15 November 2014: Bucket List #9- Red Vamp; Iris CD Release Party @ Elysium- Austin, TX

“I always want to learn but I am sure on my dying day I will feel like I left something in the bucket.”~ Tim McGraw

This blog post I am more than happy to write about. So many wonderful things happened and I didn’t bother to screw any of it up.

I have recently talked about the invitation that I received from Red Vamp she was planning on visiting the area and she wanted to meet up. I was shocked at first because it was she that was asking ME about it. But I accepted and had a few weeks to prepare for it.

I’ll spare you the long drawn out details of the weeks that happened and skip right to the point of the blog post today. A band named “Iris” was having a CD Release Party at Elysium.  Red Vamp and her husband were planning on attending. They live out of town a few hours, so I could tell that this would be a big deal for them. So I agreed and pushed all other plans aside to make this happen.

This was probably more exciting for me than for anybody else. I mean, I knew Red Vamp back in her modeling career when that was pretty hot. I tried to keep myself on the level with her, treating her like another human being because from the comments of other people, they were just concerned about hitting on her or flirting with her… hoping that it was catch her attention.

I can only guess that the attention it brought up was the wrong kind.

Then I started my Bucket List. Meeting Red Vamp in person was #9 on the Bucket List. So you can tell this was pretty much a long time ago for being at the beginning of the Bucket List.

Well now as of last night, the 15th of November 2014, I can scratch that totally off the list.

Before Iris was Mr. Kitty & NITE. Not sure what to think about Mr. Kitty, other than it is just not my style of music that I listen to. That’s more computers than human beings. But then again, I guess you have to be pretty smart to know how to use a computer to make what they call music.

NITE’s performance wasn’t bad at all. But their music sounded more 80’s than techno or electronic. Still, they had some good vocals. It is explained to me that there’s a set of twins in that band. Two brothers. So I thought that was cool.

Then when Iris got on stage, the entire club just erupted. It was very clear that these people were here for Iris. Red Vamp apparently felt bad for leaving me behind as she and her husband approached the stage. But as I have complained before that Elysium just isn’t wheelchair accessible for anyone. I mean, if you have to go to the club next door just to use the restroom… there’s something wrong! SERIOUSLY WRONG!!

When Iris was done, I had taken about 70 or more photographs. I was sure to take photographs WITH Red Vamp because honestly… I had been bragging this meeting was going to happen. And only a hand full of people believed me. The rest just thought I was messing around and joking.

I was actually a little flattered that Red Vamp’s husband did talk with me. I honored our conversations that we had, no matter how small they were.

When Red Vamp walked by the wall of local legends, I took a photo of her. I doubt she was prepared. In my mind, it was fitting. Considering all these years I’ve wanted to meet her in person and now I have had that opportunity.

It was a glorious visit, and the music didn’t suck across the board so that was plenty of bonus.

My obvious purpose was Red Vamp and the Bucket List.  Now I have that. My star struck attitude probably only lasted 10 minutes.

But I do hope that we all can do it again. Her living a few hours away makes it difficult. It would mean so much to me to have a second visit.

Check out Iris, see if whether or not its something you fancy. If so, you’re welcome. If not, then at least I tried.

Until then, I’ll forever hold these memories so close to my heart, knowing that nobody can take that away from me.

31st of August Is Forever In My Mind

“I think that celebrities should never underestimate their power. I mean just to draw attention, because then people get involved on a personal level.”~Debbie Gibson

Birthdays, anniversaries, days of “firsts”, graduations, sometimes divorces, and dates of death of loved ones are always and forever etched into our subconscious some how.

These things never seem to leave us and we stand up and shout that we will never forget. Mainly because our brains never do allow us to as our memories are triggered by someone or something that would always bring us back to these specific and personal days in our lives.

The 31st of August is one of those dates for me. Both good and bad. Both happy and sad.

Deborah “Debbie” Gibson was born on the 31st of August in 1970, she became the pop music princess of the world and she paved the path for so many others such as Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and even Demi Levato and Ariana Grande today.

With my fascination at the time of trying to find a way to get into the Guiness Book of World Records, Debbie Gibson entered it with her number one hit “Foolish Beat” … she was the youngest person to write, produce and perform a song.

Ironically, I would hear that song for the first time and something was going on in my own personal life with a girl I had a crush on at the time, that was devastating to me. And that’s the first song I remember hearing.

The news was that she had a #1 hit with the song, and she was put into the Guiness Book of World Records.

And that would start an amazing collection of “cassette singles” that I would have for many, many years. “Foolish Beat” being the first one I ever bought for one dollar and some change at the local Wal-Mart.

If only music (actually physical copies of CDs) were that cheap still. Screw iTunes!!! At least until there are no more compact disc players and mine die out.

Today, Deborah (as she is now known) turned 44 years old. Wow.

Twenty-seven years after the birth of Gibson came another event on that day. It would turn out to be a tragic event. The announcement of the death of Princess Diana in 1997.

I woke up that day and turned on my tiny black and white television that had been loaned to me for a while only to find that television had been interrupted. There was an airplane standing there. Then a car. Then a hearse.

I wondered which “celebrity death” had happened and who was famous enough in the time and space to interrupt television programming but I couldn’t think of anyone.

But it was England’s finest princess. And she was dead. Rumors were constantly circulating around. But one thing was for sure. She had been involved in a automobile crash that took her life and the life of her current lover. 

For the rest of the day and night television was focused on NOTHING but this news that Princess Diana was dead.

Princess Diana to me was someone who was like an angel.

All of her charity and humanitarian work that she did and her goals to get rid of violence in other nations and taking care of one another was so appealing.

I remember as a child shortly after she did marry Prince Charles, of her going through the airport at the same time my family was sending off my grandmother after another long summer visit with her.

I remember punching and pushing my way to get to the front of the crowd to see her walking through the terminal and waving and once in a while touching hands.

She saw me standing there and I was waving and saluting. Princess Diana walked by and turned her head and saw me. She then stopped in her own tracks and came back to me and touched my cheek and the top of my forehead and called me a “lovely child.”

These are the memories that cannot be taken away from me. And every late August I sort of mourn because of her loss, which is almost twenty years ago. Amazing what time does to you.

Exchanging Memories

“Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.”~ Lewis B. Smedes 

As of lately, I’ve been dealing with a love/hate relationship over something so small as an album that was released in November of 2013 by an artist that is within my top ten artists of… ever.

But I’ve honestly not been able to listen to any of it because of the memories that were unfortunately connected with it that came back right around the time of Christmas.

Memories were made, “song dedications” were made as well. And now that part of life is gone as the person that I made these memories with are history. And yet the memory of them linger strongly in connection with the album.

But since the beginning of the month I have been forcing myself to listen to it since I actually paid for it to have it in the first place. At first it just didn’t do it for me but as time went on and I got used to the content on the album, I was better okay with it. At the time of its release… if I was giving a critical review…. I would have then given it 3½ out of 5 stars.

And this is coming from an artist that I’ve been following for decades. I simply didn’t like half of the album. Although the first half I thought was entertaining.

Now, I am scumbagged with memories of those no longer a part of my life in association of this album.

For the longest time, I refused to listen to it. Or even look at the CD.

So then why now??

The ultimate goal is to take this album and make NEW memories with the songs that will replace the old ones that are carved into my mind. 

Its a struggle right now but I think that I will be successful.

And even if I don’t totally or completely get rid of the older memories that were once good and now turned sour, I can still make the effort to focus on the newer memories that I have made.

Let’s face it… erasing the human memory is not cheap. Or pleasant. Even though it is possible.

I think though that this could be possible to exchange the memories. I’ve only just begun on my experimental journey as this involves music it obviously is a huge piece of my life. I would to have one person DESTROY something that I consider to be an influential part of MY life, simply because they chose to no longer be apart of it.

So I can either choose to exchange those memories or I can let them win and live the rest of my life miserable because they killed something of mine that I enjoyed so very much. Even before I knew who they were!!!

And I assure you ladies & gentlemen that if you are thinking to yourself that it doesn’t sound like Dambreaker to do so and just let them win like that — you’re right!!!

We all have memories. Some have problems with memory. I clearly do not. But instead of allowing my brain to rule my heart more than it should already….. I choose to simply “reboot the brain” and replace the memory with something new.

Besides, the memory wipe neurlizer-thing from MEN IN BLACK #1- does not exist. #2- would probably be too expensive. #3- might erase too much!!

 

11 March 2014: Poc Nation Returns To The 311 Club- SXSW 2014

“If it’s illegal to rock and roll, throw my ass in jail!”~ Kurt Cobain 

And so it begins. A week of live music thanks in part to the SXSW Festival.

After a few days of rest from Wellborn Road which “technically” was not a SXSW show… I finally went to one that WAS.

And first up was my beautiful, beautiful friends from Mexico City who for the last several months has been stomping all over and around the New Jersey/New York area. Probably since around Christmas or even before that.Thankfully they came back here. 

It was to be at the very same venue and club that I had first laid my eyes and ears upon them.

I thought it was a little fitting to return to The 311 Club and then find Poc Nation there.

It wasn’t how I remembered it though. And that’s just fine by me.

I showed up several hours earlier so that I was there at the club before the sun went down. And that worked in my favor to be there that early. I also came along bearing gifts. Gifts that I was not sure would be accepted. But I had to at least try!

It was also good to see Auggie Del Ray and Brenda Flores of BEAUTIFUL DISTURBANCE walk in, even though they were not playing there.

I found it very amusing that the bar had two different types of classic movies going on at the same time. One was an old version of Sinbad and the other showing Terror of MechaGodzilla.

Yeah… no brainer. Go for giant lizard!!

A man wearing NOTHING but a diaper and a broken smile, using a cane attempted to come into the club but he was denied. It was both funny and terrifying. NOTHING BUT A DIAPER FOR A GROWN MAN!!!!!!!!!

Suddenly members of Poc Nation began to show up. And almost right away they recognized me. Probably because I WAS in fact wearing a Poc t-shirt! That was most likely the dead giveaway. Until Poc herself showed up.

I squealed so bad to myself it was stupid and embarrassing.

I began to speak in Spanish with her. And it was a surprise to her that my Spanish was so good. She assumed that I was using some kind of translation website to talk to her via Facebook.

There were NEW merchandise from Poc Nation and I wanted it. I wanted it ALL!!! But I ended up with only a $30 t-shirt. But you know what? Its of Poc flipping the double bird. 

You just don’t see that every day on any t-shirt!!

My gift to her was one dozen long stemmed red roses. I couldn’t tell if she was flattered or what. The only thing that she could do was stand there with her jaw on the floor, then say my name over and over and over again.

Yep… it was a hit! And a damned good one at that. Stroke of genius I may add.

By the time Poc Nation got on stage to play it felt like I had been hanging out with Poc for an eternity. And I’m fine with that.

I jumped right up front and didn’t bother to move. I didn’t care. People can just go around me one way or the other.

And they did. At least those who were attempting to take photographs closer to the stage.

The thing is that I am not use to these very very short sets that I’ve been experiencing. I know that The 311 Club has had bands playing all day long and had more to go, but the sets were just so short that honestly by the time any one that was there listening got settled in….. it was all over.

What the hell, man???

They were amazing and even better than I remembered from last September. They pulled some people into the club that originally weren’t there and everybody was having a great time. Myself included. It was great. Those are the kinds of shows you love to be at.

As they were breaking down their equipment, I shouted at Poc (and then to their guitar player) if I could take the set list. And both were agreeable to it. How I would have loved to have that thing autographed. Because I am an autograph hound. 

Poc Nation will have two more shows for SXSW but sadly I will not be able to make them. And I think that sucks.

It was six months since the last time I saw Poc Nation. And then six months before that. I hope that Poc Nation makes more stops here along the way because I simply just cannot make it to San Antonio… no matter how many times she invites me to events there.

Poc did sign my CD though. Then when I was safe and sound at home, I realized she spelled my first name wrong. Oops!!

After Poc Nation was Nancy Silva Project that I was curious about and I stayed for that. And I have adventurous tales of my experiences with that band as well from the night. But one band at a time.

For much of the rest of the week will be performances by BEAUTIFUL DISTURBANCE. One more by Nancy Silva Project. Another from Resisting Vegas (if I can remember what time/day they told me) and then hanging it all up with CASKET OF CASSANDRA.

Next post: Nancy Silva Project.

Google Plus Be Thy Great Satan

Another One Bites The Dust

“The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.”~ Cesare Pavese

Amazing how quickly that I can get into trouble by clicking on a few “bad links” over the Internet.

Lost in translation to many, I found myself wandering the pages of Google Plus.

This is NOT a social networking site that I frequent at all. In fact, the only reason why I have it in the first place is because of the stupid merge that YouTube had with Google.

Before I knew it, I couldn’t have my old YouTube account without linking it to some Google Plus account. So I gave in, for the sake of YouTube.

Until a few days ago.

My fingers moving quicker than my own brain, clicking that stupid mouse key until I found myself into someone else’s Google Plus account. At once I thought why not?!? So I went to add a few people to my circles but didn’t realize that there was a daily limit to that action. And then I found that feature that every social networking site has, called the “From your contacts” which will go into any other networking site you may have or your e-mail address book and find friends.

I FOUND MYSELF IN PURE HELL IN EVERY SENSE OF THE DAMNED WORD!!!!

I found that in the list of friendly Google Plus suggestions, women of my past. Women that I either had something with and it went absolutely and terribly wrong or wanted something with and never got there and then had them fade away.   And of course, as I have been complaining for many years now, some were just friends that my ex at the time had some kind of stupid and ridiculous insecurity about their looking better than she and I was only going to fall for them, so she went way out of her way to ruin the relationships entirely.

Why Google?? Why bring back those horrible and miserable memories?? You bastard! You digital social bastard!!!!

I was happy.  I was in the moment. I was talking with someone new at the time that just blew me away! And you have to punch me in the junk like that??

I realize that 99% of these women will never return. Particularly the ones that I either walked away from, had disappear on me, or didn’t want anything with me. Attempting now to rekindle seems ruthlessly stupid and unnecessary. Time flies an we all move on. I mean, we are talking about me not speaking to any of these women at all since 2007 and before!! That’s a long time. I am sure that many of them have moved on.

And so I went back to my original feelings and opinion about Google Plus, you nasty group of people. Shame on thee for nearly destroying my weekend.

Five Years Of Freedom

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”~ Nelson Mandela

Five years. Seems like a lifetime ago already. A moment marked in life that is significant to nobody else in the entire world, but me.

The 30th of September in the year 2008, was the long yet almost simple journey to my personal freedoms from a relationship with a woman whom I had no longer feelings for, and had also feared for my own life. And with good reason.

After surviving in a place with no outlet, no freedoms of my own, no voice, no opinion, and existing as nothing but someone on the arm of a woman who happened to be a few years older than I, eight months of that mental prison and it came down to this day where I left without saying a word, without giving any sort of clue that I was leaving, nothing.

I just up and left.

After being ignored to my feelings, thoughts, and wishes of what was to be “OUR HOME” between my last girlfriend and I, The relationship and all of its connecting parts had breathed its last breath. From that point on, I knew that there was nothing in the world that I could say or do within my own powers to make her change her mind or even consider changing her mind on how she lived her life and/or behaved.

Two separate ships sailing away from each other in the same ocean. One sinking, the other one sailing in circles.

I had proven to my family, myself, and to anyone else in the world that CHANGE is still possible. You just have to want it bad enough to do something about it. And then actually DO it in order to get it.

I had actually cried over the telephone when speaking with my elder brother and the sounds of my tears and frustration and sorrow really struck a nerve with him. Within one month, a plan had been put together by my family to help me escape my dark and lonely existence in a place where I was thousands of miles from anyone who honestly and truly cared about who I was and how I felt.

Even to the point after confessing my sadness to my family where my girlfriend would once come home from work after having a seriously bad day, not wanting to cook and wanting to go out to eat so that we were fed. When it was explained to her that there was no money to go out, she began to unravel from within. As she began cooking preparations with kitchen utensils that belonged to my departed mother, she came after me when I told her one last time that we were NOT going out to eat for that evening, and she had to cook if she wanted to eat. Deflating her efforts to plunge that kitchen knife into my chest cavity and ending up with her sobbing and shouting her words of hatred towards me.

One week before (on the 23rd) the plan was explained to me. And I had to be able to keep things quiet and not let anyone on to anything for seven full days.

My elder brother coming up from the south all the way up into Rhode Island to basically grab me and send me out of the trap of a household, all while the girlfriend had made her daily route to her job. I left in the early morning hours of that day, dropped the key in the mailbox, said farewell to the two cats that she owned and never looked back as my brother and I cruised down the Interstate which lead us to the airport in Providence, Rhode Island.

I had made the decision to return to Texas with the lessons learned in my brain. My sister picking me up at the Austin airport and I lived with her family for six months before I returned back to the same apartment that I had lived in before… to this day, is being said is still a miracle that I would return back to the same unit. But here I am.

Leaving the girlfriend in a confused state of mind, when she realized I had left with no real explanation left behind. Only that I was leaving and that I was finished with the relationship. The lengthy, four paged written “Dear John” letter that was scribbled on a legal pad would be mailed to her from a neutral location so she was unable to track my whereabouts.

All because she swung a knife. (And the confusing tale on my family’s behalf of whether or not her family still had ties to the New England mafia. In which they honestly did not. She just had a relative that was born by the seed of the head of the mafia many moons ago, a great aunt who had been dead for a few years by that point in time. My family still were confused though for whatever reason.)

Starting over with very little of my own possessions and only a few important documents and momentos, beginning at the ground level all over again.

Its been a hard road as I have not recovered in that aspect. But in these five years I have matured, I have learned, and I have gained MORE than what I had BEFORE I entered into that ill-fated relationship. And yet to this day I find life to be more satisfying without the things that I had, compared to having that knife actually plunged into my thorax.

Yes… there are a lot of times where I stop and think about where I may have placed something, wondering why I cannot find it. Only to finally remember that it was not brought with me in the Great Exodus. And I must somehow deal without. I think that for the most part, I honestly cannot complain about material things too much. For the other things that I have gained in my life in the past five years is, as the saying goes, more precious than silver or gold. 

Its not where I thought I would see myself in the year 2013, but it is far better than the ultimate and other option of being six feet under.

I now have friends that surround me with love and TRUE care when I visit Houston. And I also have those who will in silence, support me in whatever I do, which is a great span from California to Canada to Florida and New York and over across to France, Norway, Germany, New Zealand, and Russia. And the one thing that lights up my day about them all is that had I stayed with the girlfriend, these relationships would have never blossomed into anything at all if she was still around. I would not be friends with ANY of those of whom I speak of here. Because that’s the kind of person that she was. SHE had to be the one and only #1 person.

I have been without a romantic relationship since in my personal life. And some how, some way, I continue to breathe every day. I sleep at night and rise in the morning, and nothing becomes frozen over. And yes, it does get lonely and often times I wished I had someone to share my day and my night with. But if that is to happen for me in my life, then it will come at the proper time.

But until then, I can be eternally grateful that I have a family who was loving me enough through the stupid mistakes that I made during that relationship, so much that they still helped me when I called for help. I can be eternally grateful for those that are “new” in my life, and have been so positive and promising for me. And those are the people that will never stray from my life.

People come and people go, but they are the ones that remain. 

So here I am in 2013, a few years older. A few more grey hairs. Lots of time to think. And lots of time to learn how to truly live.

For those of you who ARE in my life (and you know who you are) I LOVE YOU. And I always will.

Five years since I started this new journey, and we’ve still yet to come to the end of the road.

 

 

 

 

 

Magician Folly

“Hey, I fool the camera. I’m a liar, a magician.”~Janice Dickinson

Before I get started and it turns to June 26th, I want to say HAPPY 25TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY TO MY FATHER AND STEPMOTHER, AS THEY WERE MARRIED ON JUNE 25, 1988.

I’ve been watching my  niece an awful lot already and its barely the official start of summer. I’ve got so much going on in August that I am trying to save enough money to do everything that I want to do.  The problem is that I do not think that I will have enough money to do all that I want. I am going to be short. And it sucks.

When I am watching that three year old child niece o’mine, comes the opportunity to listen to her favorite cartoons.

One of them deals with talking bunnies attempting to put on a magic show in the front yard. The children are always asking for a volunteer from the audience in order to do their magic tricks.

I’ll SPARE you the rest of the details that has nothing to do with this blog post.

As this crap is irrevocably burned into my brain, it just causes me to reflect on some rather unusual magician experiences that I’ve had as a child.

As a child, I HATED magicians. I HATED-HATED-HATED them!!! They could just all die and go away for all I cared to think about.  As an adult, I just avoid them. I do not waste my money.

I especially hated the illusion of sawing a woman in half. It always bugged me. And luckily I had only seen it in person ONCE. The rest were on television.

But the time that I had to witness it with my very eyes, was back in the real early 1990’s where I was front & center row. The magician kept talking about his beautifully gorgeous assistant, and then he sawed her in half.

I never understood this illusion as a child. If you have a perfectly good woman who is beautifully gorgeous, wouldn’t you want to kiss her rather than cut her into pieces?

Ohh, how innocent my mind was growing up as a child. But back to the 1990’s.

The magician had a huge saw and started cutting into the box in which his assistant rested. But when he got to a certain point, the beautifully gorgeous assistant let out a blood curdling scream that stuck with me. He stopped then kept sawing until he had her into two pieces.

The screaming was all part of the act, I would learn later on. 

But after that illusion he asked for a volunteer from the audience. Stupid bunnies!!

This man who was also in the front row raised his hand and the magician called upon him. But before the man reached the stage area to join the magician, there was someone else in the audience cursing and screaming and yelling and everything else. He was totally causing a scene.

What the screaming man had done was effectively ended this magician’s career. Here’s the story and I’ll go back even further to more childhood terrors.

This man who was screaming had purchased tickets to this place and they box office messed up and gave him tickets to the WRONG show and he missed his favorite singer when they came to town. He was infuriated and gave threats to sue the box office.

In an effort to make things up to him, they offered him free tickets to any other even that was happening that year.

Well, he already purchased tickets to this magician’s show and he enjoyed himself the first time that he got those free tickets for another magic show the following night. The night that I was there.

What he had found out was that the guy that he picked as a  volunteer was the same exact guy that had been picked from the last show. The guy in the audience was part of it all, just wore different clothes day to day.

The guy who was awarded free tickets caught this magician’s lie and called him out on it. END OF SHOW.

The magician pretty much lost his career after that and the man that called him out was arrested for being disorderly.

But even long before that, I remember being in school and being forced to go into the school’s gymnasium to watch a magic act. The magician did his act and made the rest of the children laugh and enjoy the show. But something was up. Some of the children in the older grades were yelling at him to turn the props around.

Wouldn’t you know it, that they were props with yellow and blue bunnies painted on them when they had previously been red and green before he covered them up and did his little magic.

Get this. Someone caught on to his deception. And the entire gymnasium was yelling at the guy to turn this around. But he acted as if he didn’t understand. So he had one student come up to the stage to do what the crowd was wanting. Sure enough: One bunny was RED on one side and turned around, YELLOW on the other. The other bunny proper was GREEN on one side and turned around, BLUE on the other.

Deception had failed. Children started to BOO him. I figured he deserved it because of the fact that he got caught. But there were a lot of children that day that got into trouble for booing him. Teachers stating that to boo someone, was being disrespectful.

I still think he deserved it.

And I am going to think of these stories for as long as that lousy cartoon DVD is still around and I am watching my niece.

Damned rabbits!!!!!!

Moving On Thanksgiving

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”~ Havelock Ellis

As many millions of people in the United States are doing their last minute preparations for Thanksgiving Day, I noted the actual date in which this holiday has fallen this year. The actual numbered day of the month of November.

In 2012, Thanksgiving Day in the United States will be the 22nd of November.

This day is a bit more significant for me and my family other than just it being Thanksgiving Day.

All the way back in 1984, Thanksgiving Day also landed on the 22nd of November. So then why is it so significant?

That was the exact date that year when my family had moved from Sherwood, Arkansas to Winfield, Kansas. My family had been packing for what seemed like forever and I as a child still had to attend school until the Thanksgiving break.

From the time that I had made the announcement in my class that my family was in fact going to move, until the very last day of school being in session before the holiday break, I was treated much like a crowned prince. Extra special favors came from the teacher and from the school itself.

I was rather excited about the move, because I was about to be in a brand new place that I had never been before. The idea in my infant mind was thrilling. But the feeling was not shared by all of my siblings. So it was a mixed bag of emotions for the family.

Of course my short life up until that point was aware that the usual feast of turkey, dressing, and dessert was to be on that day. And I began to wonder if it was cancelled. At least for my family.

That very early morning the family would wake and then we all went out to eat for breakfast. Something that we didn’t do that often. Not breakfast. And then when we got back, it was time for my parents to pick up the last of our things and get into the family vehicle, and begin to drive several hundred miles to our new home.

I remember that a moving van had taken a majority of our things ahead of time, so there wasn’t really much to pack up that morning.

The neighbors came out to say their final farewells. Even the neighborhood kids that me and my younger brother had played with all of our lives were nervous, sad, and didn’t really know what to say other than good-bye. Apparently my family had made quite an impression on everyone.

And off we went. We all were unsure of what was to happen. The fact of my mother just being diagnosed with cancer less than a year before, it swiftly turned to this bright future of exploring new things to a nervous watch on my mother to see how she would handle the all day ride with her illness.

My father had said in the vehicle that we actually would have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner with a family there in Kansas. And they were expecting us to arrive in the evening. But for those of you who have children know that their attention spans don’t grasp such things.

I recall stopping somewhere in the northeastern part of Oklahoma for lunch. And because it was Thanksgiving Day, NOTHING was open!!! No fast food, no diners, nothing. Just a few gas stations along the highway. But that was only if you were lucky. Convenience stores and gas stations were nothing back then like they are today.

Lunch however that day would be at a truck stop. But exactly where, I no longer remember. I do recall almost vividly a hand written sign inside of the truck stop that said “NO CHILDREN ALLOWED AT BAR” and that scared the crap out of me.

The truck stop had a buffet style restaurant inside and I was thinking that the “bar” in question was a food bar, but I was incorrect. There was actually a watering hole directly attached to the side of the restaurant.

There was also a sign that said “EAT ALL OF WHAT YOU TAKE, PLEASE” and to me, that meant even less. I recall that it would terrify my young mind shortly after when I had asked my parents if I could have more food and they both warned me strictly about eating everything and leaving nothing to waste. Well, that second plate of food did go to waste because I had become full. I was scared to death of what they were going to do to me for not eating anything. The fear inside of my childish mind consumed me to the point that once I had admitted that I was full, my eyes were full of tears until the point where we paid for our lunch and got back out on the highway.

Eventually, we arrived at our new location after dark. It was pretty late that I remember. So we had a traditional Thanksgiving feast and then when that was done, my entire family pretty much went to bed.

Once we walked into the house of our holiday host, I began to think about my best friend who lived across the street and how there would be no more neighborhood kickball matches in the street or in someone’s front or backyard.

I began to think of all the other boys in girls in my class that I had left. Particularly one that I thought was cute named Summer.

I began to think suddenly after that of all the girls that were in the neighborhood, city and other places that I was sweet on and would give hugs and kisses. Knowing that I would never do it again. And how I wanted to be able to hug and kiss them more and more.

Yes even then, girls were not an alien thought to my boyhood mind.

But our host family was kind and even though it was so late when we arrived, they had held off THEIR holiday meal until we had arrived.

All of this happening Thanksgiving Day of 1984. Soon for my family, we would remember the anniversary of that date for many years to come. Until we had moved again in 1989. Less than two full years after my mother had died. And less than a full year from when my father had re-married. Those months were like a blur because so much had happened so quickly.

But the move in 1989 did not occur on Thanksgiving Day. But rather we moved after the end of the school year in May. Memorial Day to be exact. I started to think that there was a pattern that if my family was ever to move from one location of the country to the next or even across the state that we would always do so on some holiday. That train of thought however disappeared once I started high school.

The whole purpose of Thanksgiving Day is not lost on me. I have plenty to give thanks for. Especially in the last decade and a half of my life. As an adult, I can appreciate a lot more things in life that I know I’ve been fortunate to experience. As a boy, I probably wouldn’t think the same.

The Thanksgiving holiday in the United States is always the fourth Thursday in November. But it does not always happen on the 22nd of the month. It did back in 1984 and it does in 2012.  So I made the connection this week when thinking about what I am actually thankful for this year.

 

Cheering The Underdog

“The underdog often starts the fight, and occasionally the upper dog deserves to win.”~ E.W. Howe

I was pondering last night that there are a lot of situations in life that there is an underdog.

In my first year of college, the group of friends that I made there was no exception.

There was one who was kind of an underdog. I’ll refer to him as “Brian”.

Brian was actually the stereotypical shy guy. But he was also one of the nicest people on the planet.

During the times when we were not in class we would hang out a lot. We’d play cards, eat in the cafeteria together and so on. Eventually getting to know him was quite interesting.

He was the kind of person that would give you, not only the shirt off his back, but his pants as well. He and I took several road trips and logged in lots of miles on his own vehicle. And he never once expected or asked for gas money. Even though at times, I would give him some.

Like many young men starting their college career, it would be kind of a culture shock. We all were away from home, in a world where we made our own rules, and had nobody there to tell us what to do. His life up to that point was kind of structured in that manner. But now that he was in college, all bets and rules were off.

Brian and I eventually developed in our friendship to the point where we were there for each other. When one of us would either be homesick or have some kind of problems, we would listen to one another. Especially him. He was always willing to stop whatever it was he was doing to listen.

The group of friends would eventually come up with our own code, our own language. It was our way of being able to talk about certain things and certain people without anyone knowing about it. It got to the point where Brian would always talk about how much he had a crush on a girl who was in a lot of his classes.

But because of his shyness, he just didn’t have it within him to tell her that he liked her. He wanted to ask her out on a date but was too shy and too scared.

The code and language that we developed actually sounded like a foreign language. We probably would have made really good spies. Brian would eventually talk in that way all of the time.

The girl that he had a crush on was tiny redhead with deep dark blue eyes and very pale white skin. And because of those physical characteristics (red hair, white skin, blue eyes), we would begin to refer to her as The Patriot.

But even those characteristics of her would have certain code words. Her eyes were deep blue, so they were called “sapphires”. Green eyes were “emeralds”, and so on.

Brian eventually began to talk to the girl more and more. He would be that friendly smile and that openness would allow them to begin a wonderful friendship. But he just couldn’t bring himself to tell her just how much he liked her.  

The Patriot would eventually come up for Homecoming Queen. I don’t remember anymore for sure, but I do not think that she won the title. And Brian was heartbroken that she didn’t win.

He stood by her side in all things, even in her shadow. This secret devotion that he had would only come out when he would speak in the code.

Towards the end of the school year, we all got together and we started to talk about what each of us was going to do in the next year. Some were going to transfer to other colleges, others were going to return for a second year.

Brian was coming back for a second year to earn his Associate’s Degree. But The Patriot was about to transfer to a state school to continue on in her education to enter a program that was going to take her six or seven years to earn her degree. I didn’t know it yet, but I would not return for a second year.

The end of the school year was coming near and Brian was actually running out of time if he had any chance at talking to The Patriot about how he was feeling.

Brian would end up having a conversation outside of her dormitory and he said to her, “I appreciate all of the times that you have smiled and made my life worth living. You are a terrific person. And pretty too. I could swim forever within your sapphires.”

The Patriot was totally confused. Brian would tell us that she smiled when he said that to her, but he just didn’t have enough within him to come out with the truth of his feelings. And it was something that he said to at least throw the hook into the water to see if she would bite.

Brian and The Patriot were such good friends by that time, that they traded phone numbers and addresses and became penpals over the summer.

The Patriot did go off to the state school and Brian returned. But they kept in touch. Brian never once used her phone number but never called. Instead, he wrote her.

As the next school year was in full swing, I would go back to the college to visit for a couple of days. Brian and the rest of the group of friends were so elated to see me again.

He still was talking about her as he always had. His crush never faded away even though she was gone. His one and only hope and connection was to write her while she was away at another college.

It just so happened that Brian admitted to me that he wrote her a very long letter and explained his feelings for her in a way that he knew that she would understand. And took that opportunity to ask her out on a date if she were to ever to be near.

That second day of me hanging out with the guys at the college dorm, he would receive a letter from The Patriot.

Nobody was really paying attention because it was common for her to write. But soon everyone was paying attention was Brian exclaimed “Damn! Damn!”.

Brian was a deeply religious person. He didn’t smoke, drink, do drugs, or even use profanity. We knew that from the obscenities coming from him that was something was horribly wrong.

Brian would eventually lock himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes. It was there that everyone heard him weeping.

When he emerged, he explained that The Patriot had turned him down. She had given him the “just friends” bit.

Women today are still notorious for that kind of crap. But for Brian, having never gone through a crush and then rejection before, his world was destroyed. He said that it would have gone over so much better if she had simply told him that she wasn’t interested or just a no.

Brian and I would fade in and out of communication. But I always knew that I could call his parents to see where he was at. The bonding friendship even had grown so much that I was seemingly “adopted” by his own mother as she would kiss me on my head when she saw me.

Several years later I would still contact his mother to find out where he was at. He now is probably the happiest in life that he has ever been. He is now married to an incredibly gorgeous woman and has a son. Nobody really thought that Brian would come out to be the winner because he was so much of the underdog based on his shyness. And then it turned out that he would have the most beautiful spouse out of any of us guys who were in the group of friends.

Cheering for the underdog is not a bad thing. We all know that often times the underdog will win. And in this case, the underdog won BIG!!

My point here is never assume that you should count out the underdog. They do rise to the top from time to time. For Brian being the underdog, he went through hell and back. And then he won in the end and still is riding high.

 

Twenty-Five Years

I never would have thought that this day would come. 

I didn’t ever think that it would. But it has. And I definitely never would have been able to tell you so many years ago what I thought it would be like.

Twenty-five years ago on this day, I lost my mother to cancer. In my mind it is rather difficult to believe that it has been that long.

Sad to say that some of my memories of my mother when she was with us are starting to turn into shades of grey and white. But not all of them. I will sometimes remember certain times growing up when she was not sick.

Nevertheless, this was “the day”.

Each of member of my family remembers it in their own special way. Perhaps they don’t remember all of the finer details of that day, but we all do remember.

I wrote about it in my blog one year ago. If you care to read it, you can find it here:

https://dambreaker.wordpress.com/2011/07/25/mother/

I can still hear the voice of my mother yelling at me until it cracked. Usually that meant that I was in big trouble. And ironically it is that yelling voice in my head that comforts me to a point. Although the mental image in my head of what my mother looked like is almost gone. I personally do not own any photographs of her when she was still with us. Other members of my family however do have some photographs.

Last night, I remember feeling very cold. And there honestly wasn’t any reason for me to be that cold. That was a bit strange. But I guess that one could argue that the cold feeling that surrounded me was my mother wrapping me in her arms. Others probably wouldn’t see it that way at all.

Then I had a particular memory of seeing a photograph of my mother standing by the sliding glass door. There were no lights on and she was in her night gown. Her hair slowly starting to come back after all of the chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Half of her body was in a bright light from the natural light that  came through the glass, and the other half of her body was as dark as the rest of the house. The family dog laying at her feet, staring out through the glass door as my mother was. It was taken a few years before she would pass away. When I remembered that photograph, I cried.

Everyone handles death and grieving differently. Some cry, some weep. I tend to be the one that talks about it, over and over again.

And yet through all of the sadness and tears, I must always remember that my mother was someone who loved her children. That includes me.

There are some children in this world who have parents that don’t bother to care. I’m fortunate enough to have had a mother who did love her children very much. Even though among my two brothers and sister, we always seem to have stories or memories of our mother beating our asses when we did something wrong. Of course that is grossly an exaggeration. She did love us enough to let us have it and discipline us when we did something wrong. And now when it is talked about, we laugh… even though back then, I’m sure we all cried our eyes out when we got punished.

Today is no difference in the matters of difficulty than any other year that has passed. But I think that what I CAN remember is something that I can hold on to and nobody can take it away. I still miss my mother and I love her. It just feels strange to say that she has been gone for so long.