Browse Category: Stories

OF RATTLESNAKES AND BROKEN SOULS

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

THERE are times when I man just needs to get away. It’s not necessarily a retreat as much as it is a regrouping. A time to think. A time to evaluate, sort through, weigh. He needs to get away from the chaos and the crowd. Turning his back on civilization for a time, he needs to seek out solitude and quietness.

By the end of the afternoon today, my soul was craving just this very thing. I felt somewhat broken, discouraged, tired. I had to be alone. It was 6:30 PM. A hot, hazy August evening in New Jersey. The sky hung low to the earth without movement. The sun was orange and declining.

THAT’S when the idea hit me. I needed to climb a mountain. The best one I know is Mt. Tammany at the Delaware Water Gap. I could make it there in a half-hour, hike as fast as I could and make it to the top to watch the sunset. The exercise would do me good. So off I went! The only preparation I made was to put my boots on. Which was not much of a preparation considering that there are a few worn out spots on the soles.

It is a 20-mile drive from Washington to the Gap. I could see the sun drooping down the bleary sky. Now it had become a race to get to the top of that mountain before the sun was gone. I walked across the paved parking lot and onto the Appalachian Trail at 7:12 PM. My bet was that I would get to the top just as the sun was setting.

TEN MINUTES up the steep trail and I was huffing and puffing like a mad man. That didn’t happen the first time I hiked this trail about 17 years ago! But I guess 17 years has an effect on a guy. So does the 30 extra pounds that came along with the 17 years.

Many times I have hiked at the Water Gap. Often with my kids or friends. Many times alone. Often on those solitary hikes I carry many concerns and cares. My back is laden with worries, fears, questions, frustrations. My mind is crowded with thoughts.

There is only so much a man can carry. He can only rise so high on the mountain with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He can only journey so far on the trail while he is pressed down and hurting inside.

AS I CONTINUED up the mountain tonight, slowly, singly, some of my cares began to drop off along the way. There was a nice breeze as I reached the higher levels of the trail. To some extent I felt as if the breeze was lifting my spirits, lifting my thoughts, and blowing away the lesser concerns in my soul. By the time I made it to the top of the mountain only two main things occupied my mind. They were thoughts of God and thoughts of a person. Interesting. I wonder how interesting God, so far above us, thought it was as I sat on top of the rocky outcropping, looking over the hazy Pocono Mountains, talking to Him about just one person out of the billions that live here below.

Yet, even at the higher altitudes in life, the concerns and annoyances return, just like the mosquitoes that were ever so happy to feast on my sweaty body. The sun never set. It just phased out in the murky grayness, a disappointment. It started to get dark. The insects were almost deafening. My feet were hurting because now both soles on both of my boots were broken. I needed to get off the mountain.

I HAD a small flashlight with me. But my eyes were adjusting fine to the steadily darkening woods around me as I walked. Every now and then I had to stop to push a sole back into a boot. I was just slightly nervous walking through the woods in the dark, mainly because of the abundance of insects all around.

I wasn’t too far along the trail on my way back down when it happened. Have you ever come within a few mere inches of stepping on a rattlesnake in the dark? Have you ever done so with half your foot exposed through the bottom of your boot? Did you know that the words “Holy Fuck!” shouted at the top of your lungs are an effective snake repellent? He rattled and hissed and started moving! I danced on my worthless boots and prayed/cursed in multiple languages at the same time! It was too dark to see which direction he was headed. So I gave up all hope of the two of us ever being buddies and ran as fast as my broken soles would allow. Downhill! Downhill! Downhill! Stumbling in the dark like a damn idiot!

Then I remembered the flashlight! What a difference light makes! While careening down the hill in the dark, the ground was covered with snakes, the woods were filled with hungry bears, and rabid raccoons lined the trail. But the light scared them all away, replacing them with the sticks and stones, logs and bushes that were normally there. I calmed down. The cursing stopped. But the praying continued to a degree.

I realized the analogy to other fears in my life. Truth and understanding so often dispel many anxieties. The anxieties wear down my soul. It’s amazing how I can revive when even a small amount of light enters my soul at times. Yet, it seems to be a lesson that I have a hard time learning. The uncertainties and unknowns of life often cause me to stumble, trip over things in the dark, sometimes fall.

IT FELT like it took a long time to get out of the forest tonight. Many of the concerns of the day were waiting for me at the bottom of the hill. But you never saw a man so happy to see a paved parking lot as I was tonight! I was happy to rejoin civilization and make my way home on the freeway. My spontaneous misadventure, which could have proved deadly, was over. I was drenched in sweat. My boots were trashed. My feet were blistered. Yet my soul was somewhat stronger than it was when I started.

SINGLE PARENTHOOD

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

THERE are frustrations that often enter one’s life. We have to live with the fruits of our doings, the outworking of our poor decisions, the consequences… the bloody consequences. For what is the life of a human being so often? Is it not so much foolishness and weakness, rashness and selfishness, cruelty to others and to ourselves?

What of cruelty to others? Are we not all guilty to some degree and in varying frequencies? Who has not hurt another? Stand up and we shall all applaud you, adorn you with a pure white robe, and apply a medal of achievement to your chest until you bleed. This is how we honor one another.

Harsh words? Perhaps. I feel them. I feel the frustration. I live with it.

WHAT IS life as a single parent? Do YOU know?

It is all that mentioned above. It is feeling the results of poor decisions (perhaps). It is realizing that what you considered to be the best time of your life (perhaps) for a brief period of time was in truth plain foolishness. It is the swallowing of the rancid fruit of your own selfishness (perhaps). It is the embracing of the cruelty of another upon you (often).

Single parenthood is a stigma. It is a handicap. Recently, on NPR, I heard a report about the difficulty that those with physical and mental handicaps face in the job market. A paralyzed woman lamented that when she entered an office for an interview, the first thing the interviewer noticed was her chair. Her wheelchair. She said, “I wish that they would just see me for ME.” She complained that she was too often defined by her disability rather than by who she was as a person. It struck me that such is the case of a single parent.

Deep within the hearts of many single parents that I know is a desire, a craving, to be known for the people that they are. They do not want to be defined by their disability. They do not want to be viewed as a person with “baggage.”

“Look at that invalid in the wheelchair.”

“Look at the cripple.”

“Look at the retard.”

“Look at the divorced girl with a whole bunch of kids.”

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People are people. Dreams are dreams. Desires are desires. They still live within the heart of the single parent. But his hopes for their fulfillment are often crushed because others do not see HIM. They focus on his “chair.”

MANY of us were thrust into the role of single parent against our wishes and despite our most valiant efforts. We were handed the script and pushed onto the stage. There are no stunt doubles here. There is no intermission. The good guys do not always win. There is no curtain call and roses tossed at your feet as you take your bow. (You lower your head too much and it’s bound to get kicked in!) No, we have to live this script line by line and take our cues despite the din of the critics.

“Et tu, Brute?”

“Yes, my darling, for I never loved thee.”

“Say it isn’t so.”

“But, yes! Let me rip out thine heart while I kiss thee! Viva la betrayal!”

NO, I am not bitter. NO, I do not miss “her.”

I am trying to describe what it is like from the perspective of one who has been through it, one who is in it. It is not easy. It is not pleasant. There is no manual, no roadmap. You just determine in your heart that, no matter what, you are not going to lay down and die. Against all hope you will believe in hope. When they kick you in the teeth, you will stand up and flash them your best smile. When they punch you in the stomach, you will still manage to wish them a nice day. When they malign your good name, you will hold your head up and walk on. Somehow. Some way. You won’t let them win.

But there are times when you want to throw in the towel. You can’t take anymore. You drop your arms to your side and pray that the next punch sends you into oblivion. What is the use in fighting anymore when it seems that your are pounding your head against a brick wall? The life that you imagined that you would have is so far away. The simple, peaceful life that you hoped for your children has been made complicated and chaotic. You learn to expect the opposition. If all seems well for a time, it is only because the other foot has not fallen. You will yet be squashed.

You see, the challenges a single parent faces are many-fold. There are financial challenges. Either the ex isn’t paying you as they should, or you are responsible to pay an exorbitant amount of money to your ex, often to the point that you face great difficult or even impossibility in living as an independent adult. There are logistic challenges. How do you get the kids to school on time, without forgetting any books or lunch money, and get yourself to your job with a sufficient level of composure? What happens when a child gets sick? Who has to leave their job (usually again) to pick the child up and get her to the doctor? Who has to scramble to make arrangements for the following day for the sick one? There are emotional challenges. How do you love and nurture your little ones when your heart is often broken and sometimes overwhelmed by loneliness? How do you persuade someone who you are attracted to to reach in among the thorns and touch the sweet smelling rose which is who you are? The frustrations abound. I offer no solutions here. I only point out the frustrations.

Well, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I just had a bad day. Maybe it’s not as bad as I make it out to be.

Maybe.

But how would YOU know?

MISSION: NEW YORK

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

THOSE who write must agree that sometimes the need to write can be a curse. It is 2:15 AM. You have been up since 5:45 AM the day before. You’ve gotten two little girls off to the babysitter, driven 45 miles to work, spilled your brains out all day for a measly two lines of Java code, drove the 45 miles back (picking up the aforementioned little ones from the babysitter’s house), blown $27 on Taco Bell to feed everyone, gotten your 17 year old daughter to work, and made it to the bus stop by 6:30 PM in order to go see a band play in New York City. You would think that after such a day your mind and body would agree that it is in everyone’s best interest to be fast asleep, indulging in that much needed rest well before now. However! You are not only a single dad. You are not only a decent employee. You are not only an adventurous guy galloping off to the city at a moment’s notice. YOU ARE A WRITER! And when the brain says, “Write!” it is in everyone’s best interest to comply.

So write I must.

COUSIN AP and I made a spur of the moment trek into New York to see the Danny Godinez Band play at the Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station on Tuesday night. I am tempted to say “last night” but it is still “tonight” since I haven’t slept yet, even though I’ve been up since “yesterday.” It was a great night. It was fun. The crowd was eager to hear the band. The band sounded great, sporting a new bass player and a cellist. Fantastic!

Here’s a little recap of my blitz of a day which has now spilled over into a new day.

SINCE my daughters, H (9 years old) and M (7 years old) are now here for their summer visit until August 2, I have to get out of bed by 6 AM at the absolute latest in order to start our day. (Those of you who cannot relate to the writer’s curse are now saying, “Dude! Go to bed! Tell us about it later!” But that won’t work.) We leave the house by 6:30 to get to the babysitter’s house. She only works until 5 PM. Therefore, I need to get to work by 8 in order to leave by 4 and get back for H and M by 5. It’s just like the small window of opportunity which NASA had when launching rockets to the moon. If they missed that opportunity and tried to launch anyway they would miss the moon and just make a mess of things. If my little red Toyota isn’t blasting out of the driveway at 6:30 in the morning, we would do just as well to cancel the whole day and just stay in bed.

“Uh, Houston, we have a problem… Major Sam is in a coma after skipping sleep in order to write through the night.”

I did make it to work by 8 AM. I did figure out something in my Java code that’s been driving me to mental retardation (thanks to the help of my good pal, Vicky). I managed to stay awake and mostly conscious through the day, thanks to the help of some vitamins and a few good doses of caffeine. And I was able to get back for H and M by 5:00.

Whew!

THEN the crazy little adventure began.

I had received an email from Todd Johnson, the Godinez Band’s drummer, on Monday informing me that they would be playing in the city on Tuesday night for a special Triple Eight Vodka release party. I was surprised to hear that they were back on the East Coast so soon. Now, I love these guys. Their music is excellent. Their personalities are just as superb. So my brain was scheming to come up with a way to cover all the bases as a dad and to get my music loving tushy into Manhattan to see the band.

So, my son Tim (16 years old) agreed to watch H and M so that I could go to New York. He helped them prepare their clothes for tomorrow (which is now today). He played with them. He got them to bed at a decent time. He’s a good guy. But of course there was a fee to be paid for such service. I paid it willingly because I know I can trust him.

After picking up H and M, we made a pit stop at Taco Bell. “Yeah, yeah… soft tacos, cheesy Chalupas, cinnamon twists, and a round of nachos for everyone. No, no! Wild Cherry Pepsi, dope! Forget the fire sauce! Can you move any slower?? Hand me the bag! HAND ME THE BAG! Thanks! Have a nice day!”

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“Roger, Houston, initiating primary booster thrust at this time.”

I got home and had 10 minutes to shed my spiffy suit and tie and slip into something casual, something New York, something “Sammy.” Black jeans, charcoal t-shirt, black shoes and a Yankees hat which later made me stick out like a sore thumb amongst the spiffy suit clad NYC group at the bar. (That situation was quickly rectified with a brief fashion alert courtesy of Cousin AP. The hat was promptly stuffed into my backpack.) I then took my oldest daughter, Sarah, to work, called for Scotty to put me into warp speed and made it to the bus stop in time. The bus ride was uneventful except for the lovely scent which wafted our way each time someone used the bathroom at the back of the bus. However, Cousin AP had packed bottles of some vodka drink, cleverly disguised in aluminum foil. These drinks helped to ward off the mind numbing effect of the toilet stench. We got to New York at 8 PM and walked the several blocks from the bus terminal to Grand Central Station.

THE BAND started playing a little late. But there was enough time to enjoy some wine and get some fairly decent pictures of the band and the crowd (and the Triple Eight Vodka girls… OooLaaLaa!). It was good to see Todd Johnson’s brother join Todd in singing a number. The pictures from tonight are in my photo gallery – The Danny Godinez Band (NYC).

What else can I say about the band? I’ve written about them a few times in the past. They are still just as good. Tonight they seemed to be enjoying themselves right from the start. They seemed relaxed and were in the midst of improv jams in no time.

Now, should I tell you about the girl I met? The one who gave me her phone number?

“Houston to Major Sam. Houston to Major Sam. Major Sam it is time to initiate your scheduled sleep shift. Please desist all communication at this time. Commencing sleep induction in 20 seconds and counting.”

Oh gee! I guess I better wrap this up!

In order to make things simple tonight, we took the bus to New York from Clinton. We avoided the hassles of driving through city traffic and finding parking. We had a chance to catch a little sleep on the way home (despite the annoying women in the back who just wouldn’t shut up the whole friggin way). And the effects of the wine wore off before having to drive the rest of the way home.

All in all it was a successful mission. The band was good. The wine was smooth. The girls were sweet. Oh yeah, just before my 20 seconds is up, I’ll just mention that the girl who gave me her number is in one of the pictures in the photo gallery. She’s the pretty one. Good luck picking her out!

“Major Sam signing off.”

CORRESPONDING PICTURE GALLERY:

Their Bellies Must Be Steaming!

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

This just in, ladies and gentlemen! Someone can relate to the sea gull dropping story! (“Don’t Lose that Number”) Yes, a victim of sea gull bowel unloading has come forward to share her story. In her own words she relates the trauma:

“It happened one time on my arm and it was seriously hot like an egg from a pan! It really was! And I was like, ‘their bellies must be steaming!’ It slapped down from the skies up above like hot as an egg off a pan! It was hot from his inner belly!”

There you have it folks! A word from someone who has been there and back!

Now beware the next time you are at the beach! Not only do you have to worry about getting excessively burned by the sun. Now you have to worry about being scorched by steaming sea gull poop! Put on a double dose of sunscreen lotion! Wear long sleeves! For heaven’s sake, if you are bald, be sure to wear a hat! Maybe wearing a helmet would be appropriate! If the sky begins to darken, you better run for your life and take cover. It may not be clouds. It just may be a flock of angry sea gulls carrying payloads of digested crustaceans, hot as molten lava!

Posted at 7:00 AM (EST)

THE DANNY GODINEZ BAND STRIKES AGAIN

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

THIS PAST TUESDAY, April 29, the Danny Godinez Band played the Pattenburg House. Danny, Todd, Farko and Joe Raven were back, filling that smoky little place with quality music much deserving of a larger venue. Since October, I had been anticipating their next East Coast tour. I was not disappointed by their show or by their friendship.

These boys are excellent musicians, top notch. Guitar work that is smooth, rich and versatile. Drumming that spares no talent and remains powerful and controlled from start to finish. Piano sounds that put their arms around you and lift you off your seat. Bass work that is astounding. It all blends together in their own unique sound. When you hear the Danny Godinez Band you know it is them.

Truly, they deserved a much larger crowd than the one that turned out on Tuesday. Tuesday night and rural Hunterdon County, New Jersey are not the proper combination to produce a thronging audience. A Friday or Saturday night would have been better. Even then, I think this band is worthy of greater exposure than the Pattenburg can offer. Here we were, a stone’s throw from New York City and all those people were missing the show. It was almost an insult to the band that there was only a four dollar cover charge that night. These guys drove across the country from Seattle in order to share their music with people. We need to provide more people to hear it next time.

ANOTHER quality about this band is their personalities. Each of them is friendly. They are eager to play their music and just as eager to mingle with the crowd. They have a way of turning spectators into participants, fans into friends.

I appreciate this aspect of the band’s interaction with the audience. I met them at the Pattenburg in October and drove to Connecticut to see them the following night. I’ve exchanged a few emails with some of the band members in the intervening months. When I arrived at the show an hour late on Tuesday, it was good to hear that they had been asking for me before I got there. During one of the breaks, one of the guys and I had a great conversation. It wasn’t just a bar conversation about the girls who dumped us or the cars that broke down that week. It was a talk that friends engage in, the kind that leaves you with an interest in the other person’s struggles and aspirations. It culminated in an open invite to hang out in Seattle. You can be sure that I will take up that offer.

I’m a fan. I’m a friend. I’m a promoter. Go see this band when they come around! They are worth it! Read more about them in one of my earlier entries HERE.