Famous People Who've met me...They ask me why I do it - I say, "Love of Country."

My trip to Kosovo for six months in 2001 was quite the adventure.  It was pre 9/11 so things were pretty tame in the military operations world.  We were doing security/stabilization operations and not much was going on.  Some of

the events included helping the Kosovo people re-establish a sense of community so we tried to help them have city fairs, carnivals, etc., that they were denied for so much time thanks to the Serbs and now the Albanians (which is by the way known as the most atheistic country in the world).  One event my Chaplain section got involved in was a city fair in Ferizaj, a local city with about 20,000 people, 10,000 of which turned out for a concert led by "yours truly" (picture to the right - note the UN in between the Albanian and U.S. Flags).  In the picture to the left part of the event featured these really pretty girls who did traditional Kosovo dance.  To the left in the picture is the best musician in the world, Chaplain (MAJ) Steve Cantrell who I can't say enough good about and who plays every known instrument in the world.

It was amazing.  People were trying to crawl on the stage.  Men were climbing onto apartment rooftops across the street about 10 stories up (dangerous I say), just to hear me strum away with "Johnny Be Good" and a finale with my E4 drummer singing "California Dreamin," followed by "Amazing Grace."  Hello?   But it was all good fun and we had fun doing it. 

Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld came over in May 2001 (Can't remember the month), but we were all a little like, huh? since he was really a Navy/Air Force kid of guy...the pilot 'bravado' thing.  He spoke for awhile in the big tent we had on Camp Bondsteel where we showed movies and I was not sure I'd get close to him but things transpired in such a way that I was able to jostle alongside him as he was shaking hands in the crowd.  He lost the 101st jacket fairly soon afterward. 

The big event came on 26 June 2001 when the POTUS and FLOTUS (President of the U.S. and First Lady of the U.S.) visit came about.  The planning for that on our part started almost as soon as we arrived in country.  The stuff that goes into that planning is amazing.  The First Lady came to dedicate an education center in south Camp Bondsteel and the President got a secret squirrel briefing from the General at the same time.  He would then give the traditional rousing Presidential

speech to inspire us to fight the good fight then sign the Defense authorization bill which included our raise for the next year.  The cool thing was that they were going to meet up in my chapel which happened to sit at the top of a hill on Camp Bondsteel.   They also used my chapel for their restroom break (uhhhh????) and also to catch their breath before the speech.   You know what's wierd as I sit here in Columbia, SC?  The security was almost non-existent.  We were in Muslim central.  The security they had was less than what is put upon an 80 year old trying to get through the TSA at your local airport while Islamic Terrorists slip through undetected.  

How could you get to my chapel on the hill to listen to the President?  They set up ONE metal detector at the bottom of the hill - ONE - and you had to pass through that to get to see him.   Since I had a uniform on and I told them I was the Task Force Chaplain, they let me walk around.  [I miss the good old days].   Another cool thing was that they used my chapel as the commo center so the Secret Service set up the official Presidential Phone outside my office.  I got my poor assistant Sonny Ferrell all aghast when I decided to pick it up and make a call to the commies.  See picture left.

What could be next?  One of the things that will never happen again is the kinds of people who were on the plane.  The President, his wife, his Chief of Staff Andy Card, AND his secretary of State, Condaleeza Rice, who happened to give me a 'squeeze' when I had a picture taken with her - notice the position of her right hand and my left arm.  Those two Colonels were so jealous of me afterward (COL A.J. Tata on left, now a famous writer and General and on the right COL Albert Brooks, now also a General and who served as the Pentagon spokesman during the Iraqi Invasion).    Anyway, those types of important people can never travel on the same plane again thanks to the cowardly terroristic homicide murderers.                   

The Public Affairs people were giving me all kinds of grief on how to act when the President and First Lady come into the Chapel.  Being me, and with a slightly elevated case of ADHD that day, I saw her coming up the back sidewalk and came out to give her a big hug which she returned.  I was able to actually sit down with Mrs. Bush for a few minutes before I introduced her to the Chaplains and assistants from the Task Force Unit Ministry Teams.   The picture of me at left is when I was escorting her in the chapel.  The best musician in the world Chaplain Steve Cantrell took the picture.  You don't meet many people of her calibre.  She gave me a huge hug when she left the chapel and of course her advance people had filled her in that I was a Methodist as she is.  There are classy ladies and there's Mrs. Bush who define it. 

My President came in next and I could tell right off he was a John Wayne kind of a man who was in control and who said my name as he walked over and shook my hand.   I thank God to this day he was President on 11 September 2001.  I can't imagine how Gore would have handled all that when there was no money to be made selling phony carbon offsets and the vast inexperience he garnered watching the indecision in Kosovo by his former boss. 

So how do I address the President?  I reach back and pound out a very provocative, "How's it going Sir?" 

I'm thinking to myself, "great move dip :(   And how does he respond? "Great Chaplain, how's things going with you?" then he gives me a big pat on the back.  Not alot of time to talk at that time since his people were all over and everyone who had been promised a picture with him were there.  I did get one final chance to say, "Take it easy Mr. President," to which he responded, "You too Chappie."  I pat him on the back as he's leaving to head out the front door. 

I'm always asked why do all this?  Of course it's cool meeting the President and all but when you consider the time away from home, an unknown amount of danger around you all day...They ask me why?  I say, Love of Country."

Here's a picture of the gravestone of George Rifenbary in the Newton Cemetery.  He's the father of Zida (Rifenbary) Kircher and the mother of Leon, Sr., my father.  Very little is kow about the Rifenbary Family but I have some new contacts so hopefully will learn more.

New Chaplains in the Field - I miss Wheel of Fortune again for the Good of the Country - Flashbacking to Kosovo

First of all kids - I'm drained.  We've just completed a three day field exercise we at the Chaplain School call, "Capstone."   It's an introduction for new Chaplains to what it's like living in the field.  It's not that fun and the days are long since you wake up in the dark and sleep time is usually around 1930 (7:30 P.M.).  But with all the luck I've had recently they go out Sunday afternoon to a full drenching all afternoon and into the night rainstorm followed by three full days of drizzle while we have to stand outside almost all the time.

Now for my usual digression.  While laying awake around 0200 my mind went back to 2001 and the Strike Brigade's - 2nd Brigade, 101st Airborne Division's six month deployment to Kosovo.  My trusty side kick Staff Sergeant Sonny Ferrell and I had been tasked as the "Task Force Falcon Chaplain Unit Ministry Team," which was cool since we had some really great guys to work with that I see and hear from today.  Brigadier General Bill David was the Task Force Falcon Commander and if there was ever a great boss he was it.  It was still a mess when we arrived and our mission was basically to keep the Kosovo people happy while they were trying to get their lands and homes back from the ethnic Albanians who essentially just walked in with the support of the Serbs who were Eastern Orthodox while the Kosovar people were basically Islamic.  Since we "won" the war Clinton started months too late from 30,000 feet the Serbs were in check but the damage was already done; the Albanians had moved in while the U.S. was 'weighing' whether to throw out the Serbs who were massacring Kosovars left and right - Soldiers were still finding the graves and the arms and fingers of adults and little kids sticking up through the ground - A great thought to carry around - So here we are providing fire engines, dump trucks, stability etc., to the Islamic population and feeling pretty good about it.  A nice, sunny, warm 11 September rolls around.  Some of the guys are watching the morning news in the states (we were behind in time about 7 hours), and a great movie comes on all of a sudden with planes crashing into the World Trade Centers and the Pentagon.  Planes hijacked by the same types of people we were protecting in Kosovo.  No need to go into great detail about that except to say it felt a little hairy for a few days since we were in Muslim Central Kosovo. 

Anyway - on 21 September, the unit got a call from a Senior Muslim official in the capital of Pristina.  He wanted to meet the religious leaders in the coalition.  The UN Chaplain got in touch with me and wanted me to be the lead.  "Sure, it's not like I have anything else to do that day." 

We walk into this big office type building in Pristina and there are a whole bunch of Islamic leaders around.  We sat, talked through translaters and drank some tea - mostly small talk about the similarities in our faiths.  Then a man with a white type "Fez" hat comes over and sits next to me.  It was a curious moment but I knew something was coming.  "I am the Chief Mufti of Kosovo,"  he says through the translater.  "Those people who did that to your country on 11 September do not represent the Kosovo people."  "I am very sorry for your country."   It was pretty solemn.  "I know Kosovo does not," I replied.  We all then went outside and he asked to have a picture taken of the two of us.  The picture is on the right. 

He then took us to a local Mosque to show us around - I assume to help start to heal what he must have known was something big coming on the Horizon -that would be the U.S. Military led by President Bush.  The picture of me to the left is in the Mosque and I'm standing where the Imam normally does his readings.  You don't see that very often - especially a guy in a combat uniform and no boots on.  I was trying to look humbled but am unsure I succeeded.   It was good he made an effort to do that.  So much nonsense that could have been avoided but all we can do is look forward now. 

We were in a coffee shop one day and this lady was standing outside looking in.  She obviously had no money and was hungry.  There was no food to buy her inside but we went ahead and bought her an ice cream cone and a Pepsi you can see she has tucked in her arm. 

Anyway, back to the United States.  The exercise went well.  Everyone made it through.  No one was hurt.  I decided to do something special for the new Chaplains as they marched back to the Chaplain School (about 4 miles).  I decide to line up people from the school on the sidewalk and have them cheer the candidates as they came back in.   I also had some loudspeakers put out and played Scottish bagpipes that you could hear clear across the post.  You could see their chests burst a little with pride as they walked in.  Good day in all.  But my title?  I had to miss two nights of Wheel of Fortune and Donny Osmond winning Dancing with the Stars for all of this.  Oh well, it's for the Country - the Constitution.

GameCock Football - Tailgate Crazy

Loser that I am, I finally made it to my first college football game thanks to the kindness of a friend who gave us the tickets.  William Bryce Stadium in Columbia, SC, a cool state if I may so even though they were, as Gen'l Sherman put it, "The hotbed of secession, or the 'sesech,' as the grandfathers would call the losing Southerners."   It was a cool time with USC (the real University of South Carolina) and the Kentucky Wildcats.  I'm sitting in front of a Gamecock fan who - apparently pretty intoxicated - continues to yell in my ear, "com'n boyzzz," like he's some kind of wanna-be rap star.  "I hate these afternoon games," he says.  "The 'Cocks' never do well in afternoon games when it's hot," (I can attest to that) as he reached down for his plastic bottle and another drink of 7-Up? - it was a clear liquid - I'm just sayin.'.   Pretty soon Mr. 'Cocks,' gets alot more friendly with me than I am accustomed from a man. 

Now sit for abit and ponder how 'Gamecocks' becomes a team mascot.  Especially when the use of a 'gamecock' for cockfighting is illegal in all civilized countries except Georgia where apparently Mr. Vick (watch your beagle Vicks an Eagle), uses dogs for this kind of blood - animal sport that low lifes practice.  And I'm supposed to be sad somehow that he can't have a dog for his kids and they ask, "Why daddy?" Because your daddy is a blood thirsty low-life criminal who used dogs for sport and would then beat if they lost a fight.  My kind of 'daddy.'  Run away kid - run away quickly. 

Then you sit in a public university with 80,000 fellow Gamecock fans waving their hands in the air and yelling "Go cocks," to a thunderous roar.  No Eagles flying around a stadium, no Tigers or Falcons, a GAMECOCK!   Just "Go cocks."  (sorry, I can't capitalize it out of decency).   And then an irritating "cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do," coming over the loudspeaker.  I'd gladly lose here just to have them shut-up that cock-a-doodle-do" sound. 

But what else?  I can't sit for the game.  We're sitting in a pretty good section off the 40 yard line about 50 rows back but everytime a play starts the guy in front of me stands up and so I have to stand up and then everyone behind me has to stand up in front of the fifteen or so 80 year old plus people with inherited blue-blood tickets giving them their seats for eternity don't bother because their knees have to be bothering them in this horrendously hot afternoon game. 

Then my new friend Mr. 'Joe cocks' behind me starts to grab my shoulders every time the Gamecocks do something good.  Then he's slapping my back while continuing to yell "Com'n boyzzz."  Things get too personal real quick.  Sandy had been gone 1/2 an hour to get one hot dog and now this guy thinks I'm his best friend and starts to talk to me.  Anyway, the game turned out well for USC and we left at the beginning of the 4th quarter since we had parked two miles away due to the tail-gaters.

We make it home and I'm in a pretty good mood so I make the wife a special salad for dinner.  I eat Profera's pizza - never tiring of it.  Can I line up olives or what?

Salerno's in Old Forge

Next - Getting insulted at Salerno's in Old Forge is just a matter of course...there really is a good pizza place in Montrose - especially since Aunt Martha paid for it...Aunt Martha became my newest bestest hero an hour later...Grant Adams is the bomb and carrier of good news - what a basement his brother has!!! 
Sunday - New York Strips - TROVATO'S MEAT MARKET CLARKS SUMMIT PA ($69.66). Leon makes sure the Travato kids got a boost for their college since Timmer told me they had the best beef for BBQ.

I mean - com'n...$70 bucks for 10 pieces of Angus beef, i.e., meat from a cow/cattle?  I don't even eat the stuff since I was the first-born boy in 50 years to the Kircher Clan (I guess that's the story - haven't bothered to add up the years).  Long sentence coming - So as not to make me choke to death my grandma Zida (Rifenbary) Kircher would not let me eat meat and no one made me eat it as it would choke me to death if I did eat meat which resulted in me having no taste for meat so my diet in the future will consist of pasta, pizza and bread.  Great carb diet when I have to maintain a low weight for the Army!

Where was everyone when I was about two or three years old at the big farm house in PA and I grabbed the hot water heater pipe by the stove and burned the crap out of my right hand where I have scars to this day?  And supposedly my Grandpa Ed Kircher poked the blisters with a pin (that felt good I'm sure) to do away with the blisters but left two scars on the palm of my right hand that the Army is keen to record as "identifying" scars.  You can see the scars on my right hand to the right.  Try getting a palm reading with those babies!

The other significant scar on my body (left forearm still visible today) came from a rope I was hanging onto out of a BlackHawk helicopter in Fort Campbell on the next to last day of Air Assault School when the balay guy who was supposed to be holding my rope tight in case I fall decides to look away for a minute while I come zinging (read ' rope burning') down a rope from a BlackHawk Helicopter 90 feet in the air.  Needless to say the rope burned through my uniform and I was bleeding like a stuck pig.  Fortunately, the wound was superficial because the next day I was required to march 12 miles in under three hours with a 40 pound pack on my back to complete the course.  I was not going to fail this course.  Age is only in the head.  I made it thanks to a Ranger Buddy whose name I can't remember who helped me keep pace.  I finished it in 2 hours and 45 minutes.  Pretty good for a 42 year old.

So on our last Sunday in PA, I start to put the gold standard steaks on the grill at Cousin Chrissy's and Kevins and there's Brother Steve in the background as I place each steak on the grill while announcing, "another Trovato kid goes to college, "another Trovato kid goes to college."  Another "ha-ha moment thanks to Steve.  Then he tells me the Finches or Fitches could have given me a better deal.  Well, how about a phone call to let me know of the 'better' place before I go to the houghty toyty (spelling?) meat palace?

Anyway - I digress.  Salernos in Old Forge.  We (I) had to stop one more time while up there to get some 'real' pizza.  Not sure of the guy who waited on us but it was noon and the wife was NOT ready to have any more pizza - even Old Forge Red Pizza.  "Whadda yas want?' Mr. Italian Salerno man says.  She orders a turkey club and me of course (using heynabonics which makes three into tree) "two-tree" cuts of Old Forge Red Pizza with a diet white birch beer soda (note the capital letters out of respect).  "Two or tree?" he asks.  It's a day before we're returning to the Southlands night of no good pizza again so I say, "Tree."  Another guy sitting at the bar by us was having some pizza too when he discovered that he got only tree cuts of red when he wanted four.  "What's the matter - heyna?"  "I don't count around here?"  "Where's my other cut?"   The 60 year old Italian Salerno man says,  "You're so damn fat you don't need a fourth cut."  "Just gimme the cut and shut your face," is the reply.  Mr. Salerno gets the guy his fourth cut then starts to ask my wife where we're from and how is the pizza.  Sandy makes the huge mistake of saying she liked the pizza we had the night before we got while visiting with Aunt Martha, Tammy, Karen and Grant at a restaurant in Montrose, PA.  That opened the flood gates.  "What's the hells the matter with you!?"  Mr Salerno says.   "You're in NEPA and you go get pizza at a restaurant that probably used to be a barn in Montrose, PA?"  She back-tracked fast saying that nothing compared to Old Forge Pizza but that she had been with family that lived up that way who also wished they could get Old Forge Pizza but had to settle for the barn like place in Montrose. 

It didn't work.  "Then why are you ordering a turkey club when you can have what your husband is having?"  She wanted something "other than pizza."  

Another bad move..."Who gets tired of Old Forge Pizza?"  Mr. Italian Salerno man points to Mr. Four cuts across the bar and says "that fat bas**** comes in here every day and has three cuts of red and today he decides to have four."  "He never gets tired of Old Forge pizza."  "Do you fatso?" Mr. Salerno says.  "Shut your fat Italian face," the man kindly replies. 

I love this place.

You can see my "tree" cuts on the left, as well as Sandy's turkey club and chips. 

Beggin' for Trick or Treators...Batman bolts - Scariest childhood moment

Wow...when you have to go and encourage a little Batman to come back just so you can give him some candy, you must be in a place so far out that Aunt Martha must be next door.

We planned on happily handing out Halloween candy this 31 October.  Not much of a big deal I say - it's candy - and if the kids are supervised and under the age of 12 with pretend uniforms of their heros purchased from Wal-Mart (probably my future employer), then it's okay. 

It's NOT okay when a busload of hooligans obviously over the age of 16 in white sheets with two holes punched in them get dumped off from the back of a truck and then the vehicle pulls to the bottom of the block waiting for the 'kids.'  They then come to your door and with a bass voice lower then Tennessee Ernie Ford want me to to believe they really mean it when he says "trick or treat." 

"Yeah, kid," trick or treat to you too.  Here's a partially eaten tootsie roll.  Make sure you have alot of toilet paper handy.

Anyway, I digress.  So we leave the porch light on in hopes of drawing some little princes or princesses (or Batmans) truly making it a night of memories - maybe I'll make them sing a song or something - ha, ha.  Trick or treaters?  Nothing.  We see some kids up the road a piece but unfortunately it looks like our house - which sits a little too far away from other houses - is not worth the walk.  Spoiled kids.  I'd walk a block for a Reese's peanut butter cup. Who wouldn't? 

But next, and wonder of wonders?  About 1930 (7:30 P.M. to you civilians), the doorbell rings and we have a prospect!  Then out jump the dogs immediately running and diving into the front glass door trying to get the little Batman guy, mostly to lick his face.  What does Batman do!  He BAILS!   I never saw an 8 year old run so fast.  Momma's comin' out of the car to catch him before he hits the road.  But Sandy - with a belly full of hope - was not going to let this one get away, he was going to get a treat.  She grabs the candy jar and runs out the door while I restrain the dog formerly known as Savannah - now playing Tasmanian Devil this Halloween.  She catches up with the little guy and assures him that the 'Taz' is contained and would he take at least two handfuls of candy...revenge for all the candy given our kids on past Halloweens.  I also encouraged him to eat all he could on the way home...no sense wasting the night sleeping.

Now, the scariest childhood moment?  Every year - at least once or twice - the Wizard of Oz with Judy Garland would somehow just pop up out of nowhere on the TV.  It's a must watch just as "It's a Wonderful Life" is at Christmas.  Two points are forever etched on my amygdala from my younger years - to include an occasional passing bout of PTSD - the wicked witch of the west doing her bicycle ride outside the flying house during the early hurricane scene and those damned flying monkies going after the fabulous four. 

I have to tell you..the monkies to the right in Baum's 1900 version of the Oz were a lot tamer and less scarier  then those of the 1939 version...

Anyway - here's a picture of the Kircher kids et. al., playing on a swing set.  I'm there in the red shirt.  Ed and Steve are clearly shown including SueAnn.  Karen (Lott) Adams is in the red dress and John A. Kircher in the swing by Ed on the left.  It's an action shot so a little blurred.