Ted's Stories - Ted Blasche

12/12/2022

Christmas is coming. No stocking but a cap.

12/09/2022

05/29/2020

I occasionally wake up in the middle of the night and reach over only to find an empty spot where I used to find a warm body. That moment still hurts. I'm okay or at least surviving, but I haven't really adjusted to being alone. I think that has to take place before any thought of NOT being alone can take place. I guess you could say that I'm still married to a memory.

03/16/2020

If I Should Die

But I didn't... Karen did. How do you cope with a hole in your heart, one formed by a half-century spent together? My rock in hard times, my guiding light through dark times, my joy through everything, and now the wellspring of my tears. I promise everyone I'll survive, but in those first hours, that seemed nothing more than a remote possibility.

Chaos consumed the next week. A car got bashed while moving it for the ambulance, and all of the plans that assumed I would be the first to die went awry. There were canceled credit cards, bank accounts to reopen, a funeral to arrange... and in moments of silence, grief creeping unbidden out of the shadows.

Then came the fear. Did I do anything wrong, something that hastened her demise? Time and time again, that nagging question took over every waking moment. Double, triple, quadruple checking the syringes and oxygen equipment rapidly turned into an obsession. In the dark, did I use the wrong medicine? Even though nothing appeared to be wrong, my memory seemed cloudy so I couldn't tell for sure. Were the air tubes crimped? Finding one that looked wrong, I panicked until I realized it wasn't in use that night.

Intermingled with the fear and grief a new emotion moved forward. Guilt. When Karen entered the final phase, unable to talk or even breathe, my handling of those last moments was a disaster. These last moments were my chance to ease her passage, comfort and console the most wonderful woman I'd ever known. Instead, her final moments were selfishly spent thinking about myself... my loss. I told her how living without her would be impossible, and begged her not to die, not to leave me, all the while repeating over and over how much I needed her.

What a fool I was! Because I couldn't envision life without her, I begged her to do the impossible, stay with me, and somehow, heal herself. Was there any way I could have been any more stupid and self-serving?

Why write about this? The answer is simple. When I should have been soothing Karen on her way, I couldn't see beyond my own impending loss. Now the guilt of my unintended words hangs over me like a shroud, one I wouldn't wish on anybody. So, when the time comes for you must face a loved one's imminent departure, I hope you'll remember to make it about them.

There will be time enough for your pain later.

07/09/2019

I write primarily Science Fiction. Can't remember where this explanation came from but this is what I write.

Military SciFi is any story written about a future military situation from the viewpoint of a member of an army, navy or air force. That includes marines, but they can be an integral part of the three primary services or act independently. The crux of the story will be from the service member's point of view. It will also deal with the core military values of bravery, sacrifice, sense of duty, and camaraderie. Why? Because these values have been the foundation of military organizations since the first group of Homo sapiens formed up in a column of twos and marched off to battle Neanderthals.

A military SciFi story will include military organization and weapons, usually lots of weapons. this genre will usually fall into one of three categories, us versus them, us versus ourselves, or some variation of the two combined. That third category would simultaneously include us against the enemy du jour, be it an alien power or our own commanders.

The cornerstone to a strong plot is world building. Such a world entails the creation of a society based on logical evolution. How did it come into existence? What external factors drove its development. Do the weapons systems have plausible technology? While sounding restrictive, there a million ways that biology, physics, chemistry, and environmental forces can intersect to create a story. The key is consistency. Chapter one can't describe a sea world without tides then describe the beautiful moon in its the night sky. That moon's gravity would make tides inevitable.

The fun in writing this genre is that you create it all using your imagination and a basis in science (although that science may get exaggerated and twisted) I often draw on my own military experiences, embellishing them with future possibilities.

05/28/2019

Every year, I find myself conflicted by Memorial Day. I served for twenty-three years and feel a special kindred for those who gave all. They should be honored for their sacrifice, which is what the day is all about. At the same time, I feel a nagging sense of survivor's remorse. Why did I live when my friends died? Was there any rhyme or reason to it? Is there some unfinished business I must accomplish, or was it merely dumb luck?

The problem is that I haven't found an answer to any of those questions, and for three-hundred and sixty-four days I can live with that. But each Memorial Day I have to face them anew, dredging up the guilt, only to shelve it for another year.

This is the first time I've admitted this... Maybe that's the first step toward my personal rehabilitation. Or is it redemption? I wish I knew.

04/02/2019

https://www.quora.com/Which-native-speakers-of-other-languages-find-English-the-most-difficult-to-learn/answer/Ted-Blasche?ch=1&share=ceb18254&srid=Xtec3&fbclid=IwAR2bNpZ3r68Cq3A0trICa3jSC3VWWZyeSsEOq1lAdMkdvXhM4SFOn55Q1Rg

Ted Blasche's answer: Native speakers have a predisposition to understand their own language. It develops from exposure to the spoken tongue during infancy and includes both sounds and basic grammar. If you listen to a sentence and get the “something’s wrong” feeling, it’s that mindset, norm...

11/23/2017

Thanksgiving, 1968
Vietnam in 1968 had begun with a nightmare. TET flipped the countryside upside down, but it soon turned around. The remainder of the year dissolved into a series of quid pro quo attacks. We hit them, they hit us, and sometimes everybody got into the act. But this story isn't about battles or bloodshed.

November rolled around and I finally got to take my R&R. That is a story in and of itself. (Not many soldiers got to meet their future wife on a blind date in Hawaii.) Five days later, I returned to my MAT team with less than seven weeks left before rotation home.

We were stationed at a district west of Danang. Between the district senior adviser team and mine, there were thirteen isolated Americans. We had to live off the economy in a sea of Vietnamese, many of whom were refugees with little to spare. We couldn't even get C-rations, which demonstrates how dire our epicurean options were. The prospect of boiled fish for Thanksgiving loomed over us.

Everything changed when the Infantry Battalion down the valley invited us to share Thanksgiving Dinner with them. We met on their compound and enjoyed turkey and mashed potatoes fit for a king. Well, maybe not fit for a king, but to us, it tasted like mana from heaven. Just a bunch of homesick guys sitting around experiencing a shared memory of better days, eating a meal off of stacked ammunition boxes.

We left the battalion base camp early so as to be back at our compound before dark. That was when we received an incoming aircraft alert. Shortly thereafter, a support helicopter arrived with two hot food containers. Inside we discovered stacks of paper plates wrapped in aluminum foil. Each plate contained a big slice of turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Also included were several pumpkin pies. I learned a lesson about appreciating small blessings. Most Americans would have considered either meal to be substandard, but not those of us who shared those meals.

So, on a day that began with no prospects for a traditional meal, we ended up with two. That's why I will always remember November 25th, 1968 as doubly blessed.

May your day be filled with the spirit of Thanksgiving.

Ted

08/29/2017

02/15/2017

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