In 1984 I agonized over the question of whether or not to toss in the towel as a Navy Cryptologist assigned to the Navy's prestigious Commander-in-Chief Pacific Fleet Staff at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, or to go it another nautical mile by accepting a new set of orders to a place I had always wanted to visit: Alaska, "The Last Frontier".

I suspect the picture of me and a few cronies above (I'm on the left), standing over a day's catch of sockeye, pretty much sums up the net results of my deliberations.

Since becoming a resident of Alaska in April, 1984 I have earned my P.h.d. and am proud to tell the story of how I achieved this milestone to anyone who will listen.

The 'P' in P.h.d. wasn't too hard to master. I was a navy mustang - came up through the ranks and commissioned an officer, so I had more than a little something on the ball if I may say so myself. And afterall, I enjoyed fishing my entire life. It was my father, Woody's favorite pasttime, and the same is true for me. So, after a missed opportunity or two, and 100's of hours spent walking up and down every river bank in southcentral Alaska, and literally beating the bushes for countless miles attempting to find the best fishing holes around, I finally, through perseverance and experience, became one of Alaska's finest 'P'iscatolgists! In one year alone I hooked and netted over 30 King salmon onboard the 'SMS Kingfish', a 22' Grayling riverboat, powered by a Ford 460 V-8, with a three-stage Hamilton jet unit providing rudder.

The 'h' in the P.h.d. was a little more difficult to earn. While I had always hoped as a child that my dad would take me into the Indiana woods to hunt deer, it never happened. As a matter of fact the closest my dad ever got to teaching me how to hunt was one day after Christmas back in 1961. Now 14, my mom and dad gave me a pellet rifle for Christmas. Dad took me out the following day into the foothills of San Bernardino (we moved to California from Indiana in 1959) for target practice on an over population of jack rabbits. He bagged the first buck and about an hour later I followed suit. But that would be the very last time I would be successful at any type of hunting for the next 25 years.

I was one lucky 'cheechako', as they call new folk here in Alaska, as I bagged a moose my first year hunting in the Greatland - eventhough it was only a cow and sported no antlers. The thought of field dressing the beast (which proved
to be as bad as I had conceived it would be (I hadn't yet learned how to cleanly and expertly dress a wild animal)), and then the pack out the following day nearly stopped me from ever hunting again. But the sourdoughs I met here in Alaska would have none of it and were very patient with me as they taught me most everything they knew about hunting big game on the frozen tundra of the north.

After a dozen or so years of hunting in all sorts of terrain, and under all climate
conditions, they finally awarded me the 'h' in my P.h.d., when I successfully bagged a "Boone & Crockett" trophy caribou that still ranks among the highest scored trophies ever taken.

Believe it or not, the 'd' in my P.h.d. was absolutely the hardest letter of my degree to come by, albeit the fastest.

Used to working anywhere from 12 to 18 hours a day over the course of my naval career it was one helluva challenge to turn all of my energy into just piddling around doing nothing whatsoever all day long. But after about a year of failing day in and day out, and against all odds, I mastered the art of 'Dilly Dallying' like few others have ever done before me. I'm the King of 'd'illy dallying and that's how the letter 'd' was bestowed upon me by my lovely wife of 16 years.

So, I'm proud of my P.h.d., and I hope that we can meet some day so I can share just a few of the many tales I've amassed during the latter half of this 20th Century. While most of my exploits occured prior to me obtaining my P.h.d., they are every bit as interesting and unbelievable as those occuring afterwards!
 
 

The End