Michael (Jones) and wife Tonia had a baby boy on January 13, 2008.  He weighed a whopping 9 lbs. 3 ozs.  All are doing fine.  Len and I will fly to New York on Valentines Day to meet our new grandson,Tyler Blake. 

Tyler Blake - About a week old

Looking forward to seeing all or most of you in New York at the reunion.  Remember the dates are June 28-29 at the Parker Homestead.   I will be check on prices for motels when I go to New York next week and we also have several tents if interested in sleeping in tent city.  Unfortunately, we do not have access to the campers and other homes this year so we will need to locate outher possibilities. If you plan to go into Canada you will need either photo ID and original birth certificate or photo ID and passport for each person. Please email me at This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it with your current email address so I can communicate with you via email.

“……….we were on our way back to Houston on a NASA Gulfstream jet.”

So once again it is decision time.  What do I want to do when I grow up?  Well, the Shuttle program is moving along.  I was still Deputy Chief of the Astronaut Office, and it was interesting work helping to get crews ready to pursue our objectives of expanding our capabilities.  The normal routine was for George Abbey (our boss), John Young (my boss) and myself to be at the Cape for two or three or days before a launch.  We would participate in reviews of readiness for the upcoming mission, and would be part of the support that was provided to the family members of the crew. 

See Part 2 

For me there is nothing quite so miserable as being cold without hope of getting warm. I was sporting 4 layers of various types of long underwear (all 'expedition weight' rated) below the waist and 6 layers of the same above it. I had on a fleece cap, a neck gator, gloves, and I was wearing the down jacket Charles' mother had loaned me, with the hood snapped snuggly over my head. I was wrapped up like a mummy in my sleeping bag, and as I lay in the absolute darkness, cold as a dead fish, my heart sank with the realization that I was still freezing and despite feeling like the Michelin Man, I could not get warm.

Kate, sporting her polar fleece-lined snowsuit, was wedged in between my legs on the sleeping bag--curled up tighter than even I imagined a dog could physically manage--looking like a royal purple bagel. She vibrated softly as her body shivered to keep her warm as she tried to sleep through her own cold hell. The advantage for her: the canine mind neither dwells in the past nor does it anticipate the future, so she was not tortured by thoughts of how good a hot shower would feel right about now. However, I was. The need to urinate finally drove me from my sleeping bag and I never did recover from the additional insult the brief exposure to the frigid night air brought. I spent a fitful night from midnight on fantasizing about the hot shower I would take once I was home in 38 hours, assuming the rest of the journey went off without a hitch. Kip, the Border Collie, was curled up by my head, apparently unbothered by the cold. She snored contentedly in the crisp night air.