Remembering Dave Brown, American Hero

The Day Dave Brown Visited the Robowrangler Pits

I grew up in the 60s when NASA was in it’s hey days, and Project Mercury was in full force.   I was in elementary school during this time.  My teachers would talk about astronauts like Alan Sheppard, John Glenn, Gus Grissom and so forth.   I watched many of the Mercury launches on television.  The elementary principle had brought in a T.V. so we could watch the historic events in the cafeteria.   This was big news covered by all media.  President Kennedy made the commitment to go to the moon by the end of the decade.  I wonder if today’s younger generation even know who Mercury 7 astronauts are.  I was fortunate exciting to live during this period of time.   So when the book and movie The Right Stuff came out, it was special to me.   After all, I remember all this stuff first hand. 

For the past 13 years, I have been involved with educational Robots with the purpose of inspiring youth to pursue careers in science and technology.   Being involved in this program has been personally rewarding.  Not only do I get to help youth, and but I also get to work with great people, and learn along the way.  It takes a large commitment of time, and the build season can be painfully tough.  But in the end it is worth it all when you reflect back at season’s end.

One of my roles during competitions and has been pit mentor.   This involves overseeing the students keeping the robot in proper operating order, and making modifications for improvements, and helping other teams.   Typically we get lots of visitors that stop by to look over our robot, or teams that need to borrow parts or tools.   Other teams like to stop by and compare notes and discuss different approaches, solutions, and so forth.   So the big idea here is I get to hang around the pits allot.

In recent years, we had the good fortune of VIPs stopping by and visit our pits.  For example, NASA executive Dave Lavery http://robotics.nasa.gov/management.php brought Charles Bolden http://www.nasa.gov/about/highlights/bolden_bio.html to our pits one day in Atlanta to show him our robot.    Being a science/technology/NASA geek, I am thinking wow! These guys think our robot is cool!    This is unbelievable, and very flattering.   

Back in March of 2002, we were at the Lone Star Regional in Houston Texas.  The Lone Star Regional event was held at the Astro Arena, next door to the Astrodome.   This particular day, I noticed a guy standing there by himself looking over the robot.  I spoke to him and he stuck out his hand and said, “Hi I’m astronaut Dave Brown”.   We shook hands and he continued to look over and admire the robot.  We discussed the particulars of the robot and small talk for about 10 minutes or so.  He was not there with an entourage from NASA, just kind of hanging out by himself.  I am thinking who the heck is astronaut Dave Brown?    After all, I knew all the Mercury 7, Gemini, and Apollo astronauts names.   I had never heard of Dave Brown.  Dave mentioned to me he was there to speak to the students, and he was slated for a shuttle mission sometime next year.  So Dave Brown turned out to be one of the new generations of astronauts that were training for a Space Shuttle mission.  He was a member of NASA Astronaut Group 16 nicknamed “The Sardines” for being such a large class, implying that their training sessions would be tightly packed.  It turned out that Dave was the key note speaker during awards ceremony.   So, I am thinking Dave Brown is really cool guy for coming out and spending time at the competition and speaking to the students about NASA, the space shuttle program and the need for scientist and engineers.  

Later that year at the championship event in Orlando, Florida, Dave stopped by our pits again for a brief chat, and shook my hand again.   He asked me if remembered him stopping by our pits in Houston.   “Sure”.   It turned out that Dave was there to speak at the Championship event as well.  We did not have a great Robot year, but I do remember meeting Dave Brown and him remembering our robot.

So move forward to next year. It is January 2003, and we are into brainstorming for the 2003 game, Stack Attack, enduring another grueling build season, and our big idea is the “Arm” http://www.robowranglers148.com/2003.html .  And as typical, we are running behind schedule.   It is approximately a couple of weeks to ship date, and we are feeling the pressure to finish.    The mentors discussed and planned on coming in early Saturday morning to work on the Robot, February 1, 2003.

I was awakened that Saturday morning February 1st by the master bedroom bathroom door “rattling”.   The rattling door always occurred (with the house being air tight); whenever anyone would come in  or out through the hallway door leading out to the garage.   I went out of the bedroom to see who just came in, and discovered that no one had come in.  The garage door was down and door to the garage was shut.   I could not figure out what made the door rattle.   I took and quick shower, and headed off to get some coffee before going out to L-3 to work on the  “Arm” Robot.   I turned on the radio in my truck, and that is when I heard the disturbing news, that Space Shuttle Columbia STS-107, had disintegrated over Texas and Louisiana during re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere, resulting in the death of all seven crew members (Rick Husband, William McCool, Dave Brown, Kalpana Chawla, Michael Anderson, Lauren Clark, and IIan Ramon).  Debris from Columbia fell to Earth in Texas along a path stretching from Trophy Club to Tyler, as well as into parts of Louisiana. Then it dawned on me that the shock of the space shuttle breaking up overhead is what rattled the door.  Then the radio mentioned the crew, one of which was Dave Brown.   My mind jumped back to the pits in Houston.  This was personally very disturbing news, as just nine months ago; Dave was standing in our pits visiting, and now he just lost his life overhead.   I kept thinking of the irony of losing Dave just overhead of our robot.  

Later we learned that NASA was aware that a piece of foam broke off during launch and damaged the thermal protection system components (reinforced carbon-carbon panels and thermal protection tiles) and chose not to inspect.   The foam striking the leading edge at high speed resulted in a hole the size of a bowling ball in leading edge of the left wing of the Shuttle orbiter, causing an extensive heat build-up.  During re-entry the damaged wing slowly overheated and came apart, eventually leading to loss of control and total disintegration of the vehicle.  I hope much good came from the accident.  I know that the accident lead to an investigation, and to ultimately new safety procedures.  In spite of this accident, I do think we need to continue to press forward and pioneer new technologies.  This is what we do in America, and some pay a very high price for many of us to live in a very high standard.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/STS_107

Would I have known about Dave Brown if not by happenstance meeting?   Does America know who Dave Brown is?  What about the rest of the crew?   I hope the answer is yes.  So who the heck is astronaut Dave Brown?   He was STS-107 Columbia Astronaut hero that everyone should know about, for sure.  He gave his time to help inspire youth.  So, every February 1^st, during build season, I think of Dave Brown.     

Grandma Melvina's Cinnamon Apple Cake

My Great Grandmother Melvina Palmer Wineinger (Oct 10, 1867 – Sept 24, 1962)

By Monty F Wineinger

I was reminded of my great grandmother Mel the other day when Marie Keeton, my dad’s cousin, called my mom and wondered if she had the recipe for great grandma Melvina’s cinnamon apple cake.  

My first recollection of my great grandmother was going to Mel’s house with my dad to check on her back in the late 50’s.  I must have been about 9 years old.  She lived in Greenville, on Pine Street, right across from East Mount Cemetery.   Her husband, William had passed away in 1946, and she was living alone.   Due to her health and age, it was decided to move Mel in with my grandparents, Huey and Hester Wineinger, who lived next door to my parents.   Mel had a bed room there of her own and spent most of her time there rocking in her rocking chair, reading or looking out the window.  

I remember going to see Grandma Mel in her bedroom.  She always would give me a reward or treat for coming to see her.  Typically, it would be a vanilla wafer cookie, on a lemon gumdrop.   Sometimes mom would give me something to take to Grandma Mel for her, and I would always have to wait while she dug out a cookie or lemon gumdrop from her closet.

During late 50s era, weather forecasting is not what it is today.   Local television stations did not have weather radar to warn of severe storms.  So, you were kind of on your own in predicting severe weather and tornadoes.   My father built a storm house between our house and my grandmother’s house next door.  I remember during severe weather, my grandfather (Huey) would stand on top of the storm house and watch the clouds.   Grandfather knew allot about weather (typical of farmers of that era) based on his years of experience of watching weather.  I remember most of our country neighbors (from up to miles away) would show up to our storm house during severe weather.  Everyone would stand around and on top of the storm house until grandpa Huey would site a “bad cloud “(a wall cloud), and declare it is time to go into the storm house (shelter).   We all would pack in like sardines, standing room only.   My memories of the storm house are: the damp musty smells, light provided kerosene lamp, jars of canned goods on the shelves, and my grandfather, dad, and uncles, and neighborhood men peering out the door until the storm passed.  Grandpa would then declare all clear safe to return to everyone’s home.

Well, almost everyone would go to the storm house, except for Mel.   Mel had strong opinions and religious views and was a member of a Primitive Baptist church back in Virginia before moving to Texas.  Mel would never go to the storm house choosing to remain in her bedroom.   Mel would laugh and scoff at those of us who went to the storm house “If it’s your time, and the Lords wants you, he can get you down there in the storm house.”

Grandma Mel always had a raw egg everyday for breakfast.   I would watch grandma Hester prepare it for her.  She would crack an egg into a coffee cup; add salt and pepper, and about a half of an ounce of vinegar.  Grandma Hester would say: “take grandma her egg.”   I hated this as I had a weak stomach, and watching Grandma Mel tilting her head back and seeing that raw egg slide down would cause me to gag!  I could not stand the sight of this.   So, my idea was to hand her the cup, and get out of her room, before she could drink it down.  I walked in to Grandma Mel’s room “Grandma here is you egg” and handed her the cup.  I turned quickly to leave, but she grabbed me by the wrist, so I could not leave, and she downed the egg.   She held on to me until she gave me my reward for bringing her egg, a vanilla cookie!

So maybe a raw egg a day is healthy, she almost lived to 95 years.

My dad’s brothers and sisters always thought of grandma Melvina’s cinnamon apple cake a real treat.   Here is the recipe:

 Grandma’s Dried Apple Cake (Melvina Wineinger)

As recalled by Cordeallia Wineinger

·        4 Cups Flour

·        4 Teaspoons Baking Powder

·        1 Cup Shorting

·        ½ Teaspoon Salt

·        2 Cups Sugar

·        2 Eggs

·        ½ Cup Milk

·        2 Teaspoons Vanilla Extract

Mix all ingredients and beat until smooth.  Roll out onto dough board.   Using a plate as a guide, cut out the dough to fit a cake pans.   Bake at 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes. 

·        2 packages of Dried Apples

·        Oil of Cinnamon

·        Sugar

Cook apples until tender.   Mash until smooth.   Add sugar and oil of cinnamon to taste.  Put apple mixture on each layer.   Wrap with plastic wrap and let stand for an hour, to allow mixture to be absorbed into cake.

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=1396

Monty's Vacation Memories

Great Vacation Trip Memories

Every year our family would go on vacation.  These trips were always fun.  My earliest memory was when I about 4 years old.  Dad was one of the officers of the local UAW and was sent to represent the Local at the National Convention being held at Atlantic City, New Jersey.  He decided to take me and mom that year.  We caught a passenger train at the Greenville train depot at the corner of Lee and Wright streets.   Riding a train for the first time is a tremendous experience for a young boy.  While Dad was at the convention, mom and I would walk along Board Walk and play in the sand on the beach.  Later we caught a “Jitney” (a local term for a shuttle bus) and went to see Eleanor Roosevelt and to hear the renown Marian Anderson sing the National Anthem at the convention.  Marian was the first African American to be named a permanent member of the metropolitan opera, and was also the first African American to perform in the White House.  Afterwards mom and I decided to go shopping.  Mom was expecting my brother at this time.  We were dressed in our Sunday’s best clothes.  In those days both men and women wore hats.  Mom had on a hat with a large round brim.  Just when we were about to board a “jitney”, a gust of wind came up and blew off mom’s hat.  The hat landed on the brim and proceeded to roll away at a fast pace.  We left the “jitney” and started to chase after the hat.  I was running as fast as I could, block after block, through downtown traffic, with my expectant mom in hot pursuit.  I remember people staring at this funny sight.  Mom was concerned that I might run out in front of a car and was hollering for me to stop.  Just about the time I would catch the hat, the wind would gust, and the hat would spurt out of reach.  Finally, I caught up to the hat.  I remember mom and I laughing at this experience as we walk back to catch the next “Jitney”.

After the convention, we caught the train and went to New York City and stayed at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel.   I have often wondered if this is where my mom learned to make Waldorf salad, a salad of diced raw apples, celery, and walnuts mixed with mayonnaise.  We saw sights such as the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty.  In the hotel lobby, on display was the current “state-of-the-art”.  It was a Color TV.  I remember going down to the lobby that evening to catch a color broadcast.  The snowy color was not too impressive. 

Most of our vacations were not as extravagant as the year we went to the convention.  Some friends of my parents (the Reisors) had invited us to go camping at Platt National Park in Sulphur, Oklahoma.  I remember my mom not being too keen on the idea of camping out, but after we got there we all had the best time.  For the kids there were the spring fed streams to swim in, and for the parents just to able relax and cook outdoors.

For many years after this, we would go camping for two weeks at a time just after school let out for the summer break.   We would cook on the grill or Coleman stove for every meal.  It would be a time when all you would wear was a swimming suit and toe busters.  Toe busters?  Well toe busters are what everyone else knows as thongs or flip-flops.  Every year mom would buy the whole family flip-flops to wear around the camp site and to wear to the swimming hole because the rocky soil was hard on bare feet.  Most of the camp sites were lined with large boulders that are native to the region.  During the night, dad would get up, put on his flip-flops, and head out to the comfort station, only to his dismay, he would stump is toe on one of the large boulders.  Now picture my dad in the middle of the night, who was about 270 pounds at that time, hopping around on one foot, holding the his busted, bleeding toe with his hands.  He would be angry saying “These stupid toe busters!”  “All these things are good for is busting you toes!”   Unfortunately for dad, this was not the only time this happened.  So, over time, flip-flops became Toe Busters.

 

Dad was not the only one who had a bad experience with Chickasaw rocks.  Outside the park you could rent bicycles.  It came to my attention that they had bicycles built for two for rent.  I had always heard of a bicycle built for two but, had never seen one.  So, I started bugging dad to let me and my brother Kevin rent one.  Finally dad gave in and let us rent the bike.  Kevin and I had been riding around the park roads for a while when we reached a top of a hill.  We coasted down the long hill and built up speed.  By the time we reached the bottom of the hill we were flying when suddenly appeared a sharp turn to the left.  The asphalt road had a layer of fine gravel in the turn.  The bicycle built for two only had a front hand brake.   I tried to slow us down by gingerly applying it, but suddenly, the front wheel locked-up, and the bike flip out from under us, and we were skidding along in the gravel.  As I had mentioned earlier, we only wore swim suits while camping.  I remember turning around trying to hold up Kevin’s face out of the gravel as we slid along.  After we came to a rest, the bicycle was on top of me and Kevin was laying in the road screaming and crying all scraped-up.  Well as luck would have it, dad was returning from town when he came upon us.  Dad was angry at me for wrecking.  Kevin and I was laying there road bleeding.  The youngest sibling always feels that the oldest get preferential treatment.  Well this should prove that is not true as dad put Kevin in the station wagon, to take him back to camp.  Dad admonished me, and left me to drag the crippled wrecked bike back to camp.  When I arrived back at camp, mom was doctoring up Kevin’s road rash. Now if you happen to be looking at some of our vacation pictures from that year, you will see Kevin and I all scraped up, and you will know how it happened.

Other years we went to other places with friends and relatives.  One year we went with the Rogers family to Roaring River Missouri to trout fish.  Another year we when to Rocky Mountain National Park, Yellowstone National Park, and Utah with Uncle Art and his family.  Another year to New Mexico mountains to trout fish.  I remember while camping at New Mexico my Uncle Art having a weak stomach.  Camping in New Mexico was more primitive than we were used to, since they only had out houses at the campground. As soon as we arrived at the camp ground, Art decided to check out the out house facilities.  He immediately came out gagging saying “Man I can’t go in that!”  “It’s horrible in there!”   Later in the week, I was hiking up the mountain side and came upon Art sitting on a log with his pants around his ankles.  Foreseeing an embarrassing situation, I told him “Art there are some people coming up the hill behind me.”  Art said,  “ Well when you got to go, you’ve got to go - they will just have to see me cause I can’t take that out house!”  We had a great time fishing for rainbow and cutthroat trout.