I was in for a bit of a surprise yesterday evening. I arrived at Alley Cats expecting a few folks would be there, but instead the place was packed. And I was greeted with a hearty “happy birthday, Kuya John!” I was stunned and a little embarrassed. Being the center of attention in a big crowd is really not my thing, but of course I went along with it, offering gracious and sincere thank yous.
There was food……and a cake.The Filipino-style birthday song followed by me blowing out a candle.I was gifted a case of my favorite beer…And got lots of hugs and affection from the female guests…Birthday boy eats first and it was all good……including the best damn cole slaw I’ve had since back when my mom was around to make it. Chock full of goodness and I was gifted this large bowl full to take home and enjoy!
So it turned out to be a good night. Despite my discomfort I was genuinely moved that so many people wanted to share time with me on my birthday. I know I rag a lot about being alone, a loner, and/or lonely; but damn, I was reminded that in just a little over a year I’ve met some good people that consider me a friend. It really did make me feel that I’ve found a home.
In the virtual world, I was astounded with the greetings I was besieged with on Facebook. They ran the gamut of the high school girlfriend, two of my ex-wives, friends from my Postal Service days, people I knew when I worked in DC, Korea peeps, folks from South Carolina, friends I’ll be seeing next week in Vietnam, and of course my kids and other family members. It may be hell to grow old, but you do acquire some nice memories with the people you have met along the road of life.
So yeah, it was a good birthday and a good time to reflect on all the positives I’ve been blessed with. I probably tend to dwell on the negatives way out of proportion to their importance or meaning in my life. I’ll try to hold on to the good thoughts and warm feelings as I plod along in this sixty-fourth year on planet Earth.
Are you boys ready to roll?oops, looks like Lucky is going to make a run for it!
Nah, he knows not to bite the hand that feeds him!
I hope the day will be a lighter highway For friends are found on every road Can you ever think of any better way For the lost and weary travelers to go?
Making friends for the world to see Let the people know you got what you need With a friend at hand you will see the light If your friends are there then every thing’s all right
It seems to me a crime that we should age These fragile times should never slip us by A time you never can or shall erase As friends together watch their childhood fly
Making friends for the world to see Let the people know you got what you need With a friend at hand you will see the light If your friends are there then every thing’s all right
UPDATE: Well, how about that? I used “party hardy” back in May 2016 as well. Back then it was a friend’s birthday party and an ill-fated wedding party.
Obviously, the answer to Paul McCartney’s question, posed in a song, at least in my case, is no! All the women that I have loved or who have purported to love me, disappeared from my life long before I reached the ripe old age of 64. Heh! They don’t know what they’re missing!
Anyway, it’s rather amusing to look back to those youthful days when that tune was a hit. I had no concept of what being 64 meant, other than it made you ancient. But now that I’m here, I don’t feel particularly old and/or decrepit. I’m certainly more active than I’ve been in years. This morning’s weekly stats report from Fitbit offer confirmation:
160,404 steps taken, for an average of 22.915 per day. That exceeds my 20,000 daily step goal.
I walked 123.28 kilometers last week. Not bad for an old guy!
I burned an average of 3766 calories per day, which is a good thing given the beer calories I’ve been consuming.
I’m getting 6.36 hours of sleep per night which is about right for me.
My resting heart rate averages 64 beats per minute, which is a healthy sign.
The blood pressure (assisted by meds) is consistently in the high 120s/ low 130s range, with diastolic readings at 90 or below. So, while not ideal it is far better than it used to be and good enough for an old fucker I reckon.
I could stand to lose another 10 to 15 pounds (I’m currently at 203). Damn ice cream!
Suffice to say, as much as it sucks to get old, it beats the hell out of the alternative. So I intend to keep on keeping on.
You know, I do sometimes fantasize about Japanese porn going back in time. Like say, 50 years ago. In 1969 I was entering my freshman year of high school. If I only knew then what I know today! Lots of things I’d do differently of course, but then, I’d likely make other mistakes, and no telling how that might turn out. Still, it’s kind of fun to think about the life I’d live both before and after purchasing IPO stock in Microsoft, Apple, and Google.
Maybe that’s all just a pipe dream, but I was walking down the highway the other day and I got pretty excited when I saw this:
Alas, it seems to be a case of false advertising. They weren’t selling tickets for a journey to the past after all…
So it looks like I’m stuck with the life I’ve lived. And the one that is yet to come. My body may be older than it was, but in my mind this is what I see:
Everybody’s so different, I haven’t changed. Well, I am drinking higher quality beer these days, so there’s that.
“Age has no reality except in the physical world. The essence of a human being is resistant to the passage of time. Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and omega. An end in itself.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
Yesterday was Hash day and it was a bit of a fiasco of my own making. After a morning full of sunshine the rains came pouring down in torrents in the hours preceding the Hash. I made the decision before I left the house that I wasn’t going to go climbing up in the mountains under these conditions. So I carried my umbrella instead of my walking stick. And wouldn’t you know it? Just a few minutes prior to departure time the rain stopped, the sky turned blue, and the sun was shining brightly. The Hares to their credit, went back out to remark the trail, and most of the kennel followed them shortly thereafter. I stuck by my decision and just walked the streets for an hour, but by all accounts it was a perfectly fine trail. I really regretted being such a wuss.
So, I get to our “On-Home” at Midnight Rambler ahead of the group and grab a menu. I rarely go to this venue other than for the Hash. They have a small restaurant run by a Brit and called the BBC. And they had a whole menu page devoted to pies:
It’s apparently their specialty! I splurged on the Cornish Pasty because I’d never had one before.This is what it looked like. Now, clearly I could see the difference in a pasty from the pies I’d experienced at other restaurants. And I could see how they had folded up the crust in a similar fashion as I’d seen Kevin Kim demonstrate on his blog. Now, mine was supposed to come with mashed potatoes instead of chips, but I was there for pasty, so what does it matter?And this was by far my best meat pie/pasty experience yet. The crust was firm without being dry, tasty without overwhelming the delicious and plentiful meat. So, Midnight Rambler/BBC is the place to go in Barretto when you have a hankering for this English delicacy. At least so far.
As I dined on my flavorful pasty, the Hashers trickled in from the trail and I felt like a heel for not having been out with them. But more beers eased that pain. And then it was time for the Hash circle.
Now, there is a Hash tradition that honors Harriers celebrating birthdays by preparing them a cake. I had hoped to avoid this recognition given that my birthday was the following day, but apparently that was close enough. And so I got my cake:
Eggs, flour, sugar, oil, and some yeast in the form of beer. All mixed together on my head. I was thankful there was no oven nearby!
And that was last night. Nothing special about today thus far. Grocery shopping, a brief walk, and I guess some sort of get together at Alley Cats later this afternoon.
Time marches on and so do I.
When I get older losing my hair Many years from now Will you still be sending me a valentine Birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I’d been out till quarter to three Would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me When I’m sixty four?
While I’m really not anti-social, I’m a bit of an introvert and don’t much care for large get-togethers unless I know the participants well. Gunter, aka Vienna Sausage, a fellow Hasher and de facto leader of the Wednesday walking group, has invited me to join gatherings at his place several times. I’ve always been non-committal about attending and subsequently never showed up. So, he was having a surprise birthday party for his girlfriend (also a Hasher–“Goes with a Dick”) yesterday and more or less insisted that I come. Well, not that I felt obligated, but I didn’t really have any Sunday evening plans other than sitting around drinking, so why not?
I had a general idea of where Gunter lives but no clue on how to get there. Troy (Demolition Derby) was playing darts at Alley Cats in the afternoon, so I met up with him there and after the tourney he showed me the way to the party. I made a batch of brownies to take along for the birthday girl. I also baked some cupcakes for the gals at Alley Cats and they seemed to go over well.
While I was waiting for Troy to finish with darts, I found myself seated at the same table with Steve, the Englishman who doesn’t drink. Although we’ve gone mano a mano at the dart boards several times, I’d never really talked to the guy before. Well, I’m nothing if not polite (shuddup!) so I asked him where he’s from in England. He told me Plymouth, a place I’ve actually heard of–people say Plymouth rocks! *ahem*. Steve also said that he had spent the past 22 years in Spain. I’ve never been to Spain, but I kinda like the music (yeah, there’s no stopping me!). I asked him what he did in Spain and he responded that he owns a bar there! I admit to being gobsmacked by that fact.
I couldn’t resist the urge to ask why a guy who doesn’t drink would own a bar? He laughed and said he’d only stopped drinking a year ago. And he stopped because his drinking was out of control. Good for him! Anyway, his rented the bar out now and seems to be enjoying his new life in the Philippines. I asked how he spends his time here and he responded he likes playing darts (duh!) and walking. I invited him to come out for the Hash and Wednesday Walkers and he expressed interest in doing so. And now we are Facebook friends to boot. See, I’m not anti-social!
Troy finished with darts and we made our way to the party at Gunter’s. Drank some beers, ate some food, had some small talk with my fellow guests, and sang Happy Birthday.
It turns out everyone there was a Hasher, so I wasn’t amongst strangers at least…
Still, I was the first to say my “goodnights” and head on out. I did pop into the Man Cave bar on my walk home. Called one of the dancers down for a couple of drinks and had a pretty good time I think.
This morning I woke up in a fog.
Literally.
The fog eventually lifted, and lo and behold, we had us some blue skies for a change. I took advantage and hoofed it over to Arizona for breakfast. My waitress, Grace, greeted me by name. And she told me she had seen me walking the other morning while she was coming out of the drug store and she called out “Hi John!”, but I had ignored her. Hmm, I had no recollection of that event. I probably just didn’t hear her, but I told her that I have women calling out to me all day long and if I stopped to answer I’d never get my steps in. She didn’t seem too impressed with that response.
Anyway, after she took my order she started asking me about Busan. I honestly don’t recall ever mentioning Korea to her but obviously I must have said something about having lived there. I told her Busan was a great city and I had always enjoyed visiting there. She asked me about working there as a Filipino and all I could say was that Busan is a little cheaper than Seoul to live in, and that I had met many Filipinos in Korea who were living a comfortable life. She was evasive when I asked her why she was interested in Busan, so I let it go.
Finished my morning steps, took a nap, and wrote this blog post. After being sunny most of the day, it has clouded up again and is currently pouring down rain. It appears my hopes for a dry Hash today have been washed away. Along with most of the trail markings the Hares (Demolition Derby and Vienna Sausage) put down this morning no doubt.
Ah well, if it keeps on raining like this the Hash today will just be another social event on my calendar. It’s all good.
Well, I’ve never been to Spain But I kinda like the music Say the ladies are insane there And they sure know how to use it
They don’t abuse it Never gonna lose it I can’t refuse it
Well, I’ve never been to England But I kinda like the Beatles Well, I headed for Las Vegas Only made it out to Needles
Can you feel it? Must be near it Feels so good Oh, it feels so good
Well, I’ve never been to heaven But I’ve been to Oklahoma Oh, they tell me I was born there But I really don’t remember
In Oklahoma, not Arizona What does it matter? What does it matter?
I reckon the time we spend in pursuit of the almighty dollar our working life transcends most every other chapter within our lifetime. It makes sense really given that for most of us we are selling 1/3 (or more) of every day for a paycheck.
Obviously our chosen career paths are not really a form of slavery or servitude. In fact, work is often a source of fulfillment and satisfaction that only comes from being a productive member of society. There is a sense of purpose and meaning as you resolve issues, complete projects, and contribute to the success of your organization. And of course it is good to have money to pay the bills.
Looking back from the vantage point of just over a year into my second retirement, I can honestly say that what I miss the most are the people I met along the way. The social interactions and friendships stand out much more than any of the big decisions that turned out right or any other accomplishments I might have achieved. Building relationships at work made me who I am much more than the actual work did.
And here’s the rundown of the actual work:
Before Government: I guess my first “real” job was as a paperboy for the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner when I was around 12 years old. By high school I was doing the usual bullshit work–car wash, pizza parlor cook, flagman at a motorcycle racetrack. After HS I graduated to such things as convenience store clerk, plastics fabricator, and route salesman. Then my baby girl came along and it was time to get serious. Or at least get a job with some benefits.
1976-1984–Letter Carrier, United States Postal Service (USPS)
To achieve employment with the Post Office required taking and passing the entrance examination. Your score on that test would be your place in the hiring queue. The test was offered for each individual post office, and since I was living in Orange County, California I had the opportunity to take the test several times.
I recall my first attempt was a passing effort but my score being in the low 80’s meant I was unlikely to ever be reached for hire (military veterans had 5 or 10 points added to their score). But each time I took the test my score would improve. I also developed some test taking techniques that helped. There was one long section of the test that was timed. I had difficulty completing that portion within the allotted time largely because you had to color in those answer circles completely. The testing monitor was always the same woman and I knew she took a smoke break while we completed an untimed test portion. So, instead of coloring in the circles, I just ticked them. Then while she was outside smoking I went back and colored them in correctly. Now, I don’t consider that cheating, just creative test taking. Regardless, I eventually got my score up to 95% and was subsequently hired at the Anaheim, CA post office.
I made it through my 90 day probation period and became a full fledged government employee. I actually enjoyed carrying mail and was a good and conscientious employee. My supervisor didn’t much like me though, in part because I was a smart ass. Hard to imagine, I know. One day my boss came out to do some “street supervision”. He asked me what I had left to deliver and I said just this apartment complex. He responded well, that will only take 30 minutes. I told him “maybe YOU can do it in 30 minutes, it’s gonna take me an hour”. I guess that pissed him off because when I got back to the office he issued me a letter of warning for insubordination.
And that’s how I became a shop steward with the National Association of Letter Carriers (NALC). The bogus discipline was overturned and I went on to represent other employees subjected to the arbitrary and capricious whims of management. I rather enjoyed my union work!
After my son was born in 1978 the wife and I wanted to get the hell out of Southern Cal and raise our kids in a healthier environment. And I was lucky enough to have my transfer request to Prescott, Arizona accepted. Damn, I loved living there! In due course I was elected to be President of NALC Branch #859. The good times ended with my marriage and it was time to move on. I needed help as a single father and my mom was in Oklahoma willing to provide it. So I transferred out to Fort Smith, Arkansas. I will always recall the words of my supervisor at my going away party in Prescott: “John, with this move you will achieve the rare accomplishment of raising the collective IQ of both Arizona and Arkansas!” Heh. Maybe he was right.
So, I continued on with the life of a letter carrier and shop steward n Fort Smith. They had this stupid concept of a van pool where five carriers would be driven out to their routes and dropped off. My route had the highest volume of mail so guess what, it took me longer to sort it. Which meant four other guys stood around waiting. Which made the supervisor upset. One day he came over to tell me to hurry it up and I responded “I only have two speeds, and if you don’t like this one you are going to HATE the other one. I got disciplined for that too but once again had it overturned in the grievance process.
Things were changing for me though. It was hot and humid in summer and I wasn’t used to that kind of weather. I kept waiting for winter to come but when it did I was slipping and sliding on ice all day long. But mostly the job had just become mind-numbingly boring. Some days I would carry my entire route and not even remember doing so because I had been fantasizing about a different life (one fantasy was becoming a professional gambler in Las Vegas). A woman I had met on my mail route, Iris Breed, was the director of the Fort Smith Girls Club. She encouraged me to apply for jobs in management saying I was wasting my intellectual talent carrying a mail satchel. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained I suppose. I applied for the Safety Specialist vacancy and surprise, surprise, I was selected!
Let me close out the history of my life as a mailman with this story:
It was a cold winter’s day in December and as I walked up to the porch of a house to deliver some letters, the front door opened and an attractive woman said “oh, you look so cold! Would you like to come in for some hot chocolate? I responded “that sounds great!” and she let me inside. As she served the cocoa to me, her robe fell open and I couldn’t help but notice she was wearing a see-through negligee underneath.
Well, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was in the bedroom with her having some pretty wild sex. When we were finished, she reached over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a dollar bill. I was confused and asked her “what’s this for?”. She shrugged and told me “when I asked my husband what should we give the mailman for Christmas, he said fuck the mailman, give him a dollar!”
I guess it’s no secret that I’m currently on a low ebb. I do tend to wear my heart on my sleeve after all. Of course, I recall all the platitudes along the lines of “this too shall pass”, and I recognize that in the big scheme of things my problems truly are meaningless. I’ve certainly been in much deeper and darker dire straights than I am at this moment.
It’s a transition as much as anything else I suppose. And what’s been interesting is discovering how many people are along for the ride. Being reminded that folks truly care and you are never really alone is comforting. Thank you all for that!
I’m consistent in my narcissism at least. In addition to my ramblings here at LTG, I sometimes leave cryptic posts on my Facebook page. Especially when I’ve been out drinking. The other day I posted what I thought was a rather innocuous statement: “Day 1 of the rest of my life. It’s bound to get better.” I was surprised to wake up the following day to comments from old friends and people I hadn’t heard from in years, offering support and encouragement. That made me feel better for sure. I particularly enjoyed this exchange between ex-wife #3 and my nephew Justin:
Carol: You are alone because you chose to leave your family and your country to live among strangers. I can see the appeal of an adventure but adventures end. Maybe its time for a new adventure/experience.
Justin: Obviously I don’t know the intricacies of your relationship with John, but at face value I have to disagree with your statement. Some of the closest friends I’ve made are Korean. I’ve shared and discussed things with my Korean friends that I never felt comfortable sharing with my family or American friends. It’s a topic I share with my mother on a weekly basis, I didn’t leave America out of spite or hatred, and I have no ill will towards my country of birth. I left because it seemed exciting and different to live abroad. I stayed because every day is something new or challenges my American mindset in some way. It’s not about the adventure as much it is about the personal growth I feel living abroad gives me. Honestly, I feel living outside the US makes me a better American. It gives me perspectives outside the American bubble.
Carol: What I said has nothing to do with me. John has children, grandchildren and brothers-that’s his family. John has acquaintances with whom he is friendly but no best friend. Thank goodness for the dogs or else he would have nothing or no one to call his own within his vicinity. And honey John is not like you. He did not immerse himself nor embrace Korean culture nor Filipino culture. He hangs out with other ex-pats. His contact with the locals seems to be hooking up with local girls. In case you have failed to notice, the man is depressed. He went overseas in search of fulfillment and happiness. It doesn’t appear he has found it. I am blunt and often tone deaf so I put it badly. However, I am not blind or indifferent. John needs try something different or else he is going to succumb to his depressive nature.
Justin: I don’t want to speak for John, but I think he doesn’t shy away from sharing how he’s feeling when he posts. I’ve visited him a few times in the Philippines and I would say his relationships are anything but transient. Some of his local Filipino friends have also become friends of mine. I’m also a bit concerned when his posts are a bit down, but any transition to a new city (and especially new country) is going to come with its ups and downs. I just think if John was truly unhappy in the Philippines, he wouldn’t stay.
Touching, isn’t it? I thanked them both and offered reassurances that I’m fine overall and I expect to be finer one day soon.
I’ve got to stay strong, my dogs need me!
Or so I keep telling myself…Buddy cracks me up sometimes…
Speaking of Buddy, he’s got a girlfriend. Or at least some bitch that runs loose in the neighborhood and likes to hangout around my house and tease the boys. Sometimes she even follows us when we do our morning walk. Buddy whines hornily but of course I won’t let them mate.
That’s her…
I’m not a total prick though. I have started leaving a bowl of dry dog food out on the front porch for her every morning.
And Lucky keeps an eye on things while she eats…
Alright then, onward and upward! And thanks again dear readers for being “my understanding ear”.
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the best so monotonous, poor and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and has always been one of the principal appetites of the soul.” –Aldous Huxley
Interestingly (to me), I first posted the above quote on this date four years ago. And it still resonates. I’m not sure if that is an indication that I’m stuck in a rut or that Mr. Huxley’s thought is a universal truth on the meaning (meaninglessness?) of life. Anyway, I like it.
The quote was good fodder for thought as I did my morning walk. My life here is better than the life I left behind, no question about that. But there is no denying the repetitiveness of my daily routines is indeed monotonous and leaves my soul hungry for meaningfulness. Now, I don’t mean to say I’m in despair or that I’m living a life of quiet desperation. Far from it. But the recent death within my small circle here is a stark reminder that I need to get off my ass and make the best of whatever time remains for me in this life.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.
Henry David Thoreau
For some reason I got to thinking about some of the training sessions the government wasted money on saw fit to send me to during the course of my 35 year career in Uncle Sam’s service. Many of these would include some type of “inspirational” segment where an overpaid speaker would presumably motivate us to greatness through the power of their words.
One that I recall involved a theme of “don’t sweat the small stuff”. The speaker drew a time line on his whiteboard with annotations for birth at one end and death at the other. He said being born and dying are big things. And everything in between is the small stuff. Well, I’m not sure how valuable that insight was but I do remember it all these years later. And yeah, I do try and remind myself that in the grand scheme of things my “problems” don’t amount to much of anything. As one Filipina friend told me “I worry everyday about how I’m going to feed my kids. And you complain because some woman hurt your feelings? You are blessed.”
Another training I recall had a more practical work application. It talked about manager’s getting bogged down by striving for perfection in their own work or in that of their subordinates. You can spend hours re-working a memo written for your signature or you can accept that the memo as written serves its intended purpose. The word the instructor used for this concept was “satisfices”. At least as a government manager, I found that satisfices was nearly always good enough. These days when I consider my life I can acknowledge it is perhaps not all it could be but I can also accept that it satisfices. It could certainly be much, much worse, that’s for sure.
And then I remembered a short story by Ernest Hemingway I read way back when in a literature class in college. It was called “A Clean Well-Lighted Place” and it was a story about nothing and the nothingness of life. I just did a search and saw that back in December 2006 I was also channeling this story. Funny how that works. And damn, in October 2014 the story was speaking to me once again. This was during that period where Jee Yeun first declined to return to the USA with me. I didn’t know it then of course, but that proved to be the beginning of the end for us. Anyway, here is one analysis of Hemingway’s story:
A Clean, Well Lighted Place” is Hemingway’s paean to a type of existential nihilism, an exploration of the meaning, or lack thereof, of existence. It clearly expresses the philosophy that underlies the Hemingway canon, dwelling on themes of death, futility, meaninglessness, and depression. Through the thoughts and words of a middle-aged Spanish waiter, Hemingway encapsulates the main tenet of his existential philosophy. Life is inherently meaningless and leads inevitably to death, and the older one gets, the clearer these truths become and the less able one is to impose any kind of order on one’s existence or maintain any kind of positivity in one’s outlook.
Here’s another, which strikes me as a little more scholarly. I wonder what ever happened to the paper I wrote for course credit? Apparently it didn’t make it to the internet. Anyway, A Clean Well-Lighted Place is not exactly the story of my life. At least not yet! But I like it. If you have not read it, you can have it read to you. Takes less than ten minutes and I deem it to be time well spent!
This post really went off in a weird direction, didn’t it? Anyway, despite appearances I’m doing fine and I am optimistic I’ll be doing even finer in the days to come.
It was all nothing, and a man was nothing, too…Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it was nada y pues nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee…
Just like General MacArthur, I have come back to the Philippines. It’s nitty and gritty, it’s dirty and pretty. And I like it. It’s good to be back home where I belong.
But damn, it’s hot!
Walked through the front door just before 3 a.m. and Buddy didn’t know what to make of it. I saw him looking out the window as I exited the car, and as I approached he took off upstairs. When I opened the door I saw him peeking down through the handrails. He got a glimpse of me and came back down to investigate. About this time my driver walked in and Buddy growled out him like he usually does. I told him “it’s okay Buddy” and I guess he recognized my voice because he came up and gave me a sniff just to be sure it was me. Once convinced, he went nuts, running in circles and whining, then standing on his hind legs and giving me hugs while I rubbed his back. He’s a sweet boy, that’s for sure.
Lucky had been out in the back yard and he was happy to see me (or to be let into the house) but was much more reserved around me, which is normal for him.
My domestic helpers were upstairs asleep of course, and soon enough so was I. I unpacked this morning, walked the dogs, and then walked myself for another hour. And of course this afternoon I’ve got the Hash. The notorious Leech My Nuggets is the Hare so I know I’m in for some punishment.
And damn it’s hot!
But hey it’s good to be back home again.
There will be another song for me For I will sing it There will be another dream for me Someone will bring it I will drink the wine while it is warm And never let you catch me looking at the sun And after all the loves of my life After all the loves of my life You’ll still be the one
I will take my life into my hands and I will use it I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it I will have the things that I desire And let passion flow like rivers through the sky And after all the loves of my life Oh, after all the loves of my life I’ll be thinking of you And wondering why
At a reader’s request here I am this morning in front of my former home and castle, Star Palace.
Today I left Anjeong-ri, most likely for the final time. I think I’ve made my peace with the past now and it is time to move on to whatever the future may hold.
As last days go, yesterday was a good one. Or good enough at least. A former employee of mine took off work early to spend the afternoon with me. I will admit upfront that I’ve been crushing on this woman for a long time, but as a subordinate she was strictly off limits. That’s not the case now so I was excited to see what she had in mind. I know the fantasies I concocted ran the gamut from an innocent lunch to a pornographic sexual encounter. The reality turned out to be fully clothed yet oddly satisfying.
We went to a park outside Pyeongtaek city. A very nice park actually. One I’d never heard of or seen.
It was a riverside park and featured many water-centered attractions like these un- gilded lilies.And this stony old fisherman waiting an eternity for a bite.
So we walked and we talked, we shared some laughs. And little by little we began to open up to each other about our feelings.
Be careful what you wish for…
We sat on a bench, held hands, and spoke about what was in our hearts. I told her this moment was what I had been missing the most–some genuine shared intimacy. It felt so good and right and natural. And then she said those words. “I love you…like a brother.” And you know, I’m okay with that. We do not share the same destiny but I’m glad she was a part of my life here. She will always have a special place in my heart and I will not forget how I felt as sat beside her in the park. A good reminder of what I hope to find for my own someday.
After the park we shared dinner with a couple other co-workers, hugged, and said our goodbyes.
I went back to my hotel and shortly thereafter received a message from Mi Young (the woman who had stood me up the night before) asking where I was. Seems she thought we had agreed to reschedule our date. Ah well, why not? So we met at a Mexican place she likes. I told I had just eaten, but we shared some appetizers. Mi Young has been involved in an animal rescue shelter here for the past few years. Pretty much to the exclusion of everything else, including me. I did provide some assistance in spreading the word on social media which resulted in quite a few volunteers joining the effort and providing her some much needed assistance. My tentative efforts to woo her romantically were rebuffed however. I think last night was her effort to express her regrets. Anyway, I will always admire her and hope she will find some balance in her life. She’s a good woman.
And after that I did the rounds and said my goodbyes to my barfriends at Crystal, Ariang, Hot Top, and Horse and Cow. Then I stumbled on home.
Up early to catch the train to Seoul. Met up with the nephew, Won Jun and Beckie at JJ’s bar where they were watching basketball. Then me and Justin were joined by the esteemed Kevin Kim for a Brazilian steak house lunch at Tabom Brazil.
The food was good, but not as good as the conversation. Thanks, Kev!
After lunch we said our goodbyes and I did a little pasalubong shopping. In the Philippines it is a tradition that you bring some gifts for your friends back home after traveling. Well, they are cheap ass souvenir trinkets, but I reckon they’ll do.
And now I’m just about done. One more Saturday night in Itaewon. Time to get started.
Those times I waited for you seem so long ago I wanted you far too much to ever let you go You know I never got by, “I feel it too” And I guess I never could stand to lose It’s such a pity to say Goodbye to you Goodbye to you
It’s no secret that I’ve been unhappy for most of my trip here. The real question in my mind is “why?”. As I’ve been retracing the steps I’ve taken on roads and trails when I called this town home I have endeavored to recall what I was thinking and feeling at that time. And yes, I was unhappy then for the most part as well.
Lots of time for thinking about things on walks like the one I took this morning.
When I moved to Anjeong-ri in May 2017 I expected to leave in September. My goal had been to see Eighth Army through the transition from Yongsan to Humphreys and then re-retire. After some arm twisting from my staff and 8A leadership I consented to stay on through May of 2018. I didn’t make the move down south without bringing some baggage along with me. And I acquired some more after I arrived.
Seoul is one of my favorite cities and the only place I had ever lived in Korea. Anjeong-ri is little more than a country village with a bunch of bars that cater to young soldiers. Admittedly I also had a bad attitude due in large part to a succession of failed relationships. But as I’ve been walking here this week I’ve come to realize I’ve been unfair and never really gave this town a chance. The problem it seems was not where I was, rather it was about who I was during that period of time. My mindset of “I can’t wait to get out of this burg” permeated nearly all my thoughts and prevented me from accepting things for what they are and making the best of my time here.
That attitude poisoned any chance of my being happy during that time. I didn’t pursue relationships because I thought I had my future secured with Loraine at my side. When she proved to be unworthy of my love and trust I was so devastated as to be blinded to other opportunities that presented themselves. Eva was one of those. I had lunch with Donna, my former Deputy, the other day and she asked about Eva. When I told her we had basically parted ways she chided me for being so foolish. Donna said when she say us together she could tell how much Eva cared for me and how our interactions appeared so natural and loving. Hmm. Anyway, after that conversation I did send Eva a message apologizing for treating her unkindly. She responded with graciousness and relayed the happy news that she had finally found the true love she had been searching for. I of course wished them well.
I see things a little differently now I suppose. Certainly nothing wrong with Anjeong-ri. It has its charm and its own kind of beauty. In fact, in many ways it is not unlike my new hometown of Barrio Barretto. Well, the foreigners living there are all as old as dirt of course, but the small town friendliness is the same. I’ve honestly been surprised that so many people I interacted with in the past still remember me and seem genuinely happy to see me. And it’s not just the bargirls, thank you very much. For example, today I got a haircut and the barber nearly dropped her scissors she was so surprised to see me. Welcomed me back, asked about life in the Philippines, and just made me feel warm with kindness. I laughed when she mentioned how much happier I look now compared to when she last saw me. And oh yeah, almost everyone comments on my brownness and how much weight I’ve lost.
The sign on my barber shop. I must be ugly.
Tonight I have a dinner “date” with Mi Young, the woman who first got me involved in animal rescue with the shelter she’s devoted her life to here. My support was financial, not the sweat and toil she puts into it. Anyway, the “date” is in quotes because after the Loraine fiasco I tried to pursue elevating our friendship to the next level. That turned out to be a bridge too far. I suppose because by then I was such a short timer here it made no sense to her to get involved with the likes of me. Plus I’m 20-some years older than her. Anyway, she contacted me and suggested dinner and I readily accepted the offer so we shall see.
Tomorrow afternoon I’m meeting up with one of my former employees. It was her idea and is probably innocent. But truthfully I always had a crush on her and obviously as the boss I could never act on it. Now, no such restrictions apply! Again, I’m probably getting carried away with my fantasies, but even if I only get to eat some Korean that’s good enough. Er, I mean, Korean food of course!
Yesterday I met a new girl working in The Wall bar. Just arrived from the Philippines two weeks ago. From Manila. Unusually smart and articulate. How do I know she’s smart? Well, when I was showing her photos of my dogs (she’s a dog lover too) on the blog she asked “is that your website? Will you give me the URL so I can read it? Shit, maybe she’s reading this post! Oh well. Anyway, she’s also a musician and she came to Korea to work for one year so she can send her teenage daughter to a better school. Well, I only talked to her for an hour or so, but still I was thinking if she had arrived while I was here she might have been a game changer. Sometimes it’s all about timing I suppose. But we are hooked up on Facebook now and if she does remain single and does in fact return to the the PI (two BIG ifs) it could possibly be, well, it could be something. Perhaps. Time is a bitch though.
Alright, that’s probably enough. My point is that I’ve come to realize it’s all about attitude and making the best of things as they are, not as how you wish them to be. And writing that makes it all seem so obvious but I had to walk a helluva lot of steps to figure that out. Now I can focus on remembering this new perspective.
Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!
Let me close out this post with some photos:
Everyone at my old office was really excited that a Texas Roadhouse had opened on base. So I took them to lunch there. Everyone seemed to enjoy the meal. I know I did…
You know, I just recalled writing a post in February 2018 called “Sorrow Floats” Give it a read to get a real time feel of just how much I didn’t like living in Anjeong-ri. In that post I talked about three new businesses that had recently opened and I predicted their imminent demise.
One of those was Pippi Burger and it has indeed now closed. I’m happy to report that I was wrong about the other two mentioned in that post. They are open anyway. Can’t say I’ve seen many customers in them this trip though.
Oh, and that tall building in the background is where I am staying this trip. It’s called Hotel Joy (haha) and was brand new when I left last year. Fully booked this week, so good for them!And finally, Facebook reminds me that it was three years ago today that I shaved off my mustache. Thought you’d want to know.
Okay, I am feeling better about things. Also, I am very much looking forward to going back home on Sunday. My dogs miss me!
It’s a damn good thing that I’m not in Alabama because I’ve decided to abort the last few days of my vacation. I’ll be leaving Sunday as opposed to Thursday now.
I’ve alluded to how things just aren’t working out for me on this trip in earlier posts. I mean, it’s been great seeing some old friends and all but I’m also having to deal with the old baggage I thought I’d left behind me. Instead it seems I’ve just ripped the scab off a still festering wound. Yeah, I know. I’m a fucking pussy. I’ve been berating myself during my long ass walks to no avail. I’m just not happy and really don’t want to prolong the suffering.
A good metaphor for my life here–alone in an empty bar.
Anyway, I’m meeting some friends tonight for dinner. Will take my former team members out for lunch tomorrow and maybe hook up with a few others before I depart Anjeong-ri on Saturday morning. Otherwise there is nothing for me here and it is good to be reminded why I was in such a hurry to get out of Dodge. The better question is why the hell did I come back. No answer for that!
Honestly though, I never gave it a real chance for the year I lived here. I always had one foot in the future (the Philippines) and one foot in the past (my broken life in Seoul). I regret not just embracing the experience and trying to enjoy each day for what it was. But what these past few days, both here and in Seoul, have brought home loud and clear–I no longer have a life in Korea. Time has moved on and it is past time that I did so as well.
In the meantime I continue to retrace old steps. Today I did a four hour walk circumnavigating the perimeter of Camp Humphreys.
I’ll never do that again!
I’m used to breaking up my walks into morning/afternoon sessions. Doing four hours in one stretch kicked my ass pretty good.
The river section of the hike. Nice, flat, and easy! I’m also enjoying the moderate temperatures here.I have no idea why it’s there, but this setup seems to capture for me the essence of life in Anjeong-ri…By the time I was back in the civilized world I’d worked up an appetite. Didn’t want to find out what Sam’s dog tastes like though. Instead I took a rest at the GS25 store and enjoyed a Coke Zero and some Oreo cookies.Facebook tells me that I took a similar hike two years ago. I was being facetious in my recitation of the Green Acres theme song. Yeah, stick a fork in me. I’m done.
One of my lives within this lifetime is the one I’ve spent as a manwhore. I don’t know what got into me, but I know what I got into. If you get my meaning. Anyway, once a whore always a whore I suppose. But the heydays of that life were from the 1980’s through the early 2000’s.
Now, back in high school I had two girlfriends at the same time. In my defense, the first one moved to San Diego two hours away. So it only seemed natural that I’d have someone local to love, right? That lasted until they both showed up in the same place at the same time. After that I had zero girlfriends.
Not too long afterwards I got the girl I was dating pregnant and married her. I was faithful to her until she wasn’t. Which led me to meeting KaraLynne, the love of my life. I told that story here. Suffice to say she wound up breaking my heart. I guess as much as anything that set me on the road to whoredom, although that was never really my intended destination. Or so I choose to believe.
So, this would have been around 1983 I suppose and I looked like this:
Oh, wait a minute. That’s not me.That’s me. I understand that some people thought Tom Selleck looked like me. Go figure.
Anyway, I was single again and looking for love. Usually in the wrong places. Heh, some things never change. I was a mailman and um, I “dated”, several gals I met on my mail route (but never during working hours! Okay, maybe once during working hours). I had a pretty passionate fling with my barber Peggy. And then I met Linda who was destined to be my soulmate, but not my life mate. Shortly thereafter I packed it in and left Arizona for a new life in Oklahoma and Arkansas (I was right on the border, working in Fort Smith, AR and living in Monroe, OK).
Wow! My first exposure to Southern women. And what can I say about them except they know what they want and they ain’t shy about asking for it. It was a totally new experience being the pursued and not the pursuer. My first weekend there I went to a country bar (I’m not sure there were any other kinds). I’m sitting there watching the action and a young woman walks up and says in a sweet Southern twang “are you just gonna sit there or did you come to dance?” So we danced in the bar and later on we were dancing horizontally.
And that’s pretty much the way it worked all the time. I met and deflowered my last virgin there. Dated a 37 year old and a 23 year old simultaneously (I was now 30) and interspersed them with gals I met on the mail route and in the bars. Wild times for sure. But the method to my madness was the thought that I might have to date a hundred women before I met another KaraLynne. Of course, that was a fools mission and in the end all I got was fucked. Ahem.
Eventually I married again so my kids would have someone to mother them. We moved to South Carolina and my career took off. I started traveling quite a bit and would occasionally dabble with women I’d meet on the road. Hotel bars can be such lonely places don’t you know. But I wasn’t very smart about it and got caught a couple of times which didn’t help the marriage. Once I got busted because I made the mistake of meeting up with a woman at her house. Her ex was a cop and he drove by, saw my car, and ran the plates. Then he called my wife. And my wife called my boss. It was a mess of my own making, that’s for sure.
After I had moved on to Wife #3 I had an affair with a co-worker. She was a big Chicago Bulls fan and since I had a ton of frequent flyer miles I booked a surprise trip to Chicago to see them play. We had a layover in Pittsburgh and our flight was delayed. The woman in the USAirways club helped us re-book so we wouldn’t miss the game. We made it and in appreciation I bought the agent a souvenir from the game which I presented to her on our return trip through Pittsburgh. She was so pleased that she called my wife in Virginia and thanked her for the kindness her and I had shown in getting her the gift (you see, she thought the woman I was with was my wife). I just never had much luck at cheating I suppose.
Maybe I learned my lessons, because I never cheated on Wife #4.
For all the good it did me.
After Jee Yeun destroyed me I’ve pretty much just been floundering. When it comes to relationships, I’ve got the Midas touch in reverse–they all turn to shit. Ironically, I live in a town chock full of whore bars but I have no interest in whoring these days. Maybe it’s old age or maybe I’ve just had enough. I would enjoy being in a stable, loving relationship with my one and only, but I’m not sure I have the balls to risk it. I’ve got a lifetime of bad Karma to pay for.
Now I think I’m going down to the well tonight And I’m going to drink till I get my fill And I hope when I get old I don’t sit around thinking about it But I probably will Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture A little of the glory of, well time slips away And leaves you with nothing mister but Boring stories of
Glory days well they’ll pass you by Glory days in the wink of a young girl’s eye Glory days, glory days
Just a quick update on the health front. Most of my leg pain is gone although the swelling has not entirely dissipated. The nebulizer has helped some on the breathing front. I was still feeling lethargic and unmotivated yesterday but perhaps that’s a side effect of the drugs I’m taking. Or maybe I’m just lazy. I’ve had two days of great BP readings in the one-teens but my resting heart rate is way up in the mid seventies. Weird. Anyway, I feel like I’m making progress on the road to recovery.
In fact, I’m feeling well enough to take a boat trip out to some remote island I can’t recall the name of at the moment. Going with some friends from the Hash. Should be interesting, or at least more interesting than blogging about my health.
More to follow. In the meantime, I’ll leave you this:
The more things change, the more they remain the same.
Sorry. I’ve got a real dislike of our so called “fourth estate”. The media has a traditional role in keeping our government honest which they’ve abdicated for partisan purposes. And now they have no credibility whatsoever. That does not bode well for our future. Luckily, I’m just a grouchy elderly man and maybe won’t be around to witness the fallout.
Last night was the first night since moving to the Philippines almost one year ago that I haven’t gone out drinking. And no, I didn’t have some kind of epiphany that nothing good will come from the pleasures you find at the bottom of several bottles of cold brew. Rather, my abstinence was a reflection of just how damn sick I truly was.
The illness seemed to come out of nowhere. Everything went fine at the Hash on Monday. The only thing that was unusual was a couple of Hashers happened to wander into the bar where I was enjoying an after Hash beer. Well, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew someone had bought a round of vodka shots. Of course under the rules of bar etiquette, I was obligated to reciprocate. So the back and forth continued until I had consumed at least four shots. As a low alcohol beer drinker, those shots hit me pretty hard. Yeah, I went home drunker than I’ve been in quite some time.
So, the next morning when I woke up feeling poorly I assumed it was merely a hangover from my over indulgence. But then I noticed some pain in my leg, light-headedness, and a lack of energy that gives new meaning to the word lethargic. I actually had a hard time just making it down the stairs. I knew then whatever was ailing me was not about alcohol consumption.
My domestic helper Tere is also a certified caregiver and she went into full-on care giving mode. She took my temperature and I was in fact running a fever. While I was napping on the couch (too damn hard to get up the stairs) she scheduled an appointment with a doctor at our local hospital.
That would be Our Lady of Lourdes International Medical Center.
I really didn’t want to go. First of all it seemed pointless and secondly I just didn’t have the energy to get up and go. Tere was insistent saying the doctor was waiting on me and finally I didn’t have the energy to keep saying no.
I thought the doctor seemed okay. I mean, I knew there wasn’t much he could do. He took my blood pressure and it was sky high (160!). He listened to my breathing and noticed right away that I’ve been having some issues. I told him I have COPD but that it’s been a lot worse for a few weeks. I suggested maybe because of the heat and he nodded but said I might also have a bronchial infection. He also referred to me as “elderly” once. Bastard! Bottom line, he wanted me to schedule a chest x-ray and some blood work which I may do tomorrow. In the meantime he wrote prescriptions for two antibiotics, some other stuff that is supposed to help clear my lungs of phlegm, including some juice for a nebulizer.
My old nebulizer I brought from Korea wasn’t functioning well, so I picked up this one yesterday. Ain’t she a beaut?
Anyway, by my count I spent around 18 hours in bed/on the couch yesterday. After a nebulizer session I did feel like I was breathing easier and lost the hacking cough. I still have no idea what’s going on with my leg. I was so out of it yesterday I forgot to mention it to the doc. A few days ago I got what I thought was a mosquito bite, but it was bigger than most and never really went away. Then I was thinking maybe I got poked by a thorn on one of my hikes. Whatever it is it got infected. My leg was very swollen this morning and quite painful. Oddly enough, it hurts more when I am inactive. I got my morning 10,000 steps in without much problem. And maybe the antibiotics are kicking in because the swelling appears to be down this afternoon.
And yes, it crossed my mind that the water with the nasty ass ice the half drunk guy provided me on Sunday’s hike may indeed have made me sick.
Not much to report on the Hash this week. A little over 8 KMs, but completely flat (both the Hares are in their 70’s). Not really new territory for me either, although one section is where I had been exploring a few days ago when the trail I was walking on dead ended in someone’s yard. The kids that live there showed me how to get back on the road and I rewarded them with 20 pesos each. Monday’s Hash trail went through the same damn yard! The kids really smiled when they saw me coming.
And I did run into a bunch of cocks on the trail as well.
Here’s to your health!
UPDATE: I’ve used the “sick and tired” heading twice previously. Interestingly (to me at least), in November 2016 I wrote about the coughing fits I’d been having. They continued and got a lot worse before I was finally diagnosed with COPD.
The other post was from February 2012 when I still had a wife to share my illness with. Oh well.
It was in the springtime of my nineteenth year. I had a decent enough job doing vinyl plastic fabrication. I shared a two bedroom apartment in Huntington Beach, CA with my older brother and I was driving an almost new 1974 Datsun pickup truck. My girlfriend was a 17 year old hottie named Bridget, whom I wasn’t in love with, but she loved sex almost as much as I did. And I had just acquired an adorable German Shepherd puppy I named Angie. So life was as good for me as it had ever been.
I recall picking Bridget up from her job as a sales clerk in Westminster Mall. She got in my pickup and immediately announced “I’m pregnant”. I was stunned at this news and blurted out “Damn it! If I knew you were going to get pregnant I wouldn’t have got the dog!”. And so began my reluctant journey into fatherhood.
Bridget and I both agreed we were not ready or equipped to be parents. She was a Catholic though and abortion for her was not an option. So we decided instead to give the baby up for adoption. Bridget’s parents were quite conservative and had never approved of me anyway and they were very unhappy with the news of the pregnancy. So we decided it would be best for all concerned if she moved out of the house and we’d get a place of our own until the baby was born. We made all the arrangements with the County adoption agency and we were provided free prenatal care and monthly food stamps. And so it came to pass that we were living together in a small apartment in Midway City.
So named I suppose because it was stuck midway between Westminster and Huntington Beach.
We were of course unsure when the child had been conceived, but the doctor estimated a due date in October. Now, I was big time into softball in those days and I happened to be playing in a tournament on a Sunday afternoon in early September. Bridget was there with me and around about the third inning she came to me complaining about not feeling well. I told her to go sit down and wait for the game to finish. At the start of the fifth inning my sister-in-law, a registered nurse, told me Bridget wasn’t well and I really needed to take her home. I remember making a big deal about apologizing to my teammates–“sorry guys, I have to leave now because someone has a tummy ache”.
On the drive back home every few minutes Bridget would start moaning loudly in pain. I was 19 and of course knew everything so I told her “it was just false labor, after all, you are not due until next month.” She persisted with her intermittent moans so as we were passing the hospital I pulled off the freeway and told her “Fine. We’ll go in here and they will tell you the same thing I’ve been saying!” And that is where two hours later my daughter Renee was born.
The next day I briefly saw Renee sleeping in one of those baskets in the maternity ward. Then I had to hurry off to work. My employer had moved to Pasadena, CA over an hours drive away. So I get to work and I can’t stop thinking about my helpless baby girl. At lunchtime I told the boss I was leaving and rushed back down the freeway to the hospital. As I entered Bridget’s room the woman from the adoption agency was handing her the papers to sign relinquishing custody of our baby. I shouted “stop! wait! I want to talk to Bridget first.” The adoption woman left and I said to Bridget “let’s get married and keep the baby instead”. Bridget said “okay”.
That was by far the best decision I’ve ever made. Bridget’s parents didn’t think so. Her father was livid and threatened to have me arrested for statutory rape (Bridget was still 17). I told him good luck with that. I had just turned 20 and still had some rebel in me I suppose. Anyway, he didn’t involve the law but he made things more difficult than they needed to be. Wouldn’t allow Bridget to marry so we waited for her 18th birthday in November. And he forbade Bridget’s siblings from attending our wedding ceremony. Petty bullshit. He came around in time and we were cordial but I never forgot how he treated us when we had nothing.
Well, I say we had nothing but that’s not entirely correct. We certainly were not prepared to have a baby in the house. That first night Renee actually slept in a dresser drawer. But we did have friends and the next day they held an impromptu baby shower and they filled our place with all things necessary to get a newborn started out right. I’ll never forget that either.
Life changed. We rented a two bedroom house next door to my parents (a loving grandma makes the best kind of baby sitter). I found a better job in route sales and about a year after Renee was born I started my government career as a letter carrier (mailman) with the United States Postal Service. With that new found financial security (and health insurance!) we felt it was time to plan for an addition to the family. And in March of 1978 Renee had a baby brother named Kevin sharing the house. Kevin actually arrived on his due date and having done the required natural childbirth classes I was present in the delivery room when Kevin entered the world. It was a beautiful thing to witness.
Being a parent makes you see things differently, or at least it did for me. For one thing I didn’t want to raise my kids in Orange County. We vacationed frequently in Arizona and just a few months after Kevin’s birth my transfer request to Prescott was accepted.
Without a doubt, the nicest place I ever did live. Probably around 25,000 residents at the time. Situated a mile high in the Bradshaw mountains. Felt like heaven to me!Meet the parents at our first house in Prescott, AZ. After a year we became homeowners and continued living the American dream.Celebrating Christmas in Arizona with my mom and little brother. I quite enjoyed the life as a family man.
Being a parent truly is “till death do us part”. Not so much for marriages. Bridget was 23, working at Prescott’s upscale restaurant, and running with a fast crowd. Sometimes she would stay out all night. I finally put my foot down and she told me “I don’t want to have to come home after work and be a wife and mother”. We got divorced and she gave me custody of the two kids, now aged 5 and 3. And thus began my journey as a single father.
Lord almighty, but it was tough going those first few months. I was a letter carrier which meant starting work at 0630. So I had to get up early, get the kids to daycare, do my job, pick the kids up, feed and bathe them, get them in bed, and then collapse in sheer exhaustion. And then get up the next morning and do it all over again. I’m not ashamed to admit that when I needed help I cried out for my mama. And she of course was there for me. We decided the best option was to send the kids home with her to the farm in Oklahoma. I would either come get them when I was ready or move there myself when a transfer came through. And that’s how it turned out that my kids were raised on a farm.
And what a life they had! Horses and cows and country living. Surrounded with love from Grandma and Grandpa and great Grandma Pernie. Granted, I was never any great shakes as a father, but damn it, sometimes I did get lucky. I did eventually move to the area, but I left the kids where they wanted and needed to be. I was pretty much a weekend dad in those days, but it all worked out for best.
Hanging with Grandpa Lee.And daddy was there sometimes too…Both of the kids really got into horses…Renee especially had a natural talent for horseback riding……and she has the ribbons and trophies to prove it!
HaHa! I guess that’s enough of the proud papa bullshit. On with the story. Well, it came to pass that I got to know a woman (actually, I got to know LOTS of women in those days, but that’s for another chapter) named Beckie. She was a widow with a one year old daughter. After dating for awhile, I moved into her fine home in Poteau, Oklahoma. She was and is a good woman and great with the kids. And then in 1986 I accepted a big promotion with the Postal Service in Columbia, SC. Now what do I do?
Well, as much as it pained me to yank the kids from my mother’s embrace (and it pained her much more I know) I wasn’t going to leave them behind. Beckie consented to my proposal to marry and so the deal was done. I’d have my kids and someone to help me raise them. How about that?
I’m not a totally selfish bastard. I promised the kids we’d find a place where we could bring the horses, and I did keep that promise. We lived out in the wilds of Lexington, SC and they went to school in nearby Pelion. It was a small high school and both of them excelled in sports and did well academically. Beckie was a Speech Pathologist and found work in a nearby school district. And I was busy kicking ass in my new career field of labor relations. More on that in a future chapter.
Our house in Lexington. Sitting on two acres of land. Built a barn and stable out back.
And so that was our life. When your kids reach high school age they are doing their own thing and parents are confined to keeping an eye out so they don’t go too far astray. I was lucky that my kids focused on athletics (well, and Renee was also into boys) and didn’t make the mistakes I did in high school. I spent a lot of my free time with them in the basketball arena, baseball diamond, and at the track.
Kevin was varsity baseball, basketball, and cross country.
Me escorting Renee at the Homecoming Queen festivities. Renee went off to Francis Marian University in Florence, SC but was home to watch her little brother graduate from high school…
Of course, even when your kids are grown, they are always your kids and an important part of your life. Just not a daily part. When it was all said and done and I had all those newly freed up hours previously spent at sporting events, I thought to myself “now what?” And sadly, I realized that the only thing I had in common with Beckie was our mutual interest in raising the kids. Yeah, I was that kind of motherfucker. So I started an affair with the woman who eventually became wife #3, which of course necessitated divorcing Beckie. I remind myself that whatever bad karma I may have in relationships was probably earned then and there.
I would also be remiss if I don’t talk about my other child, Beckie’s daughter Avery. She was only one when I met her mom and I’m the only father she has ever known. Unfortunately, I was a distant dad to her at best, and once I divorced her mother, I was almost completely absent from her life. Of course, Renee and Kevin considered her a sister and they all stayed close. As did Beckie with my kids. By now I had taken another promotion in Arlington, VA and they all remained in South Carolina. I was odd man out so to speak.
It was only as an adult that I came to terms with Avery and I think for the most part she has forgiven me for the hurt I caused her, however unintentional. Now we hang out when I’m visiting, and she even came here to the Philippines a couple of years ago to join me on vacation.
I got lucky again having a second chance with this sweet young woman.
And life moves on. I disappeared to Korea for almost 12 years and now I hang my hat in the Philippines. The kids have kids of their own and are living their lives just fine without me there. It is great that Beckie is still a mom to them and even their real mother reappeared in their life when she retired and moved to South Carolina.
We always get on and have some fun when I’m around, which ain’t often I admit.Kevin had a long and successful career in journalism and now is doing great work in the insurance biz.Renee has given me two beautiful grandchildren and after a hurtful divorce is finding her way in the world again.
And the wheel in the sky keeps on turning. Childhood ends. The rebellious teen years pass. But this chapter of my life will never end. Indeed, I’ll live on through my children. That’s a legacy I can be proud of!
All together again last October. I’m pretty much a once a year dad these days.
Winter is here again oh Lord, Haven’t been home in a year or more I hope she holds on a little longer Sent a letter on a long summer day Made of silver, not of clay I’ve been runnin’ down this dusty road
Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’ I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’
A good Hash yesterday. Shorter than normal but with a couple of moderate climbs and some nice vistas. I’m not going to worry anymore about my upcoming trail. I deem it long enough especially in light of the fact that no one really complained the hike yesterday was too short.
I guess my biggest worry will be pulling off the “on-home” at my house. The logistics of finding chairs and a place to sit and eat need to be worked out. I’m also concerned that I don’t have any lighting in the area where the Hash circle will be conducted. Might look into getting some camping lanterns.
As for food, well I’m not set up to feed 30+ hungry Hashers. I’ll cover the paper plates/utensils and order up some takeout pizza and wings. I might do a big batch of chili in the crockpot and bake up some cornbread muffins. Hey, beggars can’t be choosers!
The first section was new to me and I rather enjoyed it. The rest of the trail was stuff I do on my standard walks, including a good portion of “My Bitch”. Short and sweet. I like it!A different angle on a familiar view.Looking down on my hometown of Barrio Barretto.
In other news, I haven’t been feeling real well of late. Not sure if it is heat related or what, but I’m experiencing some shortness of breath. Sometimes I pant when I walk, but mostly it’s confined to when I’m sleeping. Could be the lying down exacerbates my COPD. Still nothing at all like I used to experience back before I was diagnosed and started taking my meds. Hopefully this too shall pass.
Well, none of us are going to live forever, but I came across this article that purports to calculate how many healthy years of life you have left. Of course it is probably all BS, but I took the quiz anyway. I had to smile when I saw the calculator was developed by “UCONN”, the unfortunate acronym for the University of Connecticut. Here are my results:
Your predicted future healthy years is 26.4 Years Your Relative Healthy Life Expectancy is about 23.8% above Average Your predicted future unhealthy years is 5.0 Years Your predicted future total years of living is 31.4 Years i.e. Your predicted age at death is 63 + 31.4 (Current Age + Life Expectancy) = 94.4 Years Your predicted future unhealthy years, if disabled by a cognitive disease, is 7.8 Years
How does my lifestyle affect my Healthy Life Expectancy? You are doing a great job exercising, keep up the great work At the moment your BMI is looking good, but make sure you keep an eye on it By sleeping more each night you can increase your healthy life expectancy by 6.46% which is about 20.5 months By reducing your alcohol consumption each week you can increase your healthy life expectancy by 10.35% which is about 32.8 months Not smoking has a positive impact on your healthy life expectancy
Hmm. I can’t imagine living into my nineties. And you think the blog is boring now? They say I should drink less and sleep more to boot? How about we compromise and I do what I want, when I want and stay active and healthy until I’m 85. Deal?
Here’s the link to the calculator if you are curious how golden your golden years might be. Oh, and if you get hit by a bus whilst crossing the highway, all bets are off!
I’m not scared of dying And I, don’t really care If it’s peace you find in dying Well then, let the time be near
If it’s peace you find in dying Well then dying time is near Just bundle up my coffin ‘Cause it’s cold way down there I hear that it’s Cold way down there, yeah Crazy cold, way down there
And when I die, and when I’m gone There’ll be, one child born In this world To carry on, to carry on
Now troubles are many They’re as Deep as a well I can swear there ain’t no Heaven But I pray there ain’t no hell Swear there ain’t no Heaven And I’ll pray there ain’t no hell But I’ll never know by livin’ Only my dyin’ will tell, yes only my Dyin’ will tell, oh yeah Only my dyin’ will tell
And when I die, and when I’m gone There’ll be, one child born, in this world To carry on, to carry on
Well, my pension is lots more than that but I ain’t got no Filipina looking that good either.
In the comments to a recent post, Kevin Kim asks: What’s the problem with Western women? After providing some examples of issues he has experienced with Asian women, Kev poses the question: So who’s more damaged (or kooky, or whatever), in your view? Western ladies or Asian ones? Why do you think so?
Well, if there is one thing I have in this life, it is a long and storied history with women. My relationship failures would make for a great romantic comedy (of errors), if they hadn’t happened to me. It’s hard to laugh in the face of pain. Still, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? So I am going to endeavor to answer the questions posed as honestly as I can. The only caveat being that these are only my experience based opinions. It is not my intent to stereotype all women with particular characteristics, I can only speak to the ones who were crazy enough to be with me.
Alright then, let’s go. It is no secret to long time readers that I’ve had four wives. And I acknowledge and accept the fact that I am the only common denominator in each of those relationships. So yeah, it could be that I’m the problem. Three of my spouses were American, the last was a Korean. And I really don’t have anything bad to say about any of them. And when I said that I’d never be with a Western woman again it was primarily based on two factors–I live in the Philippines where foreign women are scarce; and I find Asian women much more attractive. Yeah, I’m that shallow.
It’s not necessarily all about physical beauty either. I’m attracted to the Asian mentality that a woman should take care of her man. Granted, they are not always sincere when they display that warm and loving nature, but Asian women tend to be more traditional in relationship roles. A Western woman is much more likely to say “make your own damn sandwich!”. So there’s that.
When I first came to Korea I was blown away at being surrounded by so many sexy females. You might say I caught the yellow fever. Don’t say that to a Korean woman though. I made that mistake once and it didn’t go over well at all! I wrote a rather long treatise about Korean females on an internet forum back in 2015. It goes into great detail about some of my personal experiences dating and loving the most beautiful women in Asia. Give it a read if you are so inclined.
So I eventually married a Korean woman. I loved her, she loved me and we built a life together. Was it perfect? Far from it. But I was committed to the choice I had made. Right up until she told me she didn’t have a happy life with me and wanted a divorce. I honestly do not know what happened or why she was so unhappy. She wouldn’t, or couldn’t tell me. And that language and communication barrier probably had a lot to do with it.
So the marriage failed and I was back in the market for love. And then I experienced some of the bad kind of crazy Kevin talks about in his comment. And that led me to conclude that love is just not worth the pain it brings. So I came up with a brand new plan. I wrote about that plan here. Actually, those two links probably answer the questions posed better and more thoroughly than I’m doing here. Suffice to say, the “plan” to just employ a Filipina to do all the things a girlfriend/wife would do without all the “love” bullshit blew up spectacularly in my face. Because I fell in love with her.
And what should have been a happy ending for us both was not to be. She chose instead to betray me and fall in love with another man. Just my luck, huh? Well, actually it was lucky for me. I had totally misjudged her nature and her character. If I had trusted her with my future I would have been in much worse shape than I am today. As I often tell myself, there are worse things than being alone.
But I digress. I have failed with Western women and I have failed with Asian women. I’m living in a country filled with beautiful brown skinned ladies and I haven’t given up hope that someday the right one for me will present herself and I will not be so jaded that I fail to seize the opportunity. In the meantime I’ll just keep on living the life that is not all it could be, but that is certainly good enough.
So here are my answers:
There is nothing wrong with Western women, they just don’t attract me.
In my experience Asian women are more damaged/kooky than Western women. The why of that is probably partly attributable to cultural differences and communication differences. Or maybe that is just the kind of Asian woman who is attracted to Western men.
As any honest woman would tell me “I’d have to be crazy to go out with you!”.
To all the girls I’ve loved before Who traveled in and out my door I’m glad they came along I dedicate this song To all the girls I’ve loved before
To all the girls I once caressed And may I say, I’ve held the best For helping me to grow, I owe a lot, I know To all the girls I’ve loved before
The winds of change are always blowing And every time I tried to stay The winds of change continued blowing And they just carried me a way
To all the girls who shared my life Who now are someone else’s wife I’m glad they came along I dedicate this song To all the girls I’ve loved before
To all the girls who cared for me Who filled my nights with ecstasy They live within my heart I’ll always be a part Of all the girls I’ve loved before
The winds of change are always blowing And every time I tried to stay The winds of change continued blowing And they just carried me way
I haven’t watched much television on Netflix or elsewhere for several years now. I know I’m missing out on some good stuff and perhaps I’ll find a way to build a couple of hours a day in front of the TV screen. Via Althouse comes information on a Netflix series starring one of my favorites, Ricky Gervais:
The show centers around Tony (Gervais), a middle-aged journalist whose “perfect life” has been reduced to dust since his wife died of cancer. After contemplating taking his own life, he decides instead to live long enough to punish the world by saying and doing whatever he likes from now on. He thinks it’s like a Super Power, but eventually finds out life is more complicated, when everyone around him tries to save the nice guy they used to know.
This description from Gervais really resonated with me:
“At the end of the day, it’s all those little mundane interactions that actually save your life — they’re the variety of life, they stop you from feeling too sorry for yourself. He’s got to take the dog for a walk, he’s got to go to work to make money to get drunk, and after all that, time heals,” Gervais explained to Variety in an interview.
Yeah, that’s what I was getting at (or trying to) in my post on boredom the other day. I’m going through some stuff these past couple of days but my routines do seem to help relieve the stress and mental turmoil. Like today’s walk:
The squiggly lines up top are my morning walk in Alta Vista with Buddy. The long straight line in the middle is the walk with Lucky to the vet for shots. We took a trike back. And finally, I did my Baloy Beach hike. Still to come, this afternoon’s Hash.
I know this is just a passage to a better place.
Crazy I’m crazy for feeling so lonely I’m crazy Crazy for feeling so blue I knew You’d love me as long as you wanted And then some day You’d leave me for somebody new Worry Why do I let myself worry? Wondering What in the world did I do… Oh, crazy For thinking that my love could hold you… I’m crazy for trying And crazy for crying And I’m crazy for loving you
Well, I’m still alive so it’s time to pay the piper. Just got word from my accountant that I’m indebted to Uncle Sam again this year. However, since I only worked half the year my tax bill has decreased from over $8000. to only $12. this year. Now that is what I consider good news!
I’m afraid hot season is now upon us. Makes it especially hard to maintain my motivation to get out there and walk. I’m going to wait until later this afternoon to get some steps in, maybe it won’t be so damn unbearable. Almost has me wishing I could be complaining about rainy season instead.
There are other changes on the horizon but I’m going to let them play out before I report about it. Just gotta stay strong in the meantime.
“You can appreciate Schubert if you train yourself. I was the same way when I first listened to him—it bored me silly. It’s only natural for someone your age. In time you’ll appreciate it. People soon get tired of things that aren’t boring, but not of what is boring. Go figure. For me, I might have the leisure to be bored, but not to grow tired of something. Most people can’t distinguish between the two.”
— Haruki Murakami
If you are visiting LTG on a regular basis then chances are you are indeed bored out of your mind. And if you are not bored now you likely will be after reading this post. I’m only half-kidding when I say that people like my blog because it makes them feel better about their own lives.
Anyway, Althouse was blogging about boredom today. She included a link to a long and boring Wikipedia article on boredom. There is also this quiz you can take to discover how easily you get bored. My result was that I have an average propensity to become bored. So nothing to get excited about I suppose.
I’ve been retired now going on one year. Do I find my life boring? Surprisingly, and notwithstanding the drivel I post here, for the most part no, I do not. I have my daily routines and rituals and they pass the time, however comfortably and well*. I wake each morning at 0600, spend some time on the internets, walk the dogs, have breakfast, walk myself, take a nap, try to blog here, take another walk, shower, drink beer/throw darts, then sleep around 10 p.m. Every fucking day of my life. Well, sometimes I’ll travel and do the above in a new location. And I am plotting some international travel in the coming months.
Is that enough? For now it has to be. Could it be better? Hell yes! For example, I’d love to have someone to love and share my life with. But I’m not really able to open myself up to the pain and disappointment that potentially comes with the love thing just yet. As I often remind myself, there are worse things than being alone
This pretty much captures how I feel.
Had a brief and drunken text chat with the last woman I loved yesterday. She told me she has chosen to be happy in life and that “happiness is within”. Well, if that works for her I’m glad. But it smells like bullshit to me. Don’t get me wrong, I am not unhappy. I am content with this life I have chosen. I have all I need to live comfortably and worry-free. Living here is a daily reminder that my first world problems truly are meaningless.
I’m not dead inside quite yet. And I hope to keep it that way!
I can’t control what the people around me do or how they choose to live their life. What I can control is who I let into MY life. Unfortunately, I’ve demonstrated an amazing inability to judge the true nature of another person’s character. So I’m often disappointed and frequently taken advantage of by so-called friends. I know who I am and what is in my heart and I’ll continue to live my life in a manner that in some small way might make a difference. I’ll do unto others not as they’ve done unto me. I’m bound to have some good Karma coming my way eventually.
Man oh man, talk about going off on a tangent. Bored yet?
Let’s get back on track. Facebook reminded me that two years ago I was meeting the U.S. Ambassador to Korea.
And giving the clenched fist salute My Way!
I enjoyed my working life and the intellectual stimulation it provided. Now I have 8+ more hours to fill each day and for the most part I spend them alone. Or with other drunk expats. But although I’m not often mentally challenged, I think I’m staying engaged on some level. The hours I spend hiking are also hours I spend thinking. Or listening to music. Sometimes both at the same time! Nothing boring about that.
Today’s hike. That bow-tie looking thing is where I was searching for that extra kilometer to add to my upcoming Hash trail. I’ve got a small addition on the back now. Perhaps I can add a bit more towards the front. I’ve still got a month to work it out.And in the meantime I’ll still make time to stop and smell the flowers.
I’m a lucky bastard with too much time on his hands.
Sitting on this barstool talking like a damn fool Got the twelve o’clock news blues And I’ve given up hope for the afternoon soaps And a bottle of cold brew Is it any wonder I’m not crazy? Is it any wonder I’m sane at all Well I’m so tired of losing- I got nothing to do and all day to do it I go out cruisin’ but I’ve no place to go and all night to get there Is it any wonder I’m not a criminal? Is it any wonder I’m not in jail? Is it any wonder I’ve got
Too much time on my hands? It’s ticking away with my sanity I’ve got too much time on my hands It’s hard to believe such a calamity I’ve got too much time on my hands And it’s ticking away, ticking away from me Too much time on my hands (It’s t-t-t-t-ticking away) Too much time on my hands (And I don’t know what to do with myself) Too much time on my hands
*when I wrote “however comfortably and well” it felt like something I had read somewhere, maybe in a Hemingway short story. I googled it and came up with nothing. If it’s plagiarism it’s unintentional…
I know it is rather cliche to characterize the teenage years as “rebellious”, but when the shoe fits…(ahem). I’m not exactly sure just what triggered me, but it seemed to coincide with my entry into high school.
The scene of some of my “high” crimes and misdemeanors.
As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I was from a working class family in an affluent upper middle class community. This “sin” was exacerbated in my high school which was notorious for its cliques and assignment of status among the students based on social standing. Where did I fit in? Basically nowhere, as I didn’t really meet the demographics of any group (jocks, muscle car racers, scholars, etc). Well, except maybe the stoners, but more on that later. So I was a loner for the most part, although outside of school I would hang with my neighborhood crew.
Most of the kids had fancy new cars courtesy of mommy and daddy. Me? I drove a 1963 Ford pickup during most of those glory days. I even named my vehicle–Redford. Get it? I did have a smokin’ hot girlfriend though!
Ah, Karen Michelle. My first love. Met her in journalism class as a freshman and we had a passionate relationship until she moved away to San Diego just before senior year. Took Karen’s cherry in the back seat of my mom’s 1969 Plymouth Fury when I took her to watch the submarine races at Huntington Beach. I actually continued to see her periodically after she moved, making the two hour drive down I-5 for the weekend when I could get off work and/or had the gas money.
When I wasn’t down south I had a local girlfriend named Gail Weed. It was the best of both worlds, right up until Karen and Gail wound up in the same place at the same time. In the end I lost them both, only then realizing that I was in love with Gail. Sound familiar? Bless her heart, Gail responded to my profession of undying (and exclusive) love going forward with a hearty “fuck off”. That would be the first in a long line of heartbreaks to come over the course of many lifetimes.
At the prom with Karen held aboard the Queen Mary in Long Beach. Thirty years later I saw Karen again at our high school reunion. Took her back to the Queen Mary for dinner and reminiscing. And then we rekindled the old passion for one night. We are still friends on Facebook which is nice.
My rebellion manifested itself in various ways. For one thing, I completely rejected the Protestant faith in which I had been raised. At some point I just became aware of the utter hypocrisy of the Christian church. And once I started questioning the values of the church I found I couldn’t intellectually accept the basic tenets of Christianity. I still do not believe Mary was a virgin or that Christ rose from the grave three days after being crucified. And so ended my budding career as a steel guitarist in my church’s band. Ah well.
I did run cross country my freshman year. I was actually pretty good for a youngster, running the two mile course in under 12 minutes (I think my best time was 11:40 or so). Whatever promise I held as a distance runner was apparently overshadowed by the fact that my hair touched the top of my ears. Coach Hedges (who may have been a drill sergeant at one time) told me to cut my hair or I wouldn’t be allowed to participate in future meets. So I quit the team. And now 50 years later I’m a Harrier once again. Life’s funny, ain’t it?
Academically, I couldn’t be bothered with bullshit like homework or in some cases, attending class on a regular basis. And my grades tended to reflect that.
Well, what can I say? Mere grades don’t reflect the value of a man, right?
I did have success in my Journalism class. In fact, I rose to become editor-in-chief of our high school paper.
The paper had been called “The Scroll” since forever. My fellow staffers and I thought the name old fashioned and we set about changing it. I suggested “Harvest” (mostly because I was a big Neil Young fan) and the staff agreed. And so it was done. Looking back, it is kind of a stupid name, but what hell, right?
Being a writer with the paper gave me another outlet for feeding my desire to “stick it to the man”. I had my own column on the editorial page called “A Few Words On…” Each issue I’d address some controversial topic of interest to me. One I specifically recall because it almost got our adviser fired when he resisted the school principal’s effort to censor it was called “Our Gestapo”. I basically (and probably unfairly) took the security staff to task for their over bearing nature in enforcing the rules.
And I did political stuff as well. Nixon was always a good foil for a know-it-all teenager like me!
I wasn’t always wrong on the issues though. I had editorialized that a California Proposition on the ballot to decriminalize marijuana should be approved.That created a bit of a shitstorm at the time.
Talk about being ahead of your time! California did make pot legal over 40 years later…
Speaking of marijuana…starting at about fifteen years of age I became a bonafide pothead. I smoked dope whenever and wherever I could. And this being Southern Cal in the 1970’s, it was easier to get stoned than to get drunk. Although I did that on occasion as well. Pot was locally grown and relatively cheap at $10 an ounce. I experimented with other drugs as well, like LSD, but really only liked smoking grass. And truth be told, being high a lot of the time sucked whatever motivation I had to work hard in school right out of me. It’s a wonder I managed to graduate.
But I did. It necessitated me taking night classes at the local community college to earn the required number of credits to qualify for this Diploma.Who me? My senior picture. In a final act of defiance I boycotted the graduation ceremony. And now, welcome to the real world!
My criminality wasn’t strictly limited to my use of illegal substances. I was a notorious flaunter of traffic laws, mostly speeding related. And once I stole a car to replace a friend’s car I had drunkenly driven into a brick wall. But I was only arrested once:
On or about July 4, 1973, at 18900 Gothard Street, Huntington Beach, County of Orange, [John McCrarey] did willfully, unlawfully and maliciously disturb the peace and quiet of Mrs. Hal Westley Shirey by offensive conduct, and the use of vulgar, profane, and indecent language, in a loud and boisterous manner, in violation of Section 415 of the Penal Code of California.
My crime was yelling “fuck you pigs” after being ticketed for a bullshit offense. If you are curious about the details, I told the story here.
As a result of that episode I had the final falling out with my father whereupon I moved out of the house and on my own at 17. Good thing I had my own career already.
Graveyard shift at a convenience store making two bucks an hour!
I worked there for several months until the night I was robbed. Pretty scary shit that was. And being the rebel that I was I had failed to make my regular drops into the safe (the rule was never more than $30 in the cash drawer). I probably had close to $100 at the time of the holdup. I guess that raised suspicions at corporate, because they told me to come to the office for a polygraph. As if I was involved with robbing myself! I was a punk, but I wasn’t no Jussie Smollett. Anyway, I told them they could stick the polygraph up their ass and quit.
I then embarked on a hitchhiking trip with a buddy across the Pacific Northwest. We had planned to enter Canada, but the Canadian border guards apparently didn’t like our looks. The pretext they used was we didn’t have enough money with us to be granted entrance. Bullshit! “How much do I need? I’ll wire home and get it.” He looked at me and said “son, you’ll never have enough money to get into Canada”. If you are interested in the details of that sad story, I wrote about it here. Anyway, I’ve never been back to Canada since that attempt, but I always swore then when I go, I’m going to do it at that border crossing.
Seriously Canada? What’s wrong with a fine upstanding young man like me?
Anyway, I came back home and found a better job working day shift in a factory. I also suffered my first bout of major depression and spent weeks planning to commit suicide. Even bought the drugs I planned to use to end my life. When the appointed day arrived I changed my mind for some reason. Best decision of a lifetime! I would not have wanted to miss all the lifetimes that followed that one.
And as fate would have it, near the end of my 19th year an event occurred that was destined to change everything. Stay tuned for Chapter 3.
He’s a rebel and he’ll never ever be any good He’s a rebel ’cause he never ever does what he should But just because he doesn’t do what everybody else does That’s no reason why I can’t give him all my love
