One lifetime, many lives–Chapter Two: Rebel Without A Pause

Posted on 29/March/2019 by John McCrarey

Continuing on with the story of my lives. You can read the prologue here and Chapter One here.

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

I got Lucky!

Posted on 23/March/2019 by John McCrarey

And hopefully so did he.

Today I acquired/rescued a puppy. I’ve named him Lucky. I mentioned him in this post back in February.

Everyday I would walk by and see him tied up on a short leash, no food or water or shade. And since taking this photo last month his condition has gotten worse and worse. Skinnier and covered in some mange like stuff that is causing him to lose his fur. Heartbreaking.

Marissa asked one of the security guards to find out if the owner (who apparently does maintenance work here in Alta Vista) if he’d be willing to sell the pup for 500 pesos (around $10). The guard later told us the owner said yes, so we paid the money and brought him home this morning.

***First thing we did was give him some food. Poor guy was starving! Then Marissa gave him a much needed bath. I’m pretty sure it is the first one he has ever had.***

I had previously purchased an enclosure for the back yard and a dog house, thinking I’d use it for Buddy. But Buddy turned out to be mostly an indoor dog.

But for the time being at least it’s where Lucky is going to hang out. I need to get him to the vet on Monday for shots, de-worming, and treatment for that skin condition. Don’t want him infecting Buddy with that shit. Still, compared to a two foot long leash, Lucky is living in luxury.

***He seems to enjoy his new house! You can see that mange or whatever it is on his head. I hope he is not suffering too much, but I will get it treated as soon as possible.***

Buddy is very curious about the new addition to our family, but I’m keeping him away for now. I think they will get along fine though. I can sense that Buddy longs for a canine playmate so this ought to be a good thing for all concerned.

Making a difference, one dog at a time!

Speaking of lucky, I enjoyed looking at photos from the team building trip I took with my staff one year ago. Including this one:

***Let’s hope this posed photo is not replicated on one of my daily crossings of the National Highway here in Barretto. Well, I’m getting pretty good at Frogger….***

Wow. Two posts in one day! I’m out of control. I better go drink some beer. It’s Saturday night!

You better watch what you say
You better watch what you do to me
Don’t get carried away
Girl, if you can do better than me, go
Yeah go, but remember
Good love is hard to find
Good love is hard to find
You got lucky, babe
You got lucky, babe, when I found you
You put a hand on my cheek
And then you turned your eyes away
If you don’t feel complete
If I don’t take you all o’ the way, then go
Yeah go, but remember
Good love is hard to find
Good love is hard to find
You got lucky, babe
You got lucky, babe, when I found you

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QqUs3WqfkE

Only God can make a tree

Posted on 21/March/2019 by John McCrarey

But anyone can write a poem, even me! Especially a bad one. Well, it’s been a long, long time since I put verses on paper but back in the day I was a poem writing fool. I had cause to be reminded of this fact when I opened “the box of memories” I brought back with me from the last visit to the USA.

***An old wine box. But after reading some of the crap inside, it might be more apt to call it a whine box.***

Photographs, cards and letters, and lots of original words on paper–a journal, some short stories, and some bad poetry. All authored by yours truly back in the early 1970’s. Yep, the contents were still dripping with teenage angst even after all these years.

I was somewhat taken aback at how similar some of those emotions I was expressing back then are to ones I still sometimes experience. And the opposite is true as well, I found my self shaking my head at the sad and petulant young man who fancied himself a writer. Geez, and here I am overcoming that shame by sharing some of those words here with you now. Ha! Finally published after all these years!

Okay, I’m not going to edit or rewrite this crap, but some of it will be excerpted so you’ll get the flavor without having to suffer overmuch. Let’s start with a twofer–a sheet of notebook paper dated December 14, 1972 with these two poems:

The Only Way

Perhaps the best way
Is your way
Maybe the best belief
Is not to believe
Maybe the only answer
Is no answer
And maybe the only time
Is this time...
And yet,
Why can't our love
Be the only love?

Alone

Alone in my fantasies
Alone with my dreams
But when I wake with the dawning
One sullen fact remains
That I am alone in my love for you---
The sun doesn't shine, it rains.

Well, I warned you. Let’s try this:

I wrote this for my creative writing class in my junior year if I recall correctly. My teacher was a bit of a prick (he called a sonnet I had worked hard on and was proud of “extremely corny”), so this was high praise coming from him. Yeah, I was a full-on anti-war protester back in those days and wrote several Vietnam themed poems. I am not proud of the sentiment expressed in this one. I think it may have been prompted by the My Lai massacre, but it was wrong then and so was I.

Here’s an excerpt from a poem called New Year’s Eve which I assume I wrote on New Year’s Eve. Not sure which New Year’s Eve, but given my history of ill-fated love, it could be just about ANY New Year’s Eve.

You never even took the time
To see what you were using
And you were shocked when you found out
It was you who did the losing

And you really can't help looking back
Was it all just another game?
You pretend it doesn't matter
But you've never felt quite the same

And when it's finally all over
Will you look at your life and be sad?
Will you remember the people and places
And the love you could have had?

I had a typewriter and a hippie mentality back in those days. Geez, this one makes me cringe. And I’m pretty sure the punctuation is all wrong. I’d usually get A’s and B’s on content and D’s on composition. I have no idea why I took to calling myself John Mark McCrarey II. I’m the first and only. I guess I thought it looked cool. Geez.

Alright, I’ve tortured you just about enough I suppose. But before you go, let me share a short essay that just so happens to be the oldest thing in the box, written in my sophomore English class on October 22, 1970. It’s called: Love? Hah!

People are really fools but nobody ever seems to notice this, not even me, until recently. A couple of days ago a friend of mine came up to me and said, “John, I’m in love with Joyce.” I held back from laughing out of friendship, but inside I was thinking “you’re just as dumb as the rest of them.”
Not many people realize there’s no love in the world anymore. Why? Well, for one thing, nobody seems to have time for love in a modern society. Yeah, a lot of people say they’re in love, but they are only fooling themselves. Love is only in the mind. People like to think they are in in love, I guess it makes them happy. I’m not knocking love, how can I? There’s no such thing!
I was only in love once and that’s how I found out about the whole phony thing. It doesn’t make any difference though; people will still foolishly go on searching for something they will never find, something that doesn’t exist, something they call love. Hah!

Hard to believe I was so cynical about love at the tender age of fifteen. Hmm, the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Thank you for your indulgence.

 
I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.



A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;



A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;



A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;



Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.



Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree. 

--Joyce Kilmer

Proud papa

Posted on 20/March/2019 by John McCrarey

I don’t brag on the kids much here at LTG, but every once in awhile I just can’t help myself. Daughter Renee sent me this video clip of a commercial featuring her younger brother Kevin:

Who says the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree? It obviously did in this case!

It was a big move for Kevin giving up his broadcasting career for a more stable and family oriented work environment. I’m really pleased he’s doing so well in his new professional life. Of course the success I’m most proud of is the generous nature of his character. Well done, son. Well, done.

Meanwhile, Renee had one of those rare “full circle” events recently. Her daughter Gracyn is big time into volleyball. And she wound up playing a match at the high school Renee and Kevin attended.

***Ha Ha! I accidentally uploaded this image of Gracyn as a newborn! She’s only 6 months younger than LTG!***

***The fruit DID NOT fall far from the tree in Gracyn’s case!***

Anyway, that’s enough bragging for one day. I didn’t have much to do with how great my kids turned out anyway. I just got lucky I suppose.

One lifetime, many lives–Chapter One: Just Kidding

Posted on 17/March/2019 by John McCrarey

As I mentioned in a post here awhile back I want to write about the lives I’ve lived within this lifetime. The ultimate vanity project to be sure but I just can’t seem to help myself. So here goes.

I guess the obvious starting point is where it all started. The life I led as a child. As I’ve looked back on those times it seems an overstatement to call childhood the foundation on which the rest of your life is built. Obviously I can only speak for myself in that regard, but I just don’t think anything that happened in those “formative” years has been a hindrance or burden to overcome nor can I see anything in that distant past that led me to become who and what I am today. Sure, it’s all about growing up and learning but I’m not sure I had enough self-awareness to have been shaped or scarred for life by childhood events. Hell, maybe I just got lucky!

Which is not to say that I had a particularly easy time of it back then. I’m still keenly aware of growing up in a working class family in a wealthy upper middle class environment that was Orange County, California in the 1960’s.

***Garden Grove, my first hometown as it looked back in the day. I was technically born in Los Angeles, but we lived in Garden Grove and Westminster throughout my childhood.***

I want to make the distinction between working class and poor. We always had food to eat and a roof over our heads. It may have been ground beef and chicken and our house was old and not in one of those fancy new subdivisions, but we got by alright I suppose.

And we had love. Tough love, as neither of my parents brooked much bullshit. I recall my dad in particular taking off his belt and saying before a (usually deserved) whipping “this is going to hurt me more than you”. It never really felt that way to me though…

My father managed a fast food restaurant called the “Rite Spot”. Up until McDonald’s opened a franchise right across the street. He then took up work as a route salesman delivering food items to the catering houses that served the booming construction industry. My mom worked as a carhop at a drive-in restaurant and later as an assembler on the night shift at a manufacturing plant. My grandma Pernie was always around to take care of us kids while we were growing up.

***Hanging out with the bros. Ignorance can be bliss, and it took awhile before I was made aware that our family was “different” by community standards.***

We vacationed every year. Usually on the Kern River a few hours away in San Bernadino county. Camping and fishing of course.

Dad always had money for beer and cigarettes, so we weren’t doing too bad. And damn, if you’ve never gutted and pan fried a rainbow trout right out of the river, well, you don’t know what you missed!

***And I guess maybe all those camping trips instilled in me a love of the outdoors that I satisfy today with long ass walks in the local mountains.***

***My dad only got one week of vacation a year, but on some weekends he’d load us up in the pack of his Jeep pickup truck and drive us out to the desert. Good times!***

Our street, Milton Avenue, was sort of a mishmash of 1940’s era homes surrounded by new housing developments. Well, we were bounded on one side by the newly constructed Interstate (the 405 if I recall correctly). So all my childhood friends were similarly situated, economically speaking. And we always found a way to have fun. Playing sandlot baseball, building hideouts and forts, and riding our bicycles. Me and my buds would often ride the 8 miles or so to the beach and hang out all day. We had a lot of freedom back then, sort of a “be home when the streetlights come on”, until then we were left to our own devices. We pretty much stayed out of trouble, and collected pop bottles for the deposits to give us some spending money. I have fond memories of the community spirit we developed.

When I was 11 or 12, one of the neighbors invited me to his church, a small evangelical house of worship. Well, my grandma was Assembly of God so I had been exposed to all of the craziness (like speaking in tongues) from an early age. Anyway, I wound up getting invited to join the church orchestra and choir. I didn’t play an instrument, but no problem they provided me an old lap style steel guitar. I didn’t read music, but they just numbered the frets on the guitar and put corresponding numbers on the notes of the sheet music. So, I just plucked away and used the slide accordingly. It seemed to work, or at least no one ever complained about my “music”. I’m a notoriously bad singer so they called me a tenor and stuck me in the back row. And later that summer we actually did a tour across the western U.S. states. Random church families would takes us in for the nights we were in town. I was one of the youngest members of the group and I recall not being entirely comfortable with the situation. Everyone was nice to me though, so nothing traumatic to report.

In school I was an average student at best, mostly due to laziness I suppose. I always hated homework. But it was in school that I became acutely aware that I was not like my peers. I didn’t wear the same nice clothes, didn’t live in the nice neighborhood, didn’t hang out with the cool kids. That kind of thing. And yes, kids can be cruel and they were. And so can adults. I’ve actually written a little about this before in a post called “A working class hero is something to be”.

Two incidents stand out. One day the kids were all laughing at my shoes. Which admittedly were ridiculous. A gift from my uncle who was a shoe salesman. Probably a couple of sizes too large. But they were new and so I was compelled to wear them.

Anyway, the teacher came out to see what all the commotion was about. Someone said “look at McCrarey’s shoes!”. The teacher looked and burst out laughing too. I think she felt bad about it though.

The other incident that is seared into my memory involves my 7th grade math teacher, Peter Boothroyd. I’m sure he’s dead by now so I won’t begrudge him. Much. I was being my usual smart ass self in class one day and he called me out on it by saying “Keep it up McCrarey and you’ll wind up selling jello out of a truck like your father”. Ouch. Well, as it turns out I did for a time wind up working in route sales (sandwiches, not jello). But I’m proud to say that I went on to bigger and better things, beyond anything a pea brain like Peter Boothroyd could have imagined possible. Hmm, I guess maybe I am still a little bitter.

But seriously, so I grew up poorer than most of the community that surrounded me. And that maybe resulted in me being an outsider. Perhaps it impacted my self-esteem some. Honestly, I’d say that makes me luckier than many people. I certainly had no great tragedy or trauma to overcome. And if anything if provided me more motivation later in life to make sure my kids had the kind of life I did not.

Bottom line, my childhood life seems to have little or no relevance to what I became or who I am now. I would wager that is true for most people. I think the next chapter of my life had a far greater impact on my future. A future I could just as easily have lost. Stay tuned for the next installment!

***Pretty much. But I’m going to keep writing anyway.***

As soon as you’re born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you’re clever and they despise a fool
Till you’re so fucking crazy you can’t follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

The best of times

Posted on 10/March/2019 by John McCrarey

Yesterday’s Hash may have been the best one ever for me. And the reason in large part was we spent a lot of time on perhaps the best beach I’ve ever seen. It was stunningly beautiful.

***Puerto Princesa’s*** ***Nagtabon Beach***. ***A nice drone video of the beach at the link.***

***“Where the sun hits the water and the mountains meet the sand…”***

***“…there’s a beach that I walk along sometimes…” Those buildings at the far end of the beach, Oliver’s Resort, was our on-home location. Only accessible by foot…***

So, Nagtabon beach was an hour bus ride from our hotel in Puerto Princesa. That included a 15 minute delay when the lead bus broke down. The drivers did some roadside repairs, got a couple buckets of water from a nearby house, and refilled the radiator. Pretty impressive really. Once we reached our destination we off loaded Hashers and supplies and hoofed it the half kilometer or so down the beach to Oliver’s. The Hare (Wild Wolf) advised there would be three trails with durations of 7, 5, and 3 kilometers. And two beer checks along the way! Beer checks were quite common in my Korea kennel but this is only the second time I’ve experienced them here in the PI.

***And then we were “ON-ON”, on the beach as it were.***

***That’s Salty Cum enjoying a cold beverage at the first beer stop.***

***And then it was on up the mountain. The climb was mostly on the road, but it was steep and hot.***

***That tricky Hare made us climb up an embankment. Once at the top we saw that we could have stayed on the road which curved around just past that house. Oh well.***

***And soon enough we reached the second beer check.***

***Your humble correspondent taking in the view.***

***The unobstructed view of Nagtabon Beach from the top.***

***As is my custom, I opted for the medium length trail…***

***….which meandered its way steadily down the mountain. My Hash shirt makes for good camouflage, don’t you think?***

The descent was not too steep but did get tricky in places. Salty Cum was taking a photo of me when a woman behind us took a good tumble. Those roots can be treacherous if your foot gets caught while falling. At first the woman thought she had broken or dislocated her ankle. Fortunately that proved not to be the case, just a severe strain. I let her use my walking stick and Salty assisted her the rest of the way back.

This portion of the beach was nothing but rocks. And that made for some tough hiking the last kilometer of the trail.

***…and I got to practice my rock climbing skills. Which are pretty much non-existent…***

***…but I just leaned into it and made my way back “on-home”.***

And so ended my first ever Hash Bash. Lots of fun, lots of interesting people from all over the world and of course, lots of beer!

Good times!

Hash Bash

Posted on 09/March/2019 by John McCrarey

The Day 1 adventure is now history. As these photos illustrate.

***I was anticipating a swingin’ good time.***

***Standing around waiting to get started. Over 100 Hashers in attendance for this event.***

***Let’s get this show on the road! A 30 minute bus ride to the trail head.***

***The beginning of the walker’s trail…7K start to finish…***

***Turns out there are mountains in the area. We stayed in the foothills yesterday, but rumor has it will be doing some serious up and down today.***

***It was a nice change of scenery from the Barretto routine…***

***It feels hotter here though than back home.***

***I asked Salty Cum if it was better to walk on flat ground in the sunshine or uphill in the shade? She prefers shade. I tend to agree.***

***One last hill to climb. Actually, the trail was not at all difficult compared to what I’m used to…***

***The final half klick was on the highway….***

***….which led us “on-home” at Kay’s Hot Spring resort….***

***And yes, there was ice. And yes, I was required to sit on it. My sin was being a pain in the ass for registering late.***

***After the on-home festivities were completed, we bused back to the hotel and prepared for our dinner at Chez Rose, an eatery about 300 yards up the beach.***

***Where we were also entertained with a live band and fire dancers….***

No San Mig Zero here so I’ve been getting a little drunker than normal. Need to work on pacing myself better I suppose. Anyway, time to get ready for Day 2. More to come….

Feeling Blue

Posted on 08/March/2019 by John McCrarey

Greetings from Palawan. May the force be with you!

Let’s ketchup, shall we? Headed out early yesterday morning for the airport in Angeles City, about 1.5 hours away. Driver Donny once again managed to defy the odds and got us there safely. First time I’d taken a domestic flight from Clark, and the terminal really sucked. Still managed to kill the hour before boarding without too much discomfort.

***Breakfasted on this hot off the griddle honey banana crepe. Almost as sweet as the gal who prepared it for me.***

Then it was time to board our Philippine Air flight to Puerto Princesa. I was curious what kind of plane it would be since no checked baggage was allowed. When the bus from the terminal pulled up it turned out to be an Airbus 320. After landing, I noted some bags being offloaded so I can only surmise the “no baggage” was about my discounted ticket or some such. No problem, for a three day trip my carry-on was more than sufficient. I was just worried about whether my liquids (i.e. vape juice) would be confiscated at security, but I sailed right on through.

Oh, and I was accompanied by a first time air traveler:

It was kinda fun to relive the first time flying experience through the reactions of Marissa/Salty Cum. She seemed to really enjoy the rush of taking off. Once we reached altitude she admitted to feeling a little queasy. I handed her an air sickness bag but thankfully she didn’t need it.

And of course she couldn’t take her eyes off the perspective of watching the earth pass by below. The change in pressure as we landed hurt her ears a little, but I taught her a couple of techniques to “pop” her ear.

After exiting the airport our driver from the Blue Palawan Resort was there waiting for us. I had gotten an email a couple of days earlier advising me of the free hotel shuttle which was a pleasant surprise.

The hotel thus far has provided some of the best service I’ve experienced in all my years of travelling. Little touches, like some blue lemonade at check-in are nice welcoming gestures. Friendly and helpful staff go a long way to making a hotel stay pleasant.

The food has been great so far as well. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a Monte Cristo prepared right. Well, this one could have used some honey for dipping, but I was hungry and couldn’t be bothered to ask. Tasted just fine without it. The room comes with a free breakfast buffet. I’m not into buffets at all, but this one was well done. And an egg chef cooked your eggs and omelets to order.

It’s good that there is high standards for food and service here because the rooms are rather basic. Clean and comfortable, but without amenities I like to have. Like a small refrigerator and microwave. I’m also typing this post on the bed because I don’t even have a desk in the room.

I’m staying here because the hotel that is hosting the Hash event, the Seaview, was booked up. It’s right next door to the Blue so no problem.

***In fact, the registration and welcoming event held last night were done here at the Blue. Easy peasy…***

***I haven’t seen the rooms at Seaview, but it appears to perhaps be a bit more upscale.***

***I really love the looks of this treehouse spa, although I haven’t tried it out yet…***

***The “beach” in front of the Blue and Seaview resorts leaves a lot to be desired. I’m told it’s because “the tide is out”. Hmm, maybe.***

***I guess there’s no denying that the water level can’t get much lower. I just haven’t seen much evidence of a recent high tide…***

***The beach is what it is I suppose. I walked it this morning and it was pleasant enough for that purpose. Wouldn’t want to be wading in that nasty water though….***

***If you are going to live on the beach, I reckon this is the way to do it!***

Anyway, that’s where things stand as of now. Fixin’ to grab some lunch and get ready for the first Hash trail this afternoon. They have long (9K) medium (6K) and short (3K) options. We are busing out to the start point and have 1.5 hours to get back “on-home” at a place called Kay’s Resort, wherever that turns out to be. I haven’t seen any nearby mountains so maybe it will be easy walking. We’ll find out soon enough I suppose.

One lifetime, many lives (prologue)

Posted on 24/February/2019 by John McCrarey

Been doing some thinking as I walk my life away. It occurs to me that in my lifetime I have lived many different lives. Obviously, I’m the same person I’ve always been, but I’m also radically different in many, many ways from who I was in the past. Perhaps that is true of everyone but it seems profound to me to see how this character in the book of my life has become the person that metaphorically stands before you today.

Going with the book theme, I suppose one way to look at it would be calling these lives within a life chapters in my story. But what would a chapter encompass? Decades don’t neatly align with the transitions I’m thinking about. Life events, like marriages to four different women, might come a little closer. I’m currently building a new life here in the Philippines, but you don’t necessarily change just because your location does. It’s probably more accurate to say all of these factors and events play a part in creating the lives we live within a lifetime. It’s a messy business living a life!

Again, I don’t think there is anything special or unique about my circumstances. It’s just something that I occasionally reflect on as I look back on a life (mostly) well lived. And of course given the ~~self-indulgent~~ autobiographical nature of much of what I post here at LTG it seems natural to share my thoughts as I try to make sense of it all.

So I guess you’ve been warned. I think I will periodically write about a “chapter” in my life story if for no other reason than to gain insights and understanding about who I am and how I got here. Of course, that presumes I’ll be able to figure out a method for doing that.

Let me take a walk and think about it. Stay tuned!

Life on the mountaintop

Posted on 18/February/2019 by John McCrarey

Well, a weekend of my life in the mountaintop city of Baguio anyway.

A very beautiful and interesting city. Lots of history and the American influence in Baguio’s development is still evident today (you can read more about that at the link). At 5,000 feet in elevation it is nearly a mile high. It has a different look and feel from any place I’ve ever experienced in the Philippines. I really enjoyed the pine forests and mountain views. And for the first time since moving here I actually felt chilly sitting outside at night. Luckily the bar that was hosting the Hash event had a nice little fire pit to provide some warmth.

It’s a largish town and has some of the big city drawbacks, most notably traffic congestion. But overall the city was very clean. Not much litter and at least in the parts of town I visited, no slums and shanties. So, I enjoyed my visit but I’d actually have no desire to live there. As much as I love the mountains I also enjoy having the ocean nearby. I have both of those in Baretto and I really enjoy the “small town” lifestyle in my new hometown.

It took more than four hours to reach Baguio, and well over an hour of that was on a twisting and turning narrow mountain road. Coupled with my driver’s aggressive driving style it made for a scary ride. I had to remind him several times that passing cars on curves was not necessary as I was in no hurry to reach my destination. Anyway, I may have to revise my “top ten ways I’m likely to die in the Philippines” list and move driver Donny up from the #4 spot. It seems getting to the Hash may be more dangerous than the actual Hash.

I took a boatload of photos so let’s let them tell the story of my Baguio adventure, shall we?

The Albergo Hotel provided my lodging for the weekend. I chose it for convenience because the Hash on-home at Sergeant Pepper’s Bistro was nearby, No in-room WiFi which is really crazy in the 21st century. Room was on the 8th floor and otherwise comfortable.

The room came with a free breakfast. Only Filipino foods were available though, but that included a Spanish omelette served cold. I also couldn’t get my fingers around this coffee cup. Worse design ever!

***After breakfast I took a little walk around the neighborhood and discovered*** ***Wright Park**, a rather famous landmark in Baguio city. So I stepped it on up to have a look see.***

***The park is apparently famous for it’s horseback riding on scenic trails. I did not partake.***

***It was a rather pleasant walk in the park regardless.***

***And right across the street was*** ***The Mansion***, the official summer residence of the President of the Philippines. It originally was designed and built for the American Governor-General during the days when the Philippines was an American colony.

***I couldn’t help but notice this gal hanging around outside the hotel all weekend. She looked vaguely familiar…***

Well, I came to experience the annual Valentine’s Day Hash hosted by the La Union Hash House Harriers. There were 85 Hashers in attendance and they did a nice job keeping everything on track. An 8 kilometer trail that was not as hard as some I’ve done here in Barretto. Could be because we were already on top of the mountain there wasn’t much climbing left to do.

***We piled into four jeepneys for a 20 minute drive out to the trail head.***

***And I was very pleasantly surprised to see that the trail was starting at Camp John Hay, one of the places I was hoping to visit while in town. More good ol’ American history at the link.***

***Getting some last minute instructions from the Hare…***

***It was really pleasant walking through the woods of Camp John Hay.***

***We weren’t all bunched up together for long. As usual I wound up near the back of the pack. The price I pay to bring my faithful readers these photos. You are welcome!***

***A remnant of the former American occupation of this territory…***

***The Eco trail ended and we moved on the Forest Bathing trail…and no, I didn’t see any place to bathe…***

This was interesting. I had to do some Google work when I got back. It seems the Ambassador keeps a summer residence in Baguio too. Which makes sense I suppose since this city is the summer seat of the Philippines government. So I guess in a sense I was back in the good ol’ USA for a bit this weekend. And for the record, it’s Vapor not Smoke! Just sayin’.

***I wish I had been able to get some better pics of how the houses are just stacked on up the mountainside. Very impressive!***

***Made it back on home at Sgt. Pepper’s.***

The La Union Hash circle is quite a bit different than the SBH3. No ice for one thing. I got punished for “smoking” in the circle (as I tried to explain to no avail, I wasn’t smoking, I was vaping. No one calls fog smoke, right? Anyway, my “punishment” was having to chug down a beer. Big whoop. More like a reward!

The La Union Hash is a “family” Hash, so no raunchy Hash names or bawdy songs. I advised Salty Cum to just say her Hash name was “Salty” if asked. Anyway, a good group of guys and it was fun Hashing with them.

We did have four other Hashers from Subic in attendance, so it was good to hang out with some familiar faces. There’s probably going to be a price to be paid for that however. The other SBH3 guys were quick to point out that me and Salty were the only Subic Hashers to do the “easy” trail. Well, in my defense, the Hare had told me the so-called easy trail was also the most scenic. They were both in fact the same length, but maybe not as much uphill on the scenic path. But I expect I’ll be on ice tonight for my “transgression”.

The other thing is the La Union Hash didn’t have San Mig Zero beer (3% alcohol) so I was forced to drink San Mig Light (5% alcohol). Unfortunately, I did not reduce my beer intake accordingly and wound up drunker than I have been in a LONG time. I’m talking years. I’m not real clear on things after a certain point, but apparently in the course of the night I broke at least one bottle of beer, possibly two. That may cost me some ice time as well for embarrassing my mother kennel in Subic.

***Yes, I wound up*** ***floored*** ***on Saturday night. That has not happened since January 2016. I hope it never happens again.***

And so ends the tale of my weekend in the mountains.

Full term

Posted on 11/February/2019 by John McCrarey

Today makes nine months since the conception of my retired life in the Philippines. Thankfully throughout this gestation period there has been no cause to abort my decision to move here. I’ve been born again! And life goes on.

Notwithstanding how it may appear to readers of this blog, I do not find my life boring at all. It just sounds that way when I write about it, day after day after day. I’ve settled into my routines and rituals and they thus far have been more than adequate to keep me feeling fulfilled and satisfied. Your mileage may vary.

I pass a good portion of the daytime hours walking about and when the sun goes down I rest my weary legs on a comfortable bar stool and ~~drink copious amounts of beer~~ contribute my share to support the local economy. I’m a Hasher and a darter and on a first name basis with bargirls all over town. It’s a good life for me here in the golden years.

And there are always opportunities to spice things up a little. Take yesterday’s VFW Beach Bash at Midnight Rambler for example. I started out competing in the afternoon singles dart tournament, played poorly and was eliminated late in the early evening. Which freed me up to agree to be a judge in the Ms. Beach Bash beauty pageant.

***…a surprise appearance by President Trump! Thank you for your support!***

***And in their bathing suits. The best part of being a judge was a front row seat while the gals individually strutted their stuff. And it was fine stuff indeed!***

***And this year’s winners! Congratulations ladies!***

But wait, there’s more! I too was called up on stage…

...to be presented recognition for winning Saturday night’s dart tourney…

***Said recognition is now proudly displayed under my home dart board where it will hopefully encourage me to continue practicing diligently…***

And like the proverbial icing on the cake, I won this gift certificate in the raffle drawing:

***Texas Joe’s has great and authentic American style BBQ. It’s located on the old Navy base so I don’t get out there real often. Now I have no excuse!***

So, it was a great event and an interesting crowd. Like this guy:

I’m not sure by what means he wants to “end the left”, hopefully not genocide. I personally came here to avoid the next American civil war, but props to this guy for wearing his heart on his sleeve. Well, on his back anyway.

And so it goes and so it went. And as the bureau of tourism is wont to say: It’s better in the Philippines!

Two out of three ain’t bad

Posted on 09/February/2019 by John McCrarey

My life is relatively good here in the Philippines. I certainly have everything I need to live comfortably and well in retirement. And honestly speaking, the disappointments have for the most part been of my own making. As I’ve alluded to in previous posts I’ve yet to find “the one” who fulfills my desire for a loving and nurturing relationship. Instead I’ve been settling into a rather bizarre “friends with benefits” deal that satisfies in a somewhat unsatisfactory manner.

Regular readers will have guessed that I am speaking of Marissa. I recognize that continuing this relationship basically precludes me from pursuing (or being pursued by) the woman of my dreams, whomever and wherever she may be. And while I believe Marissa is a good woman with a kind heart she can also be quite frustrating as at times she appears incapable of meeting my relationship expectations. Consequently I’ve attempted to end our arrangement on several occasions, most recently yesterday.

Here’s the most recent example of our disconnect. Marissa normally works on Thursday nights at Alley Cats. I avoid the bar when she works because I don’t care to watch her engage in the craft of securing lady drinks from her customers. Normally she lets me know when she is finished at work and we’ll meet up for some food or videoke (karaoke). I did a little barhop on my own and dropped into the videoke bar around the time she normally gets off and waited. After a couple more beers there without hearing anything I headed out to Alley Cats to see what was happening. And I was told she hadn’t worked that night. Hmm.

I sent her a message and got no response. So I called her and got no answer. I honestly had no idea what was going on with her so I contacted Cherry, a mutual friend. Cherry advised that she had last talked to Marissa that morning who told her she wasn’t feeling well. That was news to me as Marissa had stayed over at my place on Wednesday night and seemed fine on Thursday morning. I was actually a little worried at this point and decided to finish my beer and walk to Marissa’s place to check on her. Before I could do so I received a message from Marissa saying she was with friends at the videoke bar.

That really pissed me off. Not that she was out with friends, nothing wrong with that. The fact that she hadn’t bothered to take a minute to let me know she wasn’t working and wasn’t going to meet up with me later was to my mind extremely rude. I certainly wasn’t happy that I had wasted my night waiting around for her while she was out partying so I said (wrote) the first thing that popped into my head “fuck you!”. She responded “fuck you too”. And we left it at that. And as I drunkenly made my way home that night I was resolved that this was the end.

The next day Marissa sent me a good morning message and I responded how her actions the previous night had me feel and that I thought it best that we just call it quits and be done with it. She was surprised and remorseful saying she hadn’t realized I was waiting on her to contact me or that I would be upset if she didn’t. I responded that was the problem, it hadn’t even occurred to her to consider my feelings. And then I logged off and took a long walk.

In the afternoon I got another message from Marissa saying she now understands that she was wrong, that it wouldn’t happen again, and asking for me to give her another chance. I told her I didn’t blame her because I realize it is just not in her nature to do the things that meet my needs. She said that she had no choice but to accept my decision and that she would move back home to Manila and go on with her life. She thanked me for all that I had done for her in the past and that she would cherish our memories.

Well, damn. Now I felt bad. I hadn’t expected her to want to pack up and move away. And I realized that despite her flaws I would miss her company. I had been really impressed with her willingness to join me at the Hash and to even hike “My Bitch” with me a couple of days earlier. Was I being too harsh? And then as if in answer to that question, this popped up in my Facebook feed:

When our nails are grown, we cut the nails, not the fingers.
Likewise, when there are misunderstandings,
CUT THE PRIDE, NOT THE RELATIONSHIP

Shit. Well, what the fuck. She had apologized and seemed sincere in trying to better accommodate my neediness. And I’d feel like crap if she moved away from a place she’s lived for a decade because of me. So I relented and decided to give it another go.

And that’s where I’m at. We’ll see what happens next I suppose. I don’t anticipate any great romance with Marissa, but she’s okay company and if she makes an effort to be better at not pissing me off I might be willing to keep her around for awhile as a companion.

Safer than being in love again, that’s for sure! And yes, it has occurred to me that there are similarities in this arrangement with my failed “Plan B” I tried with Loraine. Maybe this time will be different!

And all I can do is keep on telling you
I want you, I need you
But-there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you
Now don’t be sad
‘Cause two out of three ain’t bad
Now don’t be sad
‘Cause two out of three ain’t bad

Practice doesn’t make perfect…

Posted on 31/January/2019 by John McCrarey

…but sometimes it makes good enough. At least it did last night.

As I’ve mentioned, recently I have rededicated myself to the sport of darting. Well, what I mean is that I’m practicing daily at home. And I’ve had some pretty amazing practice sessions. Sadly, they haven’t seemed to carry over in competition. But in last night’s singles tournament I could feel the difference. Although still too inconsistent, I was hitting big scores and throwing my double-out shots better. Most importantly, I was throwing with more confidence which probably explains the better play over all.

Last night was probably the best I’ve played in years. And I needed every good throw I managed. I beat some damn fine players along the way and then came back through the loser’s bracket to beat the guy who put me there for the championship. I really enjoyed the challenge and had a lot of fun playing again as well. Let’s see if I can build on this success and take it to the next level.

Speaking of winning, I had another success this morning. Let’s tell that story in photos, shall we?

As commenter Kevin Kim suggested, I renewed my quest for the elusive path from Alta Vista to Rizal Extension by working the trail backwards. The end of the beginning if you will. Here’s where the pavement of Rizal turns to soil.

***And here’s the beginning (or end) of the path.***

***And once again, I used the valley as a reference point, knowing it needed to stay to my right (from this direction anyway).***

***The trail is not a bad one, but you do have to stay alert and watch your step…***

***Last time I came to this junction I took the path to the right and it led me down into the valley near Marian Hills. Close, but not my desired destination. Left it is then!***

***Walkin’ in tall cotton. Er, grass or whatever that shit is. Shoulder height on me. The worse thing is that it makes it hard to see where you are putting down your feet, which can be perilous.***

***I remembered from previous attempts that I need to keep the fence on my left…***

Yonder is where I don’t want to be. That’s the area Rizal Extension runs through. Earlier attempts have twice taken me in a big circle dumping me back near where I had started. Want to avoid that fiasco if I can.

Alright, I’ve gone wrong here before . There are three different trails running through the grounds of this fine estate. I’ve done the left one and the right one without success. So going with the center route was a no-brainer today…

***My old nemesis razor wire. Stepped over the barbs this time without incident.***

***Another house and yard with barking dogs. It always feels like I’m intruding as I walk past. Kept going straight, judging the path to the left as going back from whence I came.***

***And there in the distance is my destination–the lovely Alta Vista subdivision I call home. Now just how do I get there from here?***

***Decisions, decisions. My flawed sense of direction said turn right, and so I did. Will it lead me home?***

***I enjoy rocky road ice cream. This path? Not so much.***

***One false step and I’m screwed big time. Obviously since I’m writing this post, my step was true…***

And then suddenly it was all looking familiar. Could it be? Could it finally be?

***No pain, no gain. Actually, didn’t feel this at the time although I suspect it happened in the tall grass. Those blades can be rather sharp…***

Anyway, thanks for sticking with me until the quest was done.

Oh, and I just noticed that this is post number 3001 here at LTG. Talk about coming along on a journey! Thanks for joining me. Having readers of my ramblings is both quite humbling and very surprising. But it means a lot. I appreciate your support!

Past forgetting

Posted on 29/January/2019 by John McCrarey

“Human beings are remarkable – at what we can learn to live with. If we couldn’t get strong from what we lose, and what we miss, and what we want and can’t have, then we couldn’t ever get strong enough, could we? What else makes us strong?”
–John Irving

Obviously you can’t live in the past. Learning to let the past go and move on with you life is both challenging and necessary. In many ways I’ve done better of late in that regard. But sometimes those bastards at Facebook and their godforsaken “memories” feature drag me back to days gone by.

One year ago I was either looking forward to my upcoming life in the Philippines or looking back on my latest broken heart. Or maybe both. But what I wasn’t looking at was this sweet woman Juhye. Well, who knows what you are leaving behind? At least until it’s gone. Juhye started a new life in Germany right around the time I started mine here.

***Two years ago I was in love with a woman destined to break my heart. I didn’t know either of those facts at the time though. Would it have mattered?***

I think that’s my favorite picture of Loraine, although I don’t spend much time picking at the scabs on my heart to look at old photos from days gone by. The fact that I’m able to even post this one now is a milestone on the road to my leaving her behind once and for all. Admittedly, she made that easier by turning her back on the friendship I had attempted to maintain despite her betrayal. Ah well.

It did give me cause to consider my track record here in the PI since making the move. If you are keeping score, it looks like this:

Eva–the woman I considered my best friend. She had visited me twice in Korea and I was looking forward to having someone I could trust and rely on as I started my new life in a foreign land. Instead shortly after the move she ghosted me for reasons I still can’t understand. Hurt like hell though.

Gem–they say you can’t put a price tag on friendship, but Gemma has sadly proven otherwise. Regular readers may recall that she was the first woman I dated after the Loraine fiasco. And while the relationship did not blossom into a “love” thing (at least for me) I did value Gem’s friendship. So, we she asked to “borrow” a substantial amount of money to help her out of a short term emergency I didn’t hesitate to do what a friend would do in those circumstances. And all I’ve gotten since then is a string of broken promises. She has pretty much ceased contact with me now, although the last time I heard from her it was to tell me the money would be on its way in a few days. That was weeks ago. Whatever. The lies hurt more than the financial hit to be honest. Live and learn as they say. I still live, but will I ever learn?

Maria–another woman I had dated and then tried to maintain as a friend when the romance didn’t work out. She unfriended me on Facebook a while back because her new beau was jealous of me. Yeah, I can understand her doing that. I’m the past, he’s the future. Good luck, best wishes and all that jazz.

Marissa–I honestly don’t have a clue what I’m doing with her. She’s crap as a girlfriend so we have been doing the “friends with benefits” thing (or at least I have). Although honestly she’s been pretty disappointing as a friend as well. I almost walked away for good a couple of weeks ago but somehow managed to get sucked back in. Sometimes I’m just a weak and lonely old fool I suppose. I don’t pretend there is any future other than being drinking and fucking buddies. One of these days I’ll have to man up and let go for good. I mean, she’s a good woman and I don’t want to see her hurt. She deserves better. And so do I.

Moving on.

Eight years ago the family gathered to bury my mother in Enid, Oklahoma. I was just beginning my new life as a retiree back then and I had Jee Yeun at my side. No regrets about that, I’m glad she was there. I wish things had not ended the way they did, but that’s life.

***Me (in the middle of course) and the brothers circa 1960. It’s been a helluva ride!***

Alright. The future awaits. Let’s get on with it!

Like every young man, I had some things that I
Wanted to say
Ere I could begin, you know the world got
In my way

Oh Lilah, just sleep like a baby
To open the window and feel the fair wind
Oh Lilah, just sleep like a baby again

We spend so much time weeping and wailing and
Shaking our fists
Creating enemies that really don’t exist

Oh Lilah, to sleep like a baby?
Just open the window and feel the fair wind
Oh Lilah, to sleep like a baby again

All these comings and goings that cut like a knife
These small, simple pleasures that make up a life
A man needs a home, and a child, and a wife
To always be there
Always

After I’m gone, there are some things that I know
I will miss:
The taste of your mouth, the smell of the perfume
On your wrist
Oh, Lilah, the fields lie fallow
Whate’r ye sow, so shall ye reap
Oh Lilah, this ground we hallow
Is ours to tend, but not to keep

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPUBu8HYZdk

UPDATE: It seems I used the “Past forgetting” title on a post back in August 2017. Ah, I guess I forgot about that.

Out of this world

Posted on 13/January/2019 by John McCrarey

Greetings from the Philippines! I’ve been hard at work on my “to do” list.

***Accomplishing the second item always makes my day!***

Some days surviving is more challenging than others. Today for some crazy reason I decided to walk to Olongapo City. Similar to the hike I did with the Wednesday Walkers last week, except I took the National Highway into town. That’s always a thrill!

***That’s me whistling past the graveyard. The Highway didn’t get me. This time anyway.***

Alright, let me ‘fess up to the crazy reason for making that long ass walk. Last Wednesday as we were coming down the mountain into Olongapo I spotted a young woman with the most beautiful smile. I smiled back and she waved at me. And then we both smiled at each other some more. Of course, I was with the group and had to keep moving on, but damn! And she’s been in my mind ever since. It was one of “those” moments that felt like a spontaneous connection and I started the “what if?” thought process.

Like the love-starved sap that I am I made a drunken resolution last night to go back today and try and find her. I kinda sorta remembered the path that led past her house and that it was near the top of a humongous set of stairs we were descending that day. Of course, even if I found the path I realized spotting her house again was unlikely and even if I managed that it was against all odds that she would be home and smiling out the window at me once more as I passed. But by God, if love is my destiny I will not be denied without a fight!

So, by taking the highway route it meant I would be ascending the stairs this time, assuming I could find them. I did take one set up that resulted in a dead end so it was back down to the highway. But then a few minutes later I came upon some familiar looking steps and once again began my climb.

***Would these truly prove to be my Stairway to Heaven?***

***Looking back down on Olongapo from halfway up the stairs. I recalled that the future love of my life was last seen near the top, so with my heart pounding (literally) I continued climbing.***

And then it happened. Almost like in a fairy tale. I saw a familiar looking house and then suddenly there she was! Standing out in the yard, looking even more beautiful than I remembered (before I’d only seen her face, she has a very nice body as well!). And when she smiled at me I knew for sure it was her. But this time it was a shy and almost sad smile. And the Filipino man (husband or boyfriend) standing next to her was not smiling at all.

I nodded, mumbled a greeting, and kept on walking. Turns out I wasn’t willing to fight for her after all.

Am I really this pathetic? Why, yes. Yes I am!

Anyway, I continued on until I reached the top of the mountain.

***And I followed the ridge road that eventually led me down to the beach for the sad and lonely walk home.***

***And I shouted down from the mountain to Barretto “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING MY LOVE?”***

All was not lost however. My friends at Fitbit determined to reward my efforts in the mountains and on the stairways with a brand new badge for my collection.

My day will come. I just got to keep on surviving!

I’ve just seen a face,
I can’t forget the time or place
Where we just met.
She’s just the girl for me
And I want all the world to see
We’ve met, mm-mm-mm-m’mm-mm
Had it been another day
I might have looked the other way
And I’d have never been aware.
But as it is I’ll dream of her
Tonight, di-di-di-di’n’di.
Falling, yes I am falling,
And she keeps calling
Me back again.

What’s love got to do with it?

Posted on 07/January/2019 by John McCrarey

So I mentioned recently meeting Heidi, a bartender at Cheap Charlies. There was just something about her that instantly attracted me. She’s cute enough I suppose, but it wasn’t just her physical appearance that caught my eye. I really can’t explain it, but perhaps the chemistry that triggers a “love at first sight” reaction is inexplicable anyway.

I do know that at least for me it is a very rare event. I can count the occurrences in my lifetime on one hand. And I learned a long time ago that when those feelings arise you owe it to yourself (and the object of your desire) to at a minimum let the person know of your interest. There are worse things than rejection and I would count a missed opportunity for something rare and special among them.

But it is also true that even rarer than the type of attraction I immediately felt for Heidi is for those feelings to be mutual and reciprocated. That kind of power and intensity is usually only found in a Nicholas Sparks love story (and yeah, I really liked The Notebook, sue me!). So, there was no question I was going to find a way to convey my interest to Heidi, but how would she respond? Only one way to find out.

Given the nature of her work it was simple enough to buy her some drinks and chat her up. And honestly, the more I got to know about her the stronger my feelings became. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and a mature and responsible outlook on life. We have some common interests, including darts and walking. Heidi also has a nice sense of humor, she laughs at my jokes (well, okay the girls all laugh at my jokes because I’m buying them drinks) and she also tells her own. I like that!

I asked her if she had a passport and she said yes, although the only country she’s visited is Vietnam. I teasingly said we needed to take a romantic holiday in Bali and she told me she really wanted to visit Spain. I asked why and she told me her dream was to hike the Camino de Santiago. I had honestly never heard of that but when she explained I was once again very impressed. Could she truly be the one I’ve been waiting for?

So I dove in the best way I know how, which may not be the best way. I told her I’d really like to take her out when she gets a day off and she seemed down with that. Then I gave her my phone number. She didn’t offer her’s in return, but she did clean up my writing enough so she could read my number correctly. And that’s where I left it, the ball squarely in her court.

I dropped into Cheap Charlies last night for a beer or three and Heidi wasn’t there. Her friend Andi told me she had the day off. Okay, well then. I understand she might have been busy on her only day off, but it would have been nice to at least get a text message from her. Reading my disappointment, Andi suggested I enhance my pursuit game. And I told her no, I won’t do that. Heidi knows how I feel and what I want. If she doesn’t feel or want the same thing there’s no point in pursuit. I still have my pride and really as arrogant as it may sound, why should I have to chase after a Filipina bargirl? I could give her a life she can only dream about (including that trip to Spain). If that’s not what she wants, so be it.

Anyway, I’m good either way. I saw and felt something rare and I acted on it. Apparently it was just not meant to be. Such is life.

I saw her today at the reception
In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CySmd8M8oIM

UPDATE: Will I ever come up with an original title for a post again? I also asked “What does love have to do with it?” three years ago.

The year that was

Posted on 31/December/2018 by John McCrarey

With apologies to Mr. Lothbrok, before we close the book on 2018 I thought I’d take a few minutes to reflect on what this year meant to me.

It turned out to be a loveless year, which is somewhat of a surprise I suppose. Of course, I spent a goodly portion of the last twelve months getting over past loves. So to that extent I’ll chalk this one up in the “success” column. And actually I did find someone who loves me:

***My best Buddy! I admire the fact that he sleeps any damn way he pleases, doggone it! And he always gives me a big hug when I stumble back home at night.***

I did start this year with high hopes that I might find “the one”, but instead only found disappointment.

I welcomed in the 2018 new year here in the Philippines with Gem. And although I soon realized that a love relationship was not in the cards, I thought I had at least made a new friend. Turns out I was wrong about that too. A rather expensive lesson indeed!

Sadly, Gem was not the only “friend” who let me down this year. It seems I am either heavily indebted to bad Karma or I am an extremely poor judge of character. Or both. Anyway, if that is the worst I can say about 2018 I did alright I reckon.

On the plus side of the scale, I successfully made the move here and I think I’ve done a reasonably good job at settling in and acclimating myself to my new life amongst the Filipino people. I may run in a small circle but I do feel like I’m now part of a community and I can say it feels more and more like home all the time. I think I’m going to make it here!

There’s still much to be done of course. One of my goals in living here was to find ways to make a difference. To some extent I’ve achieved that, at least for a few people. I mean, I have provided a good job for my domestic helper (and her friend I suppose). My driver gets work he wouldn’t otherwise have, and the caretaker downstairs has a roof over his head and a small weekly allowance. I’ve helped a few other folks out when the need arose (and perhaps when it didn’t, I know I’ve been scammed at least once). There’s still more to be done and I hope to get started doing some regular charity work in the coming year.

This is also the first anniversary of my joining the Hash. That’s one of the healthier aspects of my life here, except when it has me in stitches. Here’s to hoping for another year with no broken bones at least!

***That’s me last New Year’s Eve at my initiation into the Hash.***

So in summation, my life is better than it was and not as good as it is going to be. Bring it on 2019!

The gift that keeps on giving

Posted on 23/December/2018 by John McCrarey

The holiday season is in full swing here. It’s hard to not get infected with some of that “spirit”, not that that makes any difference I suppose. I just continue to do my thing and try not to look back. Except when I come here to update my faithful readers. So here you go:

***This was my raffle prize from the special dart tourney on Wednesday. I played like shit so I lost and left the bar prior to the drawing.***

I returned to the bar on Thursday night and as I mentioned in an earlier post Marissa was otherwise occupied doing her drinking with customers gig. Well, my raffle prize was described as “groceries” which I certainly don’t need. So I gave them to Ester, a bargirl with kids at home who I know struggles to make ends meet. She was of course overjoyed. And I then left the bar without saying anything to Marissa who was still busy with her customer.

I didn’t hear from Marissa the next morning as usual, so that afternoon I sent her a “what’s up?” message. What was up was that she was very angry which came as a total surprise to me. It seems I had “insulted” her by giving my raffle prize to Ester instead of her. I asked how does my gifting my gift away insult you? It seems that the other girls, including Ester, were laughing at Marissa because her “boyfriend” had given the gift to someone other than her. I know that makes no sense at all, but I wasn’t there so I can’t say what really happened. What I couldn’t understand was why it was my fault that Marissa felt insulted by her co-workers. Marissa acknowledged that Ester could use the groceries more than her and she didn’t have a problem with my giving them away, but she was angry at having been insulted. I reiterated that it was not my intent for her to feel insulted to no avail. I just cannot fathom the Filipina logic of holding me responsible for the actions of her co-workers.

Anyway, we had plans to go to the SOB dance contest at Alaska Club with Justin and Cherry. I asked if she still wanted to attend and she replied that her and Cherry would meet us there. It was a little strained at first, but we both decided to just chill and enjoy the show.

The Hot Zone girls did a very nice dance routine to the tune of “Jingle Bell Rock”. They earned my first place vote for their effort but the other judges overruled me and Hot Zone had to settle for second.

At the conclusion of the SOB we moved over to Lollipop bar for the “Aftermath” party. More beers were drunk and then Marissa got pissy again and I’d had enough. I lit into her and we took it outside where I screamed some more. Poor Cherry was trying to act as intermediary to little effect. Marissa and I both eventually calmed down and she finally accepted that I was not the one who insulted her, although my well-intentioned actions were inadvertently the cause of her being insulted. We all then moved into the Man Cave bar for more beers.

***Justin and Cherry got along just fine at least…***

Anyway, as an epilogue to the gift drama I did send Ester a message telling her how upset Marissa was. She was aghast and told me she would return the gift. I told her no, it was hers to keep and no one had a problem with that. It was mocking Marissa about it that had caused the issue. She vehemently denied having insulted or mocked Marissa. Again, I was not there so I can’t say. It did seem out of character though because Ester is always very sweet. So I guess that subsequently her and Marissa chatted and worked things out. Everything seemed back to normal in Alley Cats bar last night at least.

So, about last night–it was the Alley Cats Christmas party/dart tournament.

***I came dressed appropriately for the occasion–Santa hat and my “Where are my Ho Ho Ho’s at?” shirt.***

***I also baked a cake as my contribution to the buffet table.***

Played like shit in the tourney and my partner played worse, so we didn’t make it to the money round. Ah well, there was plenty of cold beer to occupy my time with.

When the tourney was completed, there was a gift exchange. I was pretty impressed by how generous the bar was with the staff. Marissa got 500 pesos even as a part time employee.

***Your humble correspondent was gifted a couple of shirts and a hat. Sweet!***

The buffet was quite tasty as well. I was happy to see my cake was popular. I was going to make a carrot cake which somehow seems more Christmasy, but Marissa said to go with the chocolate. Good call!

I also enjoyed playing Santa Claus.

***I bought these fancy envelopes and filled each one with 1000 pesos (around $20).***

***The girls all seemed appreciative and I had the satisfaction of knowing I had given them something they could use…***

It was a good night and a good time. And lest you think that all I do is drink copious amounts of beer…

***…I am still enjoying my daily walks. Keeping things in balance***.

It is starting to feel like I am finally home.

Show me the money

Posted on 16/December/2018 by John McCrarey

Just another Saturday night in the Barrio. It did start out with an amusing twist though.

Cheap Charlies is a bar I frequent on a semi-regular basis, as much because it opens earlier than most places as anything else. I arrived a bit after 5:00 and found me a seat overlooking the highway. I was immediately besieged by three thirsty bargirls. Now my regular drinking companion (Maya) either wasn’t there or was otherwise occupied. And I very rarely will purchase a lady drink for more than one girl at a time. But before I could dismiss these ~~vultures~~ ~~soiled doves~~ GROs (guest relations officers) something unlike anything that I’ve ever experienced in a bar occurred. The gal on my left touched my cheek, said “oh, it’s a blackhead” and asked if she could “get it out for me”. I shrugged and said sure and she squeezed out a big one. Then the girl on my right started exploring my face until she found a blackhead of her own to pop. And the third girl started giving me a back rub.

They all continued on until my face was blackhead free and I was sufficiently relaxed that my resistance to purchasing multiple lady drinks was overcome. Hey, they had earned a reward, right? Actually, I rather enjoy having pimples popped and that hasn’t happened since my last wife dumped me. A little strange to have such an intimate act performed in the bar, but what the hell, it was still pleasant. Since these girls were all new (to me) my repertoire of jokes were all new as well so I shared them to polite laughter. And that earned them a second round of drinks. Yeah, maybe I got played like a newbie but my 1000 peso (about $20) tab seemed like a good deal to me anyway. The girls were certainly pleased.

Now, I do try to be generous with the people I encounter. After I left Cheap Charlies I moved over to my regular hangout, Alley Cats. I ordered some take out food for delivery so the bargirls there could snack on chicken wings and fish and chips. That set me back 1400 pesos and my bar tab, including several lady drinks, was another 900. So my Saturday night cost me a total of $65 or so, a little more than normal, but not exactly a budget buster either.

There is however a fine line between generosity and being played for a fool. I’m sure I’ve crossed that line on more than one occasion. But you live and learn. Hopefully. Still, when you tend to be a free spender (or at least viewed as one) you create the perception that you are “rich”. As such you become something of a target whenever someone has a problem.

I do maintain a budget for charity and I will help out someone in need on occasion. The sick kid who requires medicine, the electric bill that must be paid before service is cut, overdue taxes, etc. The tales of woe abound and obviously you can’t help everyone. I’m still trying to figure out when and where to draw the line.

Just this week I’ve had two requests for “loans”. Now, make no mistake, a loan here means gift. I “lent” a substantial amount of money to a “friend” in Manila, and despite repeated promises I have not had one penny of that repaid. She’s still telling me “next week” so maybe one of these days I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Anyway, it’s Christmas time right now which makes saying “no” to people I’m at least acquainted with all the more difficult. And really the amounts being requested ($80. and $200.), while not exactly chump change, is not going to break the bank either. That’s the challenge I guess. Money I’ll blow on beer and lady drinks without a thought or care could potentially solve a worrisome problem for the women requesting these “loans”.

I don’t want to be a Scrooge nor do I want to be viewed as sucker. I haven’t as yet decided how I’ll deal with these latest requests, but I’m leaning towards “sorry, but no”. Or I could go totally evil and ask the hottie who needs $200 to “earn it” (you know, by working under me). Ah, but that’s not who I am either.

Well, my Buddy loves me at least. And he don’t give a damn about money!

Stay tuned!

*Yep, turns out I used the “Show me the money” title four years ago.

Coco Lips

Posted on 08/December/2018 by John McCrarey

I mentioned recently how much I *think* I’d enjoy having a girlfriend to Hash with. And it’s not like I haven’t had opportunities, such as they are.

EDITED: Sorry, upon reflection I deleted the photo of “Celia” and “Josie”. I don’t know that I have any readers here in Barrio Barretto, but given the what a small town it is and my desire to avoid trouble I’m playing it safe. Not my style to self-censor like this, but I just had a bad feeling in this case.

I don’t recall if I’ve talked about them [Celia and Josie] here before. Shortly after I moved to the PI I met both at a Hash event and we became Facebook friends. And not surprisingly they asked if I would be their Hash “sponsor”. That just meant I would pay their weekly Hash dues, which amounts to the equivalent of $3.00 each. No big deal, glad to help. I’d sometimes buy them some food at the after Hash gathering as well.

Anyway, back in August we did a special Hash in Angeles City and the girls asked if they could ride down with me. Of course, I didn’t have a problem with that. In fact, I was growing quite fond of Josie. So I was looking forward to spending an out-of-town weekend with her. Alas, it was not to be.

I was staying in a hotel near the bar district, and Celia and Josie were staying with “friends” on the other side of town. I assumed we’d be meeting up at the Hash circle, but they never showed. And afterwards I expressed my disappointment to them both. Josie promised to make it up to me the next day, and then did the same no-show act. And of course at that point I was done with her for good. Apparently she got a better offer from one of the Angeles Hashers. Anyway, I chalked it up to it is better to find out her character now as opposed to later.

Now, Celia seemed to be hooking up with a Subic Hasher, Anal Retentive. At least he started paying her sponsorship fees, which again, was fine by me. I don’t really know much about AR other than he is building a house in my neighborhood, I see him in the girly bars now and then, and he took my helper’s friend Gina out a couple times. So my impression is he is not serious about having a steady girlfriend. AR is currently visiting the USA and Celia has been contacting me via Facebook with increasing regularity.

I honestly don’t know a lot about Celia (or Josie for that matter). Celia tells me she is going to school during the day, I’m pretty sure she has at least one kid, and now she has a new job as a dancer at a bar called Coco Lips. She’s been pestering me to come visit her there so the other night I dropped in. Celia wasn’t working but to my surprise Josie was dancing on stage. Wow!

Josie looked really hot in her sexy dance costume and of course I brought her down for a lady drink. She was friendly enough but really didn’t have much to say. Maybe she was a little embarrassed to be working in the bar. I couldn’t help but thinking “damn, she chooses a life of prostitution over being my girlfriend!”. Oh well, looks like I dodged yet another bullet.

But back to Celia. She kept after me to see her at the bar, so I made it back on Thursday. Not as hot as Josie, but okay I guess. I bought her a couple of drinks and she gave me a back rub. I passed out some chocolates to the dancers and wait staff so everyone was happy. Well, Josie was giving me this look like “aren’t you gonna buy me a drink too?” Nope, I’m not. Celia tells me that Josie is one of the more popular girls in the bar and gets barfined (taken out by customers) frequently. Well, good for her. If you are going to fuck for money it’s nice to have clients I suppose.

I left Coco Lips after buying Celia two lady drinks. She told me she would see me at the Hash on Monday. I guess with Anal Retentive out of town she needs a sponsor. That’s fine. Later she sent me a message saying next time she wants to massage me with no clothes on. I’m not sure if she meant me or her (or both).

Anyway, I don’t have any illusions regarding what this is all about.

I’m the proverbial walking ATM. But at least I have a good peso-nality!

Not to worry, I have no interest in Celia other than perhaps a carnal one. But since she’s now entered the realm of prostitution it sort of puts me off on even that aspect. I might take her up on that massage offer though. We’ll see how it goes at the Hash this Monday.

What a life, eh?

Long Time Gone

Category Archives: The story of my life