By Spencer Arps,
As the calm breeze wafted, floated, and tickled the foliage beneath, a man tinkered. As wild horses ran, pranced, and rested, a boy stared at a telephone and wondered how it worked. As this boy traveled north, he waited, waited to get back to the high desert. This place, where horses ran, and white mountains loomed over flat waste land. This place he was looking for was Reliance, Wyoming. The boy who described himself as “a homeless waif,” is Douglas Hoyer.
Hoyer was born in Mcpherson, Kansas, in the early ‘50s. His parents, one of Baltic descent, the other of Mediterranean, simply didn’t know how to fend for their family. The emotion of his Baltic mother, and the stoicness of his father clashed as times, money, and life were tough. Hoyer was born when running water and indoor plumbing weren't standards of everyday life.
As a boy, the eldest of 6, Hoyer was shipped off to his grandparents' farms where he helped with duties in return for enough pay for school clothes. His grandparents’ farm was in Reliance, Wyoming, the place where wild horses ran, and windmills milled. Reliance was a small town, a coal mining camp, a town where the mine had shut down.
“I remember messing around in the old buildings, me and my friend used to go and steal phones, mind you the ones where you lift the speaker to your ear and talk into the tube,” Hoyer said.
“They weren’t locked up or nothin!” Hoyer laughed out loud.
He continued to describe how he used to take the phones home to be taken apart and reassembled. He enjoyed the challenge of the phone, the puzzle, as he put it.
As Hoyer shuffled back and forth between Kansas, and Wyoming he slowly realized that he was bound for the Armed Forces. As Vietnam was starting, and he feared being drafted, he decided to enlist in the Navy, with hopes of becoming a non combat soldier. He was shipped off to boot camp which was in the sunny land of San Diego, California.
Hoyer described a time when his sergeant asked if anyone knew how to type. He responded, raised his hand and said he did. From then on he was the camp handyman. He would work eight hour days, keeping himself busy by fixing leaky faucets, clogged water fountains and broken toilets. All this while typing letters to his new wife Donna Hoyer.
“I used to type letters to her,” said Hoyer as he glanced towards his wife. “It was great practice.”
Once basic training was over and it was time to go on tour in the South Pacific Hoyer packed his things and embarked. He was deployed to an aircraft carrier. His duty was to help fix aviation electronics on the deck of the boat. If something failed inspection he would try to fix it in the plane, or decide if the instrument needed to be removed for further work to be done.
“You know, just give it a little jiggle or hit it with something,” Hoyer joked.
Eventually he was promoted to working underneath the deck of the boat. He now was the guy that he used to take the broken instruments to. There were proper work benches, electronic testing equipment and everything you would need to fix aviation equipment.
After four years in the Navy he decided that the civilian lifestyle was what he wanted. In Texas, he worked for an aircraft carrier supply company. He worked there for two years until he caught wind of the economy starting to go south. With the uncertainty of the economy, a young family, and mouths to feed, Hoyer re-enlisted into the Navy.
After multiple tours, and years more of service he was finally out for the last time. He settled and brought his family to Whidbey Island, Washington. On the GI bill and unemployment he put himself through school to obtain an electronics technician degree. With this schooling and experience he was offered a position at the Oak Harbor Navy base as an electronics tech. He worked on fixing aircraft instruments, which he enjoyed. He said he liked the puzzle, the challenge of fixing things.
After a couple years of working close to home the time to move came again. When you work for the military you sign a form that binds you to a contract, a contract that allows the military to make you move. So when the time came, the Hoyer family packed their bags and moved to the Philippines.
They enjoyed their life there. “I remember it being nice!” said Donna Hoyer, his wife.
“Do you remember that time you thought you got bit by a shark?” said Tawni Hoyer, Doug's oldest daughter.
“Oh the jellyfish!” Crina Hoyer, Doug’s other daughter said.
For this family, Doug made an impact, he made an imprint in his daughters’ lives. In the early ‘80s as young girls living on a U.S. military base in Southeast Asia life can be pretty impactful. It was definitely apparent talking to this family that moving from sleepy Whidbey Island to the Philippines was not a bad thing. It was an event that brought them together, and created memories that are still cherished today.
After the family moved back to the states, Doug continued his work on the Navy base until he was promoted and retired at age 56.
After Doug was out of the Navy and living in Coupeville, Washington, he spent the remainder of his time sharpening his mind. Coupeville is a small town nestled into Penn Cove, surrounded by beautiful salt craving madrone trees, navel relics, and Olympic Mountains.
Doug spends his time learning. “The goal is Quantum Physics,” he explained. “To get there I’ve had to learn high level math, mainly through programs like MathCad and sit in MIT online lectures.”
This isn’t to mention other ventures like Cosmology or Black Holes.
“I like to know when someone is wrong,” Doug said.
Doug teaches himself merely because he wanted to, which by today's standards is impressive.
As Pacific Northwestern rain dances on the roof of the Hoyer family's home and the sun says it’s early goodnight Doug sits. He sits in front of his computer, with the smooth tones of blues legends wafting through the house as he learns. As he sits in his shop, where garlic dries and ideas turn into reality; he learns.
He may have traded wild horses and high desert for island life and partially domesticated deer but one thing remains, a question. A question that Doug still strives to answer, the question isn’t specific or even technically solvable. It’s the question of what can I do, what knowledge can I have, what can I learn. For Doug this is a theme, and a reason he is who he is today, his way of life. It’s the same question that the boy asked as he traveled north to the farm. This question is Doug Hoyer.
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