Whew... Christmas is finally over and the backroom at my store should be getting back to normal very quickly now. Of course we'll be getting the new spring line-up in soon... but we should be able to get some frieght cleaned out before that happens. I hope!
I should be able to get back in the frame of mind to write again within the next few days, so if you have been waiting for something new it's about to happen.
Bob
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Too Pooped to Pop
I can remember my Mom saying "I'm too pooped to pop." so often when I was just a kid at home... And I always wondered what she meant by that exactly. I mean, really?
How does one pop?
Isn't that a kind of low volatile word for explode?
When you pop a firecracker, does it not explode?
But today.... I really think I understand what she might have meant by that saying... I worked my butt off last night moving the same pallets of freight around that's been "stuffing" the same back room of the same Walmart Store for weeks, just so I could stuff more of the same kind of freight in the same space to the point where you couldn't possibly put another pallet without blocking any and all possible movement through the space..... and when I got home...... I was too pooped to pop up on my feet and do anything without fear of falling to sleep standing up..... tooooo pooooppped to pop!
How does one pop?
Isn't that a kind of low volatile word for explode?
When you pop a firecracker, does it not explode?
But today.... I really think I understand what she might have meant by that saying... I worked my butt off last night moving the same pallets of freight around that's been "stuffing" the same back room of the same Walmart Store for weeks, just so I could stuff more of the same kind of freight in the same space to the point where you couldn't possibly put another pallet without blocking any and all possible movement through the space..... and when I got home...... I was too pooped to pop up on my feet and do anything without fear of falling to sleep standing up..... tooooo pooooppped to pop!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
A Difficult time for blogging
As a member of the working class employed by one of the major retail chains in the United States the encrouching season is an escalating demand on me. Both physically and mentally, the demands on my time and concentration are more with each passing day. As a result I am afraid I have little of myself left over for other events.
Forgive my tardiness in posting the stories I should've already written, but the time will come when I will be active again in this favorable pass time.
Forgive my tardiness in posting the stories I should've already written, but the time will come when I will be active again in this favorable pass time.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Welcome Changes
When I sleep 4 or more hours a day I normally wake up with back and leg pain. So much so that I can't just lay there anymore. It has little to do with physical exertion from the day before, or in my case the night before. It's the same pains I've awoke too for over 30 years.
Most of the time they aren't as painful as they were 25 - 30 years ago but they're still there. I've never allowed myself the "LUXURY" of medication because of what I've seen it do to people I've known.... but there are days when I almost wish I did.
As difficult as it may be to understand, I've come to welcome those days in which I experience different pains almost as much as I welcome the days where I experience less pain.
It's almost like the ringing in my ears. I don't always have to have something making noise (like the tv or radio) but it does help to keep my mind off the constant ringing, and helps me drift off to sleep.
A different pain is much like that. Unless it's a very strong pain, which usually seems to compound things and leaves me feeling at wit's end and agitated all the time. But a mild pain is a welcome change from the norm... it gives me something else to think about besides the "daily" pains I experience.
Most of the time they aren't as painful as they were 25 - 30 years ago but they're still there. I've never allowed myself the "LUXURY" of medication because of what I've seen it do to people I've known.... but there are days when I almost wish I did.
As difficult as it may be to understand, I've come to welcome those days in which I experience different pains almost as much as I welcome the days where I experience less pain.
It's almost like the ringing in my ears. I don't always have to have something making noise (like the tv or radio) but it does help to keep my mind off the constant ringing, and helps me drift off to sleep.
A different pain is much like that. Unless it's a very strong pain, which usually seems to compound things and leaves me feeling at wit's end and agitated all the time. But a mild pain is a welcome change from the norm... it gives me something else to think about besides the "daily" pains I experience.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Detour
Sometimes things just happen for a reason. Unexpected course changes take place in order to put you in the right spot at the right time. Kind of like a "test of character" event.
I was more than a little upset that morning when the boss called and told me where he'd lined me up to work that day. It was over a hundred miles away and it was already almost daylight outside. The coffee pot was still brewing and I had yet to have my first cup of the day, and now I felt pressed to just turn the thing off and rush out the door. I didn't though. I waited just long enough to grab a some coffee to go in a leaky travel mug which always ticked me off when it dribbled down the front of my uniform shirt... but I had to go. It was going to take me a couple of hours to get there, and from the sounds of it there was at least fifteen to twenty hours of work to be done.
"Just do as much as you can." Dan repeated several times through the short phone conversation. He knew I was upset.. He'd normally call the night before when he had me scheduled so far from home.
Out the door and down the road I go.. turning on to the paved secondary road which led to my destination. That road had taken a beating during the past winter and it was one rough ride. I was driving way too fast, given the current condition of the road, and not paying close enough attention when I topped that little drop off which left my tires spinning trying to find the pavement. I was certainly glad there were no immediate turns to deal with.
"I'll have to buy a new rear axle for this thing if I do that again." I thought to myself, never letting up on the gas pedal.
I reached my destination and found it to be the long hard day I feared it would be.. I worked until they finally ran me out so they could close their doors for the night at around 11 PM. I did manage to get a plate of food as I was signing out so I didn't have to wait until I got home to eat. There would be no place open on the trip home to get even a burger. It would be past 1 AM by the time I pulled back into my driveway, if I didn't pull off along the way for a nap first.
I was just beginning to get really sleepy behind the wheel when I came upon the barricade and detour sign... Coming to a complete stop in front of it I couldn't help but wonder how the state department had, in the time since I'd passed through there in the early hours of the day, managed to tear that road up enough to make it impassible. I have to admit, I considered going around it. But the little "never break the rules" dude was sitting on my shoulder screaming "You can't do that!!!... Don't you remember what happened this morning??
I wanted to slap him out the window. But instead, I turned to the left and headed off down the detour... "How much longer is this going to take?" I asked no one there. To make matters worse the radio station I always listened to went off the air at midnight. Good thing I had a tape deck.. now where did I put that case of tapes?
Almost 1 AM and I still hadn't reached the turn to the right which would put me traveling back in the direction of home. North!!! Where in the heck is this road taking me? If I keep going this should dump me out in Logansport... that's way north and west of home... surely I wouldn't have to drive that far north. I had never driven these roads before... because there was nothing out there but forests and corn fields! I'd say there were a spattering of farm houses out there too, but most of them were so far from the road that if they didn't have a light on you'd never see them this late at night.
About 10 minutes later I found the detour sign shinning in my headlights and was relieved to be turning back to the right finally. I made the turn and put the hammer down. I hadn't gone too far when the tape in the stereo started squeaking and I yanked it out before looking for another one to replace it with. I was too tired to be driving along with only the ringing in my ears to keep me company. I found one and looked back up just in time to come to a screeching halt behind a one ton pickup sitting dead in the middle of the road.
With my heart pounding and both hands still white knuckle gripping the steering wheel I heard the cassette tape hit the floor near my feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an older couple emerging into my headlights. They must have run off the road when they heard my tires screeching to a halt. At first I was really upset, until I noticed the left rear axle sitting on the road. The dual set of tires gone. When I finally calmed down a bit I reached for the shifter with intentions of putting it in reverse so I could back up and go around. At that moment the old couple turned to face the glare of my headlights and I saw the huge dimple in the man's head. He'd obviously seen some hard times.
Putting the van in park I left it running and got out, leaving the headlights on so I could assess the damage. I walked over to the couple and asked if they were okay. The woman did all the talking informing me that her husband had been driving along when they lost the wheels.
"I was so afraid." she said, "He doesn't react as quickly as he used to before the surgery." Then she went on to tell me they were on their way home after dropping their youngest son off at the college in the town I had been working in.
We shared a mutual surprise about the road being closed on our way back through and she was telling me they lived in Muncie, which was at least another 45 minutes on the other side of where I lived. We were actually stopped right at the edge of a little town in the middle of nowhere Indiana, and it was plain to see that the streets had been rolled up for the night long before we'd arrived.
It was just about that time that a tow truck came up the road and the guy never even stopped to ask if they needed help, he just pulled around in front of their truck and backed up to hook up to it. We all stood there for a moment in total surprise at his actions. Finally the woman stepped up to the front of the truck and asked the driver where he planned to take it. In reply he raised up and pointed over his shoulder.
"See that building right down there?" he asked. When she acknowledge he simply stated.. "there"
She asked when the business would open... "9 AM" he replied... "Is there a hotel or motel?"... "NO!" he seemed agitated.. He was getting ready to hook up the chains when she asked how much.. "75 dollars" he blurted out.
The look on her face as she turned to her husband was one of utter despair. I heard her tell her him "We can't afford this." His reply was a forced smile as he took her into his arms.
At that point I stepped over to the truck driver and told him I didn't think the couple wanted his help... "They don't have a choice!" he replied... "And they're damned lucky I was on my way home from the bar or they'd still be sitting here when the county sheriff drove through in the morning."
"I don't think you understand." I said, and was about to tell him they didn't have the money when he stood upright and started yelling at me to go on my way and leave it alone. "There's nothing you can do for them!" I can't explain why this angered me so, but it did.
"I said take your chains off their truck!" I demanded. "They can't afford to pay you and they don't want your help!"
The argument was heating up when the woman touched my arm. I turned to her and in the instant we made eye contact she told the tow truck driver to leave. He started to argue but was cut short when her husband held up his hand, and in a soft but firm voice said "Leave."
I watched as he unhooked his chains and drove away before turning to face them again. "I guess I'd better get my tools out." I smiled at them, and asked "Do you have a flashlight?" Then I stepped past them toward my van before they had a chance to answer. I had pulled my toolbox from the back of the van and was heading back when I was almost blinded as the night lit up all around me. Holding my free hand up to block the intense beam of light I heard the woman instruct her husband to point it down at the ground.
I stepped up to the back of their truck and set my box on the road, then inspected the damage done to the hub of the truck's axle.
"My name is Marylin" the woman said as she moved closer, "And this is my husband Henry." she turned and motioned for him to point the floodlight down even more. "You'll have to forgive him." She added, "I'm afraid he's become a little scared of the dark since his surgery."
I looked up to find him offering a sheepish smile and a node to support her comment. "It's okay Henry." I said, "We all have our fears." then I reached out my hand in greeting... "My name is Bob." and he gave me a firm shake.
"So now what do we do?" Marylin asked, trying to mask the concern in her tone of voice.
"Well, since we have the power of the sun at our disposal I think we need to find as much of your missing parts as we can and then go from there." I replied with a smile.
We followed the scar in the pavement left by the hub of their axle and started picking up anything that looked like it might belong to the brake, and when we were satisfied there was nothing left to find I instructed Henry to shine his light out on the field so we could locate the set of tires. We finally spotted them about 100 yards off the road and I handed the parts to Marylin before heading off to retrieve them.
It took a good hour or more for me to piece the puzzle of their brake back together, and it was obvious we were missing something. Even still, it held together long enough for me mount the tires back on. It was a real trick getting the axle off the ground, since their jack wouldn't fit under it. I had to use the little scissor jack from my van and a set of blocks from the back of their truck to get it high enough for their jack to slide under it. But we finally had it, and I took a lug nut for each of the other wheels to hold it on.
During the entire process Marylin spun the tale of their recent hardships.. Henry had suffered a stroke and that's when the doctor's discovered the tumor in the left side of his brain. She told of how they'd had to remove almost all of that half of his brain and how devastated he was to find he could no longer do most of the things he'd been accustomed to doing prior to the surgery.
"He's such a determined man." she said with a smile as she moved close enough to wrap her arms around him. "They said he'd probably never walk again... " and she turned to look up at him as she added, "But just look at him now... he's recovered so well."
He wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her closer, then kissed her on the forehead. And as he looked back at me I could feel the sense of pride in him... and I just knew deep inside everything he'd gone through, all the achievements he'd made in his recovery he'd pushed the limits so he could be there for her.
"You've done well Henry." I said with a smile as I carried on with my work.
I was almost done when Marylin spoke up again. "Bob, as we've watched you work on the truck we've both noticed that you seem to be in pain with almost every move you make. Are you?"
"Some." was my only reply, with a quick glance at her.
"Do you mind if we ask what happened?"
Up to that point I purposely hadn't mentioned the accident that had taken place while I was in the Navy. I just couldn't imagine my experience even comparing to what Henry had suffered. But as I told my story I was surprised to catch Henry wiping tears from his eyes. Marylin, too, seemed genuinely upset about it. I finished the work on their truck about the time I finished my story and started collecting my tools.
After all was done, the tools put away, and we'd performed a couple of short test runs to ensure the three lug nuts were going to stay secure I told them I'd follow them all the way home if it would make them feel better. Marylin pulled her purse off the seat of the truck and started digging for her wallet. "We don't have much." she said, "But we want to give you something for your help."
I reached over and placed my hand on her arm. "No you don't." I stated
"But you did so much, Bob... and you've probably saved us a lot of money tonight." she pleaded.
"I saved you from a road bandit." I replied. "But you still owe me nothing."
"We.... in..sist!" Henry struggled for the words.
"Then here's what you must do to repay me." I said without giving a thought to what I was about to say... Taking Marylin's hand in mine and looking her in the eye I told her. "Every day we encounter people that demand our help, and because of that we've all become a little less sensitive to the needs of others. We've hardened our hearts to prevent others from taking advantage of us..." I paused for a moment when I saw the recognition in her eyes, "Yet every so often we encounter that person who asks for nothing, yet the look of despair in their eyes pleads for help."
I watched a tear well up in her eyes and break free to roll down her cheek. "You know what I'm saying is true don't you?" I asked
"Yes." she replied. Her hand gripped mine a little more.
"Well.. the next time you get that gut feeling that someone truly needs your help even though they've not asked for it..."
"We will... " she said before I could finish. Then she gave me a true heartfelt hug. One of those hugs that allows your souls to embrace.
As we parted company that night I knew she would hold true to her promise and when the time came she too would instruct that fortunate someone just how they could repay them for their kindness. And I wiped the tear as I drove away.
I was more than a little upset that morning when the boss called and told me where he'd lined me up to work that day. It was over a hundred miles away and it was already almost daylight outside. The coffee pot was still brewing and I had yet to have my first cup of the day, and now I felt pressed to just turn the thing off and rush out the door. I didn't though. I waited just long enough to grab a some coffee to go in a leaky travel mug which always ticked me off when it dribbled down the front of my uniform shirt... but I had to go. It was going to take me a couple of hours to get there, and from the sounds of it there was at least fifteen to twenty hours of work to be done.
"Just do as much as you can." Dan repeated several times through the short phone conversation. He knew I was upset.. He'd normally call the night before when he had me scheduled so far from home.
Out the door and down the road I go.. turning on to the paved secondary road which led to my destination. That road had taken a beating during the past winter and it was one rough ride. I was driving way too fast, given the current condition of the road, and not paying close enough attention when I topped that little drop off which left my tires spinning trying to find the pavement. I was certainly glad there were no immediate turns to deal with.
"I'll have to buy a new rear axle for this thing if I do that again." I thought to myself, never letting up on the gas pedal.
I reached my destination and found it to be the long hard day I feared it would be.. I worked until they finally ran me out so they could close their doors for the night at around 11 PM. I did manage to get a plate of food as I was signing out so I didn't have to wait until I got home to eat. There would be no place open on the trip home to get even a burger. It would be past 1 AM by the time I pulled back into my driveway, if I didn't pull off along the way for a nap first.
I was just beginning to get really sleepy behind the wheel when I came upon the barricade and detour sign... Coming to a complete stop in front of it I couldn't help but wonder how the state department had, in the time since I'd passed through there in the early hours of the day, managed to tear that road up enough to make it impassible. I have to admit, I considered going around it. But the little "never break the rules" dude was sitting on my shoulder screaming "You can't do that!!!... Don't you remember what happened this morning??
I wanted to slap him out the window. But instead, I turned to the left and headed off down the detour... "How much longer is this going to take?" I asked no one there. To make matters worse the radio station I always listened to went off the air at midnight. Good thing I had a tape deck.. now where did I put that case of tapes?
Almost 1 AM and I still hadn't reached the turn to the right which would put me traveling back in the direction of home. North!!! Where in the heck is this road taking me? If I keep going this should dump me out in Logansport... that's way north and west of home... surely I wouldn't have to drive that far north. I had never driven these roads before... because there was nothing out there but forests and corn fields! I'd say there were a spattering of farm houses out there too, but most of them were so far from the road that if they didn't have a light on you'd never see them this late at night.
About 10 minutes later I found the detour sign shinning in my headlights and was relieved to be turning back to the right finally. I made the turn and put the hammer down. I hadn't gone too far when the tape in the stereo started squeaking and I yanked it out before looking for another one to replace it with. I was too tired to be driving along with only the ringing in my ears to keep me company. I found one and looked back up just in time to come to a screeching halt behind a one ton pickup sitting dead in the middle of the road.
With my heart pounding and both hands still white knuckle gripping the steering wheel I heard the cassette tape hit the floor near my feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an older couple emerging into my headlights. They must have run off the road when they heard my tires screeching to a halt. At first I was really upset, until I noticed the left rear axle sitting on the road. The dual set of tires gone. When I finally calmed down a bit I reached for the shifter with intentions of putting it in reverse so I could back up and go around. At that moment the old couple turned to face the glare of my headlights and I saw the huge dimple in the man's head. He'd obviously seen some hard times.
Putting the van in park I left it running and got out, leaving the headlights on so I could assess the damage. I walked over to the couple and asked if they were okay. The woman did all the talking informing me that her husband had been driving along when they lost the wheels.
"I was so afraid." she said, "He doesn't react as quickly as he used to before the surgery." Then she went on to tell me they were on their way home after dropping their youngest son off at the college in the town I had been working in.
We shared a mutual surprise about the road being closed on our way back through and she was telling me they lived in Muncie, which was at least another 45 minutes on the other side of where I lived. We were actually stopped right at the edge of a little town in the middle of nowhere Indiana, and it was plain to see that the streets had been rolled up for the night long before we'd arrived.
It was just about that time that a tow truck came up the road and the guy never even stopped to ask if they needed help, he just pulled around in front of their truck and backed up to hook up to it. We all stood there for a moment in total surprise at his actions. Finally the woman stepped up to the front of the truck and asked the driver where he planned to take it. In reply he raised up and pointed over his shoulder.
"See that building right down there?" he asked. When she acknowledge he simply stated.. "there"
She asked when the business would open... "9 AM" he replied... "Is there a hotel or motel?"... "NO!" he seemed agitated.. He was getting ready to hook up the chains when she asked how much.. "75 dollars" he blurted out.
The look on her face as she turned to her husband was one of utter despair. I heard her tell her him "We can't afford this." His reply was a forced smile as he took her into his arms.
At that point I stepped over to the truck driver and told him I didn't think the couple wanted his help... "They don't have a choice!" he replied... "And they're damned lucky I was on my way home from the bar or they'd still be sitting here when the county sheriff drove through in the morning."
"I don't think you understand." I said, and was about to tell him they didn't have the money when he stood upright and started yelling at me to go on my way and leave it alone. "There's nothing you can do for them!" I can't explain why this angered me so, but it did.
"I said take your chains off their truck!" I demanded. "They can't afford to pay you and they don't want your help!"
The argument was heating up when the woman touched my arm. I turned to her and in the instant we made eye contact she told the tow truck driver to leave. He started to argue but was cut short when her husband held up his hand, and in a soft but firm voice said "Leave."
I watched as he unhooked his chains and drove away before turning to face them again. "I guess I'd better get my tools out." I smiled at them, and asked "Do you have a flashlight?" Then I stepped past them toward my van before they had a chance to answer. I had pulled my toolbox from the back of the van and was heading back when I was almost blinded as the night lit up all around me. Holding my free hand up to block the intense beam of light I heard the woman instruct her husband to point it down at the ground.
I stepped up to the back of their truck and set my box on the road, then inspected the damage done to the hub of the truck's axle.
"My name is Marylin" the woman said as she moved closer, "And this is my husband Henry." she turned and motioned for him to point the floodlight down even more. "You'll have to forgive him." She added, "I'm afraid he's become a little scared of the dark since his surgery."
I looked up to find him offering a sheepish smile and a node to support her comment. "It's okay Henry." I said, "We all have our fears." then I reached out my hand in greeting... "My name is Bob." and he gave me a firm shake.
"So now what do we do?" Marylin asked, trying to mask the concern in her tone of voice.
"Well, since we have the power of the sun at our disposal I think we need to find as much of your missing parts as we can and then go from there." I replied with a smile.
We followed the scar in the pavement left by the hub of their axle and started picking up anything that looked like it might belong to the brake, and when we were satisfied there was nothing left to find I instructed Henry to shine his light out on the field so we could locate the set of tires. We finally spotted them about 100 yards off the road and I handed the parts to Marylin before heading off to retrieve them.
It took a good hour or more for me to piece the puzzle of their brake back together, and it was obvious we were missing something. Even still, it held together long enough for me mount the tires back on. It was a real trick getting the axle off the ground, since their jack wouldn't fit under it. I had to use the little scissor jack from my van and a set of blocks from the back of their truck to get it high enough for their jack to slide under it. But we finally had it, and I took a lug nut for each of the other wheels to hold it on.
During the entire process Marylin spun the tale of their recent hardships.. Henry had suffered a stroke and that's when the doctor's discovered the tumor in the left side of his brain. She told of how they'd had to remove almost all of that half of his brain and how devastated he was to find he could no longer do most of the things he'd been accustomed to doing prior to the surgery.
"He's such a determined man." she said with a smile as she moved close enough to wrap her arms around him. "They said he'd probably never walk again... " and she turned to look up at him as she added, "But just look at him now... he's recovered so well."
He wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her closer, then kissed her on the forehead. And as he looked back at me I could feel the sense of pride in him... and I just knew deep inside everything he'd gone through, all the achievements he'd made in his recovery he'd pushed the limits so he could be there for her.
"You've done well Henry." I said with a smile as I carried on with my work.
I was almost done when Marylin spoke up again. "Bob, as we've watched you work on the truck we've both noticed that you seem to be in pain with almost every move you make. Are you?"
"Some." was my only reply, with a quick glance at her.
"Do you mind if we ask what happened?"
Up to that point I purposely hadn't mentioned the accident that had taken place while I was in the Navy. I just couldn't imagine my experience even comparing to what Henry had suffered. But as I told my story I was surprised to catch Henry wiping tears from his eyes. Marylin, too, seemed genuinely upset about it. I finished the work on their truck about the time I finished my story and started collecting my tools.
After all was done, the tools put away, and we'd performed a couple of short test runs to ensure the three lug nuts were going to stay secure I told them I'd follow them all the way home if it would make them feel better. Marylin pulled her purse off the seat of the truck and started digging for her wallet. "We don't have much." she said, "But we want to give you something for your help."
I reached over and placed my hand on her arm. "No you don't." I stated
"But you did so much, Bob... and you've probably saved us a lot of money tonight." she pleaded.
"I saved you from a road bandit." I replied. "But you still owe me nothing."
"We.... in..sist!" Henry struggled for the words.
"Then here's what you must do to repay me." I said without giving a thought to what I was about to say... Taking Marylin's hand in mine and looking her in the eye I told her. "Every day we encounter people that demand our help, and because of that we've all become a little less sensitive to the needs of others. We've hardened our hearts to prevent others from taking advantage of us..." I paused for a moment when I saw the recognition in her eyes, "Yet every so often we encounter that person who asks for nothing, yet the look of despair in their eyes pleads for help."
I watched a tear well up in her eyes and break free to roll down her cheek. "You know what I'm saying is true don't you?" I asked
"Yes." she replied. Her hand gripped mine a little more.
"Well.. the next time you get that gut feeling that someone truly needs your help even though they've not asked for it..."
"We will... " she said before I could finish. Then she gave me a true heartfelt hug. One of those hugs that allows your souls to embrace.
As we parted company that night I knew she would hold true to her promise and when the time came she too would instruct that fortunate someone just how they could repay them for their kindness. And I wiped the tear as I drove away.
Monday, November 16, 2009
An Unhappy Marriage (Part Two)
While Sherrie and I were getting to know one another other events were developing which would change my life... our lives. The factory I worked at had been loosing orders. As a result hours were being cut on all shifts. By the first week of December I had been cut back to 3 days a week. A few days later my shift supervisor stopped me on the way into the building and sent me home. The schedule had been reduced again. I had already tightened my belt to accomadate the cut in hours, but a 2 day workweek was not going to keep me going.
I was on my way back to the hotel when I spotted the Navy Recruitor sign outside a small office. Without really giving it a second thought I pulled into the parking lot and went in. The man standing behind the counter was very helpful as he handed me the necessary paperwork to fill out.
After I completed the paperwork he gave me a slip of paper with the date and time they would be issuing the next entrance exam and informed me I would need to bring a copy of my birth certificate with me in order to take the test. I walked out of that office very insecure about what I had just done. But I was sure I had to do something.
I was on my way back to the hotel when I spotted the Navy Recruitor sign outside a small office. Without really giving it a second thought I pulled into the parking lot and went in. The man standing behind the counter was very helpful as he handed me the necessary paperwork to fill out.
After I completed the paperwork he gave me a slip of paper with the date and time they would be issuing the next entrance exam and informed me I would need to bring a copy of my birth certificate with me in order to take the test. I walked out of that office very insecure about what I had just done. But I was sure I had to do something.
Over the next few days I spent a lot of time pondering the prospects and the dread of making such a dramatic change to my life. I wasn't sure the "It's not just a job, it's an adventure!" slogan was what I was really looking for.
The following Monday morning I returned to the reqruitor's office just to talk to one of the recruitor's about what to expect from the Navy lifestyle. It almost seemed he was reluctant to give up a lot of information about it, but in our discussion he never mentioned anything negatively. When I walked out I still had increasing doubts about enlisting. But I did agree to take the entrance exam just to see how I would do.
That afternoon, when I walked into the shoe plant, my supervisor was laughing when he told me that there was rumor of even more hours being cut from the budget. For a moment I was truly upset about his comment, and I think that's when I truly made the decision to follow through with the plans to enlist into the Navy. Providing, of course, I passed the entrance exams, which I had little doubt that I would.
I told Ed that it really didn't matter about the hours because I was in the process of joining the Navy. And with that I handed him my shoeknife and told him he could give my hours to someone else.
"You'll be back!" he said, trying to get me to take my knife back. I just laughed at him and started walking for the door.
"You'll be back Bob!" he barked with a laugh.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Distractions
Sometimes I would like to unplug from daily life. It seems that every time I get something going that takes a fair amount of my time and effort suddenly there are a hundred unscheduled things to do every day. I can't get anything done because someones always in my face telling me we have to go do this or that................... Tomorrow I will dedicate at least a couple of hours to posting either a continuation to one of the stories I've already started or I'll post something new altogether... I'd prefer to do that but we'll have to see.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
An Unhappy Marriage (Part One)
We first met in October of 1975 when Bill asked me to go with him to pay a visit on his girlfriend. Bill had explained that he was going to apologize for not showing up for a dinner date the night before. He went on to explain that it had been her birthday and he knew she was going to be really upset about it.
"So you want me to go along in hopes that she won't throw a fit in front of a stranger, right?" I had asked him.
He regretfully admitted that was the true reason for asking me to go along. I didn't like the idea of being used like that, but thought it just might prove to be a more interesting evening than the one I had planned, so I agreed to go along.
When we arrived at her home, Bill was about to knock on the door when it swung wide open, revealing an obviously angry young woman. At first glance I thought this must be the little sister because she was only about 4 and a half feet tall. But as the conversation began it didn't take me long to realize she was the girlfriend he'd been afraid to face on his own. I couldn't help but be amused by the idea that a big boy like Bill was afraid to face such a petite woman.
"You have some nerve!" she started then stopped suddenly as Bill sidestepped to reveal me standing behind him. She had a look of understanding on her face as she looked first at me then back at Bill. She looked back at me for a long moment then turned and walked back into the house..."Come on in!" she stated as she vanished behind the door.
As Bill walked through the door he introduced her to me. "Bob, I'd like you to meet Sherri Smith. The sweetest little lady I've ever met." She spun around and glared at him, leaving me to wonder what part of that statement annoyed her to most.
That night wasn't quite the "interesting" night I thought it might turn out to me. A side of Bill emerged during that visit that took me by surprise. He was literally groveling at her feet, making every effort to weasel his way back into her good graces.
She knew exactly what he was doing, and why he'd brought me along. So she spent her time ignoring him by continually trying to engage me in a meaningful conversation. Oddly, I started feeling sympathetic to Bill's cause, and refrained from open conversation with her. I answered a few questions about myself where I didn't have to give up too much information and left plenty of openings for Bill to get a word in as often as she would allow it.
Thankfully, our visit wasn't to last very long. Sherri finally had enough of Bill's interruptions and asked him to leave. "Don't bother calling me any more Bill. I don't want to have anymore to do with you." she told him as she opened the door for us. She then turned and took my hand in hers. "But I'd really like it if you called on me Bob." she said with a smile.
As I walked out of the door I felt a twinge of anger at having been used by both of them that night. Bill used me to help control a bad encounter with Sherri and she used me that night to get her digs in at him. I walked away from that meeting wishing I had let Bill face her alone.
I listened to Bill rant about how she'd been all over me while we were there and how he wished he'd not asked me to come along with him. I didn't say a word. In a sense he got what he had coming to him. And after he dropped me off at my truck I pushed the events of the night out of my mind and gave it as little thought as it deserved afterward.
About two weeks had gone by and I was sitting in the diner where I always had lunch before going to work when I saw her walk through the door. As soon as I recognized her I felt a surge of contempt stir in me as the memories of that night returned. She appeared to be looking for someone and I quickly set my attention to eating my meal before we had the chance to make eye contact.
I was hoping she would find who she was looking for and not come over to my table. After sufficient time had passed and she hadn't come over to my table I finally looked up and found her sitting at the table directly in front of me smiling at me.
As soon as she saw me look up her smile broadened and she waved to me. I reluctantly forced a smile, took another bite of food, then got up and left. I was still hungry, but had no intention of indulging this situation further.
A few days later she turned up again. This time at the pool hall where I enjoyed playing eight ball with a few friends. This time I decided to just ignore her and play my game. She walked over, sat on a stool by the wall, and just stared at me smiling. It was quite disturbing and I finally paid for my game and left.
Over the next few weeks it became obvious she was following me. She began showing up in all the places I liked to hang out. I changed diners and on the second visit found her sitting across the room from me again. I changed my whole routine in effort to avoid her, but to no avail, for every time I looked up there she was.
One night, while waiting in my truck at the Sonic drive-in, I was suddenly aware of someone standing by my door. I knew who it was without having to look, but still I turned my head in her direction just as she tapped on my window.
I rolled the window down without breaking eye contact with her. When she realized I wasn't going to say anything she stated. "I think we need to talk."
"About what?" I asked, trying to use a tone of voice which would make my annoyance with her obvious.
"Well," she said, "I've been wondering why you haven't come to visit me."
"Did you really think I would after that little episode with you and Bill that night?" I asked, watching her eyes carefully.
"Well.... no, I guess I didn't." she replied. "But I hoped you would."
"Excuse me." the waitress said as she stepped up to the car. "Here's your order, sir."
"Thank you." I said, digging for my wallet.
"May I sit with you, in your truck, and talk about it?" She asked while I was fishing some money from my wallet andgave it to the the girl.
I didn't answer at first, but glanced up at her while waiting for my change. As I tucked my change in my pocket I told her to get it.
While I ate she told me stories of how Bill had made several dates with her and then stood her up. She also told of how when he did take her out he was constantly embarrasing her by making such and issue of her size. When she said that I immediately remembered the grimace on her face that night when Bill made his introductions.
After I finished eating and set the window tray on the stand I half expected we would say our goodbyes and she would return to her car. Instead she asked if we could drive around and continue to talk.
We ended up spending most the evening together just talking. I was surprised to discover that she had been married before and recently divorced. She and her husband had lived in Nebraska, which explained why I hadn't seen her around town before.
She told me some stories about her ex-husband, more to explain why they had divorced than anything else. According to her he had taken advantage of her 4' 6" size on many occassions to force her to do things she would rather not describe. Of course my imagination put a lot of things together and I couldn't help but to feel sorry for her.
I finally dropped her back off at her car and went back to the Dee Swift Hotel, an old railroad hotel located just south of the main square in town. That's where I had been living ever since returning to DeQueen Arkansas to get my old job back. I couldn't help feeling troubled about this whole Sherrie issue.
The way she had started stalking me after that first night we met had really annoyed me and yet that evening, her stories, made me feel something for her. I wasn't exactly sure what that was, which is what bothered me the most.
Over the next few weeks I loosened up a bit and when she'd show up at meal times she'd come on over to my table and sit with me. At times she'd show up at the pool hall and play a few games with me and eventually I started accepting invitations to visit her at her home. We did become friends.
"So you want me to go along in hopes that she won't throw a fit in front of a stranger, right?" I had asked him.
He regretfully admitted that was the true reason for asking me to go along. I didn't like the idea of being used like that, but thought it just might prove to be a more interesting evening than the one I had planned, so I agreed to go along.
When we arrived at her home, Bill was about to knock on the door when it swung wide open, revealing an obviously angry young woman. At first glance I thought this must be the little sister because she was only about 4 and a half feet tall. But as the conversation began it didn't take me long to realize she was the girlfriend he'd been afraid to face on his own. I couldn't help but be amused by the idea that a big boy like Bill was afraid to face such a petite woman.
"You have some nerve!" she started then stopped suddenly as Bill sidestepped to reveal me standing behind him. She had a look of understanding on her face as she looked first at me then back at Bill. She looked back at me for a long moment then turned and walked back into the house..."Come on in!" she stated as she vanished behind the door.
As Bill walked through the door he introduced her to me. "Bob, I'd like you to meet Sherri Smith. The sweetest little lady I've ever met." She spun around and glared at him, leaving me to wonder what part of that statement annoyed her to most.
That night wasn't quite the "interesting" night I thought it might turn out to me. A side of Bill emerged during that visit that took me by surprise. He was literally groveling at her feet, making every effort to weasel his way back into her good graces.
She knew exactly what he was doing, and why he'd brought me along. So she spent her time ignoring him by continually trying to engage me in a meaningful conversation. Oddly, I started feeling sympathetic to Bill's cause, and refrained from open conversation with her. I answered a few questions about myself where I didn't have to give up too much information and left plenty of openings for Bill to get a word in as often as she would allow it.
Thankfully, our visit wasn't to last very long. Sherri finally had enough of Bill's interruptions and asked him to leave. "Don't bother calling me any more Bill. I don't want to have anymore to do with you." she told him as she opened the door for us. She then turned and took my hand in hers. "But I'd really like it if you called on me Bob." she said with a smile.
As I walked out of the door I felt a twinge of anger at having been used by both of them that night. Bill used me to help control a bad encounter with Sherri and she used me that night to get her digs in at him. I walked away from that meeting wishing I had let Bill face her alone.
I listened to Bill rant about how she'd been all over me while we were there and how he wished he'd not asked me to come along with him. I didn't say a word. In a sense he got what he had coming to him. And after he dropped me off at my truck I pushed the events of the night out of my mind and gave it as little thought as it deserved afterward.
About two weeks had gone by and I was sitting in the diner where I always had lunch before going to work when I saw her walk through the door. As soon as I recognized her I felt a surge of contempt stir in me as the memories of that night returned. She appeared to be looking for someone and I quickly set my attention to eating my meal before we had the chance to make eye contact.
I was hoping she would find who she was looking for and not come over to my table. After sufficient time had passed and she hadn't come over to my table I finally looked up and found her sitting at the table directly in front of me smiling at me.
As soon as she saw me look up her smile broadened and she waved to me. I reluctantly forced a smile, took another bite of food, then got up and left. I was still hungry, but had no intention of indulging this situation further.
A few days later she turned up again. This time at the pool hall where I enjoyed playing eight ball with a few friends. This time I decided to just ignore her and play my game. She walked over, sat on a stool by the wall, and just stared at me smiling. It was quite disturbing and I finally paid for my game and left.
Over the next few weeks it became obvious she was following me. She began showing up in all the places I liked to hang out. I changed diners and on the second visit found her sitting across the room from me again. I changed my whole routine in effort to avoid her, but to no avail, for every time I looked up there she was.
One night, while waiting in my truck at the Sonic drive-in, I was suddenly aware of someone standing by my door. I knew who it was without having to look, but still I turned my head in her direction just as she tapped on my window.
I rolled the window down without breaking eye contact with her. When she realized I wasn't going to say anything she stated. "I think we need to talk."
"About what?" I asked, trying to use a tone of voice which would make my annoyance with her obvious.
"Well," she said, "I've been wondering why you haven't come to visit me."
"Did you really think I would after that little episode with you and Bill that night?" I asked, watching her eyes carefully.
"Well.... no, I guess I didn't." she replied. "But I hoped you would."
"Excuse me." the waitress said as she stepped up to the car. "Here's your order, sir."
"Thank you." I said, digging for my wallet.
"May I sit with you, in your truck, and talk about it?" She asked while I was fishing some money from my wallet andgave it to the the girl.
I didn't answer at first, but glanced up at her while waiting for my change. As I tucked my change in my pocket I told her to get it.
While I ate she told me stories of how Bill had made several dates with her and then stood her up. She also told of how when he did take her out he was constantly embarrasing her by making such and issue of her size. When she said that I immediately remembered the grimace on her face that night when Bill made his introductions.
After I finished eating and set the window tray on the stand I half expected we would say our goodbyes and she would return to her car. Instead she asked if we could drive around and continue to talk.
We ended up spending most the evening together just talking. I was surprised to discover that she had been married before and recently divorced. She and her husband had lived in Nebraska, which explained why I hadn't seen her around town before.
She told me some stories about her ex-husband, more to explain why they had divorced than anything else. According to her he had taken advantage of her 4' 6" size on many occassions to force her to do things she would rather not describe. Of course my imagination put a lot of things together and I couldn't help but to feel sorry for her.
I finally dropped her back off at her car and went back to the Dee Swift Hotel, an old railroad hotel located just south of the main square in town. That's where I had been living ever since returning to DeQueen Arkansas to get my old job back. I couldn't help feeling troubled about this whole Sherrie issue.
The way she had started stalking me after that first night we met had really annoyed me and yet that evening, her stories, made me feel something for her. I wasn't exactly sure what that was, which is what bothered me the most.
Over the next few weeks I loosened up a bit and when she'd show up at meal times she'd come on over to my table and sit with me. At times she'd show up at the pool hall and play a few games with me and eventually I started accepting invitations to visit her at her home. We did become friends.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Shattered Dreams and Newfound Hopes
It was February, 1977 and I had just been released from the hospital where they had removed a calcium deposit on my left knee. Upon returning to the base at Little Creek Va I was called into the operation officer's office and informed that my endeavor to be taken off the deployment which was about to leave would not hold up. Crutches or not I was still on the list to depart with the rest of my team.
Needless to say I was a bit disturbed by that comment. I had no idea that calcium deposit was on my knee and neither had I planned to have some joker hit it with a hard hat. All I knew was I couldn't walk after that because of the damage done to the muscles of my knee. And, not to mention, I was truly looking forward to going on my first deployment.
During the few days that remained prior to departing on our trip to the Virgin Islands and ultimately a small island off Puerto Rico I was approached by a guy several times warning me of impending doom. He told me that he'd been having a repeat dream that someone was going to die on this trip... even explained to me how it was going to happen. Of course I'd never encountered a true clairvoyant up to that point in my life, so I didn't pay much attention to his rantings. Though I did try to comfort him by telling him that perhaps his dreams were merely a warning that we should all be more alert on this deployment so we could prevent such things from happening. It didn't seem to quell his fears.
The day came and I limped aboard the LST that would be carrying us down to the warm waters of our destination. Of course I was instructed to check in with the Corpsman as soon as I got on board the ship who immediately asked why I was even allowed to go on this trip. "A ship is no place for a gimp leg!" he boldly stated as he plucked a hard hat from under a cabinet and handed it to me. "You're not going to be able to bend down enough get through the hatches without bumping your head, so wear this whenever you're out of your bunk." he told me. Now I'm six foot four inches tall... that's all I needed to do was add another two inches to make me have to duck down more going through those hatches. In the end, though, I did start wearing it. It was better to have a stiff neck than a constant bleeding sore on the top of my head.
The trip down, through the Bermuda Triangle, was quite the experience. Oh, nothing extraordinary happened. It was just the rough waters of that part of the ocean that very nearly beat the crap out of that modified flat bottom ship. They actually bent the shaft on that cruise as a result of pile driving through 20 foot waves for hours on end.
The most enjoyable part of that trip took place when we were allowed to take shore leave on the island of St Croix. Being from the country, seeing the shore line of our own coastal area was quite impressive, but this tropical paradise was like stepping out of reality into an imaginary setting. The giant palm trees and colorful exotic birds were everywhere. And the inhabitants of the island were obviously from all around the world.
Upon leaving there the ship took up the heading for our intended playground, a small island off the main island of Puerto Rico. There we were to take part in a week long simulated beach assault exercise. Being a part of the Amphibious Assault Battalion, we were responsible for establishing a floating peer on a beach that would pose as a debarkation point for all the marines on the LSTs. With their modified flat bottom they were able to maneuver in as little as 12 feet of water under their bow. And to make it work they carried 4 sections of floating peer with them on these exercises. The sections were approximately 30 feet wide by 70 feet long.. (I may be off on those measurements... it's been a long time...LOL)
The sections locked together on the ends by means of T-headed "Dog ears". The day we set them in the water the weather wasn't very abiding... As we worked to marry them together those dog ears started popping off like they were made of plastic. But, trust me, when a two inch thick piece of round metal pops off and zings by your head you learn to duck fast.
We finally got everything under control, but had to string a cable around the perimeter of the combined 4 section peer to assist the remaining dog ears holding it together. Then we beached our peer and anchored in for the offload.
The LSTs had to dock the bow of the boat to the end of the peer then drop the bow ramp so the marines could drive their jeeps, trucks, and tanks off the ship. It was a tricky business. The ships had to drop their stern anchors before docking with the peer so once they were securely tied up they could winch a strain on the anchors to hold the ship still while they were offloading.
Three ships had come and gone without a hitch and the last was on it's way in. As it drew nearer to the peer we all noticed that it was moving a lot faster than any of the others. When it hit the end of the peer it was moving so fast it rode up on top of the first section. But the water was shallow enough that it pinched against the bottom and started driving the rest of the peer up onto the beach. By the time it stopped moving an entire section was laying up on the beach.
We had to call back one of the bulldozers that had offloaded from a previous ship to pile sand up against that end so the ship could offload all it's vehicles. After the offload was complete we worked well into the night trying to get that section back into the water. It took 4 mike boats and 2 bulldozers to finally get it done. Then the bulldozers where ordered to bury the end on the beach to ensure that didn't happen again.
For the next 10 days we did little more than stand our watches and snorkel. My knee hadn't quite healed but the exercise I was getting swimming in the crystal clear water was doing wonders for it. I had never swam in water so clear. It was wonderful. The only thing we really had to watch out for were the sea urchins.
The last day of the exercise came and as we were about to head out on the peer the fella that had been warning me before tried to stop me. "It'll be okay." I told him, "Just keep your eyes peeled and if we all do what we're supposed to be doing no one should get hurt."
With that I stepped onto the peer and kept going. When I looked back I realized he'd turned back. I paused for a moment to watch him as he walked back to the campsite and it appeared he was wiping tears from his eyes. I just couldn't understand why anyone would get so upset over a dream.
The first two ships came and went without a problem. Then came that same ship that had drove the peer up on the beach. Before I knew it the Officer in Charge, which was a Chief Warrant Officer, started yelling into his radio "Slow that damned thing down.... you're coming in too fast again!" But his words went unheeded and the ship was headed for a repeat session. The only problem was.... the other end of the peer was buried under several tons of sand.
This time when the ship hit the peer, after it rode up onto the end section it listed to starboard and the remaining dog ears started popping like the buttons on an old shirt. The peer broke in half and because of the cable started hinging to the ship's port side. I have to give that old Warrant Officer Credit. He didn't panic. In an instant he was barking orders telling people where to move to in order to avoid injury and the mike boats out of harm's way.
At one point he had us all huddled around him, which seemed at the moment the safest place to be until he noticed the straining cable creeping across the deck of the peer toward us. "When I give the word..." he bellowed over the noise "I want everyone to get on the other side of that cable as quickly as possible." He knew it could break in an instant and if we all just stood there too long it could literally take us all out in one fell swoop.
We all watched and waited, it seemed like forever before he finally ordered us to move. Then, being as I was one of the few standing on the outside edge of the crowd I made my move as soon as he barked the order. With one hard step I jumped to clear the cable ......... I didn't feel a thing until the corpsmen started pulling my steel toed boot off my left foot. The pain at that point was unlike anything I'd ever felt in my life. I stayed awake long enough for another corpsman to notice and tell me not to try to open my left eye. "You've lost that one I think." was the last thing I heard him say before I blacked out again.
The next time I came too I was in a hospital bed and there was a naval officer standing over me. He introduced himself as one of the seal team that had been present at the time of the accident and asked if there was anything I wanted or needed. "How many others were hurt?" was the only thing that came to mind.
"You were the only one, son." he told me, and with that I faded back into the darkness.
I was told it was two days later when I awoke again, this time to find my Warrant Officer and Chief Harris standing beside my bed. I managed to stay awake long enough to have a little bit of conversation with the two of them. At that point I really wasn't sure that the first visit from the seal wasn't merely a dream. So I asked again if anyone else was injured when that cable broke.
The Warrant Officer confirmed that I was the only one and I told them I was glad that no one else had to experience the pain I did. Chief Harris clenched his teeth and I thought for a moment there he was going to say something, but he didn't... at least not before I blacked out again.
The next time I woke up I saw my seabag laying on the floor across the room and I suddenly realized I had been left behind.... alone in this hospital.. where ever it was. It made me sick to my stomach and I wanted to cry... and I probably would have if I hadn't faded again.
I'm not sure how many days passed before I finally woke up alert enough to stop a nurse and ask questions. I was told I'd been in a coma for over a week and they had been afraid to move me because of my injuries. The cast on my left leg was the size of a medicine ball bellow the knee. and my right knee was swollen almost twice it's normal size. So when the nurse told me the swelling had gone down a lot I found it almost impossible to believe.
For the next couple of weeks, every time they tried to sit me up or move me I'd black out again. They thought maybe it was a result of the immense swelling in my left leg that allowed too much blood to be drained away from my head... It wasn't until many years later after undergoing an MRI that it was discovered that my neck had been broken in that accident. No wonder I blacked out every time they lifted my head off the pillow.
When the day came that they could actually get me out of bed four corpsmen came to my room with a wheel chair and took me to the doctor's office. I can't remember his name, only that he wasn't very old. But I remember looking dead into his dark brown eyes when he informed me that the panel of orthopedic doctors had concluded that I'd never get out of a wheelchair.
As he slid the medical discharge papers across the top of his desk all I could think about was how I'd almost died twice as a kid and gone through years of being anemic when I was growing up in Texas... but the worst memory was how my father used to look at me... as if I was a worthless piece of equipment that should have been traded or just discarded along the way. He used to tell me that I'd never amount to a hill of beans.... and I suddenly realized I could not go back there.
"Now let me get this straight...." I said, putting my hand on top of the pile of paperwork he wanted me to sign. "If I refuse to sign this... you can't force me to take this discharge can you?"
"Well... no" he replied, and before he had a chance to say anything more I pushed the pile back to him and told those corpsmen to get me to hell out of there.
Of course he stopped them before they could react and asked "Just what do you think you can do in the navy from a wheel chair?"
"I can do anything I set my mind too..." I let him know matter of factly... "And you can find a desk that this wheelchair will fit under and teach me a trade I can make a living with." And again I told those guys to get me out of there. I didn't care to sit and discuss it any further.
As they rolled me out of the room the doc stated that those "desk" jobs were reserved for men coming back off sea duty.... to which I replied... "Well, sir, I've only got 3 years left to serve in this man's navy.. I suggest you figure something out!"
Once I was back in my room I requested a phone to be brought in so I could make a call. The only person I cared to talk to at that moment was of course my mother. I surprised myself at how well I held myself together during our conversation... it must have been the anger I was still feeling that helped.
I told her what the doctor had said and got even more angry when I heard her break down and cry on the other end of the phone. Not angry with her... but more at my life... I had been the cause for so much worry and concern for this poor woman and here I was doing it again.
"Mom... "
"Yes son." her voice a mere whisper
"You still believe in prayer and miracles don't you?" I asked.
"Yes son I do." she replied.
"Then offer up your best one." I told her.. then added, "Cause I'm not about to give into this claim."
She promised she would and we talked for a little longer before she had to get off the phone. These collect calls from Puerto Rico were costing her a lot... and if Dad ever found out she was accepting them from me he'd hit the roof.
As I placed the handset back in it's cradle I couldn't hold it any longer. The tears flowed. The two other guys that shared that room with me said nothing.. not even to each other as I laid there and sobbed. I ran out of tears at some point in the middle of the night but still couldn't sleep. All my hopes and dreams of someday proving to my father that I wasn't worthless had just been dashed against the rocks. 'He was right and didn't even know it!" I thought to myself... just before I finally dozed off to sleep in the early hours of the morning.
Around 0800 I was awakened by the same four corpsmen that had fetched me the day before. Once again they placed me in a wheelchair and carted me off to the doctor's office. As they rolled me through his office door I announce that nothing had changed and I still wasn't signing any discharge papers.
The doc looked ragged... and when he informed me that he hadn't slept since our encounter the previous day I told him "Good! But I bet you didn't spend all night crying your eyes out in front of fellow shipmates did ya?" It bothered me that I couldn't hold it in the night before.
The discussion quickly turned to experimental castings.. and possibly re breaking my leg in order to try to make it heal well enough so I could possibly walk again. Naturally I refused to let him break my leg again.. and we started discussing alternative experimental treatments that might work for me.
For nine months I was in those casts. The muscles of my left leg had dwindled to little more than the size of my forearm by the time they finally came off. But my back was strong. I'd been rowing a sixteen foot row boat 5 miles a day for the last 4 months. And my determination was even stronger. The doctor's prognosis went from never out of a wheelchair to never off crutches... then it was I'd always have to use a cane...
I would have liked to seen the looks on their faces when I passed the physical and signed the papers to stay in for another hitch. There's not a day since that I haven't dealt with some degree of pain... I refuse to submit myself to the lure of pain pills... I've met too many people who've become hooked on them and many have destroyed what lives they did have as a result of it.
I haven't become a millionaire... nor do I have a prestigious job with a grand title... But you know what Dad... I'm proud of who I am and that I'm still here and able to put two good feet on the floor every morning when I wake. He'll never read this... we haven't talked in over 10 years, and we probably never will again.
Needless to say I was a bit disturbed by that comment. I had no idea that calcium deposit was on my knee and neither had I planned to have some joker hit it with a hard hat. All I knew was I couldn't walk after that because of the damage done to the muscles of my knee. And, not to mention, I was truly looking forward to going on my first deployment.
During the few days that remained prior to departing on our trip to the Virgin Islands and ultimately a small island off Puerto Rico I was approached by a guy several times warning me of impending doom. He told me that he'd been having a repeat dream that someone was going to die on this trip... even explained to me how it was going to happen. Of course I'd never encountered a true clairvoyant up to that point in my life, so I didn't pay much attention to his rantings. Though I did try to comfort him by telling him that perhaps his dreams were merely a warning that we should all be more alert on this deployment so we could prevent such things from happening. It didn't seem to quell his fears.
The day came and I limped aboard the LST that would be carrying us down to the warm waters of our destination. Of course I was instructed to check in with the Corpsman as soon as I got on board the ship who immediately asked why I was even allowed to go on this trip. "A ship is no place for a gimp leg!" he boldly stated as he plucked a hard hat from under a cabinet and handed it to me. "You're not going to be able to bend down enough get through the hatches without bumping your head, so wear this whenever you're out of your bunk." he told me. Now I'm six foot four inches tall... that's all I needed to do was add another two inches to make me have to duck down more going through those hatches. In the end, though, I did start wearing it. It was better to have a stiff neck than a constant bleeding sore on the top of my head.
The trip down, through the Bermuda Triangle, was quite the experience. Oh, nothing extraordinary happened. It was just the rough waters of that part of the ocean that very nearly beat the crap out of that modified flat bottom ship. They actually bent the shaft on that cruise as a result of pile driving through 20 foot waves for hours on end.
The most enjoyable part of that trip took place when we were allowed to take shore leave on the island of St Croix. Being from the country, seeing the shore line of our own coastal area was quite impressive, but this tropical paradise was like stepping out of reality into an imaginary setting. The giant palm trees and colorful exotic birds were everywhere. And the inhabitants of the island were obviously from all around the world.
Upon leaving there the ship took up the heading for our intended playground, a small island off the main island of Puerto Rico. There we were to take part in a week long simulated beach assault exercise. Being a part of the Amphibious Assault Battalion, we were responsible for establishing a floating peer on a beach that would pose as a debarkation point for all the marines on the LSTs. With their modified flat bottom they were able to maneuver in as little as 12 feet of water under their bow. And to make it work they carried 4 sections of floating peer with them on these exercises. The sections were approximately 30 feet wide by 70 feet long.. (I may be off on those measurements... it's been a long time...LOL)
The sections locked together on the ends by means of T-headed "Dog ears". The day we set them in the water the weather wasn't very abiding... As we worked to marry them together those dog ears started popping off like they were made of plastic. But, trust me, when a two inch thick piece of round metal pops off and zings by your head you learn to duck fast.
We finally got everything under control, but had to string a cable around the perimeter of the combined 4 section peer to assist the remaining dog ears holding it together. Then we beached our peer and anchored in for the offload.
The LSTs had to dock the bow of the boat to the end of the peer then drop the bow ramp so the marines could drive their jeeps, trucks, and tanks off the ship. It was a tricky business. The ships had to drop their stern anchors before docking with the peer so once they were securely tied up they could winch a strain on the anchors to hold the ship still while they were offloading.
Three ships had come and gone without a hitch and the last was on it's way in. As it drew nearer to the peer we all noticed that it was moving a lot faster than any of the others. When it hit the end of the peer it was moving so fast it rode up on top of the first section. But the water was shallow enough that it pinched against the bottom and started driving the rest of the peer up onto the beach. By the time it stopped moving an entire section was laying up on the beach.
We had to call back one of the bulldozers that had offloaded from a previous ship to pile sand up against that end so the ship could offload all it's vehicles. After the offload was complete we worked well into the night trying to get that section back into the water. It took 4 mike boats and 2 bulldozers to finally get it done. Then the bulldozers where ordered to bury the end on the beach to ensure that didn't happen again.
For the next 10 days we did little more than stand our watches and snorkel. My knee hadn't quite healed but the exercise I was getting swimming in the crystal clear water was doing wonders for it. I had never swam in water so clear. It was wonderful. The only thing we really had to watch out for were the sea urchins.
The last day of the exercise came and as we were about to head out on the peer the fella that had been warning me before tried to stop me. "It'll be okay." I told him, "Just keep your eyes peeled and if we all do what we're supposed to be doing no one should get hurt."
With that I stepped onto the peer and kept going. When I looked back I realized he'd turned back. I paused for a moment to watch him as he walked back to the campsite and it appeared he was wiping tears from his eyes. I just couldn't understand why anyone would get so upset over a dream.
The first two ships came and went without a problem. Then came that same ship that had drove the peer up on the beach. Before I knew it the Officer in Charge, which was a Chief Warrant Officer, started yelling into his radio "Slow that damned thing down.... you're coming in too fast again!" But his words went unheeded and the ship was headed for a repeat session. The only problem was.... the other end of the peer was buried under several tons of sand.
This time when the ship hit the peer, after it rode up onto the end section it listed to starboard and the remaining dog ears started popping like the buttons on an old shirt. The peer broke in half and because of the cable started hinging to the ship's port side. I have to give that old Warrant Officer Credit. He didn't panic. In an instant he was barking orders telling people where to move to in order to avoid injury and the mike boats out of harm's way.
At one point he had us all huddled around him, which seemed at the moment the safest place to be until he noticed the straining cable creeping across the deck of the peer toward us. "When I give the word..." he bellowed over the noise "I want everyone to get on the other side of that cable as quickly as possible." He knew it could break in an instant and if we all just stood there too long it could literally take us all out in one fell swoop.
We all watched and waited, it seemed like forever before he finally ordered us to move. Then, being as I was one of the few standing on the outside edge of the crowd I made my move as soon as he barked the order. With one hard step I jumped to clear the cable ......... I didn't feel a thing until the corpsmen started pulling my steel toed boot off my left foot. The pain at that point was unlike anything I'd ever felt in my life. I stayed awake long enough for another corpsman to notice and tell me not to try to open my left eye. "You've lost that one I think." was the last thing I heard him say before I blacked out again.
The next time I came too I was in a hospital bed and there was a naval officer standing over me. He introduced himself as one of the seal team that had been present at the time of the accident and asked if there was anything I wanted or needed. "How many others were hurt?" was the only thing that came to mind.
"You were the only one, son." he told me, and with that I faded back into the darkness.
I was told it was two days later when I awoke again, this time to find my Warrant Officer and Chief Harris standing beside my bed. I managed to stay awake long enough to have a little bit of conversation with the two of them. At that point I really wasn't sure that the first visit from the seal wasn't merely a dream. So I asked again if anyone else was injured when that cable broke.
The Warrant Officer confirmed that I was the only one and I told them I was glad that no one else had to experience the pain I did. Chief Harris clenched his teeth and I thought for a moment there he was going to say something, but he didn't... at least not before I blacked out again.
The next time I woke up I saw my seabag laying on the floor across the room and I suddenly realized I had been left behind.... alone in this hospital.. where ever it was. It made me sick to my stomach and I wanted to cry... and I probably would have if I hadn't faded again.
I'm not sure how many days passed before I finally woke up alert enough to stop a nurse and ask questions. I was told I'd been in a coma for over a week and they had been afraid to move me because of my injuries. The cast on my left leg was the size of a medicine ball bellow the knee. and my right knee was swollen almost twice it's normal size. So when the nurse told me the swelling had gone down a lot I found it almost impossible to believe.
For the next couple of weeks, every time they tried to sit me up or move me I'd black out again. They thought maybe it was a result of the immense swelling in my left leg that allowed too much blood to be drained away from my head... It wasn't until many years later after undergoing an MRI that it was discovered that my neck had been broken in that accident. No wonder I blacked out every time they lifted my head off the pillow.
When the day came that they could actually get me out of bed four corpsmen came to my room with a wheel chair and took me to the doctor's office. I can't remember his name, only that he wasn't very old. But I remember looking dead into his dark brown eyes when he informed me that the panel of orthopedic doctors had concluded that I'd never get out of a wheelchair.
As he slid the medical discharge papers across the top of his desk all I could think about was how I'd almost died twice as a kid and gone through years of being anemic when I was growing up in Texas... but the worst memory was how my father used to look at me... as if I was a worthless piece of equipment that should have been traded or just discarded along the way. He used to tell me that I'd never amount to a hill of beans.... and I suddenly realized I could not go back there.
"Now let me get this straight...." I said, putting my hand on top of the pile of paperwork he wanted me to sign. "If I refuse to sign this... you can't force me to take this discharge can you?"
"Well... no" he replied, and before he had a chance to say anything more I pushed the pile back to him and told those corpsmen to get me to hell out of there.
Of course he stopped them before they could react and asked "Just what do you think you can do in the navy from a wheel chair?"
"I can do anything I set my mind too..." I let him know matter of factly... "And you can find a desk that this wheelchair will fit under and teach me a trade I can make a living with." And again I told those guys to get me out of there. I didn't care to sit and discuss it any further.
As they rolled me out of the room the doc stated that those "desk" jobs were reserved for men coming back off sea duty.... to which I replied... "Well, sir, I've only got 3 years left to serve in this man's navy.. I suggest you figure something out!"
Once I was back in my room I requested a phone to be brought in so I could make a call. The only person I cared to talk to at that moment was of course my mother. I surprised myself at how well I held myself together during our conversation... it must have been the anger I was still feeling that helped.
I told her what the doctor had said and got even more angry when I heard her break down and cry on the other end of the phone. Not angry with her... but more at my life... I had been the cause for so much worry and concern for this poor woman and here I was doing it again.
"Mom... "
"Yes son." her voice a mere whisper
"You still believe in prayer and miracles don't you?" I asked.
"Yes son I do." she replied.
"Then offer up your best one." I told her.. then added, "Cause I'm not about to give into this claim."
She promised she would and we talked for a little longer before she had to get off the phone. These collect calls from Puerto Rico were costing her a lot... and if Dad ever found out she was accepting them from me he'd hit the roof.
As I placed the handset back in it's cradle I couldn't hold it any longer. The tears flowed. The two other guys that shared that room with me said nothing.. not even to each other as I laid there and sobbed. I ran out of tears at some point in the middle of the night but still couldn't sleep. All my hopes and dreams of someday proving to my father that I wasn't worthless had just been dashed against the rocks. 'He was right and didn't even know it!" I thought to myself... just before I finally dozed off to sleep in the early hours of the morning.
Around 0800 I was awakened by the same four corpsmen that had fetched me the day before. Once again they placed me in a wheelchair and carted me off to the doctor's office. As they rolled me through his office door I announce that nothing had changed and I still wasn't signing any discharge papers.
The doc looked ragged... and when he informed me that he hadn't slept since our encounter the previous day I told him "Good! But I bet you didn't spend all night crying your eyes out in front of fellow shipmates did ya?" It bothered me that I couldn't hold it in the night before.
The discussion quickly turned to experimental castings.. and possibly re breaking my leg in order to try to make it heal well enough so I could possibly walk again. Naturally I refused to let him break my leg again.. and we started discussing alternative experimental treatments that might work for me.
For nine months I was in those casts. The muscles of my left leg had dwindled to little more than the size of my forearm by the time they finally came off. But my back was strong. I'd been rowing a sixteen foot row boat 5 miles a day for the last 4 months. And my determination was even stronger. The doctor's prognosis went from never out of a wheelchair to never off crutches... then it was I'd always have to use a cane...
I would have liked to seen the looks on their faces when I passed the physical and signed the papers to stay in for another hitch. There's not a day since that I haven't dealt with some degree of pain... I refuse to submit myself to the lure of pain pills... I've met too many people who've become hooked on them and many have destroyed what lives they did have as a result of it.
I haven't become a millionaire... nor do I have a prestigious job with a grand title... But you know what Dad... I'm proud of who I am and that I'm still here and able to put two good feet on the floor every morning when I wake. He'll never read this... we haven't talked in over 10 years, and we probably never will again.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The rock face extends high above the tops of the trees that stand at it's base. Dave and I used to go up to McKinley Rock and just sit on top looking out over the surrounding mountain tops. It truly was a peaceful place to sit and ponder.I returned to McKinley Rock once after Dave and I finally went our separate ways. He always hated the thought of growing up. To him it meant taking on responsibilities and having to deal with daily obligations which keep one from the simple pleasures in life.
The wind was blowing so hard that day I'd decided several times to turn around and head for home. A couple of those times I actually stopped, turned, and stared back down the trail before turning back to continue on. I knew I probably wouldn't be able to go up to our favorite sitting place on top of the rocks without being blown off.
Upon reaching McKinley Rock I walked around the base of the massive outcropping. The picture at the top of the page is just one of many that could be taken without overlapping shots. It was taken by an old school mate of mine not very long ago. When I saw the pictures on his homepage it made me think of that day.
The southeastern side of the rock actually emerges from the mountain top at about a 45 degree slant. (maybe a little less) But it's normally easy to scale that side up to the top. I finally made my way around and stood there daring myself to go up. I guess what finally made the decision for me was when I thought of Dave and how he'd likely just bolt on up the side, and the fact that he wasn't there because he'd taken on those responsibilities and obligations of life. It was then that I knew if I didn't go up there I may never get another chance... because my own life was knocking at my door.
The wind was stronger than I'd ever experienced it at the Rock... It wasn't a gusting wind, which was probably a very good thing. As it was I was having to stand leaning so heavily into it, to keep it from blowing me backward, I didn't even have to extend my arms out fully to lay my hand flat on it's surface. It was almost like climbing up the face of a cliff. Each new step had to find a purchase to catch the toe of my shoe in.
I made it all the way up to our sitting spot on the northwesterly edge and literally poked my head out over the edge while my feet were still almost a full body length away from it. I stood there for a while, with a hand on the rock surface bracing me, feeling the full force of the wind almost holding me in place.
I noticed the shadow of a large bird slowly moving across the tops of the trees down below and when I raised my head to look up the wind caught me and blew me backwards several yards. It scared the crap out of me, but as I started moving back to where I was originally standing I started playing with that wind. It was so steady I found if I let my arms drop back along my sides and cupped my hands against the force of the wind I could actually maintain my stance without much fear of falling flat on my face.
With this new found skill I slowly moved up to the edge again. Only this time I eased out farther than before. It was scary at first, but I made sure I had enough of the surface still under me that I could catch myself should the wind let up enough to let me fall forward. As long as I kept my head into the wind and didn't try to look up I was able to control myself with ease.
Little by little I began to inch my feet closer to the edge... and my body farther out over the tree tops below. My confidence was building with each new step I took closer. I had to adjust the position of my hands a couple of times as more of my body extended out over the edge of the cliff and catching more of the wind deflecting off the rocky face.
Finally, with little more than my feet and ankles still on top of the rock I decided I could control myself enough to step out over the edge and stand on the face of the cliff wall. Thinking back, I have to say it was a truly stupid thing to do, but at least I'm still here to think back on that day.
With one foot placed over the edge I paused for a moment. "You could die here." I told myself. "It's a long way down." Then, with the sudden realization that, while I stood there with one foot over the edge and the other still wedged against a small raised edge on the top, I could already have made my last mistake. What difference would it make if I took that last step?
I eased my right foot out and found placement for it where I felt securely balanced. The mere idea that I was where I was filled me with a sense of awe and anxiety. If the wind let up even the slightest I would plunge down through the tops of those trees below and possibly die before I even hit the ground.
Instead of fearful thoughts running through my mind, I found myself ponder such things as... Is this what it feels like to sky dive? and... This is probably as close to experiencing the feeling of personal flight as I'll ever get aside from the cliff diving experience I'd had. And while I was relishing that thought I saw the shadow of that massive bird again.
My first impulse was to look up to find him but I remembered the first time I'd done that. I had to accept the fact that I could only watch the shadow move along the tops of the trees. "Is this what it feels like to fly?" I even asked aloud.
Almost instantly, as if in answer to my question, the wind faltered. I felt my weight begin to fall through the wind. "Oh God!" I yelled, realizing what was happening, and adjust my arms and hands in effort to catch more of the wind that remained. As I threw my head back, I saw the eagle still hovering on the wind above me. Suddenly the wind gusted even harder than it had blown before. I don't know if it was because of the position of my head, which had caused me to be thrown back before, or simply the hand of God... but as my feet left the face of that cliff I was hurled backwards with such force that I landed approximately 25 feet from the edge.
I hit so hard it took my breath away and with such momentum I rolled nearly half way down that slanted side before I was able to stop myself.
I laid there for a long time while catching my breath and feeling for the bruises I knew I'd sport for days as a reminder of my arrogance. But there was a new sense of assurance to my life. A memory of an event that no one would likely believe really took place, because.... why would anyone in their right mind step over the edge like that?
I did... and if I could write with words that could make your heart race and your emotions flare as mine did that day perhaps you'd truly believe me... but for today I'll have to accept that perchance you at least enjoyed the reading.
Benwar
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I don't wanna let "The Storyteller" take all my time
"The Storyteller" is half truth and half fiction in that the dream really happened... just old Ben and Allen's Pub is totally fiction. I wanted to be able to deliver the story in such a way as to enable me to privilege of indulging in an underlying theme.
But that is just one story I want to tell... there are many personal experiences I wish to convey that are more "everyday life" stories. At least they were to me. Like the time when I stepped over the edge of the cliff and was held in place by the strength of the wind, or some of my navy experiences. There are stories from my youth that don't seem so confusing anymore.... tho I wonder if you won't find them to be so.
That's what this blog is all about... telling my story... whether you wish to believe it or not. It all happened.
But that is just one story I want to tell... there are many personal experiences I wish to convey that are more "everyday life" stories. At least they were to me. Like the time when I stepped over the edge of the cliff and was held in place by the strength of the wind, or some of my navy experiences. There are stories from my youth that don't seem so confusing anymore.... tho I wonder if you won't find them to be so.
That's what this blog is all about... telling my story... whether you wish to believe it or not. It all happened.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Storyteller (Part four)
He took another long drink and remained silent for a moment while staring into his glass. "This is where it really starts getting weird." he finally said with a chuckle. "When I came too..." he flashed a silly grin at me, "I found myself laying under what I thought was a pile of blankets."
"I started trying to crawl out when I realized I was completely naked under there." he continued. "I was still disoriented and couldn't understand why I would be laying naked under such a huge pile of blankets."
"I began to panic when I realized I couldn't just poke my head out from under the covers." he said. "Finally I gave in to the increasingly urgent need to escape and rolled over and started crawling on my hands and knees."
"When my head did pop out into the open air I slowly got to me feet." he paused and lifted his almost empty glass.
After a moment he sat his glass back on the table and turned turned in his chair to look at me. "I was still there." he said, "Standing in the collar of my shirt and coat."
"Standing where?" I asked, trying to visualize what he was telling me.
"I had somehow shrunk to only a few inches tall." he said wide eyed. "And I was standing in the collar of my shirt staring down the length of my cloths. It was like looking across a football field at a huge pair of boots laying on the ground."
I laughed at the visual he produced in my mind's eye. Only it was me standing there buck naked looking across a pile of giant cloths at a huge pair of boots.
"It really wasn't funny." Ben raised his voice a little, bringing me back to the moment.
"Sorry." I said, "I was just trying to visualize you standing there naked in the collar of your shirt."
He took a small sip of his drink and glanced at me from the corner of his eye.
"So what did you do then?" I asked."Weren't you cold?"
"I really hadn't noticed being cold yet." he replied. "I was just so mesmerized by it all."
"I turned to find my ball cap laying upside down. It was so large I could have used it as a tent if it had landed right side up." he laughed. "And that berry bush... it was larger than the largest oak I've seen."
I could just imagine how large that bush seemed... and the trees that stood around it must have been gigantic. I've never seen the giant redwoods but I can imagine the trees, from his perspective, had to appear to be much larger.
"I started trying to crawl out when I realized I was completely naked under there." he continued. "I was still disoriented and couldn't understand why I would be laying naked under such a huge pile of blankets."
"I began to panic when I realized I couldn't just poke my head out from under the covers." he said. "Finally I gave in to the increasingly urgent need to escape and rolled over and started crawling on my hands and knees."
"When my head did pop out into the open air I slowly got to me feet." he paused and lifted his almost empty glass.
After a moment he sat his glass back on the table and turned turned in his chair to look at me. "I was still there." he said, "Standing in the collar of my shirt and coat."
"Standing where?" I asked, trying to visualize what he was telling me.
"I had somehow shrunk to only a few inches tall." he said wide eyed. "And I was standing in the collar of my shirt staring down the length of my cloths. It was like looking across a football field at a huge pair of boots laying on the ground."
I laughed at the visual he produced in my mind's eye. Only it was me standing there buck naked looking across a pile of giant cloths at a huge pair of boots.
"It really wasn't funny." Ben raised his voice a little, bringing me back to the moment.
"Sorry." I said, "I was just trying to visualize you standing there naked in the collar of your shirt."
He took a small sip of his drink and glanced at me from the corner of his eye.
"So what did you do then?" I asked."Weren't you cold?"
"I really hadn't noticed being cold yet." he replied. "I was just so mesmerized by it all."
"I turned to find my ball cap laying upside down. It was so large I could have used it as a tent if it had landed right side up." he laughed. "And that berry bush... it was larger than the largest oak I've seen."
I could just imagine how large that bush seemed... and the trees that stood around it must have been gigantic. I've never seen the giant redwoods but I can imagine the trees, from his perspective, had to appear to be much larger.
Friday, October 30, 2009
The Storyteller (Part Three)
"There was no trace of bitterness in the flavor." he stated. "Nor did I experience any kind of tingling sensation in my tongue or lips. And I waited a reasonable time before I took that first bite." he closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side, a look of sheer bliss on his face. "I almost wilted from the pleasure of tasting it fully." he whispered.
"I quickly pried the pit out of the second half and devoured it as well." he said, eyes still closed. "Then I propped my gun against the trunk of a hickory tree and started feasting on those wonderful berries."
"I don't know how long I stood there gorging myself on them, but before I could leave I had to make sure I was taking as many as I could possibly carry." He opened his eyes and leaned back.
"I filled both coat pockets, then picked as many as I could carry in my left hand cradled against the front of my coat." he said, holding his left hand cupped against the front of his shirt to demonstrate. "Oh and I was still devouring every third or fourth one, spitting the pits on the ground."
"Finally satisfied that I could carry no more I picked my gun up and cradled it in the bend of my arm." he paused to take a big swig of his drink. "I was reluctant to turn and walk away." he added with a troubled look, then his eyes widened as he spoke to the open air of the room. "Then the damnedest thing happened."
"I hadn't taken more than three or four steps when I heard a crackling sound behind me." he paused again to take another long drink from his glass. "When I turned around I was shocked to find that all the leaves had turned dark brown and were falling to the ground. The berries were shriveling up before my very eyes, turning hard and black before dropping off."
"Some of the berries actually split open and the pits popped out. They sounded like stones falling on the ground. I watched as one hit a rock and split open."
"It felt like something was crawling around in my hand and I looked down to find the berries I had picked were also shriveling up. I dropped them, watching as they scattered on the ground at my feet, the only thought going through my mind was 'You're going to die, Ben!'"
"Dropping my gun to the ground I shoved both hands into my coat pockets and pulled out a double fist full of dried berries. As I stood there in total shock watching them spill through my fingers I realized everything was beginning to tilt. I was falling."
"I felt no disorientation." he said, looking up at me. In his eyes I could see the sadness and confusion. "In fact. . . " he continued, "I had no feeling at all, not even when I hit the ground."
"As I laid there, looking up through the tops of the trees at the blue sky, there was little doubt in my mind that I was dying. I could hear my heart pounding and my eyes were filling with tears that I couldn't blink away." He held is drink with trembling hands and I watched the tears trail down his cheeks and deposit themselves in his beard.
I felt silly when I realized how his tears and the tone of his voice had truly choked me up. But I genuinely felt sorry for the old guy.
He held his silence for a few moments, while he tried to compose himself enough to go on. When he looked back up at me, the wet streaks on his cheeks glistened from the lights overhead."Suddenly there was a voice." he said with a bewildered look. "It seemed to be coming from right in front of me, but there was no one there. . ." his words drifted off, his stare seemed to pass right through me into the void of shadows behind me.
After a long silence I asked, "What did the voice say Ben?"
"It said..." his eyes refocused on my face, "'Death has not come to claim you yet.' And then I lost consciousness."
"I quickly pried the pit out of the second half and devoured it as well." he said, eyes still closed. "Then I propped my gun against the trunk of a hickory tree and started feasting on those wonderful berries."
"I don't know how long I stood there gorging myself on them, but before I could leave I had to make sure I was taking as many as I could possibly carry." He opened his eyes and leaned back.
"I filled both coat pockets, then picked as many as I could carry in my left hand cradled against the front of my coat." he said, holding his left hand cupped against the front of his shirt to demonstrate. "Oh and I was still devouring every third or fourth one, spitting the pits on the ground."
"Finally satisfied that I could carry no more I picked my gun up and cradled it in the bend of my arm." he paused to take a big swig of his drink. "I was reluctant to turn and walk away." he added with a troubled look, then his eyes widened as he spoke to the open air of the room. "Then the damnedest thing happened."
"I hadn't taken more than three or four steps when I heard a crackling sound behind me." he paused again to take another long drink from his glass. "When I turned around I was shocked to find that all the leaves had turned dark brown and were falling to the ground. The berries were shriveling up before my very eyes, turning hard and black before dropping off."
"Some of the berries actually split open and the pits popped out. They sounded like stones falling on the ground. I watched as one hit a rock and split open."
"It felt like something was crawling around in my hand and I looked down to find the berries I had picked were also shriveling up. I dropped them, watching as they scattered on the ground at my feet, the only thought going through my mind was 'You're going to die, Ben!'"
"Dropping my gun to the ground I shoved both hands into my coat pockets and pulled out a double fist full of dried berries. As I stood there in total shock watching them spill through my fingers I realized everything was beginning to tilt. I was falling."
"I felt no disorientation." he said, looking up at me. In his eyes I could see the sadness and confusion. "In fact. . . " he continued, "I had no feeling at all, not even when I hit the ground."
"As I laid there, looking up through the tops of the trees at the blue sky, there was little doubt in my mind that I was dying. I could hear my heart pounding and my eyes were filling with tears that I couldn't blink away." He held is drink with trembling hands and I watched the tears trail down his cheeks and deposit themselves in his beard.
I felt silly when I realized how his tears and the tone of his voice had truly choked me up. But I genuinely felt sorry for the old guy.
He held his silence for a few moments, while he tried to compose himself enough to go on. When he looked back up at me, the wet streaks on his cheeks glistened from the lights overhead."Suddenly there was a voice." he said with a bewildered look. "It seemed to be coming from right in front of me, but there was no one there. . ." his words drifted off, his stare seemed to pass right through me into the void of shadows behind me.
After a long silence I asked, "What did the voice say Ben?"
"It said..." his eyes refocused on my face, "'Death has not come to claim you yet.' And then I lost consciousness."
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Imagine this
As I ease up to the very edge I struggle to overcome the feeling of vertigo beginning to spin inside my head. A hundred and forty feet is such a long way down. Taking a deep breath, I try to shake it off before placing my feet far enough out so my toes can actually curl over the edge of the cliff.
I know I can't stand here long or I will be overcome with the power of self preservation and instinctively step back a safe distance. So, without giving it another thought, I flex my knees and bend my back, while moving my arms behind me enough to counter all the body weight shifting forward. I must control how fast my body tilts forward so at the precise angle I can put all my energy into the push off.
All I see is the surface below and the face of the cliff I'm pivoting on when I thrust my arms forward and push with all the strength of my legs to ensure I get far enough out in the open air that I'll meet no obstruction on my way down.
My yell is as much a release of my fear as it is an audible display of exhilaration. I'm falling, head first. My yell seems to last forever as the wind quickly builds to a whistle in my ears. The sound of my own heart pounding is the only other thing I hear once all the breath in me is depleted by my vocal display.
I'm falling faster. The wind encapsulates my body, I feel it's force even on the bottoms of my feet. I hold, not daring to take the next breath until the last instant for fear I will loose it before I can return to the surface again.
With my arms spread slightly and my head tilted back I watch as the cool surface of the water rapidly approaches, knowing with each passing instant the speed of my decent increases exponentially.
At the last possible instant I suck as much air as will fit into my lungs, straighten my neck and clench my fists together to make a large enough hole in the water for my body to slip into. At my rate of decent I dare not attempt to arch my back, it would easily break if I arched too much.
My body is almost submerged in the hole made by my fists before I even feel the stinging pain of impact in my knuckles. As quickly as the water refills the void of my entry still only my feet are left to slip through it's closing.
The pressure builds quickly in my ears as I plummet deeper and deeper in the chill water. I can feel the force of the water slowing me until finally my own buoyancy begins to alter my direction.
I reach for the surface with both hands and pull with all I am to speed my way back to the surface as quickly as possible. The air is already beginning to burn in my lungs, and I begin releasing a tiny stream of air through my nose as I work even harder to increase my assent.
I feel frantic as the last of my air slips out of my lungs even tho I can see the glimmer of the surface only an arm's reach away... then suddenly I feel the warmth of the air against my face and shoulders and gasp it in to replenish my exhausted supply. My heart pounding so very hard I'm surprised it hasn't leaped from my chest.
Another yell explodes from deep within. More from exhilaration this time than fear.... and I look for the spot where I can climb out so I can scale the face of this cliff and do it all over again.
I know I can't stand here long or I will be overcome with the power of self preservation and instinctively step back a safe distance. So, without giving it another thought, I flex my knees and bend my back, while moving my arms behind me enough to counter all the body weight shifting forward. I must control how fast my body tilts forward so at the precise angle I can put all my energy into the push off.
All I see is the surface below and the face of the cliff I'm pivoting on when I thrust my arms forward and push with all the strength of my legs to ensure I get far enough out in the open air that I'll meet no obstruction on my way down.
My yell is as much a release of my fear as it is an audible display of exhilaration. I'm falling, head first. My yell seems to last forever as the wind quickly builds to a whistle in my ears. The sound of my own heart pounding is the only other thing I hear once all the breath in me is depleted by my vocal display.
I'm falling faster. The wind encapsulates my body, I feel it's force even on the bottoms of my feet. I hold, not daring to take the next breath until the last instant for fear I will loose it before I can return to the surface again.
With my arms spread slightly and my head tilted back I watch as the cool surface of the water rapidly approaches, knowing with each passing instant the speed of my decent increases exponentially.
At the last possible instant I suck as much air as will fit into my lungs, straighten my neck and clench my fists together to make a large enough hole in the water for my body to slip into. At my rate of decent I dare not attempt to arch my back, it would easily break if I arched too much.
My body is almost submerged in the hole made by my fists before I even feel the stinging pain of impact in my knuckles. As quickly as the water refills the void of my entry still only my feet are left to slip through it's closing.
The pressure builds quickly in my ears as I plummet deeper and deeper in the chill water. I can feel the force of the water slowing me until finally my own buoyancy begins to alter my direction.
I reach for the surface with both hands and pull with all I am to speed my way back to the surface as quickly as possible. The air is already beginning to burn in my lungs, and I begin releasing a tiny stream of air through my nose as I work even harder to increase my assent.
I feel frantic as the last of my air slips out of my lungs even tho I can see the glimmer of the surface only an arm's reach away... then suddenly I feel the warmth of the air against my face and shoulders and gasp it in to replenish my exhausted supply. My heart pounding so very hard I'm surprised it hasn't leaped from my chest.
Another yell explodes from deep within. More from exhilaration this time than fear.... and I look for the spot where I can climb out so I can scale the face of this cliff and do it all over again.
The Storyteller (Part Two)
Ben looked to be around 75 years old. His mustache and goatee were almost completely gray. The wrinkles around his eyes added to the character of his weathered face. He wore a sun bleached denim shirt with snaps, and a plaid jacket hung on the back of his chair. As he smiled I noticed a few teeth missing.
I didn't pause as I reached the table, leaning over to set his new drink down in front of him and mine on the table in front of the chair to his right before sitting down.
"Thank you." Ben said looking up at me. Then he added, "You look like a John."
I didn't bother telling him my name was Bob. John would be good enough for this encounter. "You're welcome Ben." I replied as I sat down.
"Ah. . . " Ben said, "From your accent you must be from the south. What part?"
"Texas and Oklahoma." I told him.
He frowned and said "I've never known anybody to claim to be from two places."
"I was born in Texas and spent most of my childhood there before my parents moved to southeastern Oklahoma. where I finished school before moving on to start my own life." I wondered why I even told him that. I wasn't sitting there to tell my own story.
"Southeastern Oklahoma huh?" he said with a smile. "The foothills of the Ozark Mountain range."
"That's right." I said, the memory of the small mountain that was my back yard where I lived as a teen came to mind.
"I had a dream about that area once." he said, and his attention seemed to drift away in a memory and he fell silent.
I took a sip of my drink and waited for him to come back to the present. His bottom lip trembled almost as if he were talking to himself for a second or two then, with his gaze fixed somewhere in the past, he started.
"I was standing at the foot of a small mountain in the fall of the year. The colors of the autumn leaves on the trees reminded me of a patchwork quilt my grandma made for us when I was a child. The red, orange, and yellow leaves spotted with an occasional green pine was truly a beautiful sight." he paused to take a sip of his drink before continuing.
The mental picture he was painting was as if he'd reached into my past and pulled it from my own memory. The small mountain that was my back yard was a part of the Kiamichi Mountain Range located in the southeaster region of Oklahoma. I held many memories such as the one he was describing.
"I was wearing an old gray coat and ball cap which left my ears to burn fro the cold wind." he said as he started again. "Under my arm I was carrying a single barrel shotgun."
He looked up at me with a stern expression on his face, "I wasn't going hunting!" he stated. "I just felt safe having it with me."
I understood from my own experiences and memories of the wolves and wildcats that roamed that mountain. Not to mention the black bears.
"I felt like I knew that mountain like the back of my hand." he continued. "And I picked my spot near the stock pond to enter into the woods so I could travel up the ridge in front of me until I reached the first tier."
I was taken a little by surprise when he said that, remembering the path I used to take from my back door which led by a stock pond and up a ridge to the first tier that ran almost the full length of the mountain. 'This is just a dream of an old man.' I thought to myself and waited for him to continue.
"I had barely entered into the woods when a gust of wind blew through the trees and caused a shower of multi-colored leaves to fall swirling to the ground." he smiled at the memory, and so did I. "I waited until almost all of them had settled to their resting place on the ground before beginning to climb the steady grade up the ridge."
"When I reached the first tier I turned to look out over the valley below." His voice grew softer. "I could barely see they old house and barn through the tree tops down at the foot of the mountain. About a mile away was a river and on the other side was a small settlement with meadows to one side and rolling hills beyond that seemed to move on to the horizon."
"The Potato Hills." I said aloud, mesmerized by the similarity of his description and my own memories of standing there on that mountain at home. He either didn't hear me or thought nothing of my comment.
"When I turned back I moved across the plat of the tier then angled off to the left as I began to climb on up to the second tier." He took another sip before going on. "Just as I reached the second one a strong gust of wind knocked another shower of leaves from the trees. The falling leaves all but blocked out the distant view and I couldn't help but stand in awe of the beauty that fell before me."
He reached over and touched the back of my hand, "And then there it was!" he stated. "I couldn't believe my own eyes." he finished wide eyed before taking his hand away.
I wanted to ask what it was but the look on his face kept me waiting quietly.
"It was a small tree or bush, whatever you want to call it." his tone was excited. "Amongst all these autumn leaves this thing stood full and green as if it were the middle of the summer. And it was loaded with berries. The biggest, reddest berries I'd ever laid eyes on."
"Have you ever seen such a thing?" he asked me before taking a gulp of his drink.
"Can't say as I have." I replied. But I was sure I knew that spot he was describing. A huckleberry bush grew there that always had the biggest berries of any I'd found on the mountain. I used to make special trips up there just so I could feast on them before the deer could strip the bush clean.
"I walked up to that tree and was totally amazed at the number of berries that hung from it's limbs." he started again. "They were almost as big as a golf ball, and red as your momma's lipstick." he chuckled.
"I reached out and plucked one of those luscious berries from the tree and started to take a bite when this little voice in the back of my mind told me 'This isn't right Ben.' and I held it there, studying it for a moment.
"An image of the guide that took a bunch of us through jungle survival training in the Navy popped into my head. I remember him telling us that when we found something in the jungle that looked edible we should always be cautious and test it first. 'There are many things in the jungle that are extremely poisonous.' he had told us."
"So remembering his instructions I pulled my pocket knife out and cut the berry in half. It was like a cherry with a pit the size of my thumbnail." he held his thumb up to demonstrate. "Then I squeezed a drop of juice from one of the halves and rubbed it on my lower lip before sticking the tip of my tongue to it."
Ben rolled his eyes and licked his lips, "I can almost taste it now." he started to a sip of his drink, then changed his mind and sat the glass back on the table.
"So, I take it the berries were good to eat?" I asked after a moment of watching him lick his lips repeatedly.
"They sure seemed to be." he replied, snapping our of his reverie. The look on his face gave the impression he was a little annoyed at my interruption.
"Seemed to be?" I asked, not paying attention to his annoyance.
I didn't pause as I reached the table, leaning over to set his new drink down in front of him and mine on the table in front of the chair to his right before sitting down.
"Thank you." Ben said looking up at me. Then he added, "You look like a John."
I didn't bother telling him my name was Bob. John would be good enough for this encounter. "You're welcome Ben." I replied as I sat down.
"Ah. . . " Ben said, "From your accent you must be from the south. What part?"
"Texas and Oklahoma." I told him.
He frowned and said "I've never known anybody to claim to be from two places."
"I was born in Texas and spent most of my childhood there before my parents moved to southeastern Oklahoma. where I finished school before moving on to start my own life." I wondered why I even told him that. I wasn't sitting there to tell my own story.
"Southeastern Oklahoma huh?" he said with a smile. "The foothills of the Ozark Mountain range."
"That's right." I said, the memory of the small mountain that was my back yard where I lived as a teen came to mind.
"I had a dream about that area once." he said, and his attention seemed to drift away in a memory and he fell silent.
I took a sip of my drink and waited for him to come back to the present. His bottom lip trembled almost as if he were talking to himself for a second or two then, with his gaze fixed somewhere in the past, he started.
"I was standing at the foot of a small mountain in the fall of the year. The colors of the autumn leaves on the trees reminded me of a patchwork quilt my grandma made for us when I was a child. The red, orange, and yellow leaves spotted with an occasional green pine was truly a beautiful sight." he paused to take a sip of his drink before continuing.
The mental picture he was painting was as if he'd reached into my past and pulled it from my own memory. The small mountain that was my back yard was a part of the Kiamichi Mountain Range located in the southeaster region of Oklahoma. I held many memories such as the one he was describing.
"I was wearing an old gray coat and ball cap which left my ears to burn fro the cold wind." he said as he started again. "Under my arm I was carrying a single barrel shotgun."
He looked up at me with a stern expression on his face, "I wasn't going hunting!" he stated. "I just felt safe having it with me."
I understood from my own experiences and memories of the wolves and wildcats that roamed that mountain. Not to mention the black bears.
"I felt like I knew that mountain like the back of my hand." he continued. "And I picked my spot near the stock pond to enter into the woods so I could travel up the ridge in front of me until I reached the first tier."
I was taken a little by surprise when he said that, remembering the path I used to take from my back door which led by a stock pond and up a ridge to the first tier that ran almost the full length of the mountain. 'This is just a dream of an old man.' I thought to myself and waited for him to continue.
"I had barely entered into the woods when a gust of wind blew through the trees and caused a shower of multi-colored leaves to fall swirling to the ground." he smiled at the memory, and so did I. "I waited until almost all of them had settled to their resting place on the ground before beginning to climb the steady grade up the ridge."
"When I reached the first tier I turned to look out over the valley below." His voice grew softer. "I could barely see they old house and barn through the tree tops down at the foot of the mountain. About a mile away was a river and on the other side was a small settlement with meadows to one side and rolling hills beyond that seemed to move on to the horizon."
"The Potato Hills." I said aloud, mesmerized by the similarity of his description and my own memories of standing there on that mountain at home. He either didn't hear me or thought nothing of my comment.
"When I turned back I moved across the plat of the tier then angled off to the left as I began to climb on up to the second tier." He took another sip before going on. "Just as I reached the second one a strong gust of wind knocked another shower of leaves from the trees. The falling leaves all but blocked out the distant view and I couldn't help but stand in awe of the beauty that fell before me."
He reached over and touched the back of my hand, "And then there it was!" he stated. "I couldn't believe my own eyes." he finished wide eyed before taking his hand away.
I wanted to ask what it was but the look on his face kept me waiting quietly.
"It was a small tree or bush, whatever you want to call it." his tone was excited. "Amongst all these autumn leaves this thing stood full and green as if it were the middle of the summer. And it was loaded with berries. The biggest, reddest berries I'd ever laid eyes on."
"Have you ever seen such a thing?" he asked me before taking a gulp of his drink.
"Can't say as I have." I replied. But I was sure I knew that spot he was describing. A huckleberry bush grew there that always had the biggest berries of any I'd found on the mountain. I used to make special trips up there just so I could feast on them before the deer could strip the bush clean.
"I walked up to that tree and was totally amazed at the number of berries that hung from it's limbs." he started again. "They were almost as big as a golf ball, and red as your momma's lipstick." he chuckled.
"I reached out and plucked one of those luscious berries from the tree and started to take a bite when this little voice in the back of my mind told me 'This isn't right Ben.' and I held it there, studying it for a moment.
"An image of the guide that took a bunch of us through jungle survival training in the Navy popped into my head. I remember him telling us that when we found something in the jungle that looked edible we should always be cautious and test it first. 'There are many things in the jungle that are extremely poisonous.' he had told us."
"So remembering his instructions I pulled my pocket knife out and cut the berry in half. It was like a cherry with a pit the size of my thumbnail." he held his thumb up to demonstrate. "Then I squeezed a drop of juice from one of the halves and rubbed it on my lower lip before sticking the tip of my tongue to it."
Ben rolled his eyes and licked his lips, "I can almost taste it now." he started to a sip of his drink, then changed his mind and sat the glass back on the table.
"So, I take it the berries were good to eat?" I asked after a moment of watching him lick his lips repeatedly.
"They sure seemed to be." he replied, snapping our of his reverie. The look on his face gave the impression he was a little annoyed at my interruption.
"Seemed to be?" I asked, not paying attention to his annoyance.
The Storyteller (Part One) The Dream of Benwar
My luck had seemed to hit the bricks lately and I was just driving around mindlessly hoping the scenery would change the feeling that had settled into my soul. After an hour of dodging traffic though I spotted the sign for Allen's Pub and pulled into the parking lot.
I'm not a drinker, not even socially, but the thought of getting drunk seemed appealing at that moment. As I stepped through the door I paused to scan the room. The bar tender was about my age with more hair than I have left, but it was mostly gray. A couple sitting at the bar was quietly talking while enjoying their drinks.
The girl working the floor was wearing skin tight black pants and a low cut top which accented her assets a little too well. There was one old gentleman sitting at the corner table partially hidden in the shadows staring back at me. I felt no malice in his stare. He seemed content to study me briefly before returning his attention to his almost empty glass.
I move on over to the bar and took up residence on a stool directly in front of the tender. His name, Bill, was embroidered over the left breast pocket of his shirt.
"What'll it be friend?" Bill asked, leaning slightly on the bar.
I searched my memories of a time when I used to go out with the guys during those training seminars, trying to think of the name of one of those drinks they were always pushing on me, hoping to get me drunk. Bill waited patiently for my answer. Maybe he could tell from the look in my eyes or the expression on my face but he said nothing more.
He grinned as I focused on his face once again and asked for a long island iced tea. "It's been a while hasn't it?" he asked as he pulled a glass from under the bar and started mixing the drink.
"Yes it has." I replied, glancing over my shoulder as the old man in the corner coughed. He smiled at me and raised his empty glass in my direction.
"That's old Ben." Bill informed me, setting the drink on a napkin in front of me. "He's probably hoping you'll buy him a drink." he added with a chuckle.
"What's his story?" I asked, lifting my glass to take a sip of the blended rums and tea.
"No one really knows." Bill replied. "He walked into the bar about 3 years ago, settled into that seat you see him in now and he's been a regular occupant several nights a week ever since."
He paused for a moment, wiping a glass before setting it back down, his gaze fixed on a spot on the bar. "But if it's a story you want... " he started, still transfixed on that spot on the bar, "Old Ben can certainly spin one for you."
With that he looked up at me, picked the glass he'd just cleaned back up from the bar and started mixing another drink. "Why don't you take this over to Ben and see where it leads." he said with a smile.
Now, I couldn't think of any reason why I would want to do that. But then, I really couldn't think of one not too either. So I lifted both glasses from the bar and slid off my stool.
Before I could turn away Bill leaned over the bar and spoke under his breath. "Friend... one thing you should know about old Ben." he said looking me straight in the eye. "He has an uncanny way of pulling a story out of his hat that directly relates to your situation." That being said he waved me on and returned to washing another glass.
The thought of possibly hearing a story that would make me think more about my current situation did not appeal to me, and I almost sat back down. But when I turned and looked across the room at Ben he motioned for me to come on over as he slid his empty glass across to the opposite side of the table.
'I can always get up and leave.' I thought as I forced myself to walk away from the bar.
I'm not a drinker, not even socially, but the thought of getting drunk seemed appealing at that moment. As I stepped through the door I paused to scan the room. The bar tender was about my age with more hair than I have left, but it was mostly gray. A couple sitting at the bar was quietly talking while enjoying their drinks.
The girl working the floor was wearing skin tight black pants and a low cut top which accented her assets a little too well. There was one old gentleman sitting at the corner table partially hidden in the shadows staring back at me. I felt no malice in his stare. He seemed content to study me briefly before returning his attention to his almost empty glass.
I move on over to the bar and took up residence on a stool directly in front of the tender. His name, Bill, was embroidered over the left breast pocket of his shirt.
"What'll it be friend?" Bill asked, leaning slightly on the bar.
I searched my memories of a time when I used to go out with the guys during those training seminars, trying to think of the name of one of those drinks they were always pushing on me, hoping to get me drunk. Bill waited patiently for my answer. Maybe he could tell from the look in my eyes or the expression on my face but he said nothing more.
He grinned as I focused on his face once again and asked for a long island iced tea. "It's been a while hasn't it?" he asked as he pulled a glass from under the bar and started mixing the drink.
"Yes it has." I replied, glancing over my shoulder as the old man in the corner coughed. He smiled at me and raised his empty glass in my direction.
"That's old Ben." Bill informed me, setting the drink on a napkin in front of me. "He's probably hoping you'll buy him a drink." he added with a chuckle.
"What's his story?" I asked, lifting my glass to take a sip of the blended rums and tea.
"No one really knows." Bill replied. "He walked into the bar about 3 years ago, settled into that seat you see him in now and he's been a regular occupant several nights a week ever since."
He paused for a moment, wiping a glass before setting it back down, his gaze fixed on a spot on the bar. "But if it's a story you want... " he started, still transfixed on that spot on the bar, "Old Ben can certainly spin one for you."
With that he looked up at me, picked the glass he'd just cleaned back up from the bar and started mixing another drink. "Why don't you take this over to Ben and see where it leads." he said with a smile.
Now, I couldn't think of any reason why I would want to do that. But then, I really couldn't think of one not too either. So I lifted both glasses from the bar and slid off my stool.
Before I could turn away Bill leaned over the bar and spoke under his breath. "Friend... one thing you should know about old Ben." he said looking me straight in the eye. "He has an uncanny way of pulling a story out of his hat that directly relates to your situation." That being said he waved me on and returned to washing another glass.
The thought of possibly hearing a story that would make me think more about my current situation did not appeal to me, and I almost sat back down. But when I turned and looked across the room at Ben he motioned for me to come on over as he slid his empty glass across to the opposite side of the table.
'I can always get up and leave.' I thought as I forced myself to walk away from the bar.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The title "In the Mirror"
You may be asking yourself why I picked a title like "In the Mirror". Well it's mostly because I wanted to let myself be known in this blog. There are things I might change about my life if I had to go back and do it all over again, but when I look in the mirror I still like who I am.
I see a man looking back at me that has done some things that even makes me wonder why? A man that, by all rights, should not even have had the opportunities to do the things he did.
Some of the experiences I will write about on this site will surely make some of my readers think I've got a few screws loose... Some will leave readers doubting that it really happened... Some may make you cry... and some will have you laughing... But, above all, I hope that none will leave you feeling bored with what you are reading.
I see a man looking back at me that has done some things that even makes me wonder why? A man that, by all rights, should not even have had the opportunities to do the things he did.
Some of the experiences I will write about on this site will surely make some of my readers think I've got a few screws loose... Some will leave readers doubting that it really happened... Some may make you cry... and some will have you laughing... But, above all, I hope that none will leave you feeling bored with what you are reading.
I found a face in this picture
My wife had asked me to take some photos of deseased trees in our local neighborhood so she could look for similarities in the books she had about such things. At the time, the only program I had which would allow me to see the picture at it's full size was window's paint program. The resolution was so large when I brought the first picture up it spanned almost 3 screens wide and 3 tall.
I was amazed at the detailed view it offered and began scrolling around the photo to see more. At one point I had stopped to look and the patterns the bark made when I found half a face staring back at me from the edge of the screen. When I scrolled back I was surprised to find that had I not already seen it I wouldn't have spotted it.
So, I scrolled back to get the face at the edge of the screen again then cut that screen out and mirrored it.
The image at the top of the screen is the result of that effort. I mirrored it once, then flipped it and mirrored it again which produced two heads connected at the crown.
For months I afterward I searched every picture I'd taken extensively and found a multitude of images which resembled strange faces or creatures. Finally, I gave up on finding new faces and just started working on producing patterns. Some were truly awesome, while many were merely mediocre at best.
Then one day I splashed some water on a knarly root system to wash away the trash and dirt that coated it. When I snapped some pictures of it I found that by enhancing the color of the picture I had captured a lot of reflection of sky. This produced a blue tone to the woodgrain which really made for some fascinating pictures.
Current Hobbies
For the past few months I've been concentrating more on writing than on my artwork. I've had these tidbits of stories bouncing around in my head for years now and really think I turn them into full blown stories if I can manage to take advantage of time without distraction to work on them. It's difficult to work on anything that requires my full attention when I'm not alone in the house... there's always something going on that diverts my attention or makes demands of my time.
At the present time I have two stories that I am trying to incorporate into one. One is about a repeat dream that I actually had about 26 years ago. It was when my daughter was still in the womb. This dream became a regular experience every night for a period of about 3 months. It reached a point where as soon as it started my sleeping mind would recognize it for what it was, and yet I still had no control over it. It was exactly the same every night without variance.
In my endeavour to utilize this "dream" as part of another, and totally fictitious story line, I decided that I had to write it in the third person. The delivery of the story is by means of a storyteller found by the main character of the story in a pub. This all takes place somewhere in Western New York, (ummm.. probably because that's where I am right now...LOL)
With respect to the rest of the story, "the fictitious part" I believe the old storyteller will offer the opportunity to best deliver that plot line as well. In pondering the overall picture of the story "as the storyteller relates it" I've begin to notice an underlying story that surrounds him and the main character that is going to allow the story to continue as time goes on.
Before this though I spent the past couple of years searching photographs I've taken of deseased trees for hidden images and patterns. Including the photographs taken and the pictures and patterns I've created from them I now have over 16,000 pictures saved on my external hard drive. I'll have to go through and make some thumbnails which will still show some detail so I can show you what I'm talking about... I'll wait until then to give you a more in depth explanation of what I was doing. It would just get lost in the words if I tried now.
At the present time I have two stories that I am trying to incorporate into one. One is about a repeat dream that I actually had about 26 years ago. It was when my daughter was still in the womb. This dream became a regular experience every night for a period of about 3 months. It reached a point where as soon as it started my sleeping mind would recognize it for what it was, and yet I still had no control over it. It was exactly the same every night without variance.
In my endeavour to utilize this "dream" as part of another, and totally fictitious story line, I decided that I had to write it in the third person. The delivery of the story is by means of a storyteller found by the main character of the story in a pub. This all takes place somewhere in Western New York, (ummm.. probably because that's where I am right now...LOL)
With respect to the rest of the story, "the fictitious part" I believe the old storyteller will offer the opportunity to best deliver that plot line as well. In pondering the overall picture of the story "as the storyteller relates it" I've begin to notice an underlying story that surrounds him and the main character that is going to allow the story to continue as time goes on.
Before this though I spent the past couple of years searching photographs I've taken of deseased trees for hidden images and patterns. Including the photographs taken and the pictures and patterns I've created from them I now have over 16,000 pictures saved on my external hard drive. I'll have to go through and make some thumbnails which will still show some detail so I can show you what I'm talking about... I'll wait until then to give you a more in depth explanation of what I was doing. It would just get lost in the words if I tried now.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Where I am now
Right now I'm living closer to the Canadian border than I ever thought I would be. Being born in the state of Texas I would have bet my life that I would never have ended up in the state of New York. Yet, here I am. In April of 2010 it will be 10 years since I moved up here. Wow... that's a lot of years in one place. Taking into consideration that I've lived all over the eastern side of the United States.
I moved up here in April of 2000 to be close to the woman I met online... yeah.. yeah.. I know, I've heard it many times. Those relationships never work out. But I have met people that met online, got together, married and have lived happy productive lives together. I can't say exactly why it worked out the way it did for me, other than we had the chance to really get to know each other and decided that we stood a class apart from each other. In other words, I just didn't make enough money to meet her idea of security. Funny tho, I hear she finally married a guy that didn't have a job.
It made for an interesting story tho... and in time I'm sure I will get around to including that story with the rest that I will be exposing you all too.
I did, however, meet and marry the woman I am deeply in love with now. Now there's a story worth telling when I get started. We'll be married for 3 years in January. We met at work and still work at the same place. She is an overnight stocker and I work as a member of the inventory maintenance team for a major department store chain.
There are things I would rather be doing for work, but thanks to an accident that took place while I was on active duty in the navy I am limited to the level of physical demands I can put this old body through. So, I work what I can instead of plugging into a system that would be wanting to "try" to enhance my quality of life through surgery and treatments that offer little guarantee of success.
I moved up here in April of 2000 to be close to the woman I met online... yeah.. yeah.. I know, I've heard it many times. Those relationships never work out. But I have met people that met online, got together, married and have lived happy productive lives together. I can't say exactly why it worked out the way it did for me, other than we had the chance to really get to know each other and decided that we stood a class apart from each other. In other words, I just didn't make enough money to meet her idea of security. Funny tho, I hear she finally married a guy that didn't have a job.
It made for an interesting story tho... and in time I'm sure I will get around to including that story with the rest that I will be exposing you all too.
I did, however, meet and marry the woman I am deeply in love with now. Now there's a story worth telling when I get started. We'll be married for 3 years in January. We met at work and still work at the same place. She is an overnight stocker and I work as a member of the inventory maintenance team for a major department store chain.
There are things I would rather be doing for work, but thanks to an accident that took place while I was on active duty in the navy I am limited to the level of physical demands I can put this old body through. So, I work what I can instead of plugging into a system that would be wanting to "try" to enhance my quality of life through surgery and treatments that offer little guarantee of success.
Getting started
Just how does one get started in this blogging game? Do you just create a short story or voice an opinion on something controversial... maybe... you just say Hi... I'm Benwar... This is the first of many posts in which you will get to know me.. and perhaps if you are willing to share I may get to know you as well. I will be posting thoughts and feelings and short stories about events that took place in my life that will help define the person I am today. All questions and comments are welcome. Opinions will be subject to interpretation and will be managed accordingly.
Personally, I'm looking forward to finding out if my old professor was right.
Personally, I'm looking forward to finding out if my old professor was right.
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