life. Being out alone in the woods brings back childhood. I grew up out here, chasing through the brush with a shotgun and a smile. I don't shoot animals anymore, though I still love venison, and wild game. Now, I find joy in sharing and observing life. Especially the simplicity of feeling a fresh breeze on my face, and being able to move about of my own free will. Another 25 miles on the C & O Canal today; with a perfect blue sky just above me, and just above the strained Potomac River. I reached up to touch the pure beauty, but it moved quickly away from me. If there is one law all long-distance runners observe, and agree upon, it is that "nature is in charge." We humans are simply insignificant in the grand scheme of mother earth and the universe. And, out alone in the woods, hungry and thirsty for hours / days at a time; we can feel it. We know this law to be true and we happily accept it. What choice do we have? It is dry in the hills of Western Maryland. Still, down at the canal, near the river basin; plants and animals thrive. Dozens of turkey hens and their chicks, many dozens of deer with their summer spotted fawns grazing on leaves and seeds, and one very black squirrel. I hadn't seen one for many years, and consider this a positive omen. Life is changing, my well-being is slowly healing, and I will recover, and be strong and happy again. The black squirrel sat steadily on the fence rail, chattering and grinning at me. I pulled the bike over and enjoyed a moment with him. I told him my butt was very sore from the long bike rides; and he laughed out loud. We humans are easy transcendental prey for wildlife. Animals know things we've never thought of. It is true, I swear. A couple of short hours later I was back to the parking lot and my truck, in a small town surrounded by friends. These people know me, know my name; and have known me since I played Little League baseball here in the 1960's. These folks love me; but they are innocently clueless about how I feel inside. An old friend waved from a picnic table, and I tried to tell her about the black squirrel; but she just couldn't take me very seriously. She's known me way too long. No matter, there's no way for her to understand how I feel about being out alone, and moving, in the woods. But runners know. Runners know exactly what I'm feeling. Dang, I am thankful for my friends, and I am thankful for all the blessings in my life. Life is good, one day at a time. Oh, and I found a terrific remedy for sore butt syndrome. Two quick shots of ginger brandy! Hey, I appreciate every single one of you all. Happy days, john.
P.S. Pokey if yer reading this shoot me a note. I'm seriously thinking of slugging into Baltimore undercover with a sweet new alias for the marathon. Yer gonna love this one :)

living life every day...

i've now woke up in my childhood bed for the past week; and i'm enjoying it very much. walking with my mom in the early morning; and then bike riding on the Western Maryland Rail Trail (today 25 miles). it's beautiful out here, and with dozens of "friends i haven't met yet" also out riding; makes for refreshing and lively mornings. Heading west, the path rises a hundred feet above the Potomac on the left, always hugging falling rocks on the right. Most of the ride is in the shade, and while i'm in the worse shape of my life; pedaling hard feels good, real good. I'm hoping to be ready to begin jogging by August. That should get me ready for Baltimore in October. I do miss dad very much; but it's hard for me to stay depressed over his passing. He lived his life every day; and i'm not going to let him down. I'm going to do the same thing. I've gotten a boost from hearing from so many olde friends; and the energy and positive vibes sent to me are real --- i have felt them --- and they have me motivated to keep moving forward. So thanks to each of you, and especially my olde New Orleans marathoning buddy. It was Wonderful to hear from you. Each of you are in my thoughts and prayers, happy days, john.

Thanks for the Love and Kindness.

Friends; I can't express how much I appreciate the notes & phone calls i've gotten over the past week. It's always been an open secret that Team Slug is not really a running "club" but rather a large circle of friends; that stretches back nearly two decades. And, hearing from you all during this difficult time has reminded me how important those friendships are. Dad was first diagnosed with lung cancer eleven years ago. He endured numerous chemo treatments, and three major surgeries; battling, and smiling, the entire way. And, thank God, he was generally "healthy" throughout the period. He never lost the will to live, and remained positive until his final peaceful breaths this past Tuesday at home in Warfordsburg. He often spoke during the past year how good his life had been, and how thankful he was for his family and friends. And, our family home has been overrun with those family and friends this week. What stories they tell, and what a joy it is to hear them. Dad decided years ago he wasn't interested in a funeral, and the traditional burial works. He always believed if people wanted to see him; they should call or visit while he was alive, and they did. Plus, he wanted to do something helpful to society with his death, and he did. Dad donated his body to Anatomy Gifts Registry. The site is www.anatomicgift.com if interested in exactly what service they provide. It's funny, but what i remember most about dad is he was a good friend. Not just to family and friends, but rather to all; i remember well from childhood, dad stopping on the road to change tires for strangers, taking groceries to some old folks, or financially helping those in need. And, listening to the stories this week; that's what i hear most. Your dad was a good friend. And, I know exactly what they mean; because he was my best friend. Today in Western Maryland is a beautiful day. My mom and I walked on the C & O Canal this morning, enjoying a mother deer and her fawns; a brisk fresh breeze, and dozens of other walkers and bikers out enjoying their lives. Today I pray for each of you that this note finds you healthy and happy. Please enjoy each moment, and love those around you. It may take a bit of time, but I promise to return each note. I appreciate everyone of you. God Bless you and yours. john @ teamslug1@comcast.net

Father passed.

Friends; Just a quick note to share that my father, Joe Harper, passed away today at about 2 P.M. He was home, surrounded by family, and left very peacefully. He was 75 years young. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers over the past several months. It is deeply appreciated. God Bless each of you, john.

The Threads of Time

Our lives are made up of threads of time, colored by individual moments. Recently my thread has been strained, and i suppose it would be easy to look back over the past several years and recognize that cumulative stressors may finally be manifesting themselves in my life. Hard times are not necessarily bad; and there's no doubt that decisions I've made regarding careers; and relationships, have made me exactly who i am today. So many of my running friends have molded me with kindness, learning, and love. And, i've become a better person because of these friendships. While i am not physically in very good running shape, my emotional well-being is stronger than ever. And, it's just in time. For, today my dad is very ill. He is in end-stage cancer; and basic tasks for him are difficult. His movements are measured and slow; only able to move, with hands steadied on a families arm. He doesn't eat, and sleeps most of the time. His eyes are glasslike, meandering around the room in a dreamlike state. He seems to have a limited awareness, with one foot in each world. Each passing day brings him a little closer to death. And he seems at peace. To this point the morphine seems to be effective; and he denies feeling pain. Friends, tonight whereever you are please know that you are each in my thoughts and prayers. The notes and phone calls of condolences, i continue to receive, bring peace to my heart and comfort to my soul. Know for sure that each of you are in my thoughts and prayers daily.

The D.E.R.T. Team of Dover Air Force Base, Delaware

Over four years have passed since the day that changed every life in America. This story is not about that fateful and horrible day. However, that day is the singular reason the D.E.R.T. team exists today. September 11, 2001 saw over 3,000 human beings murdered in terrorist attacks. Incredibly these atrocities occurred on our home soil, and all within a few hours drive of our small military base here in Delaware. Our free country suffered an incredibly destructive blow at the hands of pure evil. There could no longer be any doubt among free and loving people that evil exists. On September 11th that evil stood up and challenged our faith. The days following 9-11 are days filled with pain, suffering, and misery. It hurt every single one of us, scarring our souls, and searing our memories with previously unimaginable thoughts. Indeed, it destroyed the very foundation of our innate belief that we were safe. Suddenly we werent. During this time of trial, many heroes emerged. Those determined to find hope in fellow Americans through a deep and unshaken faith in their Higher Power. God helped the believers to close ranks and muster the strength to never give up. Those days were surreal for all of America, and the reality of despair was no different in our little corner of the world. That morning I remember sitting with Robert Sundquist in our Clinics waiting area watching in disbelief as the second plane hit the tower, and the subsequent disasters at the Pentagon and in Western Pennsylvania. The history of Dover Air Force Base in central Delaware is a long and distinguished one. Though small in size, with a shape mirroring the flight line, the base contains a major airlift hub supporting worldwide excursions in wartime and peace. In addition, the base contains the militarys only Port Mortuary. The mortuary is staffed by a diverse array of professionals from numerous federal agencies, along with active and reserve personnel from all military services. This essay is not an attempt to provide a total view of the installations impeccable mortuary service. Instead I will focus on a very small and distinct group of airmen. A group of ordinary Americans placed in an extraordinary situation and discovering that together, as a team, they could persevere and accomplish great things. This is the story of the D.E.R.T. team of Dover Dental Clinic, and its a story that I know well. While the dental clinic, like the base, has a long history of honorable service to its nation; I will pick up the story on the morning of 9-11 sitting in disbelief and watching history unfold with Dr. Sundquist. Moments after the second plane struck the WTC, and for the first time in my military career, the entire base went to real-world Delta. Gates were closed and base personnel were frozen in place. Doors in the dental clinic were locked as our staff remained in stunned silence. While I had only been at Dover for 10 months, I along with the staff knew exactly what this meant. Even before the Pentagon was hit later in the morning we realized that the mortuary would soon be filled with the tragic aftermath of what was unfolding in front of us on live television. And that meant we needed to prepare. Diane Beecher was currently in command of the clinic, and along with Roberto Lebron and Dan Hines began working the administrative side of preparations. Additional manning needed secured, chains of command needed briefing, and the dental clinic needed to get emotionally and physically prepared. And we had to do it quickly and accurately. On the information systems side our team was working hard on a dream. The subsequent buildup of hardware and technology allowed our clinic to achieve the unthinkable. Indeed, in only days the systems effort led by Hines stood up the capability and further executed the technology becoming the first forensic dental team in history to fully utilize digital radiology in a mass disaster response. On the medical logistics side Ed Anderson was working feverishly to obtain the bulk supplies that would be required for this mission. I was preparing a shift schedule, and helping to prepare the mortuaries dental area for its largest contingency in many years. This entire process was taking place in the old building. It stood in the parking lot of the new facility we enjoy today. And, it was a much more difficult place to work. The heating and cooling units were inadequate. Despite our efforts to maintain a neat and clean environment, the concrete floors, walls, and even equipment were stained with years of use. It stood for over three decades and enjoyed an incredible history of its own, culminating in the events following 9-11. So our team, along with hundreds of other professionals, were off and running. Let me remind you again, because it is important, this story is not meant to be comprehensive. Even on the dental side of the effort there are names and faces long since forgotten. We had help from numerous sources, including Andrews, Langley, and Keesler Air Force bases; along with a group of forensic dentists from the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology in Washington, D.C. The old building quickly came to life. Soon the dining/break area was filled by the USO with a wide assortment of snacks and sundries. McDonalds often provided breakfast biscuits, and coffee was consumed by the gallon. It seemed the entire local community wanted to assist, and we on base genuinely appreciated the care and concern. The building swarmed with the FBI, OSI, and NCIS, along with numerous other universally recognized units such as AFIP, and OAFME, the armed forces medical examiners. Within days, helicopters began to ferry in human remains from the Pentagon. Not only those military and civilian personnel killed while working quietly at their desks, but also those souls aboard American Airlines Flight 77 destined for destruction. Body bags were opened, and now the devastation only days earlier just an eerie nightmare on CNN was among us. The earliest shocking hours are eternally etched in my mind. Faces distraught with grief were all around me, and on a bathroom break looking in the mirror I realized my face was no different. Probably everyone thinks about death at some time in their lives, but being confronted with it on a scale this large hurts one desperately and intimately. These were not just ordinary deaths one accepts with a fully-lived, aged life. Rather this was the death of lives cut short, with dreams terminated instantly, leaving families grappling with pain that can never disappear. The dead lay quietly. Those of us privileged to assist identify them did so diligently and with dignity. Only three days before the dead had been like us. They were living, breathing, warm and fleshy citizens, full of hope and desire wanting only to share life and love with their families and friends. Some were young, some a bit older, but all were now gone. Closing my eyes I still see their faces to this day. The face of death is not easy to forget. One victim was wearing a Timex Ironman sports watch, still ticking, and exactly like the one I had on. They were only 22 seconds apart. It may seem unusual that I would remember that, but frankly there is no way I could ever forget.

Amidst this pain our team worked courageously. Those early days are what defined who we are today. Following three 16-hour days our team was struggling and tired. We were beat up, and worn down, but the people on that team were highly motivated airmen, and refused to give up. To this day, I am positive each member was at Dover because of a higher purpose. I do not believe coincidence exists in this lifetime. This story is not about me, or any single one member of our team, or any single moment of time. This is a story of hope, and singleness of purpose, and deep inside being determined to serve fellow human beings at any cost. And that is what we did. Sunday morning rolled around and we were running two dental radiology rooms. I worked the middle one placing films in the mouths of the deceased, and was assisted by Melanie Key. Next door my old friend Steve Sedlock, and Summer Grager were performing the same tasks. We were bantering back and forth, trying to keep spirits high, and talking about how tough a situation we were in. We were exhausted, dirty, and feeling extremely sorry for the victims, their families, and to be perfectly honest, ourselves. It was a difficult time. Steve is one of the hardest workers and kindest human beings I have ever met. It was unusual to see and hear him discouraged. Still he pushed forward and refused to quit. On a quick break I went over to look in his eyes, and encourage him in any way I could. All around us the beat went on. The FBI was fingerprinting remains, AFIP was doing dental exams, and the Medical Examiners were prepping for autopsy. This entire scurry around us was within plain view. Across Steves chest I wrote with a Sharpie marker, D.E.R.T. The Dental Enlisted Response Team was born. Though we were just ordinary dental technicians and feeling unappreciated, we too were an important part of the process. And, I refused to let our team forget it. Quickly, Summer Grager added that if we were the D.E.R.T. team then she, Melanie, and Aisha Dean would become Dust Bunnies. So Steve Sedlock became the first member of our dedicated team. Other charter members, affectionately known as the DERTY Dozen are: myself, Dan Hines, Roberto Lebron, Greg McCulley, Ed Anderson, Summer Grager, Melanie Key, Aisha Dean, Phillipia Reynolds, Rebecca Taylor-Vogt, and April Kantner. Within days, a longtime friend and fellow team member suggested we change the title to Evidence rather than Enlisted. After all, it does take dentists to perform forensic dental exams. The effort wound down. In all, 189 human remains were processed by our team in about ten days. We eventually returned to the dental clinic, to patients, and other military duties. Time passed, and we were closer than ever. We had become family, caring about and fighting with, each other as only those closest to one another ever can. There is no way to forget what we went through together, and no doubt it bound us forever through common and shared experience. The D.E.R.T. story could very well have ended right here. But it did not. Just as Dan Hines quarterbacked the digital buildup, he now chose to tackle this cause. He sensed a higher mission, and looking back, he was right. He chose an emblematic design from the 436th dental clinic, and built a challenge coin around it. The very first D.E.R.T. coin was issued to Diane Beecher, our flight commander, for commitment and leadership to her troops. In very short order the DERTY Dozen also had coins in pocket, as a small token of remembrance for what we endured together. For the record, and I assure you it is fact, the list of team leaders is short. It includes myself, Hines, Anderson, Lebron, and currently Mike Hoard and Jennifer Jones. Becoming the team leader is always by appointment and consensus of the original twelve. While officers and civilians can only be honorary members, we have had three D.E.R.T. commanders. They are Diane Beecher, Kirby Amonson, and presently William Vosburgh. There are no comprehensive lists of actual members, as there is no one person singularly responsible for our existence. Hundreds have been admitted to our humble dental forensics team. Our legacy for service continues today. Since March 2003 the D.E.R.T. team has helped identify and return to their homes 2000 American heroes from Iraq and Afghanistan who have paid the ultimate price for our freedom. Our team members have continued to rotate/change in the face of PCS and retirements. However, one thing remains the same today, as it was yesterday and will be tomorrow. The D.E.R.T. team serves with honor and distinction and continues to embody the Air Force ideals of integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do. Let me assure all who read this that serving with this team has been the highlight of my six assignment, 21-year military career. The people that have worked alongside me under circumstances that human beings should not have to endure are people that I love. Today more than ever I understand that God brought us together to achieve what none of us could have accomplished alone. Not one member has ever been more, or less valuable, than any other. Every single member has made me proud to be a part of something greater than myself, and a part of something that will stand long after we are all gone. If you have been presented a coin, treasure it, and know that those who came before were just like you, and determined to make this world a better place for us all. May God Bless You and God Bless America.

Editor Note: This short article was written by myself in the summer of 2005. It was meant to leave an account of the small group of dental forensics members that were dedicated to their fellow human beings; and more importantly, cared about deeply and took care of each other during a devastating period in all of our lives. Presently, I am working on a manuscript providing a much more detailed account of those two years, but also presenting the incredible emotional and physical toll it placed on the individual team members.

finding peace up on Wolf Rock....

yesterday morning i climbed up onto Wolf Rock. and, i got to thinking about old friends, and how people come and go in our lives. most of the ones that are the deepest, that teach us the most, and that last the longest are those that usually come unexpectedly. friendship, it seems, is like love. you can't go out and find it. but, when you most need it, if you're really lucky, it finds you. and thats where i'm at in my life; looking back; recalling those special folks who came and went. some for weeks, some months, some years, and some continue to this day. and each one provided some blessing in my life. all taught me something, sometimes against my will; but in recollection as time goes by, it's easy to realize why they appeared when they did. so far in my life i've learned many important lessons, but none more important than this; if you can live gently in peace, live in love - loving and letting others love you, then, things always seem to work out. sometimes just not in the time frame that we desire. i've said it before on this blog, and i'll say it again. i don't believe anyone is reading this by accident. i don't believe in coincidence. you are here to receive a loving message, and if it's meant to be, then you will give in return. either way is ok. things are happening exactly as they are supposed to. so tonight my friends, go in peace and go in love.