Its a line from The Road Warrior, but it pretty much sums up where I'm headed now that I've turned 76.
I'm in good health for the most part and can still hike in the mountains, drive where I want to and still remember most peoples names but feel the need to put down in writing some of my life and experiences and my checkered past.
I was born in Emporia, Kansas in 1950 and named after my father and grandfather.
I have only one memory of my birth father. I was four at the time and he took my brother Larry and I to a baseball field (I think it was in Bartlesville, Oklahoma) to fly one of those wire controlled model airplanes. That's it.
My mother remarried when I was five or 6, to a soldier from nearby Ochelata. His name was Donald G. Biggerstaff and he was stationed at Fort Sill.
Not long after that, we moved to Lawton, Oklahoma and lived there until 1958 when my stepfather (who from here on out I will refer to as my father) was reassigned to Germany.
Me playing catch in 1957
We spent most of his month's leave visiting his family, who owned a dairy farm near Ochelata and my mother's mother, who had a place on Council Grove Lake.
Pictured are bottom left to right: Aunt Faye, Larry, My Father, My Mother, My Grandmother Pearl, me, Cousin Cleta (Who I was deeply infatuated with), My Grandfather (No. 2), cousin Charles. The photo was taken by my Uncle Buster.
After driving cross country we boarded a refurbished World War II troop ship called the USNS Rose for Germany.
I don't remember a whole lot about the voyage over but I do remember that just a day or so out of the Brooklyn Naval Yard, we had to stop in St. John's, Newfoundland for a pregnant lady who decided to give birth.
I also remember that a porter ( I think they were called) would walk down our corridor playing a tune on a small xylophone when it was our turn to go to the dining room. And I still have a certificate that was given to us kids declaring that we were members of the Royal Order of Atlantic Voyageurs. (They misspelled both my first and last names, sigh).
We landed in Bremerhaven, Germany and drove in my fathers 1956 Chevy to Fussen which is in the south of the country.
Fussen had a small garrison and is nestled in the foothills of the Alps, just a stone's throw away from Austria. The town is known for its three castles. The High Castle, seen below in the winter, Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau. The was originally settled by the Romans to guard a trade route to Italy.
It was a great place for a kid. During the winter we took our sleds to "Killer Hill". So named because at the bottom was a barbed wire fence and train tracks. No one died while I was there but it was a challenge especially if you were on a German sled. You know, the ones that you sit upright on unlike our sleds.
Neuschwanstein was the model for Disneyland's castle and Hohenschwangau, which was built in the 1300's was the boyhood home of the Mad King Ludwig, who built Neuschwanstein.
Our school was interesting as well. Two rooms in the Administrative Building. One room had Grades 1 thru 6 and the other Grades 7 thru 12. Each grade was lined up in one row and had one teacher for each room.
In early Spring of 1959, the garrison closed and was turned over to the German Army. My family was sent to Stuttgart for a brief period of time and then on to Mannheim where we would spend the rest of our tour.
We moved into a two bedroom apartment in Ben Franklin Village, a base that had everything that reminded us of what we missed about the states. A nice PX, Hospital, Commissary, Elementary and High School. There was even a A&W located just a couple miles of base. At times, there were over 15,000 service personnel and dependents on the base.
Being late Spring, I was bummed that I wasn't able to register for the Summer Baseball League. Meeting other kids wasn't an issue since there were 24 apartments in each building and a good 20 or so buildings.
The next two years I was drafted by two teams for summer ball, the Phillies in the minors and the Cubs the next year in the majors. The soldiers that coached us got together every season and "drafted" players to make up their teams. I was fortunate to have great coaches both years. Lots of infield, outfield drills. How to field a grounder. What to do with one out and a man on second. They made my teammates and me better players.
When I played for the Cubs, I caught, pitched and even played third base on a couple occasions. One game I wore my brand new Boy Scout wingtips to the game, contrary to my father's instructions. During the game a player on the other team hit a hot shot right at me. I snagged it and being the "ham" that I was, immediately wiped the dust off of my new shoes on my pant legs. The crowd of parents loved it. My dad, who had chosen to attend the game, did not.
I didn't wear those shoes to a game again.
Another memory was a game against the worst team in the league. They hadn't won a single game and I was convinced that I could pitch the game and we'd win. Our coach had his own rotation and it was the other pitcher on our teams day. Our pitcher only lasted 2/3 of the first inning giving up a bunch of runs and putting us in a hole. I took over in relief and no hit them for the next 6 1/3 innings. We did win.
Don't remember much of my fourth grade class, as I was only there for about 2 months or so, but here's a picture of my fifth grade class with Mr. Laredo. I'm the fifth one from the right next to one of my best friends at the time, Andy Reyna (left of me). I went by Joe Eisenhauer in those days. I guess my mother wasn't willing to go through whatever process that it took to change my name at the time.
When I was in the sixth grade, one of the kids that I had met was playing on a "minor" league team and had a game one day so I tagged along. I was sitting on the fence next to his dugout when I heard the crack of a bat and turned just in time to get beaned between the eyes. I dropped off the fence and was surrounded by anxious parents. I said I was no worse for the wear and headed home.
A week or so later my teacher, Mr. Gray sent a note home to my mom suggesting that I get my eyes checked because I had been squinting at the blackboard. Turned out that I needed glasses, which I would wear for the next 20 years. So much for not being worse for the wear.
Mr. Gray also took us to the Opera in Mannheim on a field trip. We saw Mozart's The Magic Flute. I was quite the show. I became a fan of classical music after that.
Lots of other memories: Riding my bike with friends in the woods on the base. Hunting for bullets or spent cartridges at the firing ranges. Saturday trips to the movies with a quarter from my folks. (10 cents for the movie, 10 cents for popcorn and 5 cents for a coke). Playing the recorder in a Christmas concert for parents. Starting a league for Dice Baseball with friends (I loved the Dodgers and Duke Snider). Going to the library above the bank and being exposed to Edgar Rice Burroughs and books about travel to exotic places and mountain climbing. These times made a contribution to the person I've become.
In early 1962 my father was reassigned to Fort Lewis, Washington and I left many good friends behind for new adventures.

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