Maybe its because I am older, or maybe I look at things different since doing acid, but now I put situations into an equation in the form of questions. If things don't add up, it's time for a change. For Mary cheating on me there were a ton of questions. She said it started innocently, but she kept it a secret around me. She said she was forced, so I said we will have him (ex boyfriend) charged with sexual assault, but Mary backed off the forced part, when asked why didn't you just get out of the vehicle. She said she talked with him just a few times, but the cell phone records show over 40 calls, on a daily basis, and sometimes twice a day. Do I divorce her, and let her go with her true love? I was glad that she didn't get pregnant, I would have hated to bring baby into this mess. Adoption...not now. Was this a fling or does she want to be with him? Maybe my dad was right, maybe I am not a good person. God took away my mom, he had my dad turn on me, my brother treats me like a 3rd cousin (later in the story), the rest of my friends and family think I am a kleptomaniac or are not sure, thanks to my dad. God took away my chances for having a kid, and now any trust, or purity that I saw in my wife, now is gone. Out side of taking up space, what was my purpose in life? I did, this time, think about suicide, after all it looked like I was the one that did not fit in the equation. My dad would be happier, Mary could go to her old boyfriend, my "friends and family" could forget me, and I would not have to watch my world, and what little I had, fall apart. I had more reasons for leaving this world than staying. A few reasons not to do away with myself were, I felt I would not see my mom again when I died, and that if I did not contribute anything to this world, then I still had my health and time to do something about it. For the heck of it I decided to call up Lorna. I knew she might be married, but we did profess our love for each other at one time, and she could give me good advice anyway. I called, a female answered. I ask is Lorna there? a long pause, then I heard, dad you better take this call. I had to think of something quick, so I said I was a classmate from her high school, and we were planning a reunion. The man on the phone said, she died 3 years ago of breast cancer. I said I was sorry to hear that and thanked him for the information. Lorna watched my mom die, she saw all the needles and tubes put into her. She saw what it did to our family with the highs and lows. In other words she knew exactly what she was in for. If we had stayed together, we might have had a daughter too, but I would have been an emotional wreck watching her go through the same thing as my mom. I cried when I got of the phone with her family, as I knew the pain that they went through. Mary and I kept going round and round about the infidelity, I knew that we would need help if this was going to be resolved. we went to a family councilor, and tried to work things out. To make a long story short, after attacking the problem from every angle, it was determined that Mary had a low self image, and she used the attention of men to validate herself. She got this attention when I was around, then later with swinging, but with me gone, and no more swinging, she looked else where. We slowly got our lives back together. She had to eventually take a job making $10,000 less a year, with crappy medical benefits and the nice pension that she was going to get was just about worthless now.
My best friend Ron.
Ron was my best man at my wedding. I knew the guy for over 20 years. he got me into weightlifting, and I helped him in his construction business, sometimes working for free. I have seen all sides of Ron, from helping old woman with their groceries, to helping a cerebral palsy man on a toilet at a McDonalds. I also knew he did collections for the mob, I knew what he did when he got drunk...fight. I picked hip up from an Irish party, to drive him home. Mary and I were in the front and he was in the back seat. He started this "evil" laughing. I ask him what was so funny. He said, I could just cum, ha ha ha. I said what are you talking about? He said I can feel their teeth cutting into my hand, and their blood running down my fist as I hit them in the face. I can feel their teeth as I pull them out of my knuckles. I said OK, here you are at home. Boy was I glad to get him out of the car. As far as the house of mayhem which I briefly lived. Ron must have scared the rest of his tenants away, He never really took his construction business seriously, and since he had no income the city took his house for back taxes. He called me one time, to help him remove all the copper pipe, stained glass windows, and anything else of value. Ron then cut all the valleys on the roof with a razor knife, so the water would run into the house. by the time the city put the house up for auction, the walls and floors were so badly warped that the had to bulldoze the building, thus erasing any evidence of anything that happened in the house. Ironically the city replaced the house of mayhem with a tranquil flower garden. Now Ron works days with a welder. This guy did some work for me, and I said I would pay him with business cards. He said sounds good. The only problem, was that my computer got a virus, and all my software for designing was lost. I would have to look on the Internet to try to get back some of my programs. Then Ron calls, an says he needs this all done in 2 weeks. I told him OK, but I was still looking for the software. Then my helper quit at work, and I was working a shift and a half every day, without a helper, and to top it off our hot water heater broke and flooded part of our cellar along with getting a lot of stuff wet AND they were doing construction on my street with jack hammers during the daylight while I was to be sleeping. That's how it goes sometimes, everything hits al at once. I tried to call Ron to push back the deadline that he, and not the guy I made the deal with, imposed. All Ron could say was we fixed you car fast and now I want the business cards fast. I didn't meet the deadline, but I got another of Ron's friends to make up some cards to get them by for now. I came back a few days later with the design (yes, I was able to get some of my software back) I showed the welder (owner) the design, which he liked, then I went over to show Ron. All Ron could say was LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE. He was saying it so loud and fast that he couldn't even get his breath between words. I tried to call him on his cell phone, but before I could get 1 word out, he said fuck you, leave me alone, then hung up. That was the end of our friendship. I should have known, because he was best man at several of our "friends" weddings, but he is no longer friends with any of them now. He at one time confessed some of the things he did with the mob, and I sometimes think he is going to bump me off, so he can stay out of trouble.
Drugs and my dad.
Why did I do drugs, well at first I wanted to find out what all the hub bub was about. Although I did E, I preferred acid. I knew I would never explore space or an uncharted wilderness. The only thing that is really unknown is the human mind. What makes a whole modern country like Germany, turn into a killing machine. Were we as Americans, any different. How can one baby turn into Einstein and another into Ted Bundy? When I see people playing on negative emotions, I think that is just what the Germans did. How can people hold such hatred in their hearts. Why cant people see that, mainly radio hosts are pushing peoples buttons to push their agenda. I took the mind expansion of acid and ketamine as far as I wanted to go. I could see that the more trips I took the more there was to see, and the more questions I had. So, I had to put the whole drug thing to my equation. Was I going to be able to figure out what I was seeing?...NO Was there anything redeeming or useful that I was learning?....NO. Could I better spend my time doing something constructive? YES The only drug that I had a problem with was E. While I was on it I was very open to suggestion and I did things that I would not normally do, nothing real bad. I have a problem with E in that it is a dis inhibitor, hence the reason I flushed it down the toilet. If I was going to start my life doing the right thing, there is no reason for me to have the wrong thing around me. Am I proud that I took drugs? NO, but it did change my personality, I was a lot like my dad before the drugs, but I have a lot more compassion for my fellow man. I try to find a positive solution to conflicts. I motivate people that work with me rather than wielding my authority around. At this point I can't change what I did with the drugs, but I am making something positive out of it. I do better understand addiction, but I think the real addiction, is the rationalization that we all use to support a bad habit, this includes drugs, abuse, gambling, etc. I heard that everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame, I guess min was when my flyers were all over that country, and when I could walk past the velvet ropes to the prestigious clubs around town. I would like to add to the expression Everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame, but given enough time, every one becomes insignificant. It is my belief that a subconscious personality comes out when you drink or do drugs. For me I was passive, and full of the curiosity and wonderment of a 5 year old. For my friend Ron, he wanted to fight the world. In everything that I ever did, I never fought anyone, hurt any one stole anything or in any way violate anyone's rights. If I was anyway destructive it was always turned inward. There is more of a chance of me hurting someone while I am sober, than there ever was while inebriated. All of my behaviors have been self destructive. There is no way that I could deliberately harm someone else. I would rather cut off my hand than ever use it to abuse anyone. On fathers day I heard a radio host saying that no matter your differences, you should try to re connect with your dad. so after 5 years I called my dad. I told him that we would need to see a councilor if we were going to make our relationship work. He agreed, and we talked for a while. I told him he could pick the councilor as long as they met 2 requirements. 1st they have to be qualified, and 2nd thy have to take my insurance. We would talk about once a week and about every other week we would go out somewhere. One time he had to put on his shoes when I went to pick him up. He invited me in his house. I almost cried and felt like throwing up at the same time. He doesn't throw anything out. All the garbage that you would throw away because it gets rotten, he saves. The house smelled like a sewer, there were no floors to walk on just garbage, and a green brown slimy substance. He has stacks of papers and other garbage piled from floor to ceiling. There are only narrow walk isles to walk in. Bugs of all sorts were everywhere. I had to get out, I felt that I was suffocating. A human being should not live like this, no matter how much you may despise them, a dog shouldn't live like this. I told him that I would help him clean up, but he said that he wasn't feeling well and got a little behind on his cleaning, but he would start taking the garbage out soon. I knew it was BS, but what could I do? After a several months, I could see he was doing nothing about getting a councilor. He told me he was busy, and did not have the time. Well Thanksgiving was coming up, so I said to him, I would like to take you up to Mary's mothers house for Thanksgiving, but they are old and lived a simple life, and I did not want him to blurt out anything like "God only wants good people to have baby's" I said that Mary's mom is recovering from colon cancer, and that I did not want any arguments there. He said he would not cause any problems. I also ask him to put on clean clothes and shoes, because he smelled like a sewer when I took him anywhere. He said OK. When I called before I picked him up he said he could not find clean shoes, and that he was going to wear his army boots, with the green/ brown slime on them. I went to Walmart, the only store open, and bought him clean shoes. Out side of my dad over eating, Thanksgiving went very well. I did not hear from my dad for a few days, so I called him. He put on this voice like a very weak whisper. He said that he had been sick and wanted to know if anyone else that ate their was sick. We said no, so as not to strain him any further I got off the phone. About 1 hour later we got a call form Mary's mom. She said my dad called their house and accused them of unsanitary conditions and changing the baby's diaper and not washing their hands when preparing the food. I ask if he sounded weak, and they said no he sounded very strong while accusing them. I called my dad back and ask why would you call and make these people worry after they showed you their hospitality. I told him he could do with words, what Manson could do with a knife. He said I just wanted to find out if anyone else was sick. I told him I already gave you that information, but he eluded to me having a credibility problem. I got off the phone, but he called a few days later, and said I have GOOD news, yes I have GOOD news, I found out what I have and it will be cured in 6 months. I knew he was leading up to something, so I let him go on and on. He said yes my friend Bob had it and he was cured in 6 months . Then he said, my friend Bob died in 6 months and I AM GOING TO DIE IN 6 MONTHS, ain't that good news? I ask if he saw a doctor, and he said no. So I ask did you talk to someone over the phone, that told you this.? He said yes. So I ask him so without any test, without anyone seeing you, you determined that you have cancer, and you are going to die in 6 months, you're just going to run with that. He said yes. I said call me in 6 months, let me know how you are doing, and I hung up My dad and I had several conversations that lasted many hours. When he was not accusing me of stealing, we would talk about current affairs, and some times his twisted opinion. For example he believed that people must be mentally unbalanced if they drank Coke, for no other reason than he did not like it. He believed that Rush Linbaugh must be on drugs, because he disagreed with his opinions, well he may have gotten that one right. In other conversations, he would hint at sexuality. He did tell me one time, straight out that he had a 4 sum with my mom and two other bi-sexual woman. He would say thing like when I was with your mom I had no desire to be with other WOMAN. This struck me as odd, with the emphasis on woman, when most people would say I had no desire to be with anyone else. He was against gays in the military. I ask him what is the difference, because the military does not believe in sex of any sort. He then said well if you are stuck on base, and you have a ferry that is willing to service the service men in the bathroom while your Sergeant is somewhere else, it might be tempting for some of the men. I felt his hypothetical example had a little too much detail in it. I also found out that he like to take pictures of his peccadilloes. He had a friend named Bob Weise that helped him develop some of his pictures. He told me that some acid spilled in the attic, from the photography chemicals that he had. I never knew that he was into photography, let alone that he developed his own pictures. Why would he have all this equipment, and never mention it to me as I grew up? If it was all innocent, then we could have shared the hobby. If it was just for pictures, then he could have taken them down to the local drug store to get developed. He told me of a time when his buddy Bob came into his room with his wife. My dad just happened to be on the bed nude, when Bob mentioned to his wife, "didn't I tell you he had a big one?" He left out all the details about how the situation occurred. It is hard for me to believe that this was all just an accident. My dad did not like blacks at all. He told me of a story where he had sunburn blisters on his back and this black "kid" popped his blisters up and down his back. It was years later, that I started to question the details of the story, such as if you didn't like blacks how could you let a black male come over and put his hands on you? And even if you did not know what was happening at first, wouldn't you jump up and get away after he first touched you? Another time I took my dad to a Borders book store, where I found a book of nude photography from the 1800's to about 1920. I knew since he had hinted about taking nude pictures that he might be interested. So I left him with that book, while I looked around. When I came back he was looking at a book of gay cartoons and gay art. He quickly put the book down when I came over and pretended to be looking at the book that I originally showed him. Does all this add up to my dad being bisexual, maybe, or maybe he was gay which would explain his abuse of woman. I really think my dad is a psychopath. A person that has no feelings for anyone but themselves. When my mom died, he tried his control tactics on me, but I would have none of it. Because I resisted him, and he had no control of me, he tried to find ways to manipulate and force me into someone that he had control over. He had told me of his abusive relationship with his mother, and an absentee father. He must have had a complete loss of control as he was growing up, and now he only feels safe if he can control others. Do I hate my dad, no, I believe that he has mental problems, and no more hate him than I would a person with downs syndrome. I do fault him by not putting his actions into an equation. Is it normal to beat your "wife", make her eat cat food when you can't hit any more because she has cancer? Is it normal to live in complete filth and squallier? If he could ask himself these questions, then he would have gotten help. That is the problem, if you get help, then you are not in control any more. He never did anything wrong the whole time that I knew him. If you don't believe me just ask him,, he will either give you a twisted reason for his actions or just deny it all together. If he were to admit that he did something wrong, then all his decisions might be questioned, and when you start questioning his action, then he looses control. As I see it now, my dad wanted everything, that is why he married my mom on her death bed, and made no provision for me in the will. He spent his whole life taking advantage of people that loved him, it is no wonder that he is all alone now. I have often wondered if any of his mental problems were passed along to me or my brother, or maybe my brothers kids(might have skipped a generation). So far, out side of my environment in which I was raised, I see no problems. Although it took me years of living in a "normal" environment, before my values became somewhat normal. The question for me now is whether I turn him into the county health department. He does pose a danger to himself and his neighbors, but if I turn him in, he will seek some sort of vengeance on me, or my wife and her family. I always under estimate how low he would go. I still have problems reconciling my relationship with my dad in my own mind. On one hand he was the foundation of my values and doing the right thing, but on the other hand the more I evaluate his actions with me and the other people in his family, I find a cold calculating, self centered man, that viewed anyone's love or compassion for him, as a weakness, that must be exploited. The only reason that he never killed anyone, was he felt that it would have been too great of a risk for him to get caught, besides, I feel that he got a sense of power by keeping his victims in prolonged agony.
The Girls
We will start of with Bridget, the first girl that I really had sex with. I cheated on Mary with her, and she was always up for anything. One time Ron and I got drunk and drove to Bridget mom's house at about 3 AM. Ron threw a ladder that was laying beside the house up to her window. He climbed through the window and she was a bit surprised to say the least. Ron said, it's OK, its just me Ron. As Ron and Bridget started down the ladder, I started to see lights go on in the house. It was time to get going. They jumped in the car, and as I was spinning tire to get out of there. I saw her brother come out on the porch with what looked to be a shotgun. All three of us went back to Ron's house for a tag team match with Bridget. I lost track of her over the years, but ran into her at a supermarket. I told her I was married and introduced her to my wife. She said she was hooked up with some hill billy, He was about 5'6" and had about 3 teeth left. She called me from their house one time, but I could hear him in the background giving her some shit about calling ex-boyfriends. She tried to tell him that I was married, but about then the line went dead. I never heard from her again. Were there other girls? Sure, but none-of the had any relevant meaning to my life, ( I know that is a terrible thing to say) and therefore deliberately left out of this blog. There were only 3 woman I ever professed my love for. Lorna had passed away. Mary's sister, only knew of it from a torrid letter that I wrote long ago, and of course my wife Mary. Mary's sister, Sue was going out with this guy named junior. How many guys named junior, that you know, that weren't missing a few marbles in the attic. Well this guy was no exception. Nice enough, but had the intellect of a 14 year old. She almost married him, but I told Mary that they would not get married, and if they did get married, it wouldn't last. She broke off the engagement. It seams that when they were looking for reception halls together (how romantic), he insisted on bringing his 14 year old friend with then all the time. Sue bounced around a few boyfriends, until she met Michael. He appealed to her creative side. They met at karaoke, and he was an artist, his college major was art history. It was a story book romance. He was the perfect gentleman, a bit wordy, but that just proved he had an education. Well the two of them couldn't be too smart, because in a short time they had unprotected sex and then were surprised that she was pregnant. (duh)From the start of the pregnancy on their story book romance was shattered. For starters they both moved out of their homes and into a rented house. How many artists do you know that are rich or well off? That's right only the dead ones, and this guy was no exception. So she tried to work as a hair stylist, but her feet began to swell, and she found it harder and harder to keep working a full time job. He ended up taking a job paying a little over minimum wage. The arguments started flying after that. He was a mama's boy and his mom said it was the woman's job to take care of the house. So he happened to be a neat freak, and would yell at Sue for even the slightest spill or mess. He would also yell at her for her decrease in hours. She tried to reason with him, that her activities were becoming restricted as her pregnancy progressed. His response was to make slurs on Sue's family for not going to college. Finally the baby came, a beautiful baby girl. All was peaceful, for about 2 weeks. Then it was Sue's job to feed, cleanup, and put the baby to bed, all while maintaining a well kept house, cooking dinner, and keeping her income levels high. This was a recipe for disaster, when Mary and I would visit, they would argue over the most trivial stuff. Since I tried to remain neutral, they both would try to appeal their case to me, like I was some sort of referee. Sine there was all that pressure on Sue, she would cut corners. One of the corners she cut was that when her daughter wanted ANYTHING, she gave it to her. As her daughter got older the mom tried to say no, but then the daughter went into a tantrum, with her mom giving in. By the way now the little girl is 4.5 years old and still poops in her pants, because her mom did not want to upset her with potty training. When her daughter gets loud, her mom gives her anything with sugar in it. She says it temporally quiets her down. Her "husband" Michael and her don't argue as much since he just does what he wants, and when he is at home he retreats to his art studio in the attic, to paint very dreary paintings that nobody wants. In all of this chaos, I put forth a question to sue. I asked her, since Mary is getting up in years, would you have her child? She said well, I don't think so. Why did I ask?? Because when Mary and I get up in years, and the question comes up, maybe Sue could have had our baby, I can say I already ask and she said no. Am I still in love with sue? well lets put it this way, a part of me is in love with the sue I knew many years ago. I will never make a pass at her, I am in love my wife Mary, and I would not want to be the reason for the break up of their family. Although If I knew that Mary was going to cheat on me in the future, then I would have made my move for Sue those many years ago. Does Sue have any feelings for me? I am sure, that she may have thought about the torrid letter I wrote her, especially now considering her situation. For some of the same reasons as mine, she would not show it much. First she would not want to betray her sister, and then she would not want to break up her little family, even as dysfunctional as it is. It would not surprise me if I were to hear that Michael ended up with a fork stuck in his forehead.
My Brother
My brother and I had a great time growing up. When we were kids, he was like the straight man and I was the comedian, always getting into mischief. Even though we got older, that same rule pretty much applies today. My brother broke off ties with his/my dad while he was still in the navy. He did come to town and visit our dad, his main gripe to my dad; "was I planned for?" When I moved out of my dad's house I had nobody to help me except Mary. I did not know where my brother was or what he was doing. I believe I was contacted about my brother through our grandmother. My brother was working for a defense contractor, and at one time was getting training in England. He talked about me coming over to visit. as much as I would have liked to go, I was still trying to get my life back on track from my dad. In one letter that I still have he was talking about this one girl Lottie Lilts, and about her wanting to get serious. Also in the letter he seamed to assert his independence as a bachelor. Less than a month later he announced his plans for a quick marriage. Yep, you guessed it, in 5 months after the marriage they had their first son. Now my brother was no introvert, but it seamed that way compared to Lottie. She was very smart and had a doctorate in mathematics. She was very out going in a folksy kind of way. I honestly like Lottie, she is something that was not known in our family(bright, outgoing and with a lot of connections) I believe that my brother thought she might be too bright. On one of my early visits to their house, my brother and I went out to the video store to get a VHS movie. In a rare moment of complete honesty, he said that Lottie was not suppose to get pregnant as she was taking care of that herself. He also said when they would get in discussions about money, not only would she remind him that she was making more than him, and that he would not be where he is without her connections. I just listened, because I think my brother just wanted to vent. Now through the years they had another boy and my brother settled into domestic life. As he became more involved with his family, our connection became less and less. On one of the few times that I was on speaking terms with my dad, I was told that my brother was in town. I told my dad no he isn't because after traveling hundreds of miles he would have called me (and I knew my dad was one to stir up trouble) My dad said that his friend Bob Weis, who was a friend of my brother's maternal family told him. I did not want to believe it so I drove over to where he would stay while he was in town, his cousins house. Sure enough his vehicle was there, and he didn't even have 5 min. to see his own brother. Then I noticed a pattern, he would make all the arrangements with his cousins, then would try to fit me into his schedule. I guess if he didn't have time, he never called me. So there it is, I am on a lower pecking order than his cousin. Maybe I remind him too much of the father he has tried to deny. Maybe I am so hard up in trying to piece together what little bit of family I have, that I never said anything to him. You know, some day his first born is going to do the math about his birthday in relation to his mom and dad's wedding. About that time, he might ask his dad, was I planned for?" I would suggest that both my brother and his son ask Lottie, she would know for sure. But I would tell my nephew, "well kid, being planned for ain't always that great". A personal message to my brother and sister-in-law. Don't get hung up on the fact about your first child being planned for, or the circumstances of your marriage. I would be the last one to point out any moral dilemmas. I only put it in the blog because of the irony involved. I know that as we get older, the huge problems that we thought we had when we were younger, have a way of becoming trivial as we age. I know that my brother would agree, that his stepfather was as fine of a man that ever walked this earth, and he treated you as good as any biological father would, and from what you told me better than most fathers. Not to sound corny, but love makes and holds a family together, not heredity. PS the names in this blog have only been changed slightly to provide me, and maybe my relatives with legal deniability. There are a couple of stories I left out, because I wanted to make sure the statute of limitations has expired, even though the incidents occurred over 23 years ago. And a personal note to Lottie Lilts, I can understand that you may not want my wife and I staying in your house, all I can say is my life is on track to be an ordinary schmuck, but I can't stop people from judging me for things that I did, or did not do in the past. I always wish the best for you and your family, and would not, and had not done anything that would jeopardize your families health, well being or social status. Me? Is that it? well no. as life has no real endings neither does my story. I do have regrets, but most of the are things that are out of my control. I wished that my dad would get help. For all the things that he did to everyone that loved him, he should not be living in the conditions that he is now. I would not wish it on my worst enemy. I wished that he would stop fighting the world an spend that time and energy to pull our family together. Do I have hard feelings toward anyone? For me personally no, because wherever I am at in life, that is where I must want to be. I took the option of leaving home when things got too bad. Even though I have someone (my dad) to this day trying to destroy my life and/or creditability, I still have options. If I really wanted Mary to get invetro, we could have saved and sacrificed till we had enough money. I think most people blame their circumstances on someone, but the person that is responsible is you. I have a friend from high school, who is now retired, and the most he ever made was $12/ hour. He had a goal and he did not let vacations or squandering money on hobbies or anything else get in his way. So, if I ever sounded like I was complaining, I was not, because I did have options, called sacrifice and hard work. The only person I have something against is my dad, for the way he treated my mom. She had no options, which is why she attempted suicide on a few occasions. If she were to leave him there is no telling what he might have done. I know this now, but for years I held it against my mom, by saying why didn't you just leave or kick him out of the house since everything was in your name. I hope my brother will try to under stand, that since I do not have many family ties, my relationship to my brother is probably more important to me than it is to him, since he already has a close and well adjusted "normal" family.
Was I ever abused by my father?
Good question, but that would depend on the definition of abuse. If you mean physical abuse, I would have to say no, only because I did not let it get that far. I am sure that the first abuse of my Mom was not physical, but mental. It all starts with punishments, that she went along with. The punishments set the hierarchy of who was in charge and who was submissive. Once this is in place, it was only a matter of time and increasing punishments before full fledged abuse occurred. I do believe that my dad was setting the stage for him to shoot me with his 357 mag. On the occasion when I was to paint our living room, we moved all the furniture and stacks of newspapers away from the walls, so that I would have access to them. My dad and I got into an argument, which led to him saying, "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO PAINT THE WALLS. I WILL HIRE A PROFESSIONAL PAINTER TO PAINT THEM, AND YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR IT." He started to move the furniture and news papers back against the walls. I started to move them back away from the walls. He grabbed the stack of newspapers in my hands and tried to pull them away from me. A struggled ensued with me pulling the stack one way, and him pulling the other. I figured If you want the papers that bad, take them, so I let them go with a little shove in his direction. He lost his balance and fell straight on his ass. He got up and said if you ever attack me again, I have a 357, and I have every right to defend myself. That didn't worry me too much, because I decided to walk away from any further confrontations. That was until the incident, where I had locked myself out of my bed room, which meant that I would have to go down the steps and ask my dad for the key and listen to his sarcasm, and lecture. it was a cheap lock, which I bought anyway, so I broke the latch on my door and went to sleep. Only to be awoke by a knock on the door, and a mad saying this was the police, open up. I opened the door, and to my surprise there were 6 police outside my door. They told me that my dad said that I terrorized him and was destroying the house. I said all I did was break the latch on my door so I could go to be. The police turned to my dad and said, I don't think he will cause you any further problems, just let him sleep. The whole thing was blown way out of proportion, because I feel that if he were to shoot me, he could have documented, that he had to have 6 police restrain me. So far as the abuse for me, it started soon after my Mom died. He was inventing things that I did to him like taking his socks, or one glove, and trying to get me to admit to it so I could be punished. I was not my Mom, and I would not admit to anything that I had not done. This was an act of defiance, that must be punished. After all his obedient son would not defy him, so there must be an outside influence, enter the imaginary drugs and the so called bad influence of my friend Ron. It is odd, that it has taken me years to look back on my life and environment, and to see it as a normal person would and not someone who was enabling a psychopath. My Mom would always have bruises on her, but she said it was because she bruised easily. I was about 11 years old, and I believed her at the time, but now looking back she was probably hiding the fact that she was being abused. I now look at some of the few photographs of my Mom, and notice in some she was wearing sunglasses....indoors. My dad went to great lengths to hide what he was doing to her, from me and the rest of the world. I would hear things, like whacks, and whimpers of my Mom, in the next room, but at the time, I thought she was getting spanked like me when I did something wrong. I do remember that I would hear a whack and my dad saying, you moved we got to do it again. It was only at the point that my Mom knew that she was going to die, that she told me he was hitting her in the head so no one would see the marks. And for me it took years to figure out and draw a mental picture what was happening in the next room. So she had to bend in some sort of submissive position, so he could clearly whack her in the top of the head. If she flinched during this cowardly act, and she only got a glancing blow, she would have to stand there and do it again. Sometimes if the imaginary wrong was bad enough, she had to take several whacks. I feel guilty to this day, that I never did much to help my Mom, but who wants to think of their dad as someone who inflicts terror into someone's life. I do wonder though, there had to be people outside our household, that must have known something was going on, why didn't anyone try to help my Mom? No one to my knowledge tried to help, they just turned the other way, and said, yep, that is what I figured, my dad was an asshole. Do we live in a society, that looks the other way when someone needs help? If we do, aren't the people who could have helped, just enabling abusers, like my dad? Why did I write this blog? First as a testimony to my mom, as I am the only one that is willing to report the truth of what went on for over 20 years. No human being should ever be treated that way. And secondly, if you are in a relationship where you are abused physically, mentally, or both, I urge you to seek help. And remember some times, things don't always work out, in that instance just get out. My mom was told that her cancer was not that bad, and that her will to live, should have pulled her through. Her will to live died out, many years before the cancer took her life. Racism On one part of the blog, I stated that I had an admiration for the SS, but my views changed in high school, well this section explains how I made the transformation. Although I was brought up to be somewhat racist, from my dad, I was never taught to hate. My dad didn't hate Jews, but he always had a derogatory comment to make when a Jew showed up on TV. He was quick to point out how the Jews owned Hollywood, and was tried of them constantly bringing up the holocaust. It was about the same for blacks. He told me with some pride that one of my great uncles was a member of the KKK. It seamed natural at the time, for me to gravitate to Nazism and more directly to the SS. The SS because of the uncaring efficiency of the organization. Maybe I was subconsciously aligning myself with an organization that was able to shed any feelings to humanity. Why, well because if I had let my feelings of compassion and empathy for my Mom show, then I would be against my dad, or that is the way he saw it. He also used to beat our German Shepherd with a rubber hose, and sometimes apiece of cut down broomstick. One time my dad beat the dog, for wetting the carpet, (the dog was nervous around him, I can't imagine why) and the dog limped for 2 weeks. If I had any compassion, I would not have been able to live in the house. It was when I started high school, and saw a video of bulldozers pushing stacks of emaciated bodies into a mass grave, that I woke up, and any racist feelings I had, went away. I would tell my dad now, people don't talk about the holocaust enough. Until I saw the bodies the whole thing was just an impersonal concept in my mind, seeing the bodies and the faces made it personal. Now when they show the concentration camps and the bodies they blur out the faces. I totally disagree with that because it dehumanizes them, and that was Hitler's goal, remove their identity and dehumanize the Jews. The next train of thought was how did it happen? Go to the Holocaust museum in DC, and you will see the results incremental hatred. The radio propaganda of Germany, didn't offer solutions, but served up a sacrificial scape goat, that the populous devoured. So when I hear talk show hosts, blaming all the countries woes on one ideology, and then say we have to crush, this movement, I believe we are on the same path as Germany in the 1930s. None of them have any real solutions, but have affirmative action, liberals, feminist, and unions to serve as a scapegoat. These are the same people that wave the flag, and imply if you are not with us you don't love your country. The conservative talk show hosts say they love the UNITED states, why do they spend so much time be dividing us?
Religion
Even though it seams the hip thing to do now is be an atheist or agnostic, I consider myself a very spiritual person. I say spiritual and not religious because I do not subscribe to any one religion, but if you were to put a gun to my head and say choose, I would have to pick Episcopalian. Here is a quick break down of what I believe. The Bible was written by men that were inspired by God or THOUGHT they were inspired by God. As we today come up with conspiracy theories to explain the death of Kennedy (only 40+ years ago), for sure the death of Jesus would have inspired many to find significance of his life and death. Well, it did inspire many authors, maybe too many so in around 350 AD the Council of Nicea decided what stories went into the bible, and which ones would be lost to the sands of time. They choose based upon the criteria of a new religion of Christianity being formed, so the stories had to be inspiring. Since so many authors wrote about Jesus, there many stories that were redundant, so I guess the less inspirational stories were left out. They also believed, as most do today, that this is a mans world, so any stories about Mary Magdalene spreading the gospel were left out, as not to inspire woman to preach. So here is a run down, you have a collection of stories that may or may not be entirely accurate, which were picked by a council of men, some 300 years AFTER the death of Jesus, in order to make a book that would inspire the populous to Christianity. Then from this hodge podge of stories, (some contradicting each other) the worlds religions were formed. This reminds me of the story of the statue of iron but had the feet of clay. To top it off they threw in the old testament, that is now interpreted from a Christian viewpoint. I have always felt that any Christian church that reads out of the old testament, should bring a guest Rabbi in to speak. Don't you think the Jews would have a better understanding of their own book. I will give you a quick example, when Lot's wife was told not to look on the destruction of Sodom and Gomorra, but she did anyway and she was turned into a pillar of salt. I know what you are saying, nice story, but no one can be turned into a pillar of salt. But I had a Rabbi explain it to me, the cities represented sin, and if you want to rid yourself of sin, turn your back and walk away, and don't look back upon the pleasures of sin less it will eventually destroy you. The same was echoed when Jesus came upon an adulteress, and he said go, and sin no more. In Jesus time he was teaching, the spirit of the word and not the letter of the word. The sermon on the mount was a cliff note version of the psalms. So how would you honor the greatest teacher in the world, well as I do and try to have the spirit of his word and his Fathers word with me, in my everyday life. But as of the time of Jesus, too many have fought, criticized, and murdered in the name of THEIR true religion, which was based on clay feet at best. I say celebrate Jesus' life, and go through life with a light heart. All the grudges, and plans for revenge only hold YOU down. Forgive others, even if it is in your own heart, so that you may free yourself. Sorry for the preaching, but maybe you can understand why I kept trying to patch things up with my dad. I felt of all the soles that I know, his was in the most need of help.
My best friend Ron.
Ron was my best man at my wedding. I knew the guy for over 20 years. he got me into weightlifting, and I helped him in his construction business, sometimes working for free. I have seen all sides of Ron, from helping old woman with their groceries, to helping a cerebral palsy man on a toilet at a McDonalds. I also knew he did collections for the mob, I knew what he did when he got drunk...fight. I picked hip up from an Irish party, to drive him home. Mary and I were in the front and he was in the back seat. He started this "evil" laughing. I ask him what was so funny. He said, I could just cum, ha ha ha. I said what are you talking about? He said I can feel their teeth cutting into my hand, and their blood running down my fist as I hit them in the face. I can feel their teeth as I pull them out of my knuckles. I said OK, here you are at home. Boy was I glad to get him out of the car. As far as the house of mayhem which I briefly lived. Ron must have scared the rest of his tenants away, He never really took his construction business seriously, and since he had no income the city took his house for back taxes. He called me one time, to help him remove all the copper pipe, stained glass windows, and anything else of value. Ron then cut all the valleys on the roof with a razor knife, so the water would run into the house. by the time the city put the house up for auction, the walls and floors were so badly warped that the had to bulldoze the building, thus erasing any evidence of anything that happened in the house. Ironically the city replaced the house of mayhem with a tranquil flower garden. Now Ron works days with a welder. This guy did some work for me, and I said I would pay him with business cards. He said sounds good. The only problem, was that my computer got a virus, and all my software for designing was lost. I would have to look on the Internet to try to get back some of my programs. Then Ron calls, an says he needs this all done in 2 weeks. I told him OK, but I was still looking for the software. Then my helper quit at work, and I was working a shift and a half every day, without a helper, and to top it off our hot water heater broke and flooded part of our cellar along with getting a lot of stuff wet AND they were doing construction on my street with jack hammers during the daylight while I was to be sleeping. That's how it goes sometimes, everything hits al at once. I tried to call Ron to push back the deadline that he, and not the guy I made the deal with, imposed. All Ron could say was we fixed you car fast and now I want the business cards fast. I didn't meet the deadline, but I got another of Ron's friends to make up some cards to get them by for now. I came back a few days later with the design (yes, I was able to get some of my software back) I showed the welder (owner) the design, which he liked, then I went over to show Ron. All Ron could say was LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE, LEAVE. He was saying it so loud and fast that he couldn't even get his breath between words. I tried to call him on his cell phone, but before I could get 1 word out, he said fuck you, leave me alone, then hung up. That was the end of our friendship. I should have known, because he was best man at several of our "friends" weddings, but he is no longer friends with any of them now. He at one time confessed some of the things he did with the mob, and I sometimes think he is going to bump me off, so he can stay out of trouble.
Drugs and my dad.
Why did I do drugs, well at first I wanted to find out what all the hub bub was about. Although I did E, I preferred acid. I knew I would never explore space or an uncharted wilderness. The only thing that is really unknown is the human mind. What makes a whole modern country like Germany, turn into a killing machine. Were we as Americans, any different. How can one baby turn into Einstein and another into Ted Bundy? When I see people playing on negative emotions, I think that is just what the Germans did. How can people hold such hatred in their hearts. Why cant people see that, mainly radio hosts are pushing peoples buttons to push their agenda. I took the mind expansion of acid and ketamine as far as I wanted to go. I could see that the more trips I took the more there was to see, and the more questions I had. So, I had to put the whole drug thing to my equation. Was I going to be able to figure out what I was seeing?...NO Was there anything redeeming or useful that I was learning?....NO. Could I better spend my time doing something constructive? YES The only drug that I had a problem with was E. While I was on it I was very open to suggestion and I did things that I would not normally do, nothing real bad. I have a problem with E in that it is a dis inhibitor, hence the reason I flushed it down the toilet. If I was going to start my life doing the right thing, there is no reason for me to have the wrong thing around me. Am I proud that I took drugs? NO, but it did change my personality, I was a lot like my dad before the drugs, but I have a lot more compassion for my fellow man. I try to find a positive solution to conflicts. I motivate people that work with me rather than wielding my authority around. At this point I can't change what I did with the drugs, but I am making something positive out of it. I do better understand addiction, but I think the real addiction, is the rationalization that we all use to support a bad habit, this includes drugs, abuse, gambling, etc. I heard that everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame, I guess min was when my flyers were all over that country, and when I could walk past the velvet ropes to the prestigious clubs around town. I would like to add to the expression Everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame, but given enough time, every one becomes insignificant. It is my belief that a subconscious personality comes out when you drink or do drugs. For me I was passive, and full of the curiosity and wonderment of a 5 year old. For my friend Ron, he wanted to fight the world. In everything that I ever did, I never fought anyone, hurt any one stole anything or in any way violate anyone's rights. If I was anyway destructive it was always turned inward. There is more of a chance of me hurting someone while I am sober, than there ever was while inebriated. All of my behaviors have been self destructive. There is no way that I could deliberately harm someone else. I would rather cut off my hand than ever use it to abuse anyone. On fathers day I heard a radio host saying that no matter your differences, you should try to re connect with your dad. so after 5 years I called my dad. I told him that we would need to see a councilor if we were going to make our relationship work. He agreed, and we talked for a while. I told him he could pick the councilor as long as they met 2 requirements. 1st they have to be qualified, and 2nd thy have to take my insurance. We would talk about once a week and about every other week we would go out somewhere. One time he had to put on his shoes when I went to pick him up. He invited me in his house. I almost cried and felt like throwing up at the same time. He doesn't throw anything out. All the garbage that you would throw away because it gets rotten, he saves. The house smelled like a sewer, there were no floors to walk on just garbage, and a green brown slimy substance. He has stacks of papers and other garbage piled from floor to ceiling. There are only narrow walk isles to walk in. Bugs of all sorts were everywhere. I had to get out, I felt that I was suffocating. A human being should not live like this, no matter how much you may despise them, a dog shouldn't live like this. I told him that I would help him clean up, but he said that he wasn't feeling well and got a little behind on his cleaning, but he would start taking the garbage out soon. I knew it was BS, but what could I do? After a several months, I could see he was doing nothing about getting a councilor. He told me he was busy, and did not have the time. Well Thanksgiving was coming up, so I said to him, I would like to take you up to Mary's mothers house for Thanksgiving, but they are old and lived a simple life, and I did not want him to blurt out anything like "God only wants good people to have baby's" I said that Mary's mom is recovering from colon cancer, and that I did not want any arguments there. He said he would not cause any problems. I also ask him to put on clean clothes and shoes, because he smelled like a sewer when I took him anywhere. He said OK. When I called before I picked him up he said he could not find clean shoes, and that he was going to wear his army boots, with the green/ brown slime on them. I went to Walmart, the only store open, and bought him clean shoes. Out side of my dad over eating, Thanksgiving went very well. I did not hear from my dad for a few days, so I called him. He put on this voice like a very weak whisper. He said that he had been sick and wanted to know if anyone else that ate their was sick. We said no, so as not to strain him any further I got off the phone. About 1 hour later we got a call form Mary's mom. She said my dad called their house and accused them of unsanitary conditions and changing the baby's diaper and not washing their hands when preparing the food. I ask if he sounded weak, and they said no he sounded very strong while accusing them. I called my dad back and ask why would you call and make these people worry after they showed you their hospitality. I told him he could do with words, what Manson could do with a knife. He said I just wanted to find out if anyone else was sick. I told him I already gave you that information, but he eluded to me having a credibility problem. I got off the phone, but he called a few days later, and said I have GOOD news, yes I have GOOD news, I found out what I have and it will be cured in 6 months. I knew he was leading up to something, so I let him go on and on. He said yes my friend Bob had it and he was cured in 6 months . Then he said, my friend Bob died in 6 months and I AM GOING TO DIE IN 6 MONTHS, ain't that good news? I ask if he saw a doctor, and he said no. So I ask did you talk to someone over the phone, that told you this.? He said yes. So I ask him so without any test, without anyone seeing you, you determined that you have cancer, and you are going to die in 6 months, you're just going to run with that. He said yes. I said call me in 6 months, let me know how you are doing, and I hung up My dad and I had several conversations that lasted many hours. When he was not accusing me of stealing, we would talk about current affairs, and some times his twisted opinion. For example he believed that people must be mentally unbalanced if they drank Coke, for no other reason than he did not like it. He believed that Rush Linbaugh must be on drugs, because he disagreed with his opinions, well he may have gotten that one right. In other conversations, he would hint at sexuality. He did tell me one time, straight out that he had a 4 sum with my mom and two other bi-sexual woman. He would say thing like when I was with your mom I had no desire to be with other WOMAN. This struck me as odd, with the emphasis on woman, when most people would say I had no desire to be with anyone else. He was against gays in the military. I ask him what is the difference, because the military does not believe in sex of any sort. He then said well if you are stuck on base, and you have a ferry that is willing to service the service men in the bathroom while your Sergeant is somewhere else, it might be tempting for some of the men. I felt his hypothetical example had a little too much detail in it. I also found out that he like to take pictures of his peccadilloes. He had a friend named Bob Weise that helped him develop some of his pictures. He told me that some acid spilled in the attic, from the photography chemicals that he had. I never knew that he was into photography, let alone that he developed his own pictures. Why would he have all this equipment, and never mention it to me as I grew up? If it was all innocent, then we could have shared the hobby. If it was just for pictures, then he could have taken them down to the local drug store to get developed. He told me of a time when his buddy Bob came into his room with his wife. My dad just happened to be on the bed nude, when Bob mentioned to his wife, "didn't I tell you he had a big one?" He left out all the details about how the situation occurred. It is hard for me to believe that this was all just an accident. My dad did not like blacks at all. He told me of a story where he had sunburn blisters on his back and this black "kid" popped his blisters up and down his back. It was years later, that I started to question the details of the story, such as if you didn't like blacks how could you let a black male come over and put his hands on you? And even if you did not know what was happening at first, wouldn't you jump up and get away after he first touched you? Another time I took my dad to a Borders book store, where I found a book of nude photography from the 1800's to about 1920. I knew since he had hinted about taking nude pictures that he might be interested. So I left him with that book, while I looked around. When I came back he was looking at a book of gay cartoons and gay art. He quickly put the book down when I came over and pretended to be looking at the book that I originally showed him. Does all this add up to my dad being bisexual, maybe, or maybe he was gay which would explain his abuse of woman. I really think my dad is a psychopath. A person that has no feelings for anyone but themselves. When my mom died, he tried his control tactics on me, but I would have none of it. Because I resisted him, and he had no control of me, he tried to find ways to manipulate and force me into someone that he had control over. He had told me of his abusive relationship with his mother, and an absentee father. He must have had a complete loss of control as he was growing up, and now he only feels safe if he can control others. Do I hate my dad, no, I believe that he has mental problems, and no more hate him than I would a person with downs syndrome. I do fault him by not putting his actions into an equation. Is it normal to beat your "wife", make her eat cat food when you can't hit any more because she has cancer? Is it normal to live in complete filth and squallier? If he could ask himself these questions, then he would have gotten help. That is the problem, if you get help, then you are not in control any more. He never did anything wrong the whole time that I knew him. If you don't believe me just ask him,, he will either give you a twisted reason for his actions or just deny it all together. If he were to admit that he did something wrong, then all his decisions might be questioned, and when you start questioning his action, then he looses control. As I see it now, my dad wanted everything, that is why he married my mom on her death bed, and made no provision for me in the will. He spent his whole life taking advantage of people that loved him, it is no wonder that he is all alone now. I have often wondered if any of his mental problems were passed along to me or my brother, or maybe my brothers kids(might have skipped a generation). So far, out side of my environment in which I was raised, I see no problems. Although it took me years of living in a "normal" environment, before my values became somewhat normal. The question for me now is whether I turn him into the county health department. He does pose a danger to himself and his neighbors, but if I turn him in, he will seek some sort of vengeance on me, or my wife and her family. I always under estimate how low he would go. I still have problems reconciling my relationship with my dad in my own mind. On one hand he was the foundation of my values and doing the right thing, but on the other hand the more I evaluate his actions with me and the other people in his family, I find a cold calculating, self centered man, that viewed anyone's love or compassion for him, as a weakness, that must be exploited. The only reason that he never killed anyone, was he felt that it would have been too great of a risk for him to get caught, besides, I feel that he got a sense of power by keeping his victims in prolonged agony.
The Girls
We will start of with Bridget, the first girl that I really had sex with. I cheated on Mary with her, and she was always up for anything. One time Ron and I got drunk and drove to Bridget mom's house at about 3 AM. Ron threw a ladder that was laying beside the house up to her window. He climbed through the window and she was a bit surprised to say the least. Ron said, it's OK, its just me Ron. As Ron and Bridget started down the ladder, I started to see lights go on in the house. It was time to get going. They jumped in the car, and as I was spinning tire to get out of there. I saw her brother come out on the porch with what looked to be a shotgun. All three of us went back to Ron's house for a tag team match with Bridget. I lost track of her over the years, but ran into her at a supermarket. I told her I was married and introduced her to my wife. She said she was hooked up with some hill billy, He was about 5'6" and had about 3 teeth left. She called me from their house one time, but I could hear him in the background giving her some shit about calling ex-boyfriends. She tried to tell him that I was married, but about then the line went dead. I never heard from her again. Were there other girls? Sure, but none-of the had any relevant meaning to my life, ( I know that is a terrible thing to say) and therefore deliberately left out of this blog. There were only 3 woman I ever professed my love for. Lorna had passed away. Mary's sister, only knew of it from a torrid letter that I wrote long ago, and of course my wife Mary. Mary's sister, Sue was going out with this guy named junior. How many guys named junior, that you know, that weren't missing a few marbles in the attic. Well this guy was no exception. Nice enough, but had the intellect of a 14 year old. She almost married him, but I told Mary that they would not get married, and if they did get married, it wouldn't last. She broke off the engagement. It seams that when they were looking for reception halls together (how romantic), he insisted on bringing his 14 year old friend with then all the time. Sue bounced around a few boyfriends, until she met Michael. He appealed to her creative side. They met at karaoke, and he was an artist, his college major was art history. It was a story book romance. He was the perfect gentleman, a bit wordy, but that just proved he had an education. Well the two of them couldn't be too smart, because in a short time they had unprotected sex and then were surprised that she was pregnant. (duh)From the start of the pregnancy on their story book romance was shattered. For starters they both moved out of their homes and into a rented house. How many artists do you know that are rich or well off? That's right only the dead ones, and this guy was no exception. So she tried to work as a hair stylist, but her feet began to swell, and she found it harder and harder to keep working a full time job. He ended up taking a job paying a little over minimum wage. The arguments started flying after that. He was a mama's boy and his mom said it was the woman's job to take care of the house. So he happened to be a neat freak, and would yell at Sue for even the slightest spill or mess. He would also yell at her for her decrease in hours. She tried to reason with him, that her activities were becoming restricted as her pregnancy progressed. His response was to make slurs on Sue's family for not going to college. Finally the baby came, a beautiful baby girl. All was peaceful, for about 2 weeks. Then it was Sue's job to feed, cleanup, and put the baby to bed, all while maintaining a well kept house, cooking dinner, and keeping her income levels high. This was a recipe for disaster, when Mary and I would visit, they would argue over the most trivial stuff. Since I tried to remain neutral, they both would try to appeal their case to me, like I was some sort of referee. Sine there was all that pressure on Sue, she would cut corners. One of the corners she cut was that when her daughter wanted ANYTHING, she gave it to her. As her daughter got older the mom tried to say no, but then the daughter went into a tantrum, with her mom giving in. By the way now the little girl is 4.5 years old and still poops in her pants, because her mom did not want to upset her with potty training. When her daughter gets loud, her mom gives her anything with sugar in it. She says it temporally quiets her down. Her "husband" Michael and her don't argue as much since he just does what he wants, and when he is at home he retreats to his art studio in the attic, to paint very dreary paintings that nobody wants. In all of this chaos, I put forth a question to sue. I asked her, since Mary is getting up in years, would you have her child? She said well, I don't think so. Why did I ask?? Because when Mary and I get up in years, and the question comes up, maybe Sue could have had our baby, I can say I already ask and she said no. Am I still in love with sue? well lets put it this way, a part of me is in love with the sue I knew many years ago. I will never make a pass at her, I am in love my wife Mary, and I would not want to be the reason for the break up of their family. Although If I knew that Mary was going to cheat on me in the future, then I would have made my move for Sue those many years ago. Does Sue have any feelings for me? I am sure, that she may have thought about the torrid letter I wrote her, especially now considering her situation. For some of the same reasons as mine, she would not show it much. First she would not want to betray her sister, and then she would not want to break up her little family, even as dysfunctional as it is. It would not surprise me if I were to hear that Michael ended up with a fork stuck in his forehead.
My Brother
My brother and I had a great time growing up. When we were kids, he was like the straight man and I was the comedian, always getting into mischief. Even though we got older, that same rule pretty much applies today. My brother broke off ties with his/my dad while he was still in the navy. He did come to town and visit our dad, his main gripe to my dad; "was I planned for?" When I moved out of my dad's house I had nobody to help me except Mary. I did not know where my brother was or what he was doing. I believe I was contacted about my brother through our grandmother. My brother was working for a defense contractor, and at one time was getting training in England. He talked about me coming over to visit. as much as I would have liked to go, I was still trying to get my life back on track from my dad. In one letter that I still have he was talking about this one girl Lottie Lilts, and about her wanting to get serious. Also in the letter he seamed to assert his independence as a bachelor. Less than a month later he announced his plans for a quick marriage. Yep, you guessed it, in 5 months after the marriage they had their first son. Now my brother was no introvert, but it seamed that way compared to Lottie. She was very smart and had a doctorate in mathematics. She was very out going in a folksy kind of way. I honestly like Lottie, she is something that was not known in our family(bright, outgoing and with a lot of connections) I believe that my brother thought she might be too bright. On one of my early visits to their house, my brother and I went out to the video store to get a VHS movie. In a rare moment of complete honesty, he said that Lottie was not suppose to get pregnant as she was taking care of that herself. He also said when they would get in discussions about money, not only would she remind him that she was making more than him, and that he would not be where he is without her connections. I just listened, because I think my brother just wanted to vent. Now through the years they had another boy and my brother settled into domestic life. As he became more involved with his family, our connection became less and less. On one of the few times that I was on speaking terms with my dad, I was told that my brother was in town. I told my dad no he isn't because after traveling hundreds of miles he would have called me (and I knew my dad was one to stir up trouble) My dad said that his friend Bob Weis, who was a friend of my brother's maternal family told him. I did not want to believe it so I drove over to where he would stay while he was in town, his cousins house. Sure enough his vehicle was there, and he didn't even have 5 min. to see his own brother. Then I noticed a pattern, he would make all the arrangements with his cousins, then would try to fit me into his schedule. I guess if he didn't have time, he never called me. So there it is, I am on a lower pecking order than his cousin. Maybe I remind him too much of the father he has tried to deny. Maybe I am so hard up in trying to piece together what little bit of family I have, that I never said anything to him. You know, some day his first born is going to do the math about his birthday in relation to his mom and dad's wedding. About that time, he might ask his dad, was I planned for?" I would suggest that both my brother and his son ask Lottie, she would know for sure. But I would tell my nephew, "well kid, being planned for ain't always that great". A personal message to my brother and sister-in-law. Don't get hung up on the fact about your first child being planned for, or the circumstances of your marriage. I would be the last one to point out any moral dilemmas. I only put it in the blog because of the irony involved. I know that as we get older, the huge problems that we thought we had when we were younger, have a way of becoming trivial as we age. I know that my brother would agree, that his stepfather was as fine of a man that ever walked this earth, and he treated you as good as any biological father would, and from what you told me better than most fathers. Not to sound corny, but love makes and holds a family together, not heredity. PS the names in this blog have only been changed slightly to provide me, and maybe my relatives with legal deniability. There are a couple of stories I left out, because I wanted to make sure the statute of limitations has expired, even though the incidents occurred over 23 years ago. And a personal note to Lottie Lilts, I can understand that you may not want my wife and I staying in your house, all I can say is my life is on track to be an ordinary schmuck, but I can't stop people from judging me for things that I did, or did not do in the past. I always wish the best for you and your family, and would not, and had not done anything that would jeopardize your families health, well being or social status. Me? Is that it? well no. as life has no real endings neither does my story. I do have regrets, but most of the are things that are out of my control. I wished that my dad would get help. For all the things that he did to everyone that loved him, he should not be living in the conditions that he is now. I would not wish it on my worst enemy. I wished that he would stop fighting the world an spend that time and energy to pull our family together. Do I have hard feelings toward anyone? For me personally no, because wherever I am at in life, that is where I must want to be. I took the option of leaving home when things got too bad. Even though I have someone (my dad) to this day trying to destroy my life and/or creditability, I still have options. If I really wanted Mary to get invetro, we could have saved and sacrificed till we had enough money. I think most people blame their circumstances on someone, but the person that is responsible is you. I have a friend from high school, who is now retired, and the most he ever made was $12/ hour. He had a goal and he did not let vacations or squandering money on hobbies or anything else get in his way. So, if I ever sounded like I was complaining, I was not, because I did have options, called sacrifice and hard work. The only person I have something against is my dad, for the way he treated my mom. She had no options, which is why she attempted suicide on a few occasions. If she were to leave him there is no telling what he might have done. I know this now, but for years I held it against my mom, by saying why didn't you just leave or kick him out of the house since everything was in your name. I hope my brother will try to under stand, that since I do not have many family ties, my relationship to my brother is probably more important to me than it is to him, since he already has a close and well adjusted "normal" family.
Was I ever abused by my father?
Good question, but that would depend on the definition of abuse. If you mean physical abuse, I would have to say no, only because I did not let it get that far. I am sure that the first abuse of my Mom was not physical, but mental. It all starts with punishments, that she went along with. The punishments set the hierarchy of who was in charge and who was submissive. Once this is in place, it was only a matter of time and increasing punishments before full fledged abuse occurred. I do believe that my dad was setting the stage for him to shoot me with his 357 mag. On the occasion when I was to paint our living room, we moved all the furniture and stacks of newspapers away from the walls, so that I would have access to them. My dad and I got into an argument, which led to him saying, "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO PAINT THE WALLS. I WILL HIRE A PROFESSIONAL PAINTER TO PAINT THEM, AND YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR IT." He started to move the furniture and news papers back against the walls. I started to move them back away from the walls. He grabbed the stack of newspapers in my hands and tried to pull them away from me. A struggled ensued with me pulling the stack one way, and him pulling the other. I figured If you want the papers that bad, take them, so I let them go with a little shove in his direction. He lost his balance and fell straight on his ass. He got up and said if you ever attack me again, I have a 357, and I have every right to defend myself. That didn't worry me too much, because I decided to walk away from any further confrontations. That was until the incident, where I had locked myself out of my bed room, which meant that I would have to go down the steps and ask my dad for the key and listen to his sarcasm, and lecture. it was a cheap lock, which I bought anyway, so I broke the latch on my door and went to sleep. Only to be awoke by a knock on the door, and a mad saying this was the police, open up. I opened the door, and to my surprise there were 6 police outside my door. They told me that my dad said that I terrorized him and was destroying the house. I said all I did was break the latch on my door so I could go to be. The police turned to my dad and said, I don't think he will cause you any further problems, just let him sleep. The whole thing was blown way out of proportion, because I feel that if he were to shoot me, he could have documented, that he had to have 6 police restrain me. So far as the abuse for me, it started soon after my Mom died. He was inventing things that I did to him like taking his socks, or one glove, and trying to get me to admit to it so I could be punished. I was not my Mom, and I would not admit to anything that I had not done. This was an act of defiance, that must be punished. After all his obedient son would not defy him, so there must be an outside influence, enter the imaginary drugs and the so called bad influence of my friend Ron. It is odd, that it has taken me years to look back on my life and environment, and to see it as a normal person would and not someone who was enabling a psychopath. My Mom would always have bruises on her, but she said it was because she bruised easily. I was about 11 years old, and I believed her at the time, but now looking back she was probably hiding the fact that she was being abused. I now look at some of the few photographs of my Mom, and notice in some she was wearing sunglasses....indoors. My dad went to great lengths to hide what he was doing to her, from me and the rest of the world. I would hear things, like whacks, and whimpers of my Mom, in the next room, but at the time, I thought she was getting spanked like me when I did something wrong. I do remember that I would hear a whack and my dad saying, you moved we got to do it again. It was only at the point that my Mom knew that she was going to die, that she told me he was hitting her in the head so no one would see the marks. And for me it took years to figure out and draw a mental picture what was happening in the next room. So she had to bend in some sort of submissive position, so he could clearly whack her in the top of the head. If she flinched during this cowardly act, and she only got a glancing blow, she would have to stand there and do it again. Sometimes if the imaginary wrong was bad enough, she had to take several whacks. I feel guilty to this day, that I never did much to help my Mom, but who wants to think of their dad as someone who inflicts terror into someone's life. I do wonder though, there had to be people outside our household, that must have known something was going on, why didn't anyone try to help my Mom? No one to my knowledge tried to help, they just turned the other way, and said, yep, that is what I figured, my dad was an asshole. Do we live in a society, that looks the other way when someone needs help? If we do, aren't the people who could have helped, just enabling abusers, like my dad? Why did I write this blog? First as a testimony to my mom, as I am the only one that is willing to report the truth of what went on for over 20 years. No human being should ever be treated that way. And secondly, if you are in a relationship where you are abused physically, mentally, or both, I urge you to seek help. And remember some times, things don't always work out, in that instance just get out. My mom was told that her cancer was not that bad, and that her will to live, should have pulled her through. Her will to live died out, many years before the cancer took her life. Racism On one part of the blog, I stated that I had an admiration for the SS, but my views changed in high school, well this section explains how I made the transformation. Although I was brought up to be somewhat racist, from my dad, I was never taught to hate. My dad didn't hate Jews, but he always had a derogatory comment to make when a Jew showed up on TV. He was quick to point out how the Jews owned Hollywood, and was tried of them constantly bringing up the holocaust. It was about the same for blacks. He told me with some pride that one of my great uncles was a member of the KKK. It seamed natural at the time, for me to gravitate to Nazism and more directly to the SS. The SS because of the uncaring efficiency of the organization. Maybe I was subconsciously aligning myself with an organization that was able to shed any feelings to humanity. Why, well because if I had let my feelings of compassion and empathy for my Mom show, then I would be against my dad, or that is the way he saw it. He also used to beat our German Shepherd with a rubber hose, and sometimes apiece of cut down broomstick. One time my dad beat the dog, for wetting the carpet, (the dog was nervous around him, I can't imagine why) and the dog limped for 2 weeks. If I had any compassion, I would not have been able to live in the house. It was when I started high school, and saw a video of bulldozers pushing stacks of emaciated bodies into a mass grave, that I woke up, and any racist feelings I had, went away. I would tell my dad now, people don't talk about the holocaust enough. Until I saw the bodies the whole thing was just an impersonal concept in my mind, seeing the bodies and the faces made it personal. Now when they show the concentration camps and the bodies they blur out the faces. I totally disagree with that because it dehumanizes them, and that was Hitler's goal, remove their identity and dehumanize the Jews. The next train of thought was how did it happen? Go to the Holocaust museum in DC, and you will see the results incremental hatred. The radio propaganda of Germany, didn't offer solutions, but served up a sacrificial scape goat, that the populous devoured. So when I hear talk show hosts, blaming all the countries woes on one ideology, and then say we have to crush, this movement, I believe we are on the same path as Germany in the 1930s. None of them have any real solutions, but have affirmative action, liberals, feminist, and unions to serve as a scapegoat. These are the same people that wave the flag, and imply if you are not with us you don't love your country. The conservative talk show hosts say they love the UNITED states, why do they spend so much time be dividing us?
Religion
Even though it seams the hip thing to do now is be an atheist or agnostic, I consider myself a very spiritual person. I say spiritual and not religious because I do not subscribe to any one religion, but if you were to put a gun to my head and say choose, I would have to pick Episcopalian. Here is a quick break down of what I believe. The Bible was written by men that were inspired by God or THOUGHT they were inspired by God. As we today come up with conspiracy theories to explain the death of Kennedy (only 40+ years ago), for sure the death of Jesus would have inspired many to find significance of his life and death. Well, it did inspire many authors, maybe too many so in around 350 AD the Council of Nicea decided what stories went into the bible, and which ones would be lost to the sands of time. They choose based upon the criteria of a new religion of Christianity being formed, so the stories had to be inspiring. Since so many authors wrote about Jesus, there many stories that were redundant, so I guess the less inspirational stories were left out. They also believed, as most do today, that this is a mans world, so any stories about Mary Magdalene spreading the gospel were left out, as not to inspire woman to preach. So here is a run down, you have a collection of stories that may or may not be entirely accurate, which were picked by a council of men, some 300 years AFTER the death of Jesus, in order to make a book that would inspire the populous to Christianity. Then from this hodge podge of stories, (some contradicting each other) the worlds religions were formed. This reminds me of the story of the statue of iron but had the feet of clay. To top it off they threw in the old testament, that is now interpreted from a Christian viewpoint. I have always felt that any Christian church that reads out of the old testament, should bring a guest Rabbi in to speak. Don't you think the Jews would have a better understanding of their own book. I will give you a quick example, when Lot's wife was told not to look on the destruction of Sodom and Gomorra, but she did anyway and she was turned into a pillar of salt. I know what you are saying, nice story, but no one can be turned into a pillar of salt. But I had a Rabbi explain it to me, the cities represented sin, and if you want to rid yourself of sin, turn your back and walk away, and don't look back upon the pleasures of sin less it will eventually destroy you. The same was echoed when Jesus came upon an adulteress, and he said go, and sin no more. In Jesus time he was teaching, the spirit of the word and not the letter of the word. The sermon on the mount was a cliff note version of the psalms. So how would you honor the greatest teacher in the world, well as I do and try to have the spirit of his word and his Fathers word with me, in my everyday life. But as of the time of Jesus, too many have fought, criticized, and murdered in the name of THEIR true religion, which was based on clay feet at best. I say celebrate Jesus' life, and go through life with a light heart. All the grudges, and plans for revenge only hold YOU down. Forgive others, even if it is in your own heart, so that you may free yourself. Sorry for the preaching, but maybe you can understand why I kept trying to patch things up with my dad. I felt of all the soles that I know, his was in the most need of help.
As we're middle aged, this is not the end of the story, just the half way point. So what is my situation now? I still work 12 hour shifts 4-5 days a week. I only see my wife on weekends and a 20 min. in the morning and 45 min before I go to work. All the stuff that you do with your spouse that most people take for granted, such as meaningless conversations, sunsets, watching a bad movie, visiting your mother in law, and even arguments, I can't do, because of my work schedule. I believe that some friends and relatives may think that I am on drugs because I am sometimes tired, or look tired or even nod off when I am around them. But even after 7+ years with this schedule, I still can't get my biological clock to work right. My doctor prescribed sleeping pills so I can sleep during the day, and on weekends, but I think this just makes matters worse. I could get another job, but where, I work at the largest printer in my area, all other shops are laying people off or going out of business. I feel like a ghost in my own house, I'm here but my wife and friends are gone. Another presence has entered our relationship, named doubt. Ever since my wife cheated on me, I always get worried when my wife doesn't answer her phone, or if she tries to allow time on weekends, for me to take a nap while she is shopping, I wonder if she is meeting someone. I remember when the whole cheating thing went down, she said,"I wasn't really cheating, since I did not lie to you about anything I did, I just didn't tell you, and you did not ask." Let me ask you, how many of you ask your spouse or boy/girl friend if they are having sexual relations with someone else. Now remember you will have to ask every day, because they could truthfully answer, NO, but they might do it on a day that you didn't ask. Maybe if someone else went through this, they could tell me how to remove doubt from my mind, without a divorce.
I once had a brother that when we got in trouble we still had fun. Then I saw less and less, till I lost him. then I found him again, and we would go on adventures together. Then he and I got married, but we still had fun with the family, but now that his kids are grown, I became a half brother, then a cousin, 2nd cousin, then finally just some dude, that lives 300 miles away, we might be related, maybe not. I am now the person, you feel obligated to say "Hi" if you see me, but just out of politeness. We used to have fun getting into trouble, but now I am more trouble, than a brotherly relationship warrants. I am now a disease, and only limited exposure to me can keep me from infecting your family. I guess it was humorous, that at a recent family picnic, my sister-in law, kind of stumbled over her words, when she introduced herself, as Will's,... er.... a...er... sister-in law. must of taken a great effort to admit to that. My brother, and dad, have a lot in common, they can pick their relatives, and turn their back on the ones they have no use for. I haven't mastered that skill, and I hope I never will. I imagine, my sister in law, is fighting words that I wrote at a different time, and a different attitude, I have no fight left in me. If she wants a fight, she will have to find someone else. I once had a brother, but now he is lost again.
Depression
I've been battling depression since I was 12. At 12, I was treated like the Elephant Man, something to be laughed at and jeered by fellow classmates and members of my Boy Scout troop. It was then, that I made my first attempt at suicide, by hanging myself with towels tied in knots. But because I didn't know what I was doing, failed. I think because of the way I was raised, with an overbearing and over authoritative dad, plus the way my peers and some adults treated me, I thought it would make the gnawing pain of depression go away. The 2nd suicide attempt (with pills) was after my Mom died, I lost my job, the girl that I thought I would marry, broke up with me, crashed my car, and my dad accusing me of steeling. As years went by, I thought I was over my depression, but I guess the way I grew up, the patterns of being shunned and unwanted stayed with me. My family is all but gone, my brother can only stand to see me for about 6 hours out of a year, my co-worker, tries to take advantage of work situations, that I tried to work out with him, and was forced me to go to management, to make the situation fair. Now that the situation is fair, he went to many of the other employees that are his friends, and told them I am a snitch. Now I get the cold shunning treatment from them. I got indirectly accused ("somebody is turning these knobs", when there is just the 2 of us working the machine) of sabotaging the equipment, the first time I let it go, the 2nd time I said something. Of course, I ended up on the short end of that. I thought I should just get another job, but with my personality defect of basically inviting people to abuse me, anywhere I go, the same thing will happen. So now I'm back to the suicide solution. Nobody wants to die, nobody wants to commit suicide, they only want the pain to go away, and it is a physical and mental pain. If was not a coward, it would be done already. Besides being a suicide coward, I also have a niece, who had a couple of friends end their own lives, I don't want to do anything that might encourage or endorse this, as a solution. I imagine, someday when the pain is unbearable, and I gather the strength, to overcome your natural instinct to live, it will happen. The patterns of my life repeat, and I see no way of changing it. Sometimes I do pray, that God would give me a terminal cancer or disease, instead of giving it to someone else. The only people that gave me unconditional love, were my late mother, and an autistic ex-girlfriend, who has moved on, and away from me, which I am proud of, since I should have treated both of them better, when I knew them. As I age, the whole prospect of wanting to live, is a distant memory. I go through the motions of life as a repetitive exercise, of a memory, when I thought life had some meaning. I have no friends, when I meet someone, things are good, but after some time, they distance themselves, and I am back to nothing. Left out of conversations, left out of someone showing their humorous phone meme to everyone but me. We had a company meeting, our boss thanked everyone in the meeting, by their name, one at a time. You guessed it, they thanked everyone for their service and experience, except 2 people, me and a guy they fired in 2 weeks. I fix their equipment, I talk to repairman, to talk me through some of the repair procedures, saving them thousands on someone coming in. I got systems started, that shortened start up time and increased quality, but no mention, not even a small thank you. I did get a thank you from my wife, I told her the world might be better without me, to which she replied "thank you". I did ask her if she had a coupon, for a 2 free sandwiches with her, before we left home. She said why would we be talking about the place, if I didn't have the coupon, why did you think I was looking in my purse before. All I needed was a simple yes, to something I try to make sure of, before we leave the house. So even asking a simple question, gets her upset, that I should have known better, and was annoying her with the question. So when people might say I am distant and don't talk much, it's because I'm trying to think, will the next thing I say, become miss interpreted. I've been miss read since 1st grade, then 2nd grade, where my teacher made me stand all day in class, and the her saying, "there is 1 boy in class, we all don't like, and we know who it is, don't we class" My entire life, I somehow rub people the wrong way, and I don't know what it is, that I am doing, or how to fix it, other than eliminating myself. For now, I am part of that equation, that just doesn't add up.
So far, I've used this blog, as a therapeutic tool. While some people vent to a bartender, family or friends, I have this blog. I write what is in my heart, at that particular moment, and does not necessarily represent who I am now, or will be in the future. Life changes, people change, and as we can't change what has passed, we can work to better ourselves, and our relationships, and our tomorrows. One thing I discovered, you can't change attitudes, or the way people or family treats, or mistreats you. My Mom changed herself, by admitting to things she never did, in order to keep the peace, and de-escalate situations. But by doing so, she lost herself, and naturally found herself in fits of depression. Although, when I was a kid, I could not stop my dad from abusing her, I wished I would have given her more hugs, listened and encourage her to sing and draw, talk to her about her childhood, anything that would show empathy. This I can say in retrospect, as a child and teenager, I did not know of the gravity and depth of her situation. I would ask, that anyone reading this, if you know of anyone that is abused or depressed, offer them a bit of humanity, a hug, a smile, or your ear. That small expression of empathy, can make a huge difference in their life, and will to live. That will to live, in a terminal illness, can tip the balance of life or death, and if nothing else, will give them some comfort at the end of their life.
The Rave
Ok, it's been over 10 years since this "blog" has been updated, so it took a while before someone told me how the Raves worked. Now as a printer, I knew how I made money on the raves, but I had to deal with numerous promoters, some came and went, but the most "successful" promoters, at times barely broke even, or many times lost money, or so I thought. The rave was an open air drug market, no the promoters would always pretend there was very little drugs, or distance themselves from the shady end of the rave. So what was their secret to making a profit? They would have a house drug dealer, that they knew would bring, and sell "safe" drugs, and they would say what they would allow in their parties. I also found out 1 of the production companies, were under Mafia protection, In turn they would bring their drugs in to the party in the lighting effects cases. Each successful production company had their own house dealer, which would pay back the production company for access to the drug market. As for me. I bought drugs, acid and ecstasy, and would sell off any extra that I had. I heard of a story that the lighting effects company forgot they left 1000 ecstasy pills in a light, and they ended up burning them when they turned the light on, during the party. Another time, a different Mafia crew stole the X pill shipment from the lighting company, but they did not have the market to sell them, since it wasn't coke. The Mafia crew that supported the lighting company, tried to put pressure on the other crew. In the end they negotiated a price, and sold the pills back to the lighting crew.
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