<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465653058129367359</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:07:25.548-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch A Falling Star</title><subtitle type='html'>How an ordinary boy became an extraordinary man and his eventual fall from Grace.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3465653058129367359/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Roscoe</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465653058129367359.post-1273585210428944953</id><published>2009-03-11T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T12:50:34.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom Remarries</title><content type='html'>It's "the 70's Show" in the Deep South. Starsky and Hutch, 1-Adam-12, Kojack, and Mutal of Omaha's Wild Kingdom were the weekly line-ups. President Nixon had just been asked to resign or face impeachment. The world had no internet, personal computers, and the only "cell" phone &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SbgPoj4_g0I/AAAAAAAAAB4/sI_Gc433PL8/s1600-h/200px-HBO_logo_svg.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312012949986968386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 88px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SbgPoj4_g0I/AAAAAAAAAB4/sI_Gc433PL8/s320/200px-HBO_logo_svg.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;you ever saw was the one phone call you got from jail. Life was sure changing though and new things were popping up everywhere. They had this new thing called Cable that you paid for and got movies on your TV called HBO. What will they think of next, Music on TV? &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well things were changing in our household too. Mom got remarried to an Air Force Sergeant and we moved into Base Housing for awhile. My younger sister then stepped into our lives and I was finally not the youngest or baby anymore. I got to go the the Air Force Base more now and saw the jet fighter planes flying all around. How cool is that?! I just knew that I would be the next Generation Space Fighter. Some cool spaceship with wings that could fly in our atmosphere and space, back and forth, shuttling people and equipment around or fighting off other worlds. There is a thought, huh, a "space shuttle"....interesting. I could visit other worlds like Captain Kirk and communicate with my ship with a communicator phone or some other fancy name.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Beam me up Scotty, there is no intelligent life here!"&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312019620991727842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 95px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SbgVs3Ud-OI/AAAAAAAAACY/okYIPks0Ykw/s200/95px-JamesTKirk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/d2/JamesTKirk.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hey, didn't Michael Jackson use to be part of the Jackson 5. Where were the other 4? My teen years arrived with a thud and the whole world got turned upside down. How will I ever figure out girls and what in the heck is parachute pants? Do you use them to jump out of planes....this may be something I need to know about in my future profession. The 80's are coming fast and good Ol' Ronny Reagan promises to kick those Iranians butts for the Hostages! We'll never forget about that!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3465653058129367359-1273585210428944953?l=roscoelives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/feeds/1273585210428944953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/2009/03/mom-remarries.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3465653058129367359/posts/default/1273585210428944953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3465653058129367359/posts/default/1273585210428944953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/2009/03/mom-remarries.html' title='Mom Remarries'/><author><name>Roscoe</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SbgPoj4_g0I/AAAAAAAAAB4/sI_Gc433PL8/s72-c/200px-HBO_logo_svg.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465653058129367359.post-6564192102226538145</id><published>2009-02-10T06:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T06:59:44.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep South</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SZGRF94w5EI/AAAAAAAAABY/Y7hnVixQSqk/s1600-h/300px-CottonPlant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301177768089805890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 143px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SZGRF94w5EI/AAAAAAAAABY/Y7hnVixQSqk/s200/300px-CottonPlant.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You know as a kid the difference between South Carolina and Florida isn't what it is as an adult. As a young kid you just drive someplace different and it isn't where you used to be. But, you do pick up on lots of other things that maybe adults don't. For instance, when we arrived in SC we lived in a small trailer out in the country. We had this huge soybean and cotton fields in our front yard and big hog pens behind us. Now that may not seem that much different than Florida, but when you are used to endless beaches and a bunch of NASA types running around, well let's just say farmer/sharecropper kind of folk are in two different worlds. But, oh what fun they can be. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mother particuarly hated the soybean field in our front yard because I would come home from the school bus stop about a mile away with tons of prickly burs on my clothes. Not to mention the mud and junk I would pick up from playing near the hog pens! She did like that I made friends easily and before I new it, I had a new best friend who lived on a farm down the road. He taught me the fine art of BB wars. Yes, it is a classic battle between two young people&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SZGUbHP18QI/AAAAAAAAABg/7pvBoYYTi8k/s1600-h/RedRyder.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301181429914661122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 43px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SZGUbHP18QI/AAAAAAAAABg/7pvBoYYTi8k/s200/RedRyder.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; with thick coats on and a couple of red rider BB guns. Mom didn't know about this....so let's keep that on the down low. Although, I was nearly busted one day when I came home with welts on my hands and neck where I had been hit. Mom thought I was coming down with the chicken pocks. I had to stay in bed for a whole day before she thought I was cured. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We eventually moved a few years later to a nicer trailer park area behind an Air Force Base in town. That was awesome to me because I could watch all these jet fighters coming in for landing and taking off. Mom said to be an astronaut you have to be a pilot first. Boy was I in the right place now! &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301182568128573074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SZGVdXbL7pI/AAAAAAAAABw/G6vy8rZKJIU/s200/phantom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3465653058129367359-6564192102226538145?l=roscoelives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/feeds/6564192102226538145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/2009/02/deep-south.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3465653058129367359/posts/default/6564192102226538145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3465653058129367359/posts/default/6564192102226538145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/2009/02/deep-south.html' title='Deep South'/><author><name>Roscoe</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SZGRF94w5EI/AAAAAAAAABY/Y7hnVixQSqk/s72-c/300px-CottonPlant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3465653058129367359.post-5697419201146659757</id><published>2009-02-06T16:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T16:52:27.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Day of the Rest of My Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SYzaoYY9FpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/aFrMl1Wff5w/s1600-h/AS15-launch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299851248784971410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 148px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SYzaoYY9FpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/aFrMl1Wff5w/s200/AS15-launch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was July 25, 1971. That hot, sticky kind of Florida summer day. But no one really was paying much attention to the heat or humidity right now. This was a special day and I was in a special place. As the countdown drew closer to Zero, the crowd began speaking louder. Pointing, cheering, some clapping, they were all standing counting with the loudspeaker. Three, Two, ONE............RUMBLING, CRACKING, BOOMING..........."and we have lift-off of Apollo 15." I could hardly believe that this rocket was lifting up into the sky and going to space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I ever wanted to be was an astronaut. My Dad worked for NASA and he said I can be whatever I want. So there you have it. Being around all the NASA people was a lifestyle that only a few can understand. They are a close group of engineers, scientists, pilots, and technicians that is kind of like being part of a bigger family. Although sometimes it makes it even harder to separate that family job from your actual family. I never saw my Dad much, he was usually at work or at some party about work. So as many families in the early '70s experienced, our family broke up and became "Divorced". &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SYslryw6pVI/AAAAAAAAAAU/HFw-3JYBtxU/s1600-h/vega.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SYzay9P5xpI/AAAAAAAAABA/3am08Q1AXtI/s1600-h/vega.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299851430477809298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SYzay9P5xpI/AAAAAAAAABA/3am08Q1AXtI/s200/vega.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Does this mean I can't become an astronaut now? Why in the world would we be moving to a different state? Dad sure doesn't look very happy and let me tell you this little Chevy Vega is really crowded with my bully for a sister and all her princess junk. Princess, yeah right! Well here we go headed for some place called South Carolina. I wonder if they have any astronauts in South Carolina. I guess the Vega has to get us there first. So like Peter Pan said, "Let's go, second star on the right and on until morning."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3465653058129367359-5697419201146659757?l=roscoelives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/feeds/5697419201146659757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-day-of-rest-of-my-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3465653058129367359/posts/default/5697419201146659757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3465653058129367359/posts/default/5697419201146659757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://roscoelives.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-day-of-rest-of-my-life.html' title='The First Day of the Rest of My Life'/><author><name>Roscoe</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AdSZxLa8PsY/SYzaoYY9FpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/aFrMl1Wff5w/s72-c/AS15-launch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
