Kenneth Holland

These are men who inspired me as a kid. Hardworking men of the earth and sea. None of them were perfect, but each lived life on his own terms. If I can only come close to living the lives they've led, I'll have been successful.

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.

~ Vincent Van Goh

(Ken is my Mom's oldest sister's husband, and lived two doors down from us on Jura Beach, in Anacortes, WA.)

A lifelong salt who spun a fine yarn, Kenneth Holland, 75, died Saturday, March 6, 2004, at his home in Anacortes, from complications of chronic emphysema, a disease common to smokers.

The crab fisherman who spent decades battling big swells and slop in the waters of Washington and Alaska was born Dec. 23, 1928, on dry land in Copperstown, N.D.

His family moved to Olympia when he was a boy, and he fell in love with the sea, floating off on logs or hobbled-together rafts. After his family moved to Anacortes, the young teen canvassed and tarred a kayak frame and paddled solo from island to island in the San Juans.

That would be the first of many boats Kenneth would build, including a beautiful mahogany hydroplane, an 18-foot sailboat, custom kayaks and a classic 26-foot Columbia River double-ender.

After graduating from Anacortes High School in 1947, Kenneth went to work in the local plywood mill his father supervised for more than a decade.

In the mid-1950s, he began crabbing local waters in a flat-bottomed, 19-foot skiff, selling his catch on weekends from a pickup at Sharpe's Corner, along with his wife Carolyn Holland.

Kenneth bought his first crab boat, the F. V. Dora H in 1964, followed by the 72-foot Point Omega, the 98-foot Carolyn Jean and the 98-foot Barbarossa. Kenneth and his crews crabbed the waters off Kodiak Island, working short seasons and long hours. His men described their skipper as "all business" behind the wheel.

After he became sick with emphysema, Kenneth, staring out at Similk Bay from his beachside home, would regale friends and family with lively tales of the sea.

He would describe horrific swells, rogue waves, 80 mph southwesters, weeks without sleep and catches that might or might not make it all worth it.

"You always hope for the best and you usually end up with the worst — but that's fishing," Kenneth often liked to say.

He is survived by his wife of 56 years, Carolyn; his sons and daughter-in-law, Kenneth and Christine Holland of Kodiak, Alaska, and Richard Holland of Anacortes; his daughters and son-in-law, Kathryn Holland of Anacortes and Rebecca and Kenneth Bangsund of Everett; his seven grandchildren, Shawn and Megan Holland and Sunshine and Aaron Stevens of of Kodiak, Serina and Matthew Armstrong, Karen Bangsund and Devin Bangsund of Everett and Travis Smith and Vannessa Biggers of Anacortes; and four great-grandchildren, Winter, Hunter, Zanna and Kadin Stevens.

Kenneth will be cremated and buried at sea, with no formal services. His family has asked that memorials be sent to Skagit Hospice Foundation, P.O. Box 1376, Mount Vernon, WA 98273; or Children's Orthopedic Hospital, MS/S-200, P.O. Box 50020, Seattle, WA 98145-5020.

Arrangements are in the care of Evans Funeral Chapel of Anacortes.

John Miller

John was born in Morris, MN on June 26, 1928. He was 1 of 9 children and grew up on a farm. He was drafted into the Army in May of 1951. He fought in the Korean War and was wounded on September 11, 1951. He was honorably discharged in February, 1952.

He courted and married Wanda Branby on February 7, 1953. Together they raised 6 children, Beth, Greg, Brian, Mike, Bruce and Jackie.

He was known to many as “Trapper John” or “JJ”.

He accrued up to six weeks of vacation a year and he used it every year mostly with hunting and fishing trips. He spent a lot of time with his brothers, his brother’s-in law, his immediate family and friends. Most of his fishing stories came from Lake Minnewaska in Glennwood, Lake Sallie in Detroit Lakes, Canada and of course - - Lake Mille Lacs. There were also vacations to Vegas where Wanda would play the slots and John would scope out the hottest machines for Wanda to play next.

John retired from telephone company after 40 years of service. He rarely (if ever) missed a day of work. Despite his years of pain and suffering and his struggle with alcohol, he displayed quite a work ethic. John overcame his problem with alcohol, on his own 16 years ago. Being the strong person he was, he was able to “kick the habit“ - - something we were very proud of.

John was a very strong and determined individual. Despite his disability he got around quite well in his younger days and enjoyed life to the fullest. That changed, however, toward the later years. Shortly after he retired he rarely left the house. Once when he did, he came home to a remodeled kitchen - - that was it he never left again.

John took care of his family. He was always there to give you a $10, $20 or even $100 bill when you needed it. He was always willing to help. I’m sure many people here today recall him telling them to “pull the hood” when they drove into his driveway. He’d always check to make sure their car was running smoothly

I’ll never forget the time my boss Barbara said, “hey Jackie, isn’t that your dad out there in the parking lot working on your car?” It was..........he was changing a headlight - - in the middle of January wearing a snowmobile suit!

Whatever John had was good enough for him! He’d make sure everyone else had everything they needed (us kids anyway not always Wanda) but what he had was fine. That is evidenced by the 1985 truck and Chevy Citation sitting in his driveway today, the numerous bikes in his basement and the garage filled with the “stuff” John would never throw away. By the way please stop by the garage sale following the service today!

Most every friend of the kids became a friend to John and Wanda as well. He was a favorite uncle to many, a great neighbor, a great friend and a great father. He touched many lives..... whether it was the neighbor kid Stew who shared the same birthday with John, his great newphew Kegger who was his little fishing buddy, his nephew Gary who he took time to have a drink with and talk to prior to his departure to Vietnam, or when he traveled all the way to Philadelphia (by car) to be with his nephew Tom who had been wounded in the Vietnam War. These are just few of the lives he touched.

Then there’s the mailman and the paperboy. Just the other day, the mailman stopped by to give his condolences. John talked with him almost everyday when he came by. In fact, the mailman said John was the only customer of his who knew his first and last name. He recalled John always being bare-backed (wearing no shirt) and wearing his baseball cap backwards. He of course remembers being invited in for lunch numerous times.

I’m sure the paperboy recalls John standing patiently at the door for his morning paper. What a site that must have been - - John standing in his underwear with his crutches. You know he invited him in for coffee and donuts!

Then there’s Cub Foods. John visited Cub almost daily while on his trip through downtown Bloomington. Pushing the cart made it easier for him to get around. He loved to taste the food and visit with the people in the meat department. I’m sure there are people here today from Cub and possibly the old Country Club who remember John and wish to pay their respects.

What about the people at the service stations who opened their garages early and let John assist with the fixing of his own vehicles. This of course is what John would tell us - - I still find that hard to believe, don’t you?

Trapper John, JJ, Dad, brother, husband, friend... you were a unique and wonderful individual - - you will be deeply missed, but never forgotten. We know you’re walking a much easier walk in heaven. May God Bless You!

OJE - Our Tour Of The Med comes to an End

 15 March 1996

Day five of the American Hostage crisis.

 

Four days so far of seeing the tops of clouds, being cold, seeing garden spots of the Mediterranean in the rain or at night. I had to wash out a pair of socks and underwear to get through today (Can I bitch any more? Haha!)

We’re already hearing our fate once we get back to Ramstein – we’ve flown five days already so we shouldn’t expect much work when we get back. Saturday will be Alert crew and Sunday will be Duty Crew. Monday will be our first time off, but all of that will be taken up by sleep as I have the 7 PM Sunday night to 7 AM Monday morning shift as Duty Officer. At about 1530 Monday afternoon, we go into Crew Rest to fly Tuesday morning. This is an exhausting schedule!

Today was a reverse of yesterday‘s mission, with much less excitement. The ride out to the airplane was just as entertaining – I’ve decided that I need to figure a way to turn driving around Naples into a computer video game. I’ll make a fortune! It was a beautiful morning, and everyone was out in force – lots of beautiful women all hurrying to work.

The first stop in our odyssey was Olbia, Sardinia. Winds were forecast light and variable – halfway across to Sardinia. We had a 50 kt headwind that would persist all day. We got to Olbia, and the airport was below minimums, so they wouldn’t let us land - another big deviation from the weather brief we had just received not three hours earlier!

We sat up in a holding pattern over the smell Smeralda TACAN and practice drilling holes in the sky for about half an hour, checked the forecast again, and press on down to Sigonella.

At Sigonella, we downloaded our Oblia cargo and uploaded cargo and pax (a Navy Commander and his family going Space-A to Germany for vacation) and anticipated an early return to Ramstein.

It was not to be. Roma Control gave us a slot time for takeoff of 1356 Zulu, which meant we had to sit and wait an additional hour and 20 minutes before they could work us into their traffic flow control. Back to Wendy’s and another two cups of cappuccino!

Once we did takeoff, the flight looked pretty short – 3-1/2 hours up to Ramstein, clear weather all the way, cleared as filed. Naturally, it didn’t stay that way. For some reason the station controller decided to deviated us off our flight plan an extra 15 minutes to detour us across Alghero, which is the west of Corsica, then back to the east onto our planed route up to Nice, Dijon and Lyon. The Alps were spectacular again, especially in the fading sunlight washing east across it craggy peaks and ridges.

Boy was I happy to touchdown in Germany again and put an end to our five days on the road. I really looked forward to a couple of German beers, some deep sleep, and clean laundry.

When we got back to Sembach, a bunch of us showered and went down to the Club for a couple of cold ones. Naturally, the stories were flying, especially about our guy and his mis-directions. With each beer, things got louder and more heated - each person trying to out-embellish the other. Aldo and I started talking to Dale about his decision to leave the Reserves after the ORI in October. One thing led to another till we were all yelling at each other – Dale blaming us for Enzo Grilli still being in the unit after he (Dale) had busted him on a check ride, Aldo blaming Dale for all future deaths from 737 crashes due to unknown causes (Dale works for the FAA), and… me calling Dale a “quitter” because he was using Enzo as his excuse for leaving the unit. It all got to the point of absurdity as evidenced by this snippet of educated conversation:

“Well, f*ck you!”

“Oh yeah? Well, F*ck you!!”

“No, F*ck YOU!” <Beer gives you such a wonderful vocabulary! Hahaha!>

… and I grew tired of it all, so I called it a night and went back to my room through bitter cold to welcome a VERY deep sleep.