We filter out the bad memories and hopefully focus on the good ones. No parent is ever perfect.
I reflect on her life and all the hardships she had to endure. A widow into her mid to late 30’s with 4 children would probably break most people. My father came into her life and gave her a 5th child. (Yours truly).
Somehow she kept going, somehow she made the best of whatever life handed her. She was the perfect hostess, making grand meals during family gatherings or a cup of coffee for her brothers at her “impromptu truck stop” in Honey Brook, Pa.
She had an amazing laugh, and buried the pain both physically and mentally.
She had some more challenging years later in life and towards the end, she came back to her Pennsylvania.
It’s fitting she was born just before Mother’s Day.
I miss your laugh, and wish I could tell you how amazing I think you were for how you kept going with all those hills and valleys in your life.
My wife is out of town this week. I had all these great plans. Woodworking, catching up with war buddies…maybe some illicit rendezvous…but no.
I sometimes regret sharing this blog with people who actually know me…but no more. This is the ONLY place I can be “real”. Unfiltered, untethered, and free.
I dusted off my favorite Merlot tonight. I binged watched “Mask Girl” on Netflix. (I’m a K-Drama addict)
I think in a strong marriage you get imprinted on that person. Even with the ups and downs….you can’t live without them. I’m a hollow shell without her. All the flirting and secret text messages…with others…I miss her.
Marriage and Love is never perfect.
But if there is something there. The pull…it’s worth fighting for. Or being patient.
As I sit on the back porch in the dark..with the glass slowly draining, I ponder my theory of when my mind got extra screwed up. I’m part of a long and dragged out class action suit concerning Mefloquine. It is now a banned Malaria drug. (Look it up)
I want it to be the ground zero for ALL of my problems. Maybe it is. Maybe is just a few links in my history of trauma.
It would be be nice to blame all my faults, sins and shortcomings on one thing.
Maybe I’m just a borderline jerk/narcissist .
Or just damaged goods.
Maybe acknowledging or admitting to it is a positive step.
I don’t know…and don’t care at all 1:30 in the morning….
It’s the weekend. I get to sleep in. Cheers. I will try to be a better person today.
I miss some people a lot, a little, not at all….or AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.
Yes, that sounds harsh but it’s the way it is. I joined my High School Alumni page but only to see the old click still trying to grab the spotlight at times. Or I am seeing the progress of our old building being torn down and feel….nothing. Nothing at all. I can barely remember most of my teachers or classes I took.
Someone commented on how The Ramp in the main common area was covered in river gravel at one point. I have zero memory of that.
It’s kind of sad that is my history there. Just a grey cloud. But maybe its also good. I know some kids “peaked” in High School and never felt that important or noticed outside the classroom door. Maybe that’s why the shy ones, the underdogs sometimes flourish post-graduation. Sometimes.
Some are like Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite. Trying to get that one moment back.
Other classmates before, during and after my time there are sad and nostalgic about the demolition.
Maybe I would be too if my parents didn’t divorce and I had a “normal” life during that time. But instead I was just trying to get through each day with the promise of graduating and moving forward. To where? I had no idea back then. I just know I would be able to be somewhere else, and eventually out on my own, unburdened. Do I still blame my parents? Maybe not. For it forced me to grow faster and be more independent earlier in life.
I’d say more responsible…but that took longer. 😉
I now see this trend with a lot of people and things in my life. My military unit is a huge one. Once I hit the 15th anniversary of my retirement, I finally accepted that it’s over and
I could never go back. I know that wasn’t realistic. I was just trying to hold onto that momentum and feeling of belonging. But I started to see the politics, drama, BS, nepotism, dirty back room deals and now…I have let it all go. (Not the memory of the good things…just those people) Sadly, some people I actually care about and miss are unfortunately collateral damage.
Because attending an event would involve seeing the “non-gratis people. “
I’ve also worked too hard to adjust to my new “normal” and my work/life balance. They say to cut toxic people out of your life, and it actually works. They also say to not let people live Rent Free in your head.
I will never visit some of my old workplaces. For they all eventually crashed and burned. Toxic culture, horrendous management…etc. As my best friend would say: “Little Cubicle Empires”.
Even at my current job, they exist. BUT….I somehow fell into that small niche with the total opposite outcome. A supportive boss, co-workers and a client who “loves” us. I also get to use my hands and mind for good and productive purposes. I’m supporting heroes again.
My self-imposed exile is necessary. I’m finally happy, more or less and rediscovering myself finally.
I’m ashamed to admit that I love the movie “Hot Tub Time Machine”, not for its over the top crude humor as much as it struck a nerve with me. It mostly took place in 1986. That was a very, very, VERY pivotal year in my life.
That was when I decided to join the Air Force.
One of the main character’s young 20-something nephew goes back in time with the group and see’s how wild and crazy his uncle and friends were.
He asked his uncle in one scene, “What happened to you guys?”
(Referring to the current older versions who’s lives are a mess or have dreams unfulfilled)
His uncle replies very sadly: “We had momentum…”
I pulled a simple 12 hour shift today. (We are rotating to ensure no one gets burned out)
I work my regular 8 hour days during the rest of the week. I guess we are “Essential”, which gives me a huge roller coaster of emotions at any given minute. I’m complex that way….and not necessarily a strong trait. More of an exhausting trait. So I’m proud, humbled, angry (that many others get to “work from home”) honored, jazzed, scared, and mostly just plain tired.
“Time to make the doughnuts…” kind of tired.
Back in my military days, we pulled 12 on, 12 off for months on end. “12/12’s”
Yes I was younger back then, but then I realized there were other factors. I was with my military brothers and sisters in the field. We had each other’s backs. We didn’t cause the stress, and we faced it head-on with our arms locked and overcame all of it. All. Of. It.
Think of the movie “300” without the death and 8-pack abs….
In this new world I am working in, I still have a great team, but the external factors greatly outnumber us. External factors that make this activation harder than it needs to be.
I’m sorry I tell endless “war stories” and how much I pine over the “good old days”…but you had to be there.
The other branches would gawk at us when we arrived onsite, and with little discussion or pre-deployment briefing, we would setup an entire comms site in hours and be on the air with secure communications to the other side of the world. We were on autopilot.
When something crashed or hit the fan, we also bolted into action like a complicated ballet troubleshooting, analyzing, fixing issues as the popped up…effortlessly most times.
Veteran’s experience their own version of Dog Years. We compress so much stress and emotion into a shorter period of time, that it gets into your system. Look at ANY industry where retirees literally drop dead within the first months, years of retirement. That is all they knew. They were wired for the frantic pace, the ongoing trench warfare of the mind.
My brother has been gone for over 20 years. This memory is over 30 years ago.
My summer vacations back to my homeland of Pennsylvania were always epic. Adventures and exploration. These were during my formative years as I tried to grow up into a responsible adult, while at the same time run wild and rampant across my old stomping grounds. This memory was before my last attempt to move back up there.
My brother would jump back and forth from being a Master Carpenter and Truck Driver. The desire to create with his hands in one moment, then the call of the open road to take a break and get lost in his thoughts. I wish he and I had deeper conversations. I was still on the other side of 15 and wasn’t that complicated yet.
As usual, he would call at the last minute and/or show up after being AWOL for weeks or months on end. This time he asked me if I wanted to accompany him on a road trip to Michigan and back. We met at a random and well known parking lot central to everyone’s houses. I threw a change of clothes together and joined him on is latest road trip.
I would never know what he was driving each time, whether personal car/truck or semi-truck for that matter. I kept my expecations low. One time it would be an old Cadillac or a Lincoln Towncar with 100,000 miles on it. The next time, a 4X4 truck or Jeep.
This time he showed up in a red and white GMC Astrocab truck. This is also called a Cab-Over. You sit ABOVE the engine and the nose is “flat”. It has a very commanding view of the road. Probably easier to navigate in tight spaces. You are also sitting above the front tires.
This was early evening. I don’t even remember if he told me our destination. The truck was pulling a long flatbed trailer with a single giant roll of steel on it. This was for the stamping plant at a Chrysler Auto manufacturing plant. The first thing I noticed was there was Japanese writing all over the roll. American cars with Japanese steel. My father would have had a heart attack right there on the spot. He was a retired American Steel Mill Worker. This would not sit well with him. I don’t think I never told him that our cars had this type of foreign steel in them.
So we hit the road, driving late into the night. I haven’t seen him in ages. We talked about everything and nothing. At one point we were driving by a giant drive-in theater near the interstate we were as we went further to the West. The movie appeared to be a Japanese Kung-Fu/Samurai type flick. We both immediately added our own dialogue to it. Then we proceeded to bust out laughing. Somewhere in Ohio at 2-3 am, he pulled into a random truck stop. He hit his mandatory driving hours and had to rest. His truck had a built in sleeper cab. (For one person) I had to fend for myself in the passenger seat. On top of this, the driver’s console curved around between the seats. I couldn’t stretch out so I leaned into the door and put my feet on the dash. (I didn’t sleep) He raised his head for a second and said, don’t answer the door if anyone knocks. At this hour, it’s usually “working girls”….
O_O
Being shy of 15, I was mortified. Girls still had cooties.
We eventually made it to the factory. They swapped the shipping address with the billing address. We tried to deliver a roll of steel to downtown Detroit. We figured it out when we saw the highrise and the security guard scratching his head.
As we went through the back lot, we saw the retired stamping machines with grease pencil describing what the machines made. We saw “Roadrunner”, “Barracuda” , “Charger”….it was like a car fanatics paradise.
My brother got us a real hotel room for the night. (I never appreciated a real bed so much in my life) Who knew this would prepare me for my military career someday.
My brother was an independent trucker. This meant he had to find a load for the return trip home. It was a waste of time and money to drive with an empty trailer. This was before computers, the internet and cell phones. We went to large room in a truckstop and watched black and white TV’s scrolling with loads and destinations. We of course looked for flatbed loads going East. He eventually found a load of railroad rails for a coal mine in remote West Virginia. Close enough.
Our trip was probably a brutal 4 day trip, but I was sad and relieved when it was over. I forgot to mention one thing. A typical truck has a driver’s seat with shock absorbers and 20 adjustments for the driver’s comfort.
I looked down at my passenger seat and noticed I was sitting on top of the heater and my seat was bolted directly to the cab/floor. No shock absorbers or adjustments. I was in Hell.
I had my trusty 110 film camera and snapped some pictures. One of my favorites was taken while we were in a tunnel and he looked at me with this huge cheesy smile on his face. That piece of crap camera not only took a clear picture of my brother, it also froze the tiny wall tiles speeding by us at 60+ miles an hour. (You could see each tile) Cool.
17 years later, I returned to Pennsylvania to say goodbye to him and see him laid to rest.
Death is a reminder to live a full and purposeful life. We never know when it will come.
I think of my departed ones often. They are of course a huge part of what I am today.
I miss my military days. And at first for the couple of years afterwards, I thought I missed the people.
As the years went by, I saw some of them in an unfiltered light. They were petty, backstabbing, full of nepotism, favoritism and many other self-serving plots.
I then realized I miss the mission. And yes there are some people I actually miss, I will try to visit them one on one. I don’t want to be around the herd anymore.
I now avoid the reunions and get togethers with the knowledge that some of “them” might be there. It’s taken me a long time to move past the uniform. Past the glory days. My mind is at peace. Mostly.
I don’t want to ruin years of letting go and therapy sessions. I miss the memories more. Not the flesh and blood. This is why I try to avoid viewings at funerals.
I want to preserve the memory of someone when they were alive.
Tomorrow is a retirement ceremony. I was going to go, but I’m backing out of it, yet again. And I feel better. I’m not a coward, I’m just putting my serenity ahead of the what-ifs.
It doesn’t hurt that I can sleep in on my precious weekend again.
Besides, I don’t want to go to jail for throat-punching someone. 😉
Sometimes the greatest escape is internal. I find comfort and solace in writing, woodworking, reading and drawing.
My mind can be free in words. I can express myself whether it’s the heavily edited version on Social Media, or on here
where I don’t have to hold back. I share my fears, regrets, happy memories, saddest tragedies and greatest triumphs without judgement.
(If you have any, please don’t share them with me) let me have this ignorant bliss.
I wish I was a confident and stable as my FB persona. But it is what it is.
I just keep trying to stay one step ahead of the guys with the giant butterfly nets.
I keep putting off friends, family and acquaintances for get togethers and drinks. It’s not so much I
don’t want to, its just that I have only so much time and it feels fleeting. I am very greedy with it after work and on weekends.
Maybe its leftover from my military career where I gave them 110% of my time, body and soul. Now its my turn to be “me”.
My writing allows me to dig deep in the past and reassess what exactly happened with this older maturity, experience and perspective.
I always hope to discover something new, or lessen the damage those incidents caused in the long term. Kind of like re-opening a “Cold Case” and finding more clues. And maybe, just maybe…closure.
At one point, my mind was a prison, those couple of years were the worst ones in my life.
Now I tread cautiously when “retracing” my steps. Like going through a supposedly cleared minefield.
I do need to visit the past, to help me understand this version of me. And to hopefully not repeat history.
Max: [to Walter] Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve taken a woman who loves you, one of the great women in the world and thrown her away. I lost her too, but I will get over it because I am shallow and self-centered.
But you, you won’t, because you are “complex”. You will feel terrible anguish for the rest of your life. This is turning out to be a pretty good day.
-The Money Pit
That one movie line has stuck with me for years. That and the “Two weeks” estimate on the house being finished.
Also me:
a whole made up of complicated or interrelated parts
a group of culture traits relating to a single activity (such as hunting), process (such as use of flint), or culture unit
a group of repressed desires and memories that exerts a dominating influence upon the personality
an exaggerated reaction to or preoccupation with a subject or situation
As the title of my blog states: The Past is a Harsh Mistress
My past…my history. I know other people have had worse lives. This is my story, my experience, my perspective.
Maybe I had a different level of torment, challenges and losses.
I know the combination of things may have been more than others have on their ‘resume’.
I would hope they have made me more open-minded, forgiving, self-reflective, etc.
But on the other side, more jaded, angrier, less flexible…complex.
I do know I have an insatiable creative side. A passion for art and working with my hands and heart.
Maybe my soul knows this is my escape, a beautiful distraction from the now.
Part of me wishes we could see the person we could have been at the end of multiple paths and futures. If we said no, if we said yes, if we stayed, or left.
If someone didn’t die so soon. If we met a different person at a different stage in our lives.
But I say only a part of me wants that insight. Because it would destroy the version we currently are. It would toss out years of coping and adjusting.
It would ruin the very person we have tried so hard to accept and live with.
I don’t think I could be a happy, simple version of myself.
One more quote comes to mind:
“What counts in sports is not the victory, but the magnificence of the struggle.”
I miss some people, and I miss some as much as possible….
I had major adjustment issues when I retired from the military. The pace, the excitement, challenges, sense of accomplishment, pride, energy, the list goes on and on.
I also thought I missed EVERYONE I served with.
As time passed, I started to lower the “filters” I had in place, and started to see some former co-workers for what they really were. I myself am not perfect, but compared
to the crap some of these people pulled, I’m a saint. I started a Facebook Alumni page when I retired and that put me in the center seat to hear all the gossip (which was confirmed by several people)
about the actions of the various members. I also saw how certain members promoted within their circles. Regardless if the person deserved it or not.
At my age, I don’t have to play nice, forgive, or forget. One member has a thick file of wrongs he dished out and left a wake of disarray and terrible consequences for the innocent.
He had a gambling addiction, kept a “girlfriend” at his house overseas, left his wife with huge debt, promoted buddies in the unit, scammed several people both stateside and overseas…and yet still got a job working
for the government. (He should have been a politician) Another one started asking me if I was “Woke” through online messages, warning me about the end of the county, civilization, a civil war that will be happening soon…
and I asked him to stop sending me that crap. He couldn’t help himself. So I dropped and blocked him. Several dumped their wives when they retired. Literally dumped them.
Again, I am not perfect, but I worked through my issues, remained married, got help for anything that potentially affecting those close to me.
There were some people I really wanted to see, but the jerk-offs outnumbered them. So I held off going. I also do not like social events anymore.
I accept that. I try, but sometimes, I can’t. I also hate crowds like some Veterans do. And noisy crowds are the worst.
I will stay connected with those from afar and online, maybe grabbing a beer with individuals instead of the group.
I slept better not going, it still bothered me to see what those people really were behind their facades.
This weekend, I realized it was the mission that I missed and only the “theory of my unit.” Not most of the individuals.
That was my adjustment issue. I missed that world. That version of myself.
Around this time 37 years ago, I ate a Mongolian Salad in the cafe down the street from the 3403rd Student Training Squadron at Keesler AFB, Biloxi Mississippi. Oh….the song “Land of Confusion” by Genesis was also playing. The only reason I remember that specific meal was that it was the first meal I bought, and ate alone after graduating from AF Basic Training. For over a month I was in Lackland AFB, San Antonio Texas. I remember trying relax and enjoy that meal. I smiled at the irony of the song and the sense of excitement that I was in the next phase of my military career. I had no idea what the future was going to hold for me. I was going on 22 that year and already felt different, felt changed for the better. Little did I know that I would go on to do things that I would have never thought possible, face challenges, see amazing parts of the world. And most importantly, make some of the best lifelong friends I ever had the honor of serving along side of. Sitting here tonight, not tipping the scales at 185, or unable to do pushups or sit ups anymore, sporting a beard with more grey than brown….and creaking like an old Dodge Duster….I smile at that memory and the road I took to this exact moment tonight. It was quite a journey.
I can’t find my keys most of the time….but I remember that salad 37 years ago.
The Past Is A Harsh Mistress 