Raymond Fredericks:  

jackfrdrcks (no 'e's)at yahoo dot com My life begins... March 11th 1947, some unpleasantly early hour. Childrens Hospital in San Francisco was the site of my first appearance. I spent the first six years of my life persuing those things that one does in their earliest years. I can't actually remember much of it and have to go on the honesty of those who told me of all I accomplished up to about the age of four. I do remember learning to use tools like a screwdriver, pliers, and hammer by age four. I had a fascination for taking things apart (some times to parents and neighbors dismay) at this early age. We lived in an apartment on Filbert street in San Francisco until about 1952, then moved to the tiny community of Pacific Manor. Pacifica was, back then, not yet incorporated. Pacifica actually didn't exist yet as a city. The population I remember was 500 to 600 or so in Pacific Manor. We had moved to our first house on #20 Cragmont Court. Pacifica was like culture shock (even at that age). In a kid's kind of way I probably thought that I had died and went to heaven. After spending my first six years playing on the sidewalks of San Francisco, the open spaces of Pacific Manor were a joy to experience. We didn't have a car or television just yet and I still had one sister in production (there were five of us siblings. These were to be busy years for us. I did time in kindergarten when living in San Francisco. Pacific manor was where I attended first grade. Back then I was a bit more social. By second grade though it was determined that I needed eyeglasses. This was a traumatic experience for me... Kids can be cruel (me included {{{blush}}} ). I almost immediately was labeled "four eyes". Where do kids learn this kind of terminology at such an early age...{{{sigh}}}? This bothered me inwardly though I didn't say so. I just became more bashful around a lot of the other kids. Those foothills and beaches were a wonder to behold at this early age. I spent a lot of time exploring, hiking, and roaming thru old, nearby, abandoned farms. I have always had an intense curiosity about everything around me (the good and the bad). Poison oak was one of my earliest unplesant discoveries {{{super yuck}}}. I tangled with it numerous times and then for some reason became immune to it (my mom would still get it from handling my laundry). I remember other things from these early years. Things such as polio shots, my first earthquake experience, cub-scouts, our first television, discovering reading, learning about electronics (yes, as early as ten), and much more. I remember starting a grass fire while playing with firecrackers. Then going out and getting in the fireman's way to beat the smoldering embers with my new jacket (ruining it for sure). I recall saying to one of the firemen "wow this is a big fire, I wonder who started it"..{{{shame on me}}}. I have more to write about this part of my life as time permits or any requests come my way (surely, a few of you might remember some of this stuff too). The high school years. My parents must have thought I was some kind of genius. Instead of going to Oceana, they (at first) sent me to Serra high school in San Mateo. Serra was an all boys, strict Catholic high school. I hated going there, didn't know anybody, and did poorly to my shame. Serra didn't do anything positive for my self confidence either. Mom and dad finally relented and let me attend Oceana high for my graduating year. What a relief that was. My grades improved dramatically. Sadly though, I had been out of the loop with the kids I grew up with. I felt like an outsider that year and became somewhat of a "bad boy". There were several unplesant visits to the principals office and I even spent the night before graduation in jail...{{{again, to my shame}}}. Now, I don't mean to come off as bragging about the bad-boy part of my life. First of all, it's no secret to anyone who knew me back then. Also, it's a real part of my past to compare against my achievements since those days. One of the Oceana teachers I remember best was Mr. Langendorf . He taught the electronics class that I liked so well. Back then, I ate and breathed electronics. His class was fun as well as learning. There's more to add about those high school years and I will, again as time permits, add more to it. After high school I worked fulltime after high school. My first job was at Bob's Shell in Pacifica working for Jim Peterson's dad. Dave King and his brother Mike worked there as well. I have to credit Jim's dad and Dave King for teaching me much about automotive mechanics. I got into mechanics pretty deeply at the time. Boy, $2.05 an hour seemed like a lot of money back then. For a few years, I did "wrenching" for a living. My real love though (even back then), was electronics, science, and high technology. I had learned much about those things on my own. Eventually, I moved away from wrenching and went to work at Lenkurt Electric in San Carlos. A new career direction The first position I held at Lenkurt was assembly line wiring and mechanical assembly. This became a bit repetitious for my liking. I transferred up to a position in the stockroom. This wasn't very challenging to me either, though it did pay a bit better. I ran into Mike King there as well as Jim Peterson (both from Oceana). Lenkurt was a union shop. One of the agreements between union and management was as follows: If an existing employee were able to take and pass the pre eployment test (theory and practice) for electronic technician, they had to be offered the next opening for electronic tech. I pestered my stockroom boss for a shot at the test. He thought a kid like me (only 20) was just joking around. The boss finally agreed to sign me up for the test. He didn't know that I had lived and breathed electronics since before I was ten. The test was a pretty stiff one. I really sweated my way through it. Several days later, the boss called me to his office. He had an odd look on his face as he told me that I had passed the test. "How'd ya do that without any shcooling?" he added. Lenkurt immediately offered me a tech position on night shift. Here again, I thouht that I'd died and went to heaven. The pay was nearly double what I had been getting, and the work was just my cup of tea. I was much humbled from the very first night. Though I had done pretty well on the test there was a lot to learn about practical work. Old timers in that department kidded me around a lot but were very patient as I stumbled along to their advice and prompting. This all kept me reading and tinkering to better understand my work. It was a very satisfying year, and then..... The Army and Viet Nam This was 1969 and the USofA was very busy kicking butt in Southeast Asia. The draft was in force at the time. I knew that sooner or later, my number would come up. The uncertainty of this prospect bothered me a lot because it hindered me from making any plans for the near future. Then, I discovered that, at Lenkurt, if you were to be drafted from a job the company had to re hire you into a similar position when you were released from active duty. In addition, you got credit for your milatary time toward company seniority. That was important as Lenkurt had layoffs nearly every year. The increase in seniority would put me off the target board for layoffs when I returned. Two other items I had to ponder were: The draft is for only two years whearas voluntary enlistment was three years, also your right to get your job back wasn't true for enlistees (enlistment was considered voluntary by Lenkurt). As it turned out, a person could volunteer for the draft and they'd be taken right away. I went down to the selective service, volunteered, and was off to Ft Lewis in days. Even though it was sort of voluntary, Lenkurt didn't view it as such. My job was secure. Yer in the army now Yep, here I was arriving at basic training. What another cultural shock that was. At first, I thought I died but this time went to hell. Though basic training has always been rough, I wasn't prepared for the experience. It was intensely intimidating from the very first minute. We deplaned at about 10:30 pm, and were bussed to the Ft Lewis reception center. The yelling, and barking of orders began right then. First were lots of forms to fill out...hurry, hurry, hurry. Two things you quickly learn are: one, never be the last person to finish any immediate task and two, never volunteer for anything. Volunteering, while honorable in the civilian world, gets you branded a sucker in basic training. You are best off keeping a low profile all the time. Next, all of us were marched over to supply for issue of our uniforms and many other items. By now, it was after midnight. We carried all the stuff like pack mules for several hours, going from one in-processing task to another. Mostly, nobody dared to speak of discomfort. The few that were clueless and complained got singled out for special attention by the drill sargent (a very bad thing). Back in the '60s there were many mean and degrading things that could be done to a person legally. You didn't want to be on the receiving end. By about 4:00 am we were finally marched to the barracks that would be home for the next eight weeks or so. The bunks looked very inviting...but rest was not to be. For the next hour or so we were instructed on how it was expected for us to make up the bunks and organize our lockers. Eve...Expand for more