The Monster in the closet

When I was perhaps maybe 7 or 8 years old, I believed there was a monster in the closet/attic. My bedroom was upstairs and the attic door was next to my bed. This was during the early ‘70’s when Bigfoot and “The Nightstalker” tv show was popular.

Each night I would get into bed with a stark nightlight casting a shadow across the room and I made sure to sleep on the opposite side of the bed. My “protection” was my stuffed animals. I made sure the larger bear was right next to me. So the monster would have to “get past” the multiple bodyguards I placed beside me.

It made total sense at the time.

I’m not sure what inspired me, what gave me courage or what flipped that “I tired of being afraid” switch, but one night I flung the attic door open and turned on the light. I yelled, moved boxes, lifted up piles of cloths or linens looking for the monster(s).

I guess I wanted to go out on my terms. Thankfully….there ended up being no monsters. Just a lot of crap my parents stored in that small attic space.

I wish I knew what sparked my fearlessness. I wasn’t even armed when I charged in there.

I still don’t like the darkness at times. I do enjoy listening to the night sounds and creatures singing to each other. Whether it’s the crickets, owls or distant Thunder, I do find peace and solitude in it.

I think it’s confirmation that I made it through another day. That maybe I learned something or accepted with less…judgement.

Maybe as I have grown up and older, the monsters can be anyone. Even though they aren’t hideous, their actions can be.

Maybe it’s time to fling open another door and face them.

The Love I left behind

I tried to go back home in late 1985. I failed in my new job after maybe two months. I didn’t have any confidence. I didn’t have enough experience in overcoming failure.

And just before I was ready to move back to my old home state, I was set up on a blind date.

She was stunning. If we ever made children, they would have been the best of us. Brown hair and blue-green eyes.

After that lunch date, I had to see her again. I should have moved back home, and avoided this regret I have 35 years later….

I remember sitting with her on a picnic table at a park. It was Fall and the air had a chill. Just kissing her and being near her was enough. We never had sex. I just wanted to hold her and kiss her face and neck.

I wanted to drink in her scent. That’s all I needed. It had to be love.

I don’t know why, but I decided to return South. I didn’t have a decent job, I was in a dead end, and lost. I still had no purpose. I guess that outweighed love.

Once I left her and returned home, I jumped back into my old habits and haunts again. I picked up right where I left off.

I quickly lost contact with her and that’s my fault. I didn’t deserve her.

Flash forward to the next summer and I was again, lost, frustrated and had no one special in my life. Not like her.

I decided to join the military. But before I did, I returned back up North and tracked her down. I met her at work on her break. It was night time. She was of course involved with someone else. And I think I begged her to come home with me.

We hugged and she went back inside. The minute the door closed, it literally started to pour.

The timing and symbolism was not lost on me. It was just like a MTV music video.

But I didn’t run to her, nor her back to me as we would embrace and kiss in the rain. Maybe her coworkers would clap and the final credits rolled and we faded on the screen.

My choices and mistakes came crystal clear in that moment. And as always. It was too late.

I don’t remember the drive home that night or back to Florida for that matter. Regret was at the forefront of my mind. My heart was punishing me for those 1,000 miles.

Flash forward to the present. I found her on Facebook. (After some detective work and spotted her name on her father’s obituary)

Her first marriage didn’t last, but the second one did. He died after 20 years of marriage from cancer. She was a widow. She look tired, haggard and broken down. That girl I left behind was no more.

It wasn’t until I was 25 when I found love again. I’m still in love and married to that girl.

But that first true and deep love haunts me just a little bit when I let it.

She is one of the reasons the past is a cold harsh mistress.

Mr. 1985

My music was playing in the background last night. Forcing myself to listen to something new and less tired. I find comfort in the same playlist. I’m too tired to pay attention and love a new song or artist most days.

For some reason I sometimes play the greatest hits of xxxx year. Its a time machine. Last night it was 1985.

One of those songs was Eddie Money: “I wanna go back”. Up until recently I was like, “Me too Eddie, me too.”

But we tend to forgot all the bad stuff from the past. Back then we wanted it to be the future where everything would be “better” or “over.”

Eddie was 36 when that song came out. He was looking back to his 20’s probably.

I was just hitting 20 and his songs didn’t have the same meaning yet. Now, now they strike a totally different nerve and part of my soul.

1985 was a big year for me. I was wrapping up college (2-year one). I wasn’t prepared for the big leagues/school yet.

I had the next big milestone in my life. A real job. I wasn’t in any real or lasting relationships after breaking up with my high school steady. (See “The Girlfriend” post)

I was only thinking about tomorrow. I was desperately trying to forget the 10 years before. I felt like I aged ten-fold. My sister was gone, we left my childhood home and my parents went through a nasty divorce 5 years before.

This was MY time. Late in ‘85, I moved back to my home state. I finally returned after a 10 year exile. It was short lived. There was even another love in my life, but I threw it…her away. My selfishness consumed me. But that’s another story.

1985 ended with me returning to the south for a self inflicted exile.

I guess you can’t go home…or truly can’t go back.

The First

Nothing compares to the First anything. Hopefully it’s a positive experience. But after it passes the next time may pale in comparison.

When you meet someone, and hold their hand for the first time, you feel their grasp, warmth, tension of excitement. A light squeeze maybe. Then you touch their face, tracing the curve of the jaw line and throat.

That kiss is the big moment. It confirms you are wanted. Whether in that moment or forever. They have let you into their world.

Granted the sex is another thing and of course intense level. But that kiss….that’s the big memory.

Waking up next to them and the knowing smiles of what transpired that night. Again, hopefully it was positive. The bad ones unfortunately are also hard to forget.

Other major milestones fill your soul. When she said Yes. When you saw her walking down the aisle. The pregnancy announcement. Signing for your first house.

Picking out appliances together. 😉

We thirst for what’s new. What’s shiny. Unfamiliar. Like Don Draper in MadMen. He only loves what’s next.

I’m older, I’m tired and it takes a lot to peak my senses. Now I just embrace a quiet routine, a safe ritual, and when my overworked mind actually settles down for a moment.

Maybe the new firsts are a step backwards. To when I was calm.

I still have new emotions to tap into, possible dreams to fulfill.

Someday.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

When I hit the bottom, this song meant more and more to me. I kept trying to get back to that road. Back to what I once was. Back to my favorite version of myself.

Pay no attention to that man from the past, the one behind the curtain. He is no more.

I stepped into a hot air balloon many years ago. I got swept away to an exotic place with strange characters, villains, and a yellow brick road. The sky was the limit. I was viewed as a savior.

The guy who would fix it all.

But there were the villains, the doubters, the haters. I was reduced to hiding behind the curtain and make my miracles happen. I couldn’t defeat the bad people, I couldn’t prevail. But I somehow kept my heart, bravery, and courage.

Mostly.

I do wish I could go back to “Kansas”…but there would be another tornado to rip me away.

“When are you gonna come down When are you going to land I should have stayed on the farm I should have listened to my old man You know you can’t hold me forever I didn’t sign up with you. I’m not a present for your friends to open This boy’s too young to be singing the blues”

A new hot air balloon eventually did land in front of me and whisk me away to another Emerald City.

I just had to be patient, I had to remain committed. I had to believe.

There has still been rough weeks at work. Not in the physical sense. It’s all internal, in my heart and mind.

I need to stay the course.

“It’ll take you a couple of vodka and tonics To set you on your feet again”

For now, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.

Earthbound

It seems like a cruel twist of irony and fate to love Science Fiction and know that I will never see those distant stars and planets up close. If I want to experience Mars, I will go back to Arizona in the dead of winter at night….

Have you been fortunate enough to be outside in total darkness and see the Milky Way. The millions of stars and celestial bodies up there. And those are just the ones visible to your naked eyes.

We can’t be alone. Can’t. But I also know we all aren’t in the same time zone/evolutionary period. Some places are probably in the microbe phase, others still trying to discover fire…others have probably been dead for eons. Through either war, disease, or other natural disaster.

Some may have evolve into entities of energy or finally succumbed to their technology and Exist in their version of a digital world.

Some nights I wonder if there is someone out there looking at the stars/us and wondering the same things.

Our transmitted “Hellos” may have fallen on long dead ears. Or…their message is still making its way to us long after they are gone.

Or perhaps we are just so different what sounds like communication to us is just background static to others.

I wonder if we will ever make contact out there. Officially and not in a blurry video or drunken tale in a bar.

How sad to be born, live and die “alone” in the universe. Without knowing.

But, I need to look inwards and discover myself better and communicate with my loved ones…better.

Adjustment Issues

I never saw combat. I never fired a shot in anger towards an enemy. One of my cargo planes blew an engine upon landing and that gave me a little jar. (We didn’t crash, just aged a few days)

Without specifics for privacy, my career involved a lot of travel at times, I was on both sides of the planet. (Nothing exotic or super top secret). It was just a very fast paced environment.

I threw my heart and very soul into it. (And my body)

I felt accomplished, slept like a log out of pure physical exhaustion. I was hardly ever sick. I didn’t have time to dwell on most things. I kept looking forward.

I was almost fearless at one point.

Fear of the unknown was always there, but I still faced them. The pre-military version of me was afraid, lacked motivation, confidence.

During a few years, I worked, went to school for my first undergrad degree…AND did remodeling/carpentry on the side. Some nights I crawled into bed around midnight.

I don’t remember sitting still for very long. It was in my blood to keep pushing and challenging myself.

And then…it ended. Many of us were “encouraged” to retire due to budget cuts. My body was ready before my head and heart were. It just took me several years to see it.

Due to many factors, I bounced in and out of several jobs in as many years. The 3rd career was a suit and office with a view.

I was again leading 20-something people. But it wasn’t the same. I was use to telling them to slow down. In this post-military life, it was the opposite. I was outnumbered and my leadership above me was useless.

I walked away from the office, the suits, the paycheck…and somehow ended up in worse places. It was like falling into a black hole.

So the first decade of civilian life was almost the end of me. And then I stumbled into something with purpose. I felt like I was doing something of value.

My tolerance for leading others, attending meetings or being on conference calls was zero. I no longer wanted to be “The Man”….I just want to be “Some Guy”.

During those dark times, I carried anger 24/7. Weekends were even worse. I dreaded Monday on Saturday nights. (It was that bad)

I would sit outside at night and early in the morning feeling this huge crush on my mind and heart. There was no relief in sight.

Then one day, about 6 years ago, I asked for help. My Doctor had a cancellation in that 30 minute window I showed up at. He listened to me. Other providers guessed and prescribed Adderall, Prozac…and nothing helped. It was too much on either end of the scale. I was hyper or morose.

This doctor listened to me. I told him my head was like a TV store display window. And the dozens of TV’s were all on different channels. It was overwhelming.

My family didn’t want to be around me and I didn’t want to be around anyone. I was prepared for everything to fall apart and lose everything.

But the doctor gave me Zoloft. (This isn’t a commercial or sale pitch)

The first day I felt it. It was a Saturday. I was paying attention to others. I wasn’t dwelling on the bad stuff. I had focus, I had energy. I was alive again.

My current job was still horrendous, but I could face it a little better. It would still be another year or two before I found total peace.

I was so focused on trying to get back to that military version of me, I realized I didn’t acknowledge I was older and change was normal. It was like being in stasis.

As I have gotten back to writing here, it helped me see that timeline. To face the bad times and the slow path back to peace of mind.

Now I just need to adjust to my new and healthier, yet older and tired, version of myself.

And that’s a good start.

The Girlfriend

Back in 11th grade I sat across from this girl in one of my classes. She had beautiful eyes and a 1000 watt smile.

She had an adorable geekiness about her. I soon found out she played xylophone and marimba in the band.

She was super smart and was shy and reserved.

I wish I kept a journal about the courtship. We ended up being steady. This went on through my senior year. (She was a grade behind me). I ended up seeing her almost every night at her house.

Ate dinner, went to events, football games, watched her perform in concerts and football games…etc.

Her parents married young, and the father was still his timeless nerd self. The mother however was still evolving and blossoming.

She had the latest chic haircut and kept her self in great shape. Over time, we had a tension growing between us.

My girlfriend was a virgin and saving herself for marriage. I myself was still a virgin at the time. But, my urges were building each day. I stayed respectful of her, but I starting flirting her mother who reciprocated.

I was over 18 by then…so it was…not too inappropriate.

I was of legal drinking age and ran into a fellow classmate and also band member of my girlfriend. We drank a lot and ended up driving to a secluded spot on the coast.

A big thunderstorm came up and we kissed and groped each other. She was very experienced. I will spare you the details, but it was my first time. In my first truck no less….the truck that had my girlfriends name on the door….

Time went on and she graduated high school the next year. One summer afternoon I stopped by her house and only her mom was there. Alone.

(Cue Simon and Garfunkel: “Mrs Robinson”)

Again, I will spare the details…but it was an epic 30-40 minutes in the kitchen. Fully clothed but intense lip lock and hands roaming everywhere.

Needless to say, we broke up soon after. I needed the touch of a woman now. I had a taste. Literally.

I didn’t want to pressure her…but I wanted more.

So. MUCH. More.

Looking back, dating her filled the hole my parents divorce left in my life. I had a family, dinner, games and social life.

She went on to be an optometrist. I…took a longer more difficult path. Her parents divorced a year or so after we broke up.

I won’t take “credit” for it…but we were the catalyst for each other to change our destiny.

I want to find her and apologize…and I want to find her mother…and finish that session in the kitchen.

I did work with a spitting image of her mother many years later…and that tryst was my revenge fuck….it was like a weird second chance…she was a dead on twin.

Hair, eyes, body and mouth.

So technically I did have closure….

I guess that was also the start of my obsession for older woman.

The Willow

Many years ago during a particularly active hurricane season, my neighbors willow tree was blown over.

The neighbors were quick to lend a hand to upright it. It was very reminiscent of the Iwo Jima flag raising.

This happened at least 2 more times that summer, and two more times, we straightened it up.

The funny thing is, for some reason, that tree grew stronger.

Whenever I feel knocked down myself, I think of that damn Willow.

Sadly there is no happy ending. The new owner cut it down. Totally unaware of its brave struggle to survive.

Like a famous college football coach once said: “It’s not so much the victory, it’s the magnificence of the struggle.”

Damage Assessment

30 years ago I looked in the mirror felt pretty cocky and sexy. No grey hair, my skin tan and tight. My eyes alert and sharp. No contacts or glasses yet.

Now, it’s damage assessment. Grey hair is taking over. My beard is white left untreated. (Vanity is still trying to hold out a little longer)

Lines on my face, my jowls betray my age when not hiding under my beard.

My eyes look tired and weary. Once in a while they spark. Hopefully they still portray some level of confidence and deep thoughts.

The smirk on my face still shows up sometimes and maybe keeps me young.

My hands have small scars and wrinkles from not being afraid of hard and sometimes dirty work. (I still like to play in the mud)

I noticed my wardrobe leans towards black and earth tones…calm and reserved.

Each morning and night I take another look and watch my youth fade a little more each day.