1985. Though I was only 23 I had been married for 3 years. Happily married, to be sure, as evidenced by the fact that my wife was pregnant and we were both ready and willing to be parents. The situation was as solid as one could hope for. I was employed at a quartz manufacturing plant which was probably the best job to be had in the small town where we lived. In my leisure time I'd put together a good little band and hoped to make some money on the side with it. I would have been thrilled to see that group take off so I could play music full time but didn't expect it to really happen. I was content to stay at the quartz company, beveling small crystals to specified frequencies for the government contracts that kept the plant open.
The biggest problem I had with the job was Alan, my supervisor. He was absolutely brilliant when it came to the specifics of the job but he was a strange sort, practically anti-social when outside of the workplace environment he was used to. He was a follower of Herbert W Armstrong and the Worldwide Church of God (you may recall the old Plain Truth magazine...in reality they were much more of a cult than a true church). Everyone who worked at this place was involved in church, in fact the manager even told me during my pre-employment interview that they ONLY hired people who were active in church. Not any specific denomination, just so long as they were members of a local congregation. As for me, I had been attending the United Methodist Church for the past five years. I'd left the Baptists for two reasons: 1. they had run off a great pastor and replaced him with a fat dude who channeled the spirit and ideology of Jerry Falwell and 2. my girlfriend/future wife was a Methodist. We also had a great pastor there who was to become very influential in my religious life.
Alan, despite his affiliation with what he would say was the only TRUE Christian church, had a bit of a mean streak. He was ALWAYS talking about religion; his was the real deal, of course, and everyone else's was bogus. He had an insatiable desire to evangelize Armstrongism but he went about it by trying to tear apart the beliefs and teachings of every other stripe of the faith, of course mine included. In fact he seemed to inordinately relish dogging what I believed, perhaps because he didn't think I was solid enough in it's doctrines to put up much of a fight (and in hindsight, at that point in my life he was probably right). Basically he liked to see me squirm and clearly enjoyed pushing me as far as he could.
Then one day he pushed too hard. I can't remember the exact words or reason this time was different...perhaps it was just because I wasn't as strong on that day as usual... It must have been something, though, because even though I knew I was making a stupid mistake nevertheless I walked off the jobsite in the middle of a shift and vowed I'd never go back. I can still remember what it felt like walking home through the municipal park with all the anger and worry about what I was going to do next swirling through my head. I never had a back-up plan. Of course I'd have to find another job but for various reasons this was easier said than done. Not the least of which the fact that we were living in Ronald Reagan's America and a recession that had made it practically impossible to find a good job in the area.
...and more importantly, what was my wife going to say about it?
So here I am, 23 years old, wife and baby on the way...Bella (not her real name) had been working part-time so we could afford to live a little better but it wasn't enough to support even the two of us, let alone a child. I worked on getting publicity for the band in hopes of putting us on a circuit and trying to make ends meet that way. But it was no use. I didn't have the window of opportunity I needed. I had to do something and do it quickly...that baby wasn't going to wait for me to get my house in order before popping into our lives.
For reasons that I won't detail, for fear of making this even longer than it looks like it's going to be, I wound up joining the Navy. It's a testament to how desperate I was because even I knew that military service was the last place I needed to be. My personality type was almost antithetical to that of your typical successful serviceman or woman. I had seen the programs on television that detailed the brutal boot camp process. It was very obvious to me that I simply wasn't cut out for that kind of training. I had to act quickly, though, so I bit the bullet and decided I would do whatever it took to make it through. Since it was peace time I wasn't worried about potentially going into combat (kind of shows you what kind of soldier I would have been, terrified of going into battle...I don't feel that way anymore).
Besides, Bella was very proud of me for choosing the military route. Her father was a retired Air Force Master Sergeant who'd served in Vietnam (albeit not in a combat role). He was a tough son of a bitch and I suppose it made me feel good to know that he was proud of my decision, that he supported it and the status of our father-in-law/son-in-law relationship would improve incrementally. I don't think he liked anyone and that included me, perhaps a military career was my ticket into his good graces. Would have been nice.
If there's one thing about this entire memory that baffles me more than potentially being a Naval seaman it's that I failed to realize just how difficult it was going to be separated from my wife and our unborn child. The gulf between basic training in Orlando, FL and my hometown was 1017 miles by air, 1243 miles by land. I had never been so far from home in my entire life. This is a good part of why I didn't make it one week through boot camp. Not the only one but significant.
On the heels of a strange and mostly forgotten incident one night I found myself in what I later learned was the 4th Floor Psych Ward of the Naval Hospital. I'll gloss over most of the details surrounding this turn of events. Suffice to say they were strange days indeed. Troubling, frightening, confusing...and at the heart of it all the weight of missing my wife, worrying about our child. She wrote me a letter every single day but I was so disoriented, they weren't nearly enough to pacify. I wanted nothing less than to have her by my side.
I had no idea what was wrong with me. It took the doctors a long while to settle on a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. During that time they had put me on some serious hardcore medications...stuff that you don't see prescribed for bipolar these days because it's just too strong and the side effects are so prominent/prevalent. Thorazine. Melloril. Haldol. It's no stretch to admit that I was incapacitated during the months when I was on those medications (which they told me I would have to take for the rest of my life or else face serious *insinuate 'fatal'* consequences). You've heard of the "Thorazine shuffle", perhaps? It's all true.
I had gone numb except for the sadness I felt being so far from those I loved. I would sit in the hallway staring at a picture of my wife, her senior class picture, for so long that her facial features seemed to move, making the image appear "alive" (an optical "trick"). I guess that effect could have been attributed to the medication or something along those lines, I never even gave it a second thought.
There was no way of knowing how long I was going to be there. Obviously Uncle Sam had a contract to keep me for the next four years but surely it wouldn't take so long to get me fixed up. Since it was a mental illness that sidelined me I wouldn't even be eligible to continue in the Navy. I didn't think it would be TOO long; I hoped to detach with an honorable discharge (not even a possibility in my circumstances, it would be a general discharge).
I certainly didn't still expect to be in the Naval Hospital for four months but when my daughter was born in August that's exactly where I was. I can't begin to describe the combination of joy and agony I experienced when the call came and a corpsman delivered the news. Thrilled to know that the delivery was a smooth one, my little girl was healthy, Bella had been so strong. What I wouldn't have given to be there with them. This wondrous occasion, far from lifting my spirits as it should have, only drove home the fact that they were halfway across the country and I might as well have been in prison. The only hope it brought was being discharged from the hospital sooner rather than later...
...a misguided hope, it turns out. I stayed in the hospital for another 2 months. I suppose it's a testament to the strength of Haldol that I made it through that last 1/3rd of my committal. It really dumbed me down. So much so that I was actually surprised when I finally got discharged. Six months in hell is a bit too hyperbolic but not by much.
The Navy psychiatrists eventually came to a diagnosis. I was suffering with bipolar disorder. Manic Depressive syndrome, as it was once referred to. A chemical imbalance in the brain, it was explained to me as I was not familiar with any of it. A mental illness for which there is not a cure. The best I could hope for would be to manage it with medication and counseling. I was much less disheartened by the diagnosis than I was with the prospect of spending the rest of my life in a medication induced stupor.
Six months after I'd left for Florida with the intent of serving in the armed forces they put me on a plane and sent me home. There was a layover in Atlanta and to this day I'm still amazed that I was able to make the connections necessary to return home in the shape I was in. The jet airliner landed, the passengers departed and we were met by a huge crowd. Initially, looking out on the gathering, I thought there would be no way I would ever spot my wife in that throng.
But I was wrong.
There she was, such a vision of beauty, rivalled only by the blanketed bundle she held in her arms. For a short time I was seized by such a wave of joy I could barely contain it. If I hadn't been so emptied by the psychiatric medications I might not have had room in my soul to accommodate it. We hugged. We kissed. Then she showed me our daughter. I understand this kind of thing happens to military personnel all the time, being away, not seeing their children until long after they're born. I feel for them, I honestly do. It's one of the most bittersweet experiences you can live through, with eyes to the future but regretting lost time one can never retrieve. She was a sight for the sorest eyes.
The general discharge meant that I would receive no assistance from the Navy after separation and what I was being paid didn't amount to enough to remain in the house we'd been in for the last few years. I couldn't wrap my head around how devastating being uprooted like that would be.
The original plan was for us to stay with my mother until we could get back up on our feet. She and my dad had been divorced for 8 years and she'd not only remarried but had a daughter with the guy. I'm guessing she was probably 3 or 4 years old by then. Of course mom fawned over her first granddaughter. Unfortunately her husband, a tall, lanky, exceedingly ugly dude with a wicked jealous streak, decided that she was paying too much attention to my daughter at the expense of time and attention he felt was owed to their own. We were asked to leave.
A generous couple from our church had some extra space in their large house in the country and they let us stay with them for awhile. That lasted probably a month.
I'm trying to be thorough in chronicling the main points of the six months after I left the hospital but it's difficult because my brain was so cluttered by the medication I was on. I remember we found a place to stay in a city located about 60 miles from the house we'd rented in my hometown. This was a college town and even though I could barely focus on a page in a book I decided I wanted to take advantage of the University's Vocational Rehabilitation program, hopefully go back to school the following semester.
In the meantime it was obvious that I would have to secure some kind of employment. I had some experience working behind a cash register which helped land a job at a huge travel stop on the Interstate just outside of the city. It surprises me to this day that I was able to hold that job for the few days I did before being let go. The medication had slowed me down, I'm sure my drawer counts were off. The managers could tell there was something wrong with me. They called me to the office, said it wasn't working out but they would be happy to provide a good reference for future employment elsewhere. I didn't ask for specific reasons, didn't even care. I didn't think about what it meant to have failed, what my wife would say or what we would do.
We were no longer able to afford the upstairs level of the duplex we'd barely settled in. The plan to attend college was still at the forefront of my mind. In a grand example of putting the cart before the horse we moved into an apartment across the street from the University. A very short walking distance, which was essential because we had only one vehicle. It was a dank place that constantly reeked of some unknown foreign cuisine one of the residents was always cooking.
When I did speak to the counselor from Vocational Rehab I was told that they could probably help me out. What was I hoping to major in? I told them English, specifically English education, I would be a teacher. No, they said. That was out of the question. It would have to be a course of study which would immediately pay off, something more in the line of engineering and such. I had never had any desire to do those things. Certain of failure I declined their assistance. A real letdown and a serious setback.
The next few weeks I was expected to secure employment. The apartment, in addition to being close to the college, was also in walking distance of the main strip, with it's fast food joints and small businesses. Bella expected me to beat the pavement and find a job there. Of course she did, it was the only thing to do, our financial situation had come down to the wire. And I did go out a few times...but I never stopped anywhere. The experience at the travel stop had convinced me that I was too messed up to hold a job. If you had only spent some time with me back then you would have agreed. No doubt Bella saw it as a lack of responsibility, which I suppose it was but there was no convincing her that I had come to the point where I simply and honestly could not do it. No matter how much I wanted to rise above my circumstances it was no use. I had way too much going against me.
On top of that, her schedule and my inability to watch over our daughter by myself meant that my in-laws had to be conscripted to watch over her. For days in a row my little girl was 60 miles away from her parents...the same little girl who was already two months old before I ever got to see her. Bella missed her so badly she was in agony. I will never forget the night she broke down crying, wailing "I miss my baby". And me? So doped I couldn't feel a thing. I judge myself, in retrospect, very severely for the apathy that was surely like an aura surrounding my frame. But I try to cut myself some slack because as I saw it, this wasn't me. It really wasn't. I don't know where *I* went off to for that time and I'm thankful *I* eventually found my way back but no, this unfeeling golem was certainly not me.
It all came to a head one afternoon in April, 1986. I should remember much more about it than I actually do. An educated guess would be that it started as a small spat about the "responsibility" I spoke of earlier. We'd had a few disagreements during the four years we were married but always managed to resolve them before anything drastic transpired. That being the case it was even more bizarre and hard to believe that these harsh words resulted in my telling her I was leaving. I called my dad and asked him to bring his pickup truck and we loaded what I considered to be my stuff into the back. We drove back to his house and I piled my crap into my old bedroom.
I don't remember it at all but it's most likely my father spent a good deal of time that night telling me I'd made a mistake, that I would be a fool to walk away from his daughter-in-law, who he loved very much, which would almost certainly mean losing my daughter. I was certainly in no condition to care for her. No judge in his right mind would award custody of an infant child to a zombie, even if he was her father.
We might have even fought about it, though I would have made for a very weak opponent. Regardless, I came to my senses. I never really wanted for us to break up, it was frustration and anger which pushed me over the line. I made a point to see Bella the next afternoon, tell her how sorry I was and hoped she would forgive me. Surely we could work something out. Once again I cannot recall the specifics but if I know me I probably convinced myself she would accept my apology. Reluctantly, perhaps, because she was bound to still be upset and angry at me. But we had, I thought, a solid relationship. I felt sure she wouldn't want to mess with that.
I was in for a rude awakening.
She had gone to her parents' house the day before so I went there, knocked on the door and her mother answered. I asked if I could speak to Bella and she let me in. I don't think she even looked at me when I walked into the room. I told her I was sorry. Everything you'd expect me to say, I said. I don't know if she could tell, through the medication induced mumble, that I was sincere. I was. If ever I had been before, I certainly was now.
But it all fell on deaf ears. She heard what I was saying but it was as if she'd thrown up a wall between us that prevented her from caring.
She never said a single word.
Not a word, and it was obvious, through her gestures and body language, that she wanted me to know she didn't plan on speaking to me, now or ever again. Who knows how long I tried. It could have been just a few moments before I realized it was useless. It might have been 15 minutes. It would not have mattered if I had stayed there until sunset, it was over. In her heart, I suppose, I had become anathema.
As for me, coming to terms with it was a slow, torturous process teased by hopes of a reunion that were pathetic under the circumstance. Sometime in the next days she moved to a location unknown to me, taking our daughter with her. With all the emotional turmoil and upheaval I suppose it's not surprising that the following months are a confused, mixed up jumble of blunted memories. She served me with divorce papers which gave her full custody and, for some reason I still have not fathomed, did not stipulate terms of child support.
I didn't see her again for 26 years, in 2012 when she and her husband attended the high school graduation ceremony of her niece and my son. She was seated a long way from where we were but I have no doubt she saw me. We never made eye contact and there was no way I was going to place myself in the awkward position of bumping into her.
One thing I'll never forget was the sense of pride that swelled in me as my son gave his speech as Salutatorian. I'm not sure I can explain this sense of "See what I did? This intelligent, articulate kid is MY legacy, he's the successful product of MY parenting (though my wife gets the greater share of credit for that).
*****You gave up on me, you didn't have what it took to cling to your vows and stick with me through sickness and health, you thought I would be too far gone forever...well look at this. You were wrong. You loved me, I know you did, and I don't bear any ill will against you for the choice you made but you shouldn't have given up, you didn't have to sacrifice that to your fear of potentially spending your life with me in the condition I was in. You should have had more faith in me, you should not have written me off as if I consciously WANTED to be a loafer and not provide. I don't know how you got that idea unless it was from your hardline father (which I've always suspected but then again, it was your decision to make). You left, married a man who treats you like shit (or so I've been told by an extremely reliable source) but worse than that you placed our daughter in the position of having such a person come into her life as his stepdaughter. I know more that situation than you could possibly imagine and these days I resent more you doing that than the fact you left me. Look down here again from your seat in the upper bleachers...see that woman with me? We've been married for almost 20 years. She knew what she was getting into when she accepted my marriage proposal...has she seen some hard times as a result? Of course she, it's part of the deal. But those difficult times are only a fraction of the life we've lived together and she's strong. I loved you, Bella, I really did. With all my heart and soul. But we were husband and wife in name only. You kind of aborted the potential growth to that stage when you cut me out of your (and my daughter's) life. Still, I don't begrudge your inability to cope with the situation because if I put myself in your shoes I can't say I wouldn't have reacted the same way. Bipolar Disorder (and the poison medications used to manage it) came into our lives and no one was thinking clearly, I suppose. But don't listen to me. Listen to that tall young man with the cap and gown standing at the podium, waxing wise well beyond his years. Take a good look, then look down to the floor and see the proud woman sitting beside me...and then you'll understand why through it all I can now say, well aware of the dripping irony, 'Thank you for leaving me.'"
******During the 20+ years between the separation and October 2010 I periodically performed an Internet search for the names of my ex-wife and daughter. The former out of curiosity, the latter out of a desire to find out where my daughter lived. Those searches were always fruitless, as I knew they were bound to be, because I didn't have a surname to work with (assuming my daughter had taken her "stepfather"'s).
Looking through the local small town newspaper one day I noticed my ex-Mother in Law had passed away. That was sad because not only did I always like her, she seemed to go to bat for me in the days when the separation was going down. I read the obituary not even thinking that the answer to my search question was right there at the bottom: Bella's last name was Simon (not real name) and my daughter had gotten married to a guy named Truman (not real name). I also learned I have both a grandson AND a granddaughter!
Armed with that information I went to Myspace (which, at the time, was more popular than Facebook), typed in her name and BOOM! First try! There she was, a very beautiful young woman who I really almost recognized from the photo, even though I hadn't seen her in years (I had a couple of photographs from when she was in grade school, procured and delivered by her grandmother). I sent an e-mail and crossed my fingers.
I got a response the next day and we began to catch up with each others' lives via a few telephone calls and e-mail messages that weren't quite as long as this has turned out to be, but very lengthy and detailed nonetheless. We took that process fairly slowly but by December of the next year we'd arranged for my family and myself to reunite with her and to meet her husband at a steakhouse in Tulsa. I feared it might turn awkward at some point but actually the dinner and conversation was very free and easy. Everyone had a wonderful time, photographs were taken to commemorate the event and a new chapter in my life had begun. I felt like the luckiest person alive, as I honestly had lost hope of ever finding her. We got along just fantastically and I really liked her husband...although unfortunately they are no longer married.
A few months later we made plans for me to visit them in their home and to meet my grandchildren. Maybe just a liiiittttle more awkward than the grown-ups meeting but not so bad as all that. I think they took to me well enough, though it had to be difficult for them to process how this stranger had come into their lives who, they were told, was their grandfather. We'd decided at the time it would be better to have them call me by my name, which felt kind of weird to me but I'm sure it was easier for the kids.
Of course we are still in touch, albeit not as regularly as we would prefer. Speaking of "awkward", I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when she told Bella that we had reunited and had resumed our familial relationship.
I heard she took it as well as can be expected.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Rock Scene!!!
Once again a bit of snooping around of the Internet has yielded a treasure trove of nostalgia. This time it's in the form of Rock Scene magazine. I was but one month away from my 12th birthday when I saw the debut issue (pictured) in the newsstand at Mom's Minit-Mart. Even at that young age I was really into what could only be considered the "alternative rock" of it's time. Rock Scene looked to be right up my alley. It was tied with Creem for the title of "favorite magazine". Up until now I'd only seen a few covers floating around in the images section of Google. Even those were enough to spark fond memories, so you can imagine my delight when I came across rockscenester.com. EVERY SINGLE ISSUE scanned and presented in an easy-to-use format!!! It was printed on low grade pulp paper and all of the photographs were in black and white but that just made it all the more endearing to me. It's probably been over 30 years since I had a copy and looking through them now, after all these years, brings back some extra-powerful memories. It's no understatement when I claim that Rock Scene had a good deal to do with shaping my taste in music. Obviously as an 11-12 year old boy I was ripe for the picking. Check it out...if you're an aging rocker like I am you might actually remember it. If you're a bit younger you'll get a kick out of what is most definitely a snapshot of the 70s, from the content to the ads.Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Do you remember when? Does it make you feel older?
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Not to say that some of the references deserve to be remembered. Some are better off forgotten for their actions/statements and others simply because their notoriety is so utterly trivial. Twiggy, anyone? Others barely hang on to their place in the nostalgia machine because they are an aspect of something just as trivial yet a bit more amusing. For instance, the rumor that Alice Cooper was the guy who played Eddie Haskell in "Leave It To Beaver". But it's all in vain, because only a couple of decades will erase all memory not only of Eddie Haskell but of Alice Cooper and "Leave It To Beaver" as well. Oh, sure, there will be revivals down the road. But even that phenomenon cannot completely save our pop culture heroes from obscurity. When's the last time you heard a big band blowin' out some swing tune from the 40s on the radio/internet/whatever? And that's not even 100 years ago. What was the scene like in 1912? Have to ask grandpa. See if he remembers.
Anita Bryant? Well, she's certainly no Fred Phelps, but do we really want to keep her memory alive as anything other than a cautionary tale? Even if you agree with the gist of what she had to say (I don't) surely there's no way anyone can condone the way she said it. Foster Brooks? Ah, yes, the good old days when alcoholism wasn't considered a disease. It was a time when 12 Step programs settled for 8 or 9 steps. The days when the Marlboro Man rustled herds of cattle and Spuds MacKinzie rolled out the kegs of Bud (I'll bet ya not too many people remember good old Spuds!). Bad stuff to be sure but I'd take it all back in a heartbeat if they'd get rid of all those emberassing Viagra ads. Oh for the good old days when an erection lasting longer than 4 hours was considered a good reason to pull out the ole Black Book, pick up the phone and start dialing. We didn't need or even want to know that such a miraculous phenomenon required a visit to the doctor. 4 hours, man, I'm not gonna need no doctor, I'm gonna need an undertaker (if you catch my drift, and I think you do, nudge-nudge, wink-wink, say no more).
I have to wonder, though, if my embarassment of Viagra ads isn't yet another vestige of my perception. My generation, as teens, may have had Playboy magazines stuffed between our mattresses...year old copies found in our dad's dresser, likely...but we were ignorant about sexuality. Well, obviously I can only speak for the male segment of the spectrum...I don't have a clue what the gals were up to. I only knew that they were usually a lot more mature about the subject so they must not have had a Hugh Hefner or a Bob Guccione to corrupt them.
What I'm (unsuccessfully) trying to say here is that I don't think kids get red faced at the concepts set forth in the disclaimer & side effects rider of a Viagra commercial. When I say "kids" I'm talking about older teens, younger tweens, and I may just be incredibly naive thinking that kids that age in my day weren't as enlightened, but I know I wasn't. I watch an episode of "New Girl" and I think, my God, that really goes for the blue humor (in case anyone doesn't remember the term, blue humor is basically the same as "dirty jokes". If "dirty jokes" has passed from the idiom I don't know what to tell you). I am probably a prude when it comes down to it, but I would be embarassed watching "New Girl" with my 27 year old daughter. Hell, I'd be embarassed to watch it with my 40 year old wife. I know, that's pathetic of me. Childish, even. I think of it as being "over protective" and maybe it's a hold out from the time when I beat that punk Laurence to a pulp for shouting obscenities within hearing distance of our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Huggins. I can't help it. I don't want my friends and loved ones to descend into the deep, dark, nasty pit I fell into long ago.
Which takes me back to where I came from...This is the kind of thing that makes me feel old. Kids are just smarter than they were when I was one of them. More savvy. Even the miscreants have more street smarts. I don't guess I should expect, or be disappointed, that they don't know Joe Friday or the Indian guy getting all teary-eyed because pollution has ruined his ancestral hunting grounds. It goes both ways, to a small extent. I don't think I would recognize Kim Kardasian if she had one of those "Hello! My Name Is..." tags on her blouse. I've never gotten more than 10 seconds into a Britney Spears song. I'm clueless as to why anyone gives a flying fart about Lindsey Lohan. I feel like a dirty old pervert when I contemplate how really good looking Zooey Daschenel is. I can count the number of post-2000 bands I really like on one hand. TV? Is the news on yet? Okay, you turn it on.
In the long run I think these facebook "nostalgia" posts are so popular because they would seem to suggest that, hey, I may be old but I've got something you don't have! Unfortunately the typical response is probably hey, that's ok, you keep it. It makes us feel good to be reminded of those things which, hey, even WE had forgotten until someone else's post reminded us. We like this stuff because it gives us a chance to revel in the generation gap. It's a bittersweet undertaking but one that offers perspective. Not just of how wide that gap becomes the older we get. We can recover memories lost between the horns of that gap by viewing a You Tube video of the Groovy Ghoulies. A picture of Linda Blair becomes a piece in a jigsaw puzzle that's always been there, scattered with all the others around the part you've already put together. It just somehow came loose, waiting for you to find it and put it back where it belonged. The bizarre experience of playing cardboard records cut from cereal boxes, held down on the turntable with nickels, becomes an esoteric bond between those for whom the very idea isn't patently ridiculous. "Hey, you think Marilyn Manson is outreagous? Well, come over here and let me introduce you to Alice Cooper". "Yes, son, that's the third re-make of this movie. When we get home we can watch the original. It's so much better." A bridge of sorts.
Assuming, that is, that anyone wants to cross it.
Friday, June 8, 2012
"Melancholia" Side A
"Melancholia" is a collection of songs I wrote and recorded between December 7-14, 1988. I always thought of it as a proper "album" although the recording quality was far from being good enough to actually consider releasing. For that matter the performances aren't all that great. Many of the songs sound alike, as I was just then learning how to manipulate the D chord a little bit. It was recorded on a flimsy little cassette recorder in the shed my father built in our back yard when we first moved into the house. The last couple of years had found me committed, albeit voluntarily, in a mental hospital, staying in an assisted living facility and playing in one of the best bands I've ever been a part of over the summer. I'm not real sure where my head was at when I wrote this music. I had written a couple of songs that were good enough to use in the band and it's likely I hoped to pitch some of these to them, having left a few months before. The material was fresh when I recorded it, if memory serves.
"CIRCLES"
This is the last time, nowhere left to turn
So let's walk to the south side and watch the crosses burn
I'm left with no feeling or reason to go on
I can see your face in fire and I know what went wrong
I'm running around in circles...'round and 'round we go
You ask me where I'm going to but I don't even know
I'm just runnin' around, not getting anywhere
Running around in circles
I tried to tell you but you wouldn't hear me out
Sometimes to get to you you know I think I have to shout
(Hey! Hey!)
You say this attitude is getting in the way
You can blame my attitude when I'm lying in the grave
(Hey!)
Running around in circles...'round and 'round we go
You ask me where you're going to but I don't know
You're just runnin' around in circles, you're not getting anywhere
Running around in circles
I think I have to shout
I think I'll have to shout
I think I'll have to shout
Shout
"CONSISTENCY"
There are things I still don't understand
Happy couples walking hand in hand
Diderot's "Rameau's Nephew" "D'Alambert's Dream"
I read it a hundred times and still don't see
As it was before it soon believes
What I'd give for some consistency
And the lights go out
And the lies come down
And I still can make no sense of it at all
The thoughts are in my head are so surreal
I'm trying to sort out the way I feel
I see machines when I close my eyes
I can't sleep no matter how I try
I don't think you're listening, no
What I'd give for some consistency
And the lights go out
And the lies come down
And I still can make no sense of it at all
(...sense of it all...no sense of it at all)
(...sense of it all...no sense of it at all)
And the lies come out
And the lights go down
And we still can make no sense of it at all
"SAM, YOU KNOW SHE'S DYING"
Sam, you know she's dying
And there's nothing you can do so let her go
The family's in the front room crying
Well it took so long but now I think they know
How do we tell her parents?
And how can we tell all her kids?
How will we tell anyone who gave a damn?
Because nobody did
Sam, you know she's dying
Her eyes are closed, she's comatose and grey
Well, I bet you thought that I was lying
But there's truth in every morbid word I say
It's too late now
And all her letters home you never read
They won't change a thing or resurrect that feeling
Or bring her back to you...she's dead
(...she's dead)
Sam, you know she's dying
Sam, you know...
"COLD WAR"
I looked into your empty faces
I saw it through your hollow eyes
They take me to familiar places
Like Heaven falling from the sky
I need to know there's something more
Answers we're not ready for
The congregation marches down the street
In a cold war
It's come to envelope us all
And just the realization
Could save country from a fall...
Annihilation
I need to know there's something new
Something we're prepared to do
Forced to kill to make a point
It's just another job for you
These hordes that gather nightly
To fade into a scene
Avoiding just to spite me
Afraid of what they've seen
It's come to envelope us all
And just the realization
Could save, save this country from a fall
"CLOWNS"
The stone-still faces and the shallow eyes
I've grown accustomed to
I hear the people laughing, their mocking sound always
Reminds me of you
I know they're laughing at me
And I've known it all along
I'm laughing, too
I try to reassess the situation and look at it
From every side
I live in desperation and when I hear your voice
I realize
I know you're laughing at me
And I've known it all along
I'm laughing, too
You're laughing at me
It's enough to make me cry
It's enough to make me cry
And I do
You're laughing at me
You're laughing at me
"MARK WHITE'S DEAD"
HEYYYYY!
Mark White's dead! I shot him in the head!
Mark White's dead! I shot him in the head!
He had no soul. He was a real asshole
He had no soul. He was a fuckin' asshole
Asshole!
Oh, Lord forgive me I know I have sinned but I
Just couldn't help it, he was getting on my nerves
Mark White's dead and nobody cares
Mark White's dead...nobody cares
Nobody cares
All of his friends were gone in the end
All of his friends were gone in the end
All of his friends were gone
When I killed him
Mark White's dead! I shot him in the head!
Mark White's dead! I shot him in the head!
"LESSONS"
Talked about the Golden Rule, I thought I had it down
Never called my brothers "fool" until they weren't around
Then I finally realized that I was just like them
And all the ones I criticized are teaching me again
These are the lessons that I've learned
These are the lessons that I've learned
These are the lessons that I've learned
Wished upon a lucky star and saw it falling down
I'm still wondering where you are, lying on the ground
Luck and hope are fantasies and dreams that don't come true
I have learned it painfully but I still wait for you
These are the lessons that I've learned
These are the lessons that I've learned
These are the lessons that I've learned
I've learned...I've learned
Wishing on a lucky star for you
Waiting 'til the end of time for you
"SOMEONE"
Is it too much for me to expect?
Is there anyone who really understands?
I'm drowning and the audience just cheers
No one's reaching out for my hand
All I really need is someone who cares about me
All I want, all I need is
Someone
"We're not paid to have concern for you
You can't expect that from us"
I have no expectations now
Not hope or faith or trust...trust
If somehow I cried out to you
In a hopeless, desperate way
I don't think you would understand even then
I heard you laughing...you're laughing when I say
All I really need is someone who cares about me
All I want, all that I need is
Someone who cares
Who cares...
Who cares? Who cares? Who cares? Who cares?
"LITTLE GIRL"
It could have been her mother holding her hand
But she seemed so much older, I don't understand
On the radio they told me who she was
Now I gotta have her simply just because
I need a little girl...little girl
I need a little girl...little girl
She's old enough to be a mother, too
And I think I'd love her more than I love you
I'd like to hold her...I could be her man
She's got another woman by the hand
I need a little girl...alright
I need a little girl...a little girl
Little girls got crazy little looks
Got their little notepads and their little black books
Make me turn around and take another look
Another look
(Gotta turn the page, said Bob Seger...I like what I see)
Gotta be a reason for the way I feel
Sometimes I think I'm dreaming, that she can't be real
But I see her coming, I don't know where to start
I take their love...I tear it apart
Cause I need a little girl...just a little bit
A little girl...a little bit
And I want her...shit, I gotta have her
Need a little girl...just a little
(Hey, over there, I know you're not here, but Hi anyway!)
"KARI KARI"
I want to read her diary
And I want to read her poetry
I wanna get inside behind the shadow in her eyes
With open eyes she still can't see
She just smiles back at me
She's just like all the rest and I'll listen to all of her lies
Ooh, I want her for my own...like all the other guys do
Ooh, I want to call my own the sadness in her eyes
I want to find her address
I wanna ask her to marry me
I want to call her on the telephone and see if she's real
The phone rang twenty times
I loved her for her mind
No answer to justify the stupid way I feel
Ooh, I want her for my own...like all the other guys do
Ooh, I want to call my own the sadness in her eyes
The phone rang twenty times
I loved her for her mind
No answer to justify the stupid way I feel
"PILLS AND ALCOHOL"
Grown immune to change, I'm changing everyday
The blood that flowed so freely doesn't wash away
A stain that turns from crimson into something close to grey
Makes me want to laugh at you...makes me want to change
Can you take it seriously?
I just want to laugh
And I think He's smiling, too
I know you're talking about me and I know you're watching me
I oscillate from the thought that you might like what you see
I can look in the mirror and see someone I never knew
It's the same feeling I get when I'm looking at you
And I'm looking at you
And I'm looking to you
And I'm looking through you
And I'm looking through you
And I'm looking right through you
Right through you
No solutions in sight...pills and alcohol
No solution in sight, just pills and alcohol
Pills and alcohol... pills and alcohol
Pills and alcohol
I just wanna laugh at you
I just wanna laugh at you
"GAMES"
I was gonna leave until you caught my eye
With a wink you pulled me back into your velvet life
All the doors are locked, the windows closed and sealed
Can't get in or out of this crazy way I feel
And it seems so strange
I'm still not tired of your games
I've lost again
These are games I'll never win
You spoke of love, I know you spoke the truth
I sat for hours listening to you
Love letters and poetry that didn't rhyme
We were so anesthetized by time
Today I saw it as you walked right out of the room
Your smile had faded, you knew you were wrong
And it's always been the same
We both play our stupid little games
I've lost again
But these are games I'll never win
"WE DREAMED"
Your happiness forced, we've come to an end
The years that are left we only pretend
A smile or a hope uncomfortably rare
A dream we've forgotten...an unanswered prayer
We dreamed of a future bright as the sun
Each day as the first, we'd only just began
We dreamed of forever no matter the cost
We woke up together, another dream lost
Another dream lost
Death draws us closer while age tears apart
No more love songs and no broken hearts
You'll finally rest and leave me behind
Accustomed by now to living alone
"UNTITILED"
Happy is as happy was and all my songs sound alike
"DISTANCE AND DREAMING"
-instrumental-
"TO AUBREY"
(lyrics are improvised and mostly indecipherable)
Side B follows in the preceding post...
Side B follows in the preceding post...
"Melancholia" side B
"THE LIGHT IS FADING"
I take this seriously...these things you understand
You think I'm special but I am just a man
Not much of one at that...so many times I've failed
(unintelligible)
The light is fading slowly
In the distance, in an instant, in the sun
I'm a liar, I'm the fool, I'm the one
The taste of blood is not sweet...did you know it's on your breath
The sick, sweet smell of poison, the aftertaste of death
I take this seriously...is there something wrong?
Please let me know...I heard it in a song
(...in a song)
The light is fading
In the distance, in an instant, in the sun
I'm a liar, I'm the fool, I'm the one
"HOUSE"
(This is the House...here we go...)
House...House...House...House...
Home...Home...Home...Home...
House....House....House....House...House... House
Home...Home...Home...Here we go! Here we go! Here we go!
House...House...House...
My house is not a home
It's not a home
Home...Home...House...Hahaha...House
This house is not a home
Home
House is not a home
It's just a house
It's not even a nice house
It's not even a big house
It's sure ain't the White House
It's not a house, it's my home
It's my home...Home?
House!
House house house!
Hey, can you hear me out there?
I'm talking about my home
I'm talking about wonderin' how to play the guitar with some confidence
Confidence in my house
House...I'm talking about the house
And the house on the hill
And the house in hell
The home of the devil and all his sweet demons
And all his...mutha...
In the house....House....House....House....
How am I going to end this song?
I'll sing about my home...home...
In my
HOUSE!!!!!!!!
"AS IT SEEMED"
Love is real in storybooks and pictures in my mind
In the world it's not the same, and so, so hard to find
If we dream of love and peace we only fool ourselves
And we reach our dying day in our own private hell
Seems so real we want to believe
In the end we've been deceived
Love is only real in our dreams
And nothings as it seemed
I love you and you love me, like some romantic song
That I used to sing for you...I believed it for too long
And now the truth creeps in on me and now I realize
The stories told in Sunday school were lies
Seems so real we want to believe
But in the end we've only been deceived
Love is only real in our dreams
Nothing's as it seemed
Nothings as it seemed
I wanna ask her to marry me
I wanna see if she's real
No answer to justify...
"ALL TOMORROW' S PARTIES"
words and music by Lou Reed
"LOVE WILL TEAR US APART"
lyrics by Ian Curtis
music by Curtis, Sumner, Hook, Morris
"DISCOVERY"
Understand
We search for a reason
In the rain that falls on your head
Longing to fly
In every direction
Held down
(unintelligible)
This was your goal
Yes, this was your freedom
This is your life
Uncomfortably numb
No vision, no prayers
No reason to go on
You wait for an answer that just doesn't come
Freedom discovery...screaming discovery
Design discovery...challenge discovery
Discovery
Still you won't cry
You cling to your manhood
Or some set of rules
That makes you feel right
It comes from within
You don't understand it
You let it slip by you every night
Your happiness comes
In seven explosions
In the seventh a mirror
You can return to
You see after all
You're not even in it
Then walk through the glass
As day passes through
Freedom...Freedom
''CLOSE MY EYES"
Ah, just for tonight...just for tonight
I can dream of you...something you don't understand
"FIGHTING/FROM THE EARTH"
Laughter stains the innocent
A funeral threat she never meant
Sirens outside prophesied
Never calmed the savage pride
Ha! Ha! Ha!...and on and on
Until the last demon's gone
When that ghost had gone away
With no one there I heard her say
I still haven't forgotten what I'm fighting for
Still haven't forgotten what I'm fighting for
Laughter once your greatest friend
Points and mocks you in the end
Terrible and terrified
On a corner where she cried
Bonds of leather around her wrists
What could be as fun as this?
And the leather's colored rust
And her face is black with dust
Except the lines below her eyes
A trail of all the tears she's cried
But she'll be well another day
But you didn't hear her say
I still haven't forgotten what I'm fighting for
Confusion and nothing more
I believe...In your eyes I see love, love my love
You've no heart...too far too far
See, I'm so far, I've been up there
See, I'm so far, I've been up there
Climb down...see I'm so far, I've been up there
Come down my love...I'm so far, I've been up there
Take my name, my love...I've been up there
You run...I'm so far, I've been up there
Run, too far, I'm so far, I've been up there
I've been up there...I've been up there
I've been in there...I've been in there
Does it make you wonder...what a faraway place
Does it make you wander to a faraway place
Transit unsuccessful...transit transit unsuccessful
We fall from the earth...far from the earth
Too far from the earth
Much too far...much too far
"LOVELESS LOVE SONG"
Light on
Holiest light on
See them vanish
You ain't safe anymore
You ain't safe anymore
Lovely light on
Loveless love song
Leave me out alone
You don't have to lock the door
Perfect for a circle in square
Circle in square
Lovely light on
Loveless long song
Looking out the door
He ain't safe for...
Loveless love song
"WILD THING"
originally performed by The Troggs
"CIRCLES (REPRISE)"
see Side A
(About 99% of the lyrics to "Melancholia" were easily deciphered. In a couple of instances where I could not understand a line I have noted it. On a couple of occasions I have added a word or two that I felt was probably in the spirit of the song. Like I said, some of these lyrics are decent, some are total crap. But they all pretty much sum up my state of mind at the time. Which, I suppose, must have been pretty bleak, seeing as how some of these songs almost come off as suicide notes. Oh, well. I feel a LOT better these days and my nihilistic streak had run it's course long ago).
I take this seriously...these things you understand
You think I'm special but I am just a man
Not much of one at that...so many times I've failed
(unintelligible)
The light is fading slowly
In the distance, in an instant, in the sun
I'm a liar, I'm the fool, I'm the one
The taste of blood is not sweet...did you know it's on your breath
The sick, sweet smell of poison, the aftertaste of death
I take this seriously...is there something wrong?
Please let me know...I heard it in a song
(...in a song)
The light is fading
In the distance, in an instant, in the sun
I'm a liar, I'm the fool, I'm the one
"HOUSE"
(This is the House...here we go...)
House...House...House...House...
Home...Home...Home...Home...
House....House....House....House...House... House
Home...Home...Home...Here we go! Here we go! Here we go!
House...House...House...
My house is not a home
It's not a home
Home...Home...House...Hahaha...House
This house is not a home
Home
House is not a home
It's just a house
It's not even a nice house
It's not even a big house
It's sure ain't the White House
It's not a house, it's my home
It's my home...Home?
House!
House house house!
Hey, can you hear me out there?
I'm talking about my home
I'm talking about wonderin' how to play the guitar with some confidence
Confidence in my house
House...I'm talking about the house
And the house on the hill
And the house in hell
The home of the devil and all his sweet demons
And all his...mutha...
In the house....House....House....House....
How am I going to end this song?
I'll sing about my home...home...
In my
HOUSE!!!!!!!!
"AS IT SEEMED"
Love is real in storybooks and pictures in my mind
In the world it's not the same, and so, so hard to find
If we dream of love and peace we only fool ourselves
And we reach our dying day in our own private hell
Seems so real we want to believe
In the end we've been deceived
Love is only real in our dreams
And nothings as it seemed
I love you and you love me, like some romantic song
That I used to sing for you...I believed it for too long
And now the truth creeps in on me and now I realize
The stories told in Sunday school were lies
Seems so real we want to believe
But in the end we've only been deceived
Love is only real in our dreams
Nothing's as it seemed
Nothings as it seemed
I wanna ask her to marry me
I wanna see if she's real
No answer to justify...
"ALL TOMORROW' S PARTIES"
words and music by Lou Reed
"LOVE WILL TEAR US APART"
lyrics by Ian Curtis
music by Curtis, Sumner, Hook, Morris
"DISCOVERY"
Understand
We search for a reason
In the rain that falls on your head
Longing to fly
In every direction
Held down
(unintelligible)
This was your goal
Yes, this was your freedom
This is your life
Uncomfortably numb
No vision, no prayers
No reason to go on
You wait for an answer that just doesn't come
Freedom discovery...screaming discovery
Design discovery...challenge discovery
Discovery
Still you won't cry
You cling to your manhood
Or some set of rules
That makes you feel right
It comes from within
You don't understand it
You let it slip by you every night
Your happiness comes
In seven explosions
In the seventh a mirror
You can return to
You see after all
You're not even in it
Then walk through the glass
As day passes through
Freedom...Freedom
''CLOSE MY EYES"
Ah, just for tonight...just for tonight
I can dream of you...something you don't understand
"FIGHTING/FROM THE EARTH"
Laughter stains the innocent
A funeral threat she never meant
Sirens outside prophesied
Never calmed the savage pride
Ha! Ha! Ha!...and on and on
Until the last demon's gone
When that ghost had gone away
With no one there I heard her say
I still haven't forgotten what I'm fighting for
Still haven't forgotten what I'm fighting for
Laughter once your greatest friend
Points and mocks you in the end
Terrible and terrified
On a corner where she cried
Bonds of leather around her wrists
What could be as fun as this?
And the leather's colored rust
And her face is black with dust
Except the lines below her eyes
A trail of all the tears she's cried
But she'll be well another day
But you didn't hear her say
I still haven't forgotten what I'm fighting for
Confusion and nothing more
I believe...In your eyes I see love, love my love
You've no heart...too far too far
See, I'm so far, I've been up there
See, I'm so far, I've been up there
Climb down...see I'm so far, I've been up there
Come down my love...I'm so far, I've been up there
Take my name, my love...I've been up there
You run...I'm so far, I've been up there
Run, too far, I'm so far, I've been up there
I've been up there...I've been up there
I've been in there...I've been in there
Does it make you wonder...what a faraway place
Does it make you wander to a faraway place
Transit unsuccessful...transit transit unsuccessful
We fall from the earth...far from the earth
Too far from the earth
Much too far...much too far
"LOVELESS LOVE SONG"
Light on
Holiest light on
See them vanish
You ain't safe anymore
You ain't safe anymore
Lovely light on
Loveless love song
Leave me out alone
You don't have to lock the door
Perfect for a circle in square
Circle in square
Lovely light on
Loveless long song
Looking out the door
He ain't safe for...
Loveless love song
"WILD THING"
originally performed by The Troggs
"CIRCLES (REPRISE)"
see Side A
(About 99% of the lyrics to "Melancholia" were easily deciphered. In a couple of instances where I could not understand a line I have noted it. On a couple of occasions I have added a word or two that I felt was probably in the spirit of the song. Like I said, some of these lyrics are decent, some are total crap. But they all pretty much sum up my state of mind at the time. Which, I suppose, must have been pretty bleak, seeing as how some of these songs almost come off as suicide notes. Oh, well. I feel a LOT better these days and my nihilistic streak had run it's course long ago).
Sunday, April 22, 2012
I got Grandkids!
Last week, Saturday the 14th to be exact, was a monumental occasion for me in every sense of the word. It was a very important link in a chain of events that have turned my life around. In a good way. I was going to post about it the day after but for some reason I didn't get around to it. I never got around to it until now, and even now I don't think I'll be saying as much about it as I could probably say. That's because it's a long story filled with just as much pain as happiness. It would take me a few hours to set it out like it needs to be told and even then I don't know if I could explain it adequately. My version would be extremely biased and though I normally wouldn't let that stop me I thought it best to hold back for that reason as well. The occasion?
I saw my grandchildren for the first time on Saturday, April 14, 2012. I have a grandson, Joshua, who is 6 years old, and an 8 year old daughter named Jordan. I'd seen lots of pictures of them since regaining contact with my daughter. I knew a little bit about both of them. But last week was the first time I met them, talked with them, played with them.
What a handful, eh? I'd forgotten what it was like to spend a few hours in the rowdy company of energetic youngsters whose greatest desire at the time is to show you all of their toys. I'm fine with that...in fact I loved it when I was raising Bryan. But that was a long time ago so I'm definitely out of practice. Didn't take too long to get back in the swing.
Of course we took a few pictures of the occasion and I had originally wanted to post one here but on second thought decided it would be better not to seeing as how they are so young. I would have misgivings even if I'd secured permission from my daughter so sorry, no photos of the grandkids.
First, I find my daughter on the Internet. Second, we develop a relationship through facebook messages. Third, the relationship evolves as we begin speaking on the phone regularly. Fourth, we get together in person for the first time in many, many years (and I meet her husband). And now, my grandkids are finally part of my life, something which I thought would come about much later but I'm satisfied with the way it all turned out.
I've spent a lot of time trying to come to terms with all of this. Don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic about the whole thing. It's a lot of answered prayers and dreams come true. But I'm still having some difficulty trying to get a grip on the dynamics of the relationship, as I'm sure is the case for my daughter, as well. There was still some tension between the two of us...oh, I forgot...she invited me into her home, which may not sound like much to anyone who hasn't worked hard to regain confidence and restore a relationship, but as I see it the gesture is a vote of confidence (whether she realizes it or not) that tells me I'm on the right track. I've given her the opportunity to steer the course of the relationship since it first started.
The problem, as I see it, is the absence of shared experience. There's that huge, gaping hole of time when we could have been growing together, figuring out what makes each other tick. All that time when we would have naturally grown comfortable in each other's presence is gone and there's no getting it back. That's kind of depressing, but on the other hand I guess discovering it should be exciting. I suppose it is, but she lives almost 2 hours from me. I don't have the means to go that far for regular visits. I need to spend as much time with her as is humanly possible to make up for what was lost. If she were even 50 miles from me I would go see her every day of the week...or at least every day that she wanted me to be there. I like to think that she feels the same way I do and would actually enjoy spending huge chunks of time with me.
When I talk about "shared experience" I'm not really trying to describe anything significant. Sitting together and watching a couple of DVDs, comfortable with each other's company. That would do worlds of good in easing the pressure of wondering "how to act" towards each other. Or to a movie, or a concert, or even just hanging out at Barnes & Noble for a couple of hours. My wife said something about us camping at Eufala lake. What she was actually suggesting was that we set up camp there and I could go visit her, since she lives fairly close to the lake, and it wouldn't be so much of a drive. I could stay longer or whatever. Somehow I got the impression that she was talking about my family and hers camping together...and I thought that would be a great idea. She agreed, it would, but now I think about it, my son would probably be uncomfortable in such a situation...not necessarily the situation but being with me in the situation. He's very obviously uncomfortable in my presence.
Which brings me to another dynamic in the relationship between my daughter and I. It kind of ties in with the last one. I am dealing with a teenage boy right now and it has effected almost every aspect of my life. It has not been easy. But when I feel like I have had enough and can't stand anymore I think about the years he was growing up, how close we were, how easy it was to communicate with him. That's all history, but at least I know that it won't be too long before this adolescent phase will be just as much so. The way I relate to him when that happens will be informed by all those different stages...
My daughter is 26 years old. I not only missed the growing up stages, I also didn't have to deal with whatever adolescent angst she surely displayed. I don't know how I would have reacted to it or what kind of impression it would have left on me in the way I would have communicated with her in the following years. Then there are those first few years of true independence she's already lived through. How do I work with that? Not to sound ungrateful or harsh, but it really is like talking with a stranger.
That is probably the key to understanding any uncomfortableness between she and I. We're basically strangers to each other. We've been working on making that a little less so, but it's not easy and it will take some time. Time we have given it, though, as we didn't really start talking on the phone until almost 5 years of facebook messaging. I have always been under the impression that something like this takes time. I know I'm right about that. Even it was frustrating for me to wait for her to green-light a personal visit I knew what I was doing was necessary. I still believe I was, and am right.
I also believe that this time next year I won't need to be writing anything like this. It's a long drive, to be sure, but it didn't seem all that long heading up there last week (if you don't count the hassles I had getting lost on the way) and I kind of doubt it will feel that way in the future. What I need to do is have my old blue Saturn checked out, replace the broken CD player and get new tires. I'm sure I would have already resolved to go even a couple of times a week if I had thought of that by now. The wife drives about 50 miles a day to and from work, we really don't want to add miles to the "good" car. The Saturn has more miles on it that there are grains of sand on the beach. It's never, and I mean never had any serious problems. I would recommend a Saturn to anyone. Yeah, I think I'll get it fixed and ready, because I'm gonna see my little girl one way or another. Better more often than less.
And of course I'll want to see my grandkids. The ones I originally began this post writing about. Maybe soon I will get used to the idea of being a grandfather. As old as I feel (an unreasonable estimate) I still can't believe I'm old enough to be "gramps".
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Ruminations & Reckoning on my 50th
When I turned 30 everything was cool. Nothing to it. Nothing changed and I didn't expect it to. It didn't. Then I got to 40 and it was like, "this ain't so bad. I think I can deal with it". Which I did and for the most part it was a good decade for me. But here's 50. This is where you start getting birthday cards with the time honored slogan "Over the Hill" emblazoned across the cover. So there's definitely a sense of the next ten years being one that's filled with hurdles and sacrifices. 20 year old men hold doors open for me in gestures of respect to one's elders.
I'm sure I've exaggerated somewhat. Likely I'll cruise through the next 3,653 days riding high on significant events that occurred in the last. I've regained contact with my daughter and have finally met my two grandchildren I didn't even know I had until October of 2007. It's going to be great to get to know them. For that matter it's going to be wonderful getting to know my daughter, as there were so many years between the time I last saw her in the late 80s. It's a strange, intriguing situation, but I love her dearly, never wanted to be apart, and look forward to the experience.
In the next ten years I will watch my son become a man. I'll see him attending college, knowing that he will succeed if for no other reason than that he was so successful with his high school academics. I'll be there when he graduates and will watch with interest as he embarks upon a career. Maybe a kid? I can hope. I don't think you can have too many grandchildren.Then there's my wife. Our relationship has never been stagnant. It is continually changing and, though I can't speak for her, I am of the opinion that it gets richer with each passing year. It will be interesting to see how our marriage evolves. She keeps me in line and her influence has been so beneficial to me that words cannot describe.
Fifty years is also, I think, a good time for a reckoning. A chance to look back and reflect. As Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living. I've tried to adhere to that maxim since first hearing it in a high school college prep English course. Now seems an especially proper time to meditate upon the life I've sustained for fifty years.
If I were on my death bed, would I be able to look back and say that I'd fulfilled my potential or would I go to heaven filled with regrets for what could have been? Aren't those loaded questions? It's never so cut and dry in the world, is it? You could fill a volume the size of "War and Peace" with all my regrets. But upon further reflection I find that there are valid excuses why they are regrets. Powers I had little or no control over prevented me from amassing achievements I would have hoped to accomplish.
It's a little harder to come to a conclusion as to whether I've fulfilled my potential. Those same powers that had a lot to do with my regrets have also kept me from being all I can be. Not as if I know but I don't doubt that there is a large majority of people who aren't and never will be, so I don't feel alone.So, with all that being said I'll try and sort out the best and the worst.
It should come as no surprise, at least to my Christian brethren, that the most significant moment in my life was when I accepted Jesus as all He said He was and embraced the forgiveness He offered. That was in 1977. There were a lot of times between then and now where you would certainly have had no idea I was Christian. Many and long were the times when I, myself, didn't acknowledge the fact. But I believe in eternal security, or "once-saved-always-saved" as detractors call it. The place I am right now has led me back to that day, to that experience, the point where my life in the flesh ended and I became born again in the Spirit. How do you get away from that? It's just too monumental. It's too important. At any rate, what I'm trying to say is that throughout the years I have investigated many, many spiritual paths and religions. If I had found one I thought had the answers I didn't get with Christianity I would have converted to them in a heartbeat. As a person who suffers from bipolar disorder I can't say how long it will be before I stray, lured by other expressions of spiritual truths I feel would serve me well. Yet I keep coming back to Christ, and I just know there's got to be a reason for that. I may never understand it, just as I'm sure I will not understand and comprehend the Bible in this lifetime. I still believe it's the word of God.
I can't really list the components of the next greatest thing in my life, because I don't think it would be right to say one is more important than the other. No surprise that I'm talking about my family. I never was much of a "family man". That's one of the regrets I spoke of earlier. Probably the result of my reaction to my parents divorce, but who knows, I don't think I was much of one before that. Most of the people in my own family are miles away. There's only one, of several, that I have kept up with, an aunt. She's recently moved even further down the road so I doubt I'll be in regular contact with her now.But it's different with my wife, kids and grandchildren. They really are the most important people in my life. I have already talked about them in this post, so I will move on.
The thing that has kept me back, held me down, wreaked havoc on my life is bipolar disorder. I realize that I'm a strong person for being able to deal with it a effectively as I do. Yet it is something serious and difficult to deal with. I never wanted, and certainly still don't want to be associated with it, meaning that you'll never see me at any "mental health awareness" rally. I wouldn't say that I'm 100% affected by whatever stigma I think still exists surrounding it. But I did grow up in a time where it was definitely held in a unique, condescending regard. And for every stride of progress I witness there seems to be just as much of the same old crap, meaning that if there's going to be change it's coming at an exceptionally slow, snail-like pace and I sure won't be around long enough to experience the benefits.
Bipolar disorder has destroyed relationships in my life. It's taken away my ability to fully appreciate so much of what life has to offer. It's made me a cynical bastard who has to keep it in check. It's placed me in situations, physically and mentally, that I would not wish upon my biggest enemy. You always hear about how people with bipolar disorder are so "creative", etc. I don't know about that. I do something creative and I might be happy with it for a few days but think it sucks big time for the next several years. So you kind of get the feeling that you're wasting your time and that deflates whatever motivation you might have to do it again.
Enough about bipolar disorder. Some accomplishments I have reason to be proud of.
As a young child I always wanted to play in a band. At first I insisted that it be a rock band but as time went on I figured music was music if you had an appreciative audience. I taught myself how to play the bass guitar and from that moment on I was able to live my dream...though I certainly wouldn't consider it "living a dream", because the "dream" had involved much more fame and fortune than I ever had a chance of amassing. Nevertheless, I eventually figured out that it's not right to "do it for the money". I can count on one hand the number of shows I've played in which I wasn't thrilled to be where I was, doing what I was doing. I loved playing music for people and I got to do that a bit during my last 50 years. Not nearly as often as I would have liked, but all things considered I think I did pretty well. Better than a lot of musicians have done.
...I was going to go into detail about something important but then thought better of it. What I will say is that I had a bad habit for over 15 years. It wasn't just a habit, it was an addiction. I bought into and was happy to be a part of it's subculture. Most of that time I had no intention of quitting. I knew that even if I did I probably couldn't, because I was every bit as enslaving to me as the bottle is to the alcoholic.
The legacy I'll leave behind is my children. I've come to the point where I realize that's more than enough. I write this blog in an attempt to share something about myself, primarily for when I'm gone. That's the core intent of the other blogs I maintain. When I'm long gone, they will know this about me. They can gather 'round the computer on father's day and pay me tribute by reading some of this stuff. I know that nothing lasts forever. Even this stuff will eventually succumb to change. But until it does, well, for all intents an purposes, I'm here. Just a fraction of me, but it's here.
How did I get there? I was ruminating upon my first 50 years, now I'm talking about grandchildren reading about me when I'm dead? I'm just trying to find a way to end this post. I knew I had a lot of ground to cover and I figured I wouldn't get nearly as much done as I hoped to. I was right. I thought I'd be able to do more, but hey, time to put an end to this reckoning and start the next half century. I've got the complete works of Charles Dickens on my Kindle Fire and a resolution to spend more time reading the greats and less on the computer. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Monday, April 9, 2012
Resurrection Band: "City Streets", "Alienated", "The Chair"
Easter weekend is usually a good time for me. I reflect upon the reasons I'm a Christian and come away with a new sense of conviction. This weekend wasn't like that and I really don't know why. There's been so much "atheist talk" with my son this year that I guess it's wearing me thin to the point where I almost lose the hope that keeps me going. In the long run I won't lose it because Jesus won't let that happen, but nevertheless I fear that my bipolar disorder has swung way down to a troubling low. I take anti-depressants and have done so for at least a year. They did me a lot of good and the effects were recognizable. I'm afraid I've built up a tolerance level to them. I'm doing some of the same things and thinking some of the same thoughts and feeling the same way I did before I began taking them. So either it's a huge emotional drop that will correct itself in the same manner that a manic phase does not last forever, or I need to look into getting a new anti-depressant prescribed. If you only knew how much I loathe that possibility.
I didn't come here to talk psychiatry or mental health. I just wanted to share an awesome video I just found of the Resurrection Band in performance circa 1981. It took me back to the good old days after I'd first become a Christian. Christian rock music helped me survive the conservative, ultra-literal church mindset in Oklahoma. Resurrection Band was probably the first evangelical rock band I ever heard. They kicked ass so hard it wasn't even funny! Not too many, if any, could keep up with them. They were truly anointed, and this bugged the Bible Belters to no end. Unlike a lot of CCM rockers they didin't ape any particular "secular" band. They didn't have to. I don't care what you believe in, or don't believe in, if you like good rock music you would do yourself a favor tracking down "Colours" and "Mommy Don't Love Daddy Anymore".
The video is an excerpt from a show in Puerto Rico. It starts out with "City Streets", moves on with "Alienated" and closes out with an incredible song about people with disabilities, "The Chair". I'll warn you that the last song is cut off about 15 seconds before it ends, and this is extremely frustrating because "The Chair" is by far the most powerful song of the three. Like I said when I posted it on YouTube, singer Glenn Kaiser could have been a huge rock star had he chosen to play anything but Christian music. If you don't think so by the end of this video then I suppose you and I have radically different opinions about the requirements for such fame and success. It doesn't matter, though, because it's probable that Kaiser would not have been a fraction the performer had it not been for the inspiration from and conviction of his faith in Jesus Christ.
I didn't come here to talk psychiatry or mental health. I just wanted to share an awesome video I just found of the Resurrection Band in performance circa 1981. It took me back to the good old days after I'd first become a Christian. Christian rock music helped me survive the conservative, ultra-literal church mindset in Oklahoma. Resurrection Band was probably the first evangelical rock band I ever heard. They kicked ass so hard it wasn't even funny! Not too many, if any, could keep up with them. They were truly anointed, and this bugged the Bible Belters to no end. Unlike a lot of CCM rockers they didin't ape any particular "secular" band. They didn't have to. I don't care what you believe in, or don't believe in, if you like good rock music you would do yourself a favor tracking down "Colours" and "Mommy Don't Love Daddy Anymore".
The video is an excerpt from a show in Puerto Rico. It starts out with "City Streets", moves on with "Alienated" and closes out with an incredible song about people with disabilities, "The Chair". I'll warn you that the last song is cut off about 15 seconds before it ends, and this is extremely frustrating because "The Chair" is by far the most powerful song of the three. Like I said when I posted it on YouTube, singer Glenn Kaiser could have been a huge rock star had he chosen to play anything but Christian music. If you don't think so by the end of this video then I suppose you and I have radically different opinions about the requirements for such fame and success. It doesn't matter, though, because it's probable that Kaiser would not have been a fraction the performer had it not been for the inspiration from and conviction of his faith in Jesus Christ.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
2007 end-of-year list
 |
| ...it was a very good year |
1) Was 2007 a good year for you?
Yeah, actually it was a pretty good year for the most part.
2) What was your favorite moment of the year?
Finding Aubrey on MySpace
3) What was your least favorite moment of the year?
I guess it was when the power went out for a couple of days last Monday...but I can't complain. We got lucky. There are still homes without electricity a week later.
4) Where were you when 2007 began?
Asleep in my bed...exactly where I wanted to be.
5) Who were you with?
Myself...my wife was up with my son watching that stupid ball drop.
6) Where will you be when 2007 ends?
Asleep in my bed.
7) Who will you be with when 2007 ends?
Myself...I imagine Stacie and Bryan will want to see that infernal ball drop again.
8) What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before?
Played a show in a casino.
9) Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don't make New Year's resolutions. Why set yourself up for a fall?
10) Did anyone close to you give birth?
No. If any of 'em did they didn't want me to know about it.
11) Did anyone close to you die?
My wife's grandfather. He was a good guy.
12) Did you travel outside of the US in 2007?
Not only did I not travel out of the country, I didn't travel out of the state. Hell, I rarely ventured out of town.
13) How many different states did you travel to in 2007?
See above.
14) What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?
A monthly check.
15) What date(s) from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
October 31, and not because it was Halloween.
16) What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Teaching myself how to type.
17) What was your biggest failure?
Having to retire from performing music, although there were good reasons and I wouldn't exactly call it a "failure" but that's about as close as it came. I told you it was a pretty good year.
18) Did you suffer any illness or injury?
I dropped a bass amplifier on my big toe and it looked pretty bad for several months.
19) What was the best thing you bought?
I would say my copy of the Sigur Ros "Heima" DVD, but I didn't really buy it...my wife bought it for me as an early Christmas gift (thanks, dear).
20) Whose behavior merited celebration?
Docky Pecky
21) Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
The collective news media.
22) Where did most of your money go?
Down the drain.
23) What did you get really, really, really excited about?
The first message I recieved from Aubrey on MySpace.
24) What song will always remind you of 2007?
Any and every song from Sigur Ros' 3rd and 4th albums.
25) Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? Happier.
ii. thinner or fatter? Maybe just a little thinner.
iii. richer or poorer? Poorer for the time being. Hopefully 2008's survey will have a different answer to this one.
26) What do you wish you'd done more of?
Getting out of the house, visiting friends.
27) What do you wish you'd done less of?
Screwing around on the internet.
28) How will you be spending Christmas?
Alone. Don't feel sorry for me. That's how I like it, although I suppose I would be glad to change that if the right situation presented itself, but I don't see that happening so I'll just rent a few DVDs or finish up a book. Ho ho ho.
29) Did you fall in love in 2007?
I fall in love every day of the week.
30) If yes, with who?
All that is beautiful to my eyes, my mind and my senses
31) If yes, do they know?
They haven't told me whether they do or not
32) Are you still in love with them?
I never fall out of love...it's just hard for most people to tell that I am capable of loving.
33) You regret it?
No
34) Did you breakup with anyone in 2007?
I deleted a few friends from my MySpace "friends list...does that count?
35) How many one-night stands?
None
36) How many people did you sleep with in 2007?
1
37) Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No.
38) Did you make any new friends in 2007?
I met a few nice people this year but I wouldn't say they reached the level of "friend".
39) Who are your favorite new friends?
No new friends...only old ones.
40) What was your favorite month of 2007?
October
41) Did you miss anybody in the past year?
A couple of friends...Daniel, Warty
42) Did you do anything you are ashamed of this year?
I snapped at our keyboard player when he rightly suggested I remove the earplugs from my ears because they were affecting my performance, causing me to sing at too low a volume.
43) What was the worst lie someone told you in 2007?
I'm pretty gullible. If anyone lied to me I probably still think they were telling the truth.
44) Did you treat somebody badly in 2007?
I'm afraid so.
45) Did somebody treat you badly in 2007?
The manager of Dietrichs Club never gave our band weekend shows, just Wednesday and Thursdays. We got back at him, though, when one of his weekend bands cancelled. He called us at the last minute begging us to fill in. We told him to shove it. HA!
46) What was your proudest moment of 2007?
The point where I was able to type pretty fast without having to hit the backspace key very often.
47) What was your most embarrassing moment of 2007?
I'm sure there were a few but I have successfully managed to block them from my memory.
48) What was your greatest musical discovery?
I wasn't really out to "discover" new music this past year. I was more into re-visiting stuff I'd listened to most of my life. I guess you could say that I "discovered" Modern Jazz, though I've heard some of it over the years, but I was exposed to a lot more of it via XM Satellite radio. Same thing with Death Metal.
49) What did you want and get?
Another year of XM service.
50) What did you want and not get?
That monthly check.
51) What was your favorite new film of this year?
"Heima" and "Reign Over Me"
52) What was your favorite TV program?
All In the Family
53) What was your favorite record from 2007?
Mark Kozelek "Little Drummer Boy Live"
54) How many concerts did you see in 2007?
One. Bryan's Christman concert. It was the only one I wanted to see since Sigur Ros didn't play anywhere close.
55) Did you have a favorite concert in 2007?
See above.
56) Did you drink a lot of alcohol in 2007?
There are people I know who drink more alcohol in one night than I drank all year.
57) Did you do a lot of drugs in 2007?
Not as many as I did the year before. HA!
58) What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I think Stacie may have taken me out to eat. I can't remember where, though. I had reached the ripe old age of 45.
59) What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
I hate to admit it, and I'm sure this is the most popular answer to this question by a huge margin, but it's true: money.
60) How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?
Sloth chic.
61) What kept you sane?
The memory of what it's like to be insane and the fear of it ever happening again.
62) Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
You know, I can't think of a single one. I don't care much for the whole concept of "celebrity".
63) How much money did you spend in 2007?
Too much, not enough..
64) Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007:
Some, maybe even most, of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers, but every once in awhile He'll surprise you and give you your heart's desire.
65) What are your plans for 2008?
Move into a new house. Get some nice stuff for myself and my family. Read a few more Charles Dickens novels. Read more of the classics. Learn more about history and Western Civilization. Write a lot of junk on my blog, maybe learn some new HTML tricks. Try to write a few more songs that I'm not emberassed to play for friends. Continue to improve my typing skills to the point where I can type faster than my wife. Listen to lots more music. Get out of the house more.
66) Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"I don't give a damn what anybody thinks...what do you think about that?"
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Recovering My Memories: jazz and the big jump
When I was a sophomore or a junior in high school (can’t remember which) I attended the Stan Kenton Jazz Clinic during the summer. It was a 5 day camp that took place at the University of Texas in San Antonio. They put you up in the dormitory and during the day you would go to classes that were taught by people associated with jazz legend Stan Kenton’s big band. His band members, his arrangers, people like that. You’d be assigned to one of several bands according to how well you did at an audition, then the best band got to open for Kenton’s band in a concert that took place on the last night. I’m not sure if Kenton himself was there or not. He was pretty old by then, but I had seen him play a show not too long before this, so there’s a good chance that he was, in fact, present.
Which is all fine and good. Loads of fun already. But the real good times took place in the late afternoon and evening when all the “educating” was done. It’s not hard to strike up a conversation and/or a “temporary friendship” with members of the opposite sex when you share a common interest in jazz music and you both play a musical instrument (extra points for actually playing the SAME instrument). So that was great but, even so, it’s not what I remember most vividly about the week.
The college had an Olympic size swimming pool, complete with diving platforms and the works. I don’t know how many of you have seen the diving boards used in the Olympic games, but they are TALL. There are two of them, and the highest is so tall that only the university’s swim team was allowed to use it. Not meaning to say that the one in the middle didn’t look intimidating…it’s just that it wasn’t quite as ominous, being about halfway between the ground and the top board.
Oh, it did look intimidating, and perhaps that’s why I thought it would be a cool experience to jump from it. The key word being “jump”, because I was no diver. After all, I always had a great time jumping off of the “high board” at the Municipal swimming pool in my hometown. So what if the platform was two and a half times higher than the board at the pool?
So I climb up the steps. If memory serves there were actual steps, not a ladder, as I was accustomed to. That was probably something that emboldened me. I never would have climbed the rungs of a ladder to get up there. But stair steps was another story.
I got up there and looked over the edge…at which point I had to ask myself, “What the hell have I done?” What was I thinking? I knew I had a fear of heights. I guess the idea of water below made me temporarily forget. But it all came flooding back when I judged the distance between where I was and where I would land. I don’t think I was even afraid of hitting the water the wrong way and getting hurt, though I’m sure that crossed my mind as well. This was an irrational fear, I understood that, but I wasn’t able to process the “irrational” part.
I decided I couldn’t go through with it. No way. It didn’t take too long to reach that decision. I turned around and headed back for the steps, letting other, braver souls pass by. But when I looked below to take that first step I saw something that made my heart sink…
The steps were drenched with water from the wet feet of divers returning for another jump. So wet that they glistened in the sun. They looked so slippery that I doubted a ladder would have been any easier for me to climb down. You see, I don’t really have too much of a problem with climbing up…it’s the going down that scares me. And I was scared, I tell you. Terrified at the prospect of slipping and falling to the concrete. Plus, there were other swimmers climbing up, as if they were determined to use this particular platform since the higher one was off limits. Squeezing by them not only increased the danger level, it would also make me look like a yellow-bellied chicken.
So the choice was cut-and-dried. Either walk down the slippery steps or jump into the water. If ever I was between a rock and a hard place, this was the time. Another glance over the edge into the water and I made my decision. It all came down to this: water or concrete. Which would cause the most damage? Hypothetically, of course. And I decided, taking into consideration the distance between myself and the water/concrete, that I would have to grit my teeth and take the plunge.
So that’s what I did. I did everything in my power to remain in an upright position so the jump wouldn’t turn into what my friends and I used to call “a belly buster”. I’m sure, from this height, a “belly buster” could have easily become a “head buster” or a “back buster”. At any rate, I did all I could to avoid a “buster” of any sort. I’d have hated for my parents to have to drive all the way down from Oklahoma to San Antonio, Texas, to visit me in the hospital.
As it turned out I was very lucky…and “luck” is all it was. I went into the deep end without a hitch, re-surfaced, looked up at the diving board and thanked the gods that I was okay. No fatal “busters” this time around. I thought, “What the hell was I thinking???”
I wish I could remember whether or not I wanted to do it again after it was all over. Looking back at the experience now I would say probably not. Surely not. What kind of a fool would put himself through that again, even if the successful attempt had emboldened him? Surely I didn’t think that my fear of heights had been conquered by this one occasion?
But then again, I don’t know. There’s every chance in the world that the only reason I didn’t give a repeat performance was prevented by a lifeguard insistently pointing out that the boards were for DIVING, not for JUMPING.
Which is all fine and good. Loads of fun already. But the real good times took place in the late afternoon and evening when all the “educating” was done. It’s not hard to strike up a conversation and/or a “temporary friendship” with members of the opposite sex when you share a common interest in jazz music and you both play a musical instrument (extra points for actually playing the SAME instrument). So that was great but, even so, it’s not what I remember most vividly about the week.
 |
| A belly-buster just waitin' to happen |
Oh, it did look intimidating, and perhaps that’s why I thought it would be a cool experience to jump from it. The key word being “jump”, because I was no diver. After all, I always had a great time jumping off of the “high board” at the Municipal swimming pool in my hometown. So what if the platform was two and a half times higher than the board at the pool?
So I climb up the steps. If memory serves there were actual steps, not a ladder, as I was accustomed to. That was probably something that emboldened me. I never would have climbed the rungs of a ladder to get up there. But stair steps was another story.
I got up there and looked over the edge…at which point I had to ask myself, “What the hell have I done?” What was I thinking? I knew I had a fear of heights. I guess the idea of water below made me temporarily forget. But it all came flooding back when I judged the distance between where I was and where I would land. I don’t think I was even afraid of hitting the water the wrong way and getting hurt, though I’m sure that crossed my mind as well. This was an irrational fear, I understood that, but I wasn’t able to process the “irrational” part.
I decided I couldn’t go through with it. No way. It didn’t take too long to reach that decision. I turned around and headed back for the steps, letting other, braver souls pass by. But when I looked below to take that first step I saw something that made my heart sink…
The steps were drenched with water from the wet feet of divers returning for another jump. So wet that they glistened in the sun. They looked so slippery that I doubted a ladder would have been any easier for me to climb down. You see, I don’t really have too much of a problem with climbing up…it’s the going down that scares me. And I was scared, I tell you. Terrified at the prospect of slipping and falling to the concrete. Plus, there were other swimmers climbing up, as if they were determined to use this particular platform since the higher one was off limits. Squeezing by them not only increased the danger level, it would also make me look like a yellow-bellied chicken.
So the choice was cut-and-dried. Either walk down the slippery steps or jump into the water. If ever I was between a rock and a hard place, this was the time. Another glance over the edge into the water and I made my decision. It all came down to this: water or concrete. Which would cause the most damage? Hypothetically, of course. And I decided, taking into consideration the distance between myself and the water/concrete, that I would have to grit my teeth and take the plunge.
So that’s what I did. I did everything in my power to remain in an upright position so the jump wouldn’t turn into what my friends and I used to call “a belly buster”. I’m sure, from this height, a “belly buster” could have easily become a “head buster” or a “back buster”. At any rate, I did all I could to avoid a “buster” of any sort. I’d have hated for my parents to have to drive all the way down from Oklahoma to San Antonio, Texas, to visit me in the hospital.
As it turned out I was very lucky…and “luck” is all it was. I went into the deep end without a hitch, re-surfaced, looked up at the diving board and thanked the gods that I was okay. No fatal “busters” this time around. I thought, “What the hell was I thinking???”
I wish I could remember whether or not I wanted to do it again after it was all over. Looking back at the experience now I would say probably not. Surely not. What kind of a fool would put himself through that again, even if the successful attempt had emboldened him? Surely I didn’t think that my fear of heights had been conquered by this one occasion?
But then again, I don’t know. There’s every chance in the world that the only reason I didn’t give a repeat performance was prevented by a lifeguard insistently pointing out that the boards were for DIVING, not for JUMPING.
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