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July-August 2005
Great '98 no space to waste, so here goes!
[Chris Castanon]
Great 98! Sorry for not writing earlier but to be honest with you, I'm
straight up lazy. A brief and quick update of what I've done and what I'm
doing right now. After graduation I ended up deploying with an Argentine
Tall Ship for six months around the globe. In November of 2000 got winged
as a helicopter pilot, and got orders to VC-8 (Roosey Roads, Puerto
Rico). We had a few academy grads in our squadron starting with our CO
Vince Drouillard '82, Jeff Krause '93, Jamie Valdivia '96, Jared Allen '97
and Scott Pichette. I had a great time flying around the Caribbean for a
two year tour since, as many of you know, the base stopped doing business
in May of 2003. With such a short notice of the closing everyone in our
squadron was scrambling around trying to get good deals for our next set
of orders. Did a little research and was able to get a PEP (Personel
Exchange Program) tour as a flight instructor in Buenos Aires, Argentina.
The flying is scarce due to budget problems, but is complemented with the
great time I have on the weekends here in Tango Land with Leonardo Day
'94, who was finishing up the war college. For the holidays we met with
Michael Valverde, Nardo Day and another friend in Punta del Este, Uruguay
to spend two weeks living the life of the Rich and Famous. Talked to
Carolos Benitez recently, he is doing fine as a consultant in Orlando FL,
still single .... If any of you guys are doing UNITAS or just visiting
Buenos Aires,
give me a buzz at 011-549-11-5045-6227 or let me know at
chris-castanon@hotmail.com.
[Josh Potocko]
Dear Shipmate, Forgive me, Shipmate, for I have sinned. It has been 7
years since my last confession.
This is LT Josh "Taco" Potocko writing from New Orleans. I'm hungover
from staying out until 3 am last night, my Tulane NROTC mids received
their diplomas and commissions yesterday, and somehow it is already 98
degrees at 8 o'clock this morning in the Big Easy. But life is good, and I
feel compelled to write into Shipmate for the first time ever. Hopefiilly
I can elucidate what brought on this sudden burst of inspiration.
Today is May 22nd, 2005, 7 years to the day that the Blue Angels flew
over my head before I tossed my cover in the air with y'all after shaking
Slick Willy's hand. Since that beautiful spring Annapolis day, when my
mother stood on my left, my father on my right, pinning on my new
shoulderboards, I feel like I have been transformed. It really amazes me
how much of that change I owe to my fellow classmates, USNA, and the Navy
in general. I realize now that I was quite clueless as to all the
different bumps, twists and turns that would get me to this point, and I
am utterly grateful to have the support and fellowship of so many fine
young men and women in my life. Here are a few examples.
I'm gratefiil for Darin Pontell. We went to high school together. We
lived less than a mile away from one another, which was only 40 minutes
from the back gate to Columbia, MD. Many times, his family and I would
coordinate a car pool so that we could acquire our much needed sleep,
food, laundry, and the other comforts of home during Plebe year. We were
not exceptionally close, but here is what I do know. Darin was a NAPSter
who had followed in his brother's footsteps, Class of 88. Whenever his
parents picked us up, I always saw Mrs. Pontell wearing the Class of 88
crest around her neck, so I asked Darin about his brother. Little did I
know, he was lost in a flight mishap at the carrier during flight school.
Darin did not enter into flight training, perhaps to spare his parents the
worry of another such accident. But he entered the Intel community and
eventually got assigned to ONI in D.C. He hadjust gotten married to his
high-school sweetheart, Devora (a girl I used to sing with in the school
choir) and hadjust seen his family at a large gathering to celebrate his
birthday. But then on Sept 11th terrorists took out the Navy wing of the
Pentagon where Darin was finishing a night shift. That day crushed us all,
but no words will do justice to the level of confusion, pain, and
suffering that the Pontell family must have endured. I'd like to publicly
thank them for their supreme sacrifice, on behalf of our class and the
nation.
I'm grateful for Jaime Potter. Jaime and I were sponsor brothers. Yes,
even though I lived nearby, I still had sponsors. Mark and Lori Poerio
took us into their home (already full with four young, wild children) and
treated us like family from day one. They had never sponsored mids before,
but they did a stellarjob. Again, I was not real close with Jaime, but in
the short time that we played hoops, wrestled with the kids, and blew off
steam, I could tell that he was a genuine, caring guy. He had just gotten
engaged when a car accident took his life before his time. I will miss
catching up with him at Homecoming games and reunions with the Poerio's.
I'm humbled by friends like Jay Choe (or as I call him, the artist
formerly known as Chong). This guy probably thinks I've gone SWF on him,
now that I am living in a house down the street from where he used to
live, attempting to gain entry to Tulane Medical school like he did, and
(soon) driving a convertible. He might not know it, but I do look up to my
former roomie. And we almost lost him along with John Bush in a horrible
car accident in the backwoods ofWest Virginia back in 95. Thank goodness
for cops that were prior Marines, and Korean doctors in West Virginia?! We
patched those guys up pretty well Uohn went on to flyjets) and nowJay is
happily married and doing the GMO thing in Okinawa. If you run into him
when he gets stateside, ask him about removing the appendix of a star Navy
football player, or flying into Indonesia to provide relief after the
Tsunami. Or even teaching Noel Rodriguez and Pete Lombard the finer points
of the sleeper hold during wrestling "study breaks" late at night on the
hard tile floors of Bancroft.
I'm honored to have shared a stateroom with guys like Aaron "Garv"
Shuler, Ryan "Wilson" Phillips, Chris "Dolly" Dollard (98 - 1, Snoogins),
and Matt "T-Bone" Delabarre '97. These guys helped turn a 10-month cruise
on the Stinkin'Lincoln into ... well, something like going away to camp.
We all had our rough moments. Many of
them came during port visits, including getting thrown in hack for a
"miscommunication" with an O-4 regarding duty. Damn doughheads. But those
guys taught me a lot about friendship while flying with the Bluewolves.
They would have lain down in traffic for me, and I will never forget it.
The culmination of our deployment came when we got turned around on
New Year's Day, 2003, in order to head back to the Gulf for OIF In the
words of the Admiral, we were told to "get over it." Then the most random
thing happened. The President decided to fly out to our ship to welcome us
home from the war, and Ryan was the lucky chauffeur! I still can't believe
that actually happened???
Another Bluewolf in that historic flight was LCDR Scott Zellem '91. He
was in the lead plane with the secret service and the President's COS. I'm
truly honored to have been able to associate with this fine young
American. Sadly, he was taken from us during VS-35's last cruise on the
Stennis before they were decommissioned. With him were three amazing
brothers-in-arms, AT2 Joshua Showalter, LT Patrick "Patty" Myrick, and LT
James "Pup" Pupplo. Two of them had young children, the other two had kids
on the way. I worked closely with all of these gentlemen, and to have to
say goodbye this early in their developing lives was heart-wrenching. But
this is the point where I finally explain how I came to write this letter
today (as I chug water and ibuprofen).
Last night I met a girl on Bourbon St. She was a lovely southern girl,
with a winning smile, beautiful green eyes, and some very protective
brothers. Fortunately for me, one of her brothers had served in Airwing 14
at the same time I did. This kid, 21 years old, and already out of the
Navy, had grown his hair and sideburns out and was crashing with his
sister trying to figure out what to do with his life. We shared memories
of Bahrain, embedded journalists, stupid pilot tricks (he was an AD3),
beer days, Tomcat Pilots and NFO's (like Darren "Chicken" Sweeney
in VF-31), and two weeks in Perth, Australia- the best and most expensive
port visit in history. But when the talk turned to the Stennis, and to the
squadron I had been in, he grew somber, raised his glass, and we toasted
to our comrades in Bluewolf 704 that disappeared off the radar screen one
quiet night near Iwo Jima. You see, I had already checked out of the
squadron, so I
was not physically out there during the mishap. But this young AD helped
reinforce in me the notion that all of us who serve are intimately
connected in one way or another, and for that I am thankful. Will it help
me get a date with his sister? A guy can only hope.
Basically, these and other experiences along the way have taught me that
life is precious, life is sacred, life must be revered and lived actively.
I recently heard some good advice: "Don't die with your music still in
you." So I'm literally starting a band [www.joeschwa.com]. But this quote
applies to us all, and the "music" is really the essence of an
individual's potential for greatness. I applaud all of you who continue to
live this motto- let's hope we may continue to inspire and support one
another through whatever tough challenges he ahead.
I'm terribly excited for the future. I've had a number of guests help
break in the new house here in uptown New Orleans, and I hope for many
more. Reserve your Jazzfest 2006 floorspace now! I'll leave a standing
offer to anyone out there who needs a tour guide for the Crescent City I
really don't care if you have to go back in the yearbook to figure out who
the hell I am, we'll figure it out when you get here. Besides, as they
say, if you know one of us, you know all of us. It has been a great
pleasure living in this town, no matter what you may hear about the crime,
poverty, etc. This is a bountiful community of food, music, drink, and
dancing.
Later this summer Kaitan "Goop" Gupta and I will attempt to summit Mt.
Kilimanjaro in Tanzania (19,340 feet). Last time I checked, our fingers
were turning pretty blue at that altitude when we rode in the pressure
chamber in back in Pensacola. So I won't make any guarantees. But if we
motivate each other to make it to the top, you can guarantee I'll be
etching in the glacial snow, in bold font, "98 WAS HERE!"
[jpotocko@tulane.edu]
Well guys, that wraps things up! These are obviously great updates and I
look forward to receiving more. Also, I've included a photo of Alike
Acosta and family.
Mike Acosta and his family
Semper Fi ... CB
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