Scut*tle*but (skut'l-but')
n. 1. Nautical. A drinking fountain on
a sailing ship. 2. Slang. Idle,
often sensational and groundless talk about others such as might
be passed at a scuttlebutt. 3. Syn. Gossip.
I retired from the county sheriff department in 2000,
and the U.S. Naval Reserve in 2004, so I've finally found the time
to "scrapbook" my personal biography and immediate family history.
I suspect it will take quite some time to get it all exactly
right, so this website will probably change often.
CHAPTER ONE: I Am Born
"When do
the fights come on, Daddy?"
I grew up in the
Borough of Queens, New York City. The style of the television (Admiral,
1948) I'm abusing should indicate the era; I'm a Baby Boomer. If
you ever want to test someone's boomer status, simply ask, "What's a test
pattern?" Most of my childhood playmates were from immigrant
families much like my own. English was more than likely either
the second or third language spoken at home. We were so different
from each other, but we were also so very much alike. What brought
us together, in a common language that would ultimately bond our generation,
was a communication medium called TELEVISION!
My personal favorites were Roy Rogers, Gene Autry,
The Lone Ranger, and Hopalong Cassidy. In all honesty, there
wasn't much else available at the time to keep a "city slicker"
entertained...other than Victory at Sea or
Navy Log!
I suppose
I've been playing with guns and boats most of my life.
Wasn't my mother (1920 - 1981) drop-dead gorgeous?!
My regimentation
and lifelong commitment to uniforms began in 1953, when my parents
enrolled me in Incarnation R.C. School, in Queens Village, New
York. Although still terrified of rulers and map pointers,
I want to take this opportunity to thank Sister Miriam Helene, O.P.,
for preparing me for the armed forces and law enforcement community.
(The first grade may
have been a little bumpy, but boot camp was a piece of cake!
)
"Daddy"
(1918 - 1993)
Private First Class
487th Bombardment Group, 836 Bombardment Squadron,
8th Air Force
(Wasn't my father "Joseph Cotton" handsome?!)
Since I was born
only 2-1/2 years after the conclusion of World War II, the "war
stories" brought home by my father and uncles Eddie (USMC), "Buddy"
(USN), and Ed (USN) are still quite vivid. Later, I was to lose
my cousin, Joseph (USA), to the infamy of a Korean POW camp.
We moved to
Nassau County, Long Island, N.Y, in early February of 1960. This
was my first encounter with a public school system, and it changed
my life forever. I discovered that fishing wasn't the only
sport for "ladies!" The high school actually had a track for
running, and they encouraged its use! The very last thing the
nuns encouraged me to do was to run anywhere. I was never a
member of the track team, but I honed my ability to run for fun and
distance on that track. And, I continued my fondness for running
until very recently. This ability to run for no apparent reason
served me well in the armed forces...and I even managed to pass this
mindless insanity on to my youngest son.
More significantly, I came to realize "boys" weren't
all that bad after all...regardless of what the nuns had told me
about them. I
think my father was quite close to sending me back to a convent school
the year I discovered both boys AND "rock 'n roll."
I well remember the day I overheard my father asking my mother
about this Paul McCartney "guy" he thought I was hanging around.
Eventually, he gave into
the Beatles...and me, Joy, Michelle, Marilyn, Peggy,
Iris, and Jeanne "squealing" on any given occasion. I swear
he had the patience of Job, but I think he may have been outnumbered;
my mother liked the Beatles too!
I graduated from Herricks High School, on June 27, 1965,
blessed with lifelong friends and confidants. My immediate
family is small, but my extended, Herricks "family" remains LARGE...to
this very day. I'm truly blessed! In recent years, I've even
been able to spend nearly a full, annual month back on Manhattan
and Long Island. (Retirement rocks!)
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