Tag Archives: General Electric Company

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 26

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Historical, Inner Struggles, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

July 17,2026- Hana and I were asleep in the recliner, so deeply that I didn’t notice Aram going in and out to get the mail. My granddaughter has the same calming effect on me that I have on her.

We had a busy “half day”, in that her parents came home from work early, to take her to a medical appointment. We thus managed our walk, “wrestling” (her crawling on me and my lifting her up in the air, in vestibular motion) and lunch time into a shorter frame. There was also story time, centered on “Sleeping Beauty”. Maleficent is portrayed in this brief version only as the “Old Fairy”. She ends up getting turned into a frog. Hana thought that was funny.

She is always overjoyed when one of us comes back to the house, after having been away for a brief errand. Having the family all together is a big deal to my granddaughter. She is delighted to just sit in the high chair at each meal, even at breakfast, which for her is a liquid feeding, still. She has complete meals at lunch and dinner.

HANA’S NOTE- I went to have my blood checked-AGAIN. This time, the nurse only stuck me once with the needle. So, that was not as bad.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE- 1969 This was a year of firsts: My first time on an airplane; my first trip outside New England; my first extended time away from family; my first time really hallenging myself.

I left Star Market in January and went to work at General Electric’s Riverworks Plant, in Lynn, MA. My fahter, and several relatives and neighbours worked there, as well. Dad got me in. I worked in the rotometer calibration section. The senior technician told me my work was substandard, but he never bothered complaining to the higher=ups. Nor did he offer specific criticism that might have helped me improve.

It was a placeholder job, anyway, as I had asked the Army Reserve Unit to let me enlist in the Regular Army. My plan was to enlist for 3 years, then apply for an early release, so as to return to college. My enlistment date was set for June 16, and the recruiter determined I’d be best suited for the Army Postal Corps. I left G.E. on May 1, and focused somewhat on physical training.

Basic Training was at Fort Jackson, SC. I started off as a mewling klutz, but slowly and surely got with the program. I scraped by in marksmanship, missed Combat Fire-but never was made to re-take it, though I asked to do so, and excelled in the Physical Training Test. I did fairly well in the G-3 (General Knowledge) Exam, which was oral. On weekends, we had free time, and I went with a couple of guys who were from Columbia, to their favourite hangouts. I was the sole White guy with four African-Americans, but none of the Whites we encountered gave us any trouble over it.

Woodstock happened while I was doing things like learning how to properly handle grenades and re-sight my M-16. We were brought into a room and allowed to watch the launch of the first Apollo rocket to the Moon. Training was canceled that day. I made enough of an improvement that the cadre sent me on a 3-day pass to Myrtle Beach, on Labor Day weekeend.. I saw that there was little difference between it and the beach towns of New England, though the water was warmer. I stayed in a two-bed shack for $1 a night, and had the place to myself.

Fort Ben Harrison and the postal training were footnotes. I didn’t really bond with anyone in the unit, but went into Indianapolis by myself a few times on weekends. I never did get to the racetrack, though. Many of the guys went to VietNam, after AIT. I was sent to Fort Myer, Va. I was assigned to straighten out a mail operation, as my predecessor had ended up in Fort Leavenworth, for various postal crimes. That made a distinct impression on me. I got the job done quickly, to the satisfaction of the Inspector General. That November, a high school friend was killed in Viet Nam, and I began to re-assess what my responsibilities were. I fasted that Thanksgiving, and decided to give Fort Myer a year, after which I would re-assess my situation. Seeing Washington, D.C. on weekends was great fun, though, and I began to bond with civilians in the Georgetown neighbourhood, whose views on life were similar to my own.

Thus did the ’60s come to an end.

The Hana Chronicles: Month 6, Day 25

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Striving

July 16, 2026- Hana is becoming increasingly concerned with cleanliness. She wipes her play pen with a clean cloth, She hates having a soiled diaper and fusses until she is perfectly clean again. (This may be a good time to lobby for a toddler potty, but we’ll take that cause up very soon.) She wipes her own face after a meal.

We went out around 9:30, this morning. The road crews were already hard at work, so we went along the north sidewalk, then across to Hoblitzelle Park and back through the quieter areas of Greenfield Avenue, where work had been finished. The park was fairly active, but the return route was nearly deserted. Hana occupied herself with singing and with feeling the texture of the bug net. She drew lots of smiles and compliments from people passing by us.

I have heard from friends elsewhere, who are concerned that the storm now ravaging central Texas might be headed our way. We had three intense showers today, but our cul-de-sac is well away from any flowing water, and the kids reported there was no flooding on the roads to Coppell and Euless, where they work. I ache for the people in San Antonio and points west and south, who are again getting the brunt of the flooding.

HANA’S NOTE- I like to take baths, so I am glad that I can sit up on my own now. It makes bath night much more fun.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-1968 This was my first big transition, since 1956. I graduated high school, not wanting to make a big deal of it, but also wondering about what was next. Graduation summer found me mostly working at Star Market, basically treading water. I would continue there until the end of my semester at the University of Massachusetts-Boston, to which I commuted each day, in the Fall of that year.

I made friends in Boston, and started off on a good foot, academically. A month in, though, I was more interested in parties and protests than in studying. That lack of focus cost me a girl I might have truly loved. She was serious about her education. I wasn’t really serious about much of anything.

So, December, 1968 found me thinking about what, exactly, I was going to do to discipline myself. It was too late for Katie, but I was going to have a redeemed life, somehow. I enlisted in the Army Reserves- a six-year commitment. I also agreed to work at the General Electric plant where my father worked.

Father’s Day Ruminations

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

June 20, 2021- My Dad will have been gone 37 years, this Tuesday. His smiling countenance beams down at me from two locations, in the living room: One with my Mom, when they were in their early forties; the other, in his early fifties sitting in his office at the General Electric Riverworks plant, in Lynn,

Mom & Dad, dressed to rule.

Ferdinand Joseph Boivin had the gift of gab, loved to make the rounds and visit others, and was always holding court on the front porch, before dinner-with various men showing up to discuss what was troubling them, and either my brother Dave or I dispatched to grab some beer for Dad and the visitor. He always had a corny joke or two at the ready, would sing little love songs to our mother and would hold her close, in the kitchen, when he first came home from work-or from anywhere where he had gone on an errand. They’d kiss, as if no one else was around, while perfectly mindful that one or more of us was close by. The most important thing was that we knew how secure our home was-even in lean times, which came often.

Dad worked graveyard shifts, when I was very small, so our bonding was somewhat interrupted-and we both had to make a conscious effort at remaining close. He never took sides, in our sibling squabbles, but his watchwords were “Now lookit! Yiz need to look at each other from the other’s perspective.” His silent look of disapproval could speak volumes. He only had one hard-and-fast rule for us: “Never refer to me as your Old Man.” I know I disappointed him, by not going into the business field, but there was always my resentment of Riverworks’ management, for how he was treated-cast into a middle management role, seldom given credit and often receiving blame, if others caused missteps. “Freddy” was a trade school graduate, and a creature of habit, who did not particularly get along, at least at first, with fresh-out-of-university MBAs and Engineers, who were elbowing their way to the top. A man about ten years my senior, Peter St. Clair, befriended Dad and served as a bridge figure between him and the new up-and -comers. I hold Pete in the highest regard, for everything he did to help my father.

Dad slowed down, in his last four or five years, cutting back on his smoking, whilst enjoying a round or two of Scotch every evening. He and Mom flew out to San Diego, when Penny and I were married, in 1982. They loved their visit to southern California, taking several days after the nuptials to enjoy San Diego and Orange County-even going up to Knotts Berry Farm-as close as they got to Los Angeles. They stopped in Denver, on the way back and checked out the U.S. Mint there. A few years later (1985), they visited us in Arizona, being awestruck by the Grand Canyon, Sedona, and the vastness of the Navajo Nation-as well as being charmed by the Dineh and Hopi people. A year later, Dad made his flight to his Lord. Mom would return to the West, with her younger brother and sister-in-law, in 1990, to make the one trip that she and Dad had wanted, but never got to do together: Yellowstone, San Francisco and southeast Alaska.

The years since have seen me do my level best to raise a son into manhood. The times I struggled, or stumbled, were always covered well by Aram’s maternal grandfather and by Dave-sometimes in their visits or sometimes over the phone. Father-in-law Norm told me, though, “If I didn’t think you were doing well by Aram, overall, I’d have taken him from you.” That gave me a lot of confidence, going forward.

Being a father, these days, is a matter of checking in with Aram and Yunhee, now and then-just to see how things are going-or to offer counsel, when they are in a quandary about some curveball that life has served. This will long continue, into the years when starting a family, buying a house and/or making career moves present themselves. What I mainly need to do now, for them and for the rest of my family, is maintain self-care and be healthy, for whatever arises.

God knows, I had the full measure of a role model.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Dad

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Posted by on in Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving

March 22, 2020-

My father would have been 93 years of age, today.  He transitioned on June 22, 1986, three months after his 59th birthday.  Dad was a middle manager, in the jet engine  department of the General Electric Company’s Riverworks Plant, in Lynn, MA.  He told me it wasn’t the greatest job in the world, and it often seemed to me that his overlords didn’t appreciate him to the fullest.  I know he did his level best.

Dad was slow to adapt to new ways of doing things, but he wasn’t rigid in his thinking, save his steadfast frugality.  He taught me to consider all points of view, even those that seemed counter-intuitive.  He was engaged with his five children and never, once, favoured one of us over the other.  Discipline was meted out as fairly as he knew how, with the facts he had at the time.

He was a man of faith, but was not an ideologue.  He attended Catholic Mass, most every Sunday, yet also didn’t miss a television appearance by Billy Graham, who he greatly admired.  His belief was that all Christians revered the same Son of God. This paved the way for my own belief in the Oneness of all religions, which he accepted of me, while silently shaking his head.

When there was an emergency, he handled it-even if, on occasion, he was physically spent and grumbled a bit.  He cared for all around him, taking in a sick brother at one point-and consistently pulling himself together to see to the needs of his youngest child.

Dad could seem to look at life through rose-coloured glasses, but deep down, I know that he knew there was a problem that just was not going away-whether it was my youngest brother’s illness or his own, which took his life far too soon.  He had his moments of magical thinking and attempts to escape reality, as many of us have, but he always came back to the life, and the woman, he loved most.

I thank you, father, for all you did and for what you expected of me.  God knows, it took me long enough to achieve it.