I need to take a short step back to the beginning of July, 1971 to talk about fireworks and such... By the end of the 1960s the concept of "safe and sane" had spread to most of the states. Texas was almost there, but you could still get things that would blow your fingers off... So a few days before the 4th I stopped by the fireworks stand in Argyle.
Aside: I couldn't believe the racial terms they used to describe some of the fireworks. I shall not repeat them here - I remember shaking my head in disbelief. Not cool...
After careful consideration I ended up just buying a few packages of firecrackers... The fuses were intertwined (forming strings) but it was really easy to separate them and I figured it would be a lot more entertaining to set hundreds of them them off individually than to light off entire strings in a matter of seconds. (Yes - I've always been that cheap...) And since I'd never had the opportunity to experiment with fireworks before I spent the next few days figuring out exactly what those tiny little explosive devices were capable of... (Not much, it turns out.)
First - there were these spiders that lived in underground nests in the back yard so I dropped firecrackers down their holes... Unfortunately, it didn't produce the chaos I was hoping for. Their reaction was more like "Seriously? You can't think of anything better to do?"
So I switched my focus from fauna to inanimate objects. The thing that really triggered my OCD was seeing how high I could launch a mayonnaise jar lid off the patio using a single firecracker. (BTW: I got the mayo lid from the garbage, not the fridge...) It was impossible to launch it without some spin so I experimented with controlling the degree of rotation by altering the placement of the firecracker under the lid - and once I got that "dialed in" I started placing small objects around the firecracker to decrease the chamber volume and direct the force upward.
I no longer recall exactly what "recipe" produced the highest altitude (it was only like 9 feet), but I do remember being frustrated by the variation between the firecrackers. (Darn those Asian factories and their substandard quality control.) ... Nonetheless - it kept me entertained for many hours :-)
Of course, I did save some of the firecrackers for the evening of the 4th of July. I started out setting them off on the ground but that just wasn't very satisfying - they needed to be airborne... I tried throwing them but they were too light to go very high. So I taped some to paper airplanes, but it was hard to get the plane balanced properly and the explosion did almost no damage. (I was hoping for confetti...) And paper plates were too unpredictable when used as a "flying disc toy". (I'm avoiding using the trademark so I don't get a "cease and desist" letter.)
Aside: It just occurred to me that some of the terms in the prior paragraphs might set off triggers in the software that the FBI and/or NSA swear they don't use to analyze every bit of network traffic in the U.S... So in case they're reading this: "I'm talking about paper airplanes and tiny little firecrackers - and it was over 40 years ago... So lighten up!"
I finally settled on taping the firecrackers to small rocks and tossing them skyward, but I still had to figure out how long to hold the rock after lighting the fuse so the firecracker would explode at the peak of the trajectory... It was tricky because the fuses didn't burn at the same rate and the weight of the rocks varied. But the biggest issue proved to be the consistency of my throwing arm... Still - did I know how to have fun, or what??? :-)
The following year I was in an apartment in Dallas, followed by a couple of years in military barracks - then marriage and more apartments... Debbie and I did buy a house in the spring of 1976 but I was on TDY in Boston over the 4th of July and the following year we had an infant son to look after... So July of 1971 was the first time - and the last time - I ever played with fireworks.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Born Again and Baptized
This topic is a bit strange for me to write about because I'm not exactly what you would call a "person of faith". As a matter of fact, I'm rather the opposite... But there are many things in life that I don't understand - and this is one of them...
As it turns out, being "born again" is a very real experience, one that can fundamentally change your life... So - is the experience exactly what evangelical Christians claim it is? ... Heck if I know... My rational brain tells me that it's all nonsense, but my rational brain also tells me that the universe can't possibly exist - so I guess it's a wash :-) Furthermore - I long ago concluded that I don't need to understand the exact nature of the "experience"... It simply doesn't matter...
You know - it took an awful lot of soul searching to get to that point... I mean - I knew that everyone in the church wanted me to "turn my life over to Christ", but I was highly resistant to the whole idea... I would have to get up in front of the whole congregation and everything - how embarrassing :-)
But then I got to wondering exactly what it was that I was clinging to and why it was so hard to let go of it. The answer was pretty obvious: I didn't want to turn control of my life over to some unknown, unseen force...
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was already at the mercy of forces unknown and unseen -forces that manifested themselves as amazing and wondrously balanced mathematical certainties and uncertainties... Yes - nothing fascinates me more that the fact that our fate as a group seems to be statistically predetermined (e.g. "X number of people will die in traffic accidents next year") yet our fate as individuals is not ("we have no idea who those people will be").
Aside: When I talk about statistical predetermination most people look at me like I'm crazy. They're like "Well, duh!"... But the only reason we're so comfortable with the concept is that we've seen it in everything around us since the day we were born. We know that roughly X number of people will grow to be Y inches tall - and that Z students will score in a particular range on a given test... But why is everything is so predictable??? ... Yes - I know it's the "law of averages" - but exactly who made that law and how is it enforced? If you can get past the notion that it's "just how things are" you begin to realize just how bizarre and inexplicable it is... I mean - how "free" is our "free will" if we (as a group) are bound to statistical certainties? ... And if the universe came about "at random" how come everything in it adheres to such strict mathematical principles??? But I digress (slightly)...
So it came to pass that on July 25, 1971 I was born again... I still remember it like it was yesterday - truly an amazing experience. Really indescribable... And afterward the sleepless nights stopped... The compulsive drinking stopped... OK - the stress didn't stop - but there was a lot less of it.
The interesting part was that I was still who I had always been. When I was a teenager I was afraid to change anything about myself because I thought that it would somehow change me... But those fears were completely unfounded. I learned that you can change your appearance - how you behave - even what you think and believe - and still not change who you are... Cool...
You know - from time to time I've tried to come up with a rational explanation for the whole thing. There may well be one - I don't know. I'll have to leave that up to the psychologists. And if they tell me it's a delusion, then fine - so be it. It's one that I'm happy with... Honestly - if we didn't suffer from delusions from time to time we'd most certainly all go crazy :-)
Of course, I also had to be baptized again. I don't remember my Catholic baptism on account of being an infant and all... I'm told that I farted when the water touched my forehead. Yeah - that should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me very well. According to my mother the priest claimed that I was "shooting at the devil", but it's really just something I do...
OK - I did not know that Baptist churches were set up to do total immersion. Yeah - there was sort of a hot tub thing in an elevated area behind some curtains up at the front of that church. The water was about waist deep and had a glass panel across the top front so the congregation could see you "go under". There were stairs at either end of the tub, so when it was your turn you'd step down into the water (where the minister was waiting), cross your arms in front of you (holding your nose), and he would cradle your body and lean you back under the water for a couple of seconds. Then you'd go up the steps at the other end where someone was waiting "in the wings" with towels...
There were (I think) about 5 or 6 of us baptized that day. They gave us these white robes to wear over our skivvies and we formed a line at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the platform from which you descended into the pool... Now - those stairs were really steep - almost like a step ladder - and it should come as no surprise that what I remember most about the whole event is glancing up at the teenage girl at the top of the stairs ahead of me... I swear it wasn't intentional. (White cotton, by the way) ... Yeah - I guess some things just never change :-)
So exactly what do I believe in? Well, it's something... I'm really not sure what - but it helps me cope with the world around me - and it helps me get to sleep at night... And that's good enough for me.
As it turns out, being "born again" is a very real experience, one that can fundamentally change your life... So - is the experience exactly what evangelical Christians claim it is? ... Heck if I know... My rational brain tells me that it's all nonsense, but my rational brain also tells me that the universe can't possibly exist - so I guess it's a wash :-) Furthermore - I long ago concluded that I don't need to understand the exact nature of the "experience"... It simply doesn't matter...
You know - it took an awful lot of soul searching to get to that point... I mean - I knew that everyone in the church wanted me to "turn my life over to Christ", but I was highly resistant to the whole idea... I would have to get up in front of the whole congregation and everything - how embarrassing :-)
But then I got to wondering exactly what it was that I was clinging to and why it was so hard to let go of it. The answer was pretty obvious: I didn't want to turn control of my life over to some unknown, unseen force...
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was already at the mercy of forces unknown and unseen -forces that manifested themselves as amazing and wondrously balanced mathematical certainties and uncertainties... Yes - nothing fascinates me more that the fact that our fate as a group seems to be statistically predetermined (e.g. "X number of people will die in traffic accidents next year") yet our fate as individuals is not ("we have no idea who those people will be").
Aside: When I talk about statistical predetermination most people look at me like I'm crazy. They're like "Well, duh!"... But the only reason we're so comfortable with the concept is that we've seen it in everything around us since the day we were born. We know that roughly X number of people will grow to be Y inches tall - and that Z students will score in a particular range on a given test... But why is everything is so predictable??? ... Yes - I know it's the "law of averages" - but exactly who made that law and how is it enforced? If you can get past the notion that it's "just how things are" you begin to realize just how bizarre and inexplicable it is... I mean - how "free" is our "free will" if we (as a group) are bound to statistical certainties? ... And if the universe came about "at random" how come everything in it adheres to such strict mathematical principles??? But I digress (slightly)...
So it came to pass that on July 25, 1971 I was born again... I still remember it like it was yesterday - truly an amazing experience. Really indescribable... And afterward the sleepless nights stopped... The compulsive drinking stopped... OK - the stress didn't stop - but there was a lot less of it.
The interesting part was that I was still who I had always been. When I was a teenager I was afraid to change anything about myself because I thought that it would somehow change me... But those fears were completely unfounded. I learned that you can change your appearance - how you behave - even what you think and believe - and still not change who you are... Cool...
You know - from time to time I've tried to come up with a rational explanation for the whole thing. There may well be one - I don't know. I'll have to leave that up to the psychologists. And if they tell me it's a delusion, then fine - so be it. It's one that I'm happy with... Honestly - if we didn't suffer from delusions from time to time we'd most certainly all go crazy :-)
Of course, I also had to be baptized again. I don't remember my Catholic baptism on account of being an infant and all... I'm told that I farted when the water touched my forehead. Yeah - that should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me very well. According to my mother the priest claimed that I was "shooting at the devil", but it's really just something I do...
OK - I did not know that Baptist churches were set up to do total immersion. Yeah - there was sort of a hot tub thing in an elevated area behind some curtains up at the front of that church. The water was about waist deep and had a glass panel across the top front so the congregation could see you "go under". There were stairs at either end of the tub, so when it was your turn you'd step down into the water (where the minister was waiting), cross your arms in front of you (holding your nose), and he would cradle your body and lean you back under the water for a couple of seconds. Then you'd go up the steps at the other end where someone was waiting "in the wings" with towels...
There were (I think) about 5 or 6 of us baptized that day. They gave us these white robes to wear over our skivvies and we formed a line at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the platform from which you descended into the pool... Now - those stairs were really steep - almost like a step ladder - and it should come as no surprise that what I remember most about the whole event is glancing up at the teenage girl at the top of the stairs ahead of me... I swear it wasn't intentional. (White cotton, by the way) ... Yeah - I guess some things just never change :-)
So exactly what do I believe in? Well, it's something... I'm really not sure what - but it helps me cope with the world around me - and it helps me get to sleep at night... And that's good enough for me.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
More Odds and Ends
I'm having some difficulty with the timeline of my life around the summer of 1971. I think it's because there was so much going on at that point. There was family, and the church, and cars, and girls, and the Denton Community orchestra, and the trip to Glorieta and the move to Denton... It doesn't seem like it all could've possibly happened in one summer, but it must have, because the prior summer I was in Tyler and the next summer I was driving a delivery truck in Dallas. (And the next I was in the military...) But I'm getting ahead of myself.
First - about migraines: I've heard lots of people say "I'm having a migraine" but I think a lot of them have no clue what they are talking about... I had my first one that summer and I was sure I was going to die. It started with the spots floating before my eyes followed by overwhelming nausea, and finally excruciating head-to-toe pain.
I had to seek medical attention and since my mom was out of town (and Karina was "who knows where") I had no choice but to drive there alone. So I fired up the Fairlane, stopped at the end of the driveway, looked both directions and pulled out to the left. That's when I heard the horn and the screeching tires... The other driver avoided hitting me but I was left wondering what the f*ck had just happened. That's when I realized I couldn't see a darn thing to my left which, of course, scared me even worse... The drive to Denton was nerve-wracking because I wasn't sure if I was actually seeing what I was seeing. (When given incomplete data the brain fills in the blanks - it's kind of fascinating, really.)
After running some tests the doctor informed me that it was "just" a migraine and I needed to drink more water on hot days, and maybe drape a cold wet towel around my neck... Really? It's that simple?? ... In retrospect, I think the whole thing was exacerbated because I was also having panic attacks - but I didn't know of such things back then...
Speaking of panic attacks: I occasionally let Karina drive the Fairlane on the back roads around Argyle with me as a passenger. She didn't have a learner's permit yet and didn't get her license until years later... I recall that she tended to stay way too far to the right. She was apparently more afraid of oncoming traffic than she was of hitting mailboxes. Yeah - that was scary... I also tried to teach her to parallel park in the driveway. I don't recall what I used for markers, but I do recall that it was hopeless :-)
Next - Chaela:
Chaela was the cat we had gotten in Tyler - the one that ended up with a broken hip while I was out of town for the weekend... Anyway - she loved country life. Despite being a tiny little thing she quickly became a stone-cold killing machine :-) And it wasn't just mice, rats and birds - I'm talking snakes and rabbits too. (That will come up again later.) Yeah - and she celebrated her freedom by immediately getting pregnant and having 2 kittens. (There rest were stillborn.)
So - when it was time move from Argyle to Denton I put Chaela and the kittens in a big cardboard box and stuck it in the back seat of the Fairlane. Everything was fine until the car start moving and Chaela freaked out. She forced the box open and the next thing I knew there were kitties all over the car... That wouldn't have been a problem except one of the kittens got under the brake pedal as I was approaching a stop sign. Luckily, I managed to nudge it aside with my foot at the last second... (I was on the verge of panicking.)
Lastly, that was the summer I learned I could be useful:
First up was the children's Bible Camp at the church... Steve, Royce, Sam and I were in charge of teaching archery. That apparently meant making sure the kids didn't shoot each other with arrows. I found it quite interesting for 2 reasons:
1) I had never spent any time around kids before (they're weird little people).
2) Providing encouragement and positive reinforcement was completely foreign to me... I was like "You mean I should tell them they're doing great even when they're sucking???"
Next: The church decided to convert a storage area in the attic into a "youth group room". That entailed finishing the walls, adding lighting and outlets and installing an air conditioner, all done with volunteer labor... Now - I had worked on cars before (always alone) but never did anything "handyman" like. And I had honestly never been around men who pitched in the way those church members did... They had me doing electrical work because they seemed to think I was smart. (I wasn't sure.) ... Yeah - it was almost like being a grownup :-)
Aside: Debbie and I were just talking about how the adults in Argyle treated me as if I were much older that other guys roughly my age. She thinks it's because the others had always been kids to them, while I had arrived fully grown... She's probably right... Steve in particular seemed to resent it, but then he still acts like a kid :-)
But my first exposure to the whole "pitching in" thing had been earlier when one of the elderly church members put her car into "D" instead of "R" and ran her front tires over the "stop" and off the edge of the retaining wall out front... All the men immediately headed for the car. One ran up and made sure she was OK while the others grabbed the front bumper - and I just stood there watching... One of them noticed me and was like "Um... A little help, please??"
So, we got the car back up onto the pavement - and it was a lesson learned that led to a lifetime of helping out...
Funny - I was just thinking back and I don't recall my father ever "just helping out" during his entire life. How sad...
First - about migraines: I've heard lots of people say "I'm having a migraine" but I think a lot of them have no clue what they are talking about... I had my first one that summer and I was sure I was going to die. It started with the spots floating before my eyes followed by overwhelming nausea, and finally excruciating head-to-toe pain.
I had to seek medical attention and since my mom was out of town (and Karina was "who knows where") I had no choice but to drive there alone. So I fired up the Fairlane, stopped at the end of the driveway, looked both directions and pulled out to the left. That's when I heard the horn and the screeching tires... The other driver avoided hitting me but I was left wondering what the f*ck had just happened. That's when I realized I couldn't see a darn thing to my left which, of course, scared me even worse... The drive to Denton was nerve-wracking because I wasn't sure if I was actually seeing what I was seeing. (When given incomplete data the brain fills in the blanks - it's kind of fascinating, really.)
After running some tests the doctor informed me that it was "just" a migraine and I needed to drink more water on hot days, and maybe drape a cold wet towel around my neck... Really? It's that simple?? ... In retrospect, I think the whole thing was exacerbated because I was also having panic attacks - but I didn't know of such things back then...
Speaking of panic attacks: I occasionally let Karina drive the Fairlane on the back roads around Argyle with me as a passenger. She didn't have a learner's permit yet and didn't get her license until years later... I recall that she tended to stay way too far to the right. She was apparently more afraid of oncoming traffic than she was of hitting mailboxes. Yeah - that was scary... I also tried to teach her to parallel park in the driveway. I don't recall what I used for markers, but I do recall that it was hopeless :-)
Next - Chaela:
Chaela was the cat we had gotten in Tyler - the one that ended up with a broken hip while I was out of town for the weekend... Anyway - she loved country life. Despite being a tiny little thing she quickly became a stone-cold killing machine :-) And it wasn't just mice, rats and birds - I'm talking snakes and rabbits too. (That will come up again later.) Yeah - and she celebrated her freedom by immediately getting pregnant and having 2 kittens. (There rest were stillborn.)
So - when it was time move from Argyle to Denton I put Chaela and the kittens in a big cardboard box and stuck it in the back seat of the Fairlane. Everything was fine until the car start moving and Chaela freaked out. She forced the box open and the next thing I knew there were kitties all over the car... That wouldn't have been a problem except one of the kittens got under the brake pedal as I was approaching a stop sign. Luckily, I managed to nudge it aside with my foot at the last second... (I was on the verge of panicking.)
Lastly, that was the summer I learned I could be useful:
First up was the children's Bible Camp at the church... Steve, Royce, Sam and I were in charge of teaching archery. That apparently meant making sure the kids didn't shoot each other with arrows. I found it quite interesting for 2 reasons:
1) I had never spent any time around kids before (they're weird little people).
2) Providing encouragement and positive reinforcement was completely foreign to me... I was like "You mean I should tell them they're doing great even when they're sucking???"
Next: The church decided to convert a storage area in the attic into a "youth group room". That entailed finishing the walls, adding lighting and outlets and installing an air conditioner, all done with volunteer labor... Now - I had worked on cars before (always alone) but never did anything "handyman" like. And I had honestly never been around men who pitched in the way those church members did... They had me doing electrical work because they seemed to think I was smart. (I wasn't sure.) ... Yeah - it was almost like being a grownup :-)
Aside: Debbie and I were just talking about how the adults in Argyle treated me as if I were much older that other guys roughly my age. She thinks it's because the others had always been kids to them, while I had arrived fully grown... She's probably right... Steve in particular seemed to resent it, but then he still acts like a kid :-)
But my first exposure to the whole "pitching in" thing had been earlier when one of the elderly church members put her car into "D" instead of "R" and ran her front tires over the "stop" and off the edge of the retaining wall out front... All the men immediately headed for the car. One ran up and made sure she was OK while the others grabbed the front bumper - and I just stood there watching... One of them noticed me and was like "Um... A little help, please??"
So, we got the car back up onto the pavement - and it was a lesson learned that led to a lifetime of helping out...
Funny - I was just thinking back and I don't recall my father ever "just helping out" during his entire life. How sad...
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Along Came Brenda
Now that I've stepped back in time and covered that visit with my father (and stepmother) in New York we're back in the present, which for the purposes of this blog is April to June of 1971 in Argyle, Texas.
At this point I've already discussed my friendship with Steve, Royce and Sam, and also said a bit (probably too much) about one of the Beckys... The rest of the girls in the Chosen Few were all very nice - and although some were cute most all of them were still in junior high (just a bit on the young side for a 17 year old guy)...
Aside - I don't think I've mentioned the "clothing" issue yet:
I don't know if it was a southern thing, or a church thing - or what. But I swear most of those girls changed clothes 3 or 4 times a day. No matter what we were doing - or where we were going - whatever they were currently wearing wasn't "right" for the prospective activity... Or maybe it was the temperature - or the humidity - or the time of day - or the day of the week. It was always something... A simple change of venue invariably morphed into a major production requiring intricate planning and execution. And to make matters worse, the process became exponentially more complex when multiple girls were involved because they were all intimately familiar with each others' wardrobes and every apparel choice had to be discussed and mutually agreed upon... Yeah - I tried not to listen because I was afraid my ears would start to bleed :-) But I digress...
I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but shortly after my arrival one of the Brendas attached herself to me. Yeah - it was as if the girls got together to decide who had "dibs" on me and she won (or lost?)... Regardless - none of the rest of them showed much interest in me from then on.
OK - I've got to tell my favorite Brenda story here. It's one of those "You've got to be kidding" things:
When she was little her family was heading down the highway at 50 MPH and she managed to open the car door and fall out. Amazingly, she suffered no broken bones but she was a bit torn up...
Now, I wouldn't describe her family as "poor" (to me, that's more about attitude than circumstance) - they just didn't have much money. And as a result they didn't take her to the doctor... I remember listening in stunned horror as she described how her mom had picked the gravel out from between her teeth and gums with tweezers. :-)
Now - Brenda was cute enough, and incredibly nice - however, she was only 14 years old, and not really my type... But I think she was exactly what I needed at the time.
There's really not that much to tell. We were only "together" for a few months. Sometimes we played miniature golf or bowled, but we mostly just hung out... I'd never been close to a girl before so it was all new to me. We talked, held hands, and occasionally hugged - all quite innocent - we never even kissed. It was just really nice having someone around who actually seemed to care about me.
Aside: One day Brenda and I stopped at a "Tastee Freez" type of place in Denton for a quick snack. The song "If" by "Bread" was playing on the jukebox. ("If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can't I paint you", etc.) ... She decided that was "our song"... Yeah - I would have preferred something like "Voodoo Child", but the whole thing was still kind of cute :-)
I'm still not sure why it ended... I remember hearing rumors that there were rumors floating around that we were doing the things we weren't doing. (Church groups seem to be the worst for that kind of drama.) Or maybe her parents were starting to worry - I don't know... All I know is that one evening Brenda got all teary-eyed and said "I can't do this anymore"... I remember sitting there wondering "Can't do what? We're not doing anything!"... She wouldn't elaborate. I talked to some of her friends but they either didn't know or wouldn't say. So yeah - it remained a mystery...
You know - it probably "got to me" more than it should have because it was so hard for me to open up - to trust - to be vulnerable... Aside from my family, I can count the number of people on one hand who I've let get that close to me... But I couldn't be angry with her. It's not like you can hold a 14 year-old girl responsible for your psychological well-being... I knew that, but it still hurt a bit...
Yet another aside: A lot of the older folks in Argyle didn't really trust me very much. It was one of those communities that didn't allow dancing (apparently that leads directly to fornication). And I was an outsider with long hair and a foreign (yankee) accent who had played in a rock band... The irony is that I was one of the few young men in town they actually should have trusted with their daughters... Yeah - they had absolutely no clue what their kids were up to. And I'm still not going to tell :-)
Epilogue:
It's hard to believe that a mere year and a half later I was in basic training at Lackland AFB... I'll have much more to say about that later, but the relevant point is that a few weeks into the process you end up so physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted that you don't even know who you are anymore. (That's kind of the point.) It was the most alone I've ever felt - and that's saying a lot.
It was around that time we got our "mail privileges" back so (in addition to writing to my mom) I reached out to Brenda for comfort and reassurance. (She would have been about 16 years old at the time.) She was kind enough to exchange letters with me and she sent me this picture:
Now - I just now dug this out of my "box-o-pics" and when I flipped it over I couldn't stop laughing... I had totally forgotten about that note on the back. Yeah - I don't think she had any clue just how harsh that was :-)
So, I eventually got over the "basic training blues" and a year later I started writing to Debbie, so everything turned out the way it was supposed to (if you believe in that sort of thing). No harm - no foul? Still - Brenda cared about me at a time when not many people did... And that was ... nice.
At this point I've already discussed my friendship with Steve, Royce and Sam, and also said a bit (probably too much) about one of the Beckys... The rest of the girls in the Chosen Few were all very nice - and although some were cute most all of them were still in junior high (just a bit on the young side for a 17 year old guy)...
Aside - I don't think I've mentioned the "clothing" issue yet:
I don't know if it was a southern thing, or a church thing - or what. But I swear most of those girls changed clothes 3 or 4 times a day. No matter what we were doing - or where we were going - whatever they were currently wearing wasn't "right" for the prospective activity... Or maybe it was the temperature - or the humidity - or the time of day - or the day of the week. It was always something... A simple change of venue invariably morphed into a major production requiring intricate planning and execution. And to make matters worse, the process became exponentially more complex when multiple girls were involved because they were all intimately familiar with each others' wardrobes and every apparel choice had to be discussed and mutually agreed upon... Yeah - I tried not to listen because I was afraid my ears would start to bleed :-) But I digress...
I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but shortly after my arrival one of the Brendas attached herself to me. Yeah - it was as if the girls got together to decide who had "dibs" on me and she won (or lost?)... Regardless - none of the rest of them showed much interest in me from then on.
OK - I've got to tell my favorite Brenda story here. It's one of those "You've got to be kidding" things:
When she was little her family was heading down the highway at 50 MPH and she managed to open the car door and fall out. Amazingly, she suffered no broken bones but she was a bit torn up...
Now, I wouldn't describe her family as "poor" (to me, that's more about attitude than circumstance) - they just didn't have much money. And as a result they didn't take her to the doctor... I remember listening in stunned horror as she described how her mom had picked the gravel out from between her teeth and gums with tweezers. :-)
Now - Brenda was cute enough, and incredibly nice - however, she was only 14 years old, and not really my type... But I think she was exactly what I needed at the time.
There's really not that much to tell. We were only "together" for a few months. Sometimes we played miniature golf or bowled, but we mostly just hung out... I'd never been close to a girl before so it was all new to me. We talked, held hands, and occasionally hugged - all quite innocent - we never even kissed. It was just really nice having someone around who actually seemed to care about me.
Aside: One day Brenda and I stopped at a "Tastee Freez" type of place in Denton for a quick snack. The song "If" by "Bread" was playing on the jukebox. ("If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can't I paint you", etc.) ... She decided that was "our song"... Yeah - I would have preferred something like "Voodoo Child", but the whole thing was still kind of cute :-)
I'm still not sure why it ended... I remember hearing rumors that there were rumors floating around that we were doing the things we weren't doing. (Church groups seem to be the worst for that kind of drama.) Or maybe her parents were starting to worry - I don't know... All I know is that one evening Brenda got all teary-eyed and said "I can't do this anymore"... I remember sitting there wondering "Can't do what? We're not doing anything!"... She wouldn't elaborate. I talked to some of her friends but they either didn't know or wouldn't say. So yeah - it remained a mystery...
You know - it probably "got to me" more than it should have because it was so hard for me to open up - to trust - to be vulnerable... Aside from my family, I can count the number of people on one hand who I've let get that close to me... But I couldn't be angry with her. It's not like you can hold a 14 year-old girl responsible for your psychological well-being... I knew that, but it still hurt a bit...
Yet another aside: A lot of the older folks in Argyle didn't really trust me very much. It was one of those communities that didn't allow dancing (apparently that leads directly to fornication). And I was an outsider with long hair and a foreign (yankee) accent who had played in a rock band... The irony is that I was one of the few young men in town they actually should have trusted with their daughters... Yeah - they had absolutely no clue what their kids were up to. And I'm still not going to tell :-)
Epilogue:
It's hard to believe that a mere year and a half later I was in basic training at Lackland AFB... I'll have much more to say about that later, but the relevant point is that a few weeks into the process you end up so physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted that you don't even know who you are anymore. (That's kind of the point.) It was the most alone I've ever felt - and that's saying a lot.
It was around that time we got our "mail privileges" back so (in addition to writing to my mom) I reached out to Brenda for comfort and reassurance. (She would have been about 16 years old at the time.) She was kind enough to exchange letters with me and she sent me this picture:
Now - I just now dug this out of my "box-o-pics" and when I flipped it over I couldn't stop laughing... I had totally forgotten about that note on the back. Yeah - I don't think she had any clue just how harsh that was :-)
So, I eventually got over the "basic training blues" and a year later I started writing to Debbie, so everything turned out the way it was supposed to (if you believe in that sort of thing). No harm - no foul? Still - Brenda cared about me at a time when not many people did... And that was ... nice.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Assault and Guidance
There were 2 incidents that drove my decision to part company with my dad and return to Texas.... I will describe them in chronological order.
First off - I need to preface this by saying that my dad was an amazing person, but like a lot of amazing people he had some deep flaws... And one of his flaws was that he could be abusive to those closest to him... Now - I've thought about trying to "sugar coat" all of this, but I'm just not going to... That fact is that when he got mad at someone he would scream at them and (on very rare occasions) assault them... He never did any serious physical harm (that I know of) but after he lashed out he would usually chastise the victim for "making" him do it... Yeah - he could be a serious asshole at times.
Although he yelled at me a lot when I was growing up (and occasionally threw things) he had never hit me. I think he was afraid mom would kill him in his sleep. (I'm not kidding about that.) ... But mom wasn't there when I visited him in New York.
I don't recall all of the details, but the incident started when Karina did something involving the friend of theirs she was having a relationship with. (I think his name was Richard.) ...
We were at the dinner table and Lillan demanded to know why Karina had done whatever it was she did... That was an incredibly stupid question. The only reason Karina ever did anything back in those days was because she felt like it. (Duh!)
But Lillan would not let it drop. She kept yelling at Karina - louder and louder... Even after Karina begged her to stop - over and over - Lillan would not let up... It got to the point where Karina was screaming at the top of her lungs - her ears covered - her eyes closed - obviously in extreme emotional distress - the neighbors were pounding on the walls - and Lillan just kept on yelling at her. They were both totally out of control.
Now - I had seen Karina in that state a couple of times before and (in my judgment) if somebody didn't do something quickly it was going to end very badly... I kept waiting for dad (the "Lord and Master"of the house) to try and calm Lillan down, but he wasn't doing a damn thing... So I yelled at Lillan to shut up and (amazingly enough) she did... Crisis defused...
That's when dad gave me a black eye...
It really wasn't that bad - I saw it coming and was moving away from the blow when it landed. But it was still a crappy thing for him to do given that I was only trying to protect my sister - his own flesh and blood...
The "insult to injury" part of the evening came after Karina and I left the apartment. We didn't have a penny on us so we went to see an acquaintance of theirs (a school teacher) who lived in an adjacent building... We told her what had happened and asked if she could put us up for the night, or at least spot us some money for a cab and a motel... But she refused. She informed us that my father was a "prince of a man" - the finest man she had ever known - and would never do any of the things we had described... (!!!???) ... We had no other option but to go back to dad's apartment, and (as usual) he acted like nothing had happened...
But that incident forever changed how I felt about both him and Lillan. Just thinking about it still enrages me... Any doubts about where I stood were erased forever...
Aside: Have I ever mentioned how frustrating it was to have two parents that everyone absolutely adored? ... I never knew quite how to react when they told me how incredibly lucky I was :-)
And finally:
I think it was a week or so later that we were out shopping with the women folk and dad took me aside to talk about my future. I remember we sat down in the cafeteria at one of the department stores and he told me there were basically 2 options: Either attend a trade school - or a 4 year college, and if I chose college he would pay my tuition... (Yeah - and I actually believed him. That will come up again in a later post) ... I remember thinking it was kind of strange that he was suddenly concerned about my future after ignoring me for six years, but I did appreciate the gesture...
I responded by explaining that I had no desire to become a member of the "educated elite" and a cog in the American corporate machine... I was perfectly happy being amongst the "unwashed masses" :-)
OK - I need to take a step back and mention that the entire time I had been in New York dad had been talking about genetic predetermination. He had recently finished reading a book by a proponent of the theory (I no longer recall the author's name) and dad was quite enamored with the idea that genetics rather than environment determined success or failure. Yes - some of us are simply "better by birth".
So - dad insisted that it was impossible for me not to end up as a highly educated, successful professional... I could fight it, but the genetic imperative would be too strong to overcome... (Resistance is futile.)
At the time I laughed at the idea because I knew that the only thing I would ever be good it is playing the guitar... But it turns out that he was absolutely right... It was never my intent to become educated and successful. I just found myself constantly seeking out interesting and challenging things to do, and education and success were the natural byproducts :-) But I digress (sort of).
We had a rather heated discussion about business in general. I shared my Utopian vision of all companies being 100% employee owned. He told me the idea was unworkable - businesses could not succeed in the marketplace without continual growth fueled by capital investment.
It ended with him being totally frustrated with my apparent lack of ambition and he said that if I I didn't want to continue my education I should just go back to Texas and work on my "shitty Ford".
You know, I wish he had left my car out of it... I mean, I could deal with the black eye, but why did he have to go and "disrespect" the Fairlane?? That really hurt...
So I flew back to Tyler (to work on my shitty Ford) and shortly thereafter mom and I went to the DMV so I could take the driving test. I figured that compared to Manhattan it would be a piece of cake and I was right. I scored in the high 90s...
First off - I need to preface this by saying that my dad was an amazing person, but like a lot of amazing people he had some deep flaws... And one of his flaws was that he could be abusive to those closest to him... Now - I've thought about trying to "sugar coat" all of this, but I'm just not going to... That fact is that when he got mad at someone he would scream at them and (on very rare occasions) assault them... He never did any serious physical harm (that I know of) but after he lashed out he would usually chastise the victim for "making" him do it... Yeah - he could be a serious asshole at times.
Although he yelled at me a lot when I was growing up (and occasionally threw things) he had never hit me. I think he was afraid mom would kill him in his sleep. (I'm not kidding about that.) ... But mom wasn't there when I visited him in New York.
I don't recall all of the details, but the incident started when Karina did something involving the friend of theirs she was having a relationship with. (I think his name was Richard.) ...
We were at the dinner table and Lillan demanded to know why Karina had done whatever it was she did... That was an incredibly stupid question. The only reason Karina ever did anything back in those days was because she felt like it. (Duh!)
But Lillan would not let it drop. She kept yelling at Karina - louder and louder... Even after Karina begged her to stop - over and over - Lillan would not let up... It got to the point where Karina was screaming at the top of her lungs - her ears covered - her eyes closed - obviously in extreme emotional distress - the neighbors were pounding on the walls - and Lillan just kept on yelling at her. They were both totally out of control.
Now - I had seen Karina in that state a couple of times before and (in my judgment) if somebody didn't do something quickly it was going to end very badly... I kept waiting for dad (the "Lord and Master"of the house) to try and calm Lillan down, but he wasn't doing a damn thing... So I yelled at Lillan to shut up and (amazingly enough) she did... Crisis defused...
That's when dad gave me a black eye...
It really wasn't that bad - I saw it coming and was moving away from the blow when it landed. But it was still a crappy thing for him to do given that I was only trying to protect my sister - his own flesh and blood...
The "insult to injury" part of the evening came after Karina and I left the apartment. We didn't have a penny on us so we went to see an acquaintance of theirs (a school teacher) who lived in an adjacent building... We told her what had happened and asked if she could put us up for the night, or at least spot us some money for a cab and a motel... But she refused. She informed us that my father was a "prince of a man" - the finest man she had ever known - and would never do any of the things we had described... (!!!???) ... We had no other option but to go back to dad's apartment, and (as usual) he acted like nothing had happened...
But that incident forever changed how I felt about both him and Lillan. Just thinking about it still enrages me... Any doubts about where I stood were erased forever...
Aside: Have I ever mentioned how frustrating it was to have two parents that everyone absolutely adored? ... I never knew quite how to react when they told me how incredibly lucky I was :-)
And finally:
I think it was a week or so later that we were out shopping with the women folk and dad took me aside to talk about my future. I remember we sat down in the cafeteria at one of the department stores and he told me there were basically 2 options: Either attend a trade school - or a 4 year college, and if I chose college he would pay my tuition... (Yeah - and I actually believed him. That will come up again in a later post) ... I remember thinking it was kind of strange that he was suddenly concerned about my future after ignoring me for six years, but I did appreciate the gesture...
I responded by explaining that I had no desire to become a member of the "educated elite" and a cog in the American corporate machine... I was perfectly happy being amongst the "unwashed masses" :-)
OK - I need to take a step back and mention that the entire time I had been in New York dad had been talking about genetic predetermination. He had recently finished reading a book by a proponent of the theory (I no longer recall the author's name) and dad was quite enamored with the idea that genetics rather than environment determined success or failure. Yes - some of us are simply "better by birth".
So - dad insisted that it was impossible for me not to end up as a highly educated, successful professional... I could fight it, but the genetic imperative would be too strong to overcome... (Resistance is futile.)
At the time I laughed at the idea because I knew that the only thing I would ever be good it is playing the guitar... But it turns out that he was absolutely right... It was never my intent to become educated and successful. I just found myself constantly seeking out interesting and challenging things to do, and education and success were the natural byproducts :-) But I digress (sort of).
We had a rather heated discussion about business in general. I shared my Utopian vision of all companies being 100% employee owned. He told me the idea was unworkable - businesses could not succeed in the marketplace without continual growth fueled by capital investment.
It ended with him being totally frustrated with my apparent lack of ambition and he said that if I I didn't want to continue my education I should just go back to Texas and work on my "shitty Ford".
You know, I wish he had left my car out of it... I mean, I could deal with the black eye, but why did he have to go and "disrespect" the Fairlane?? That really hurt...
So I flew back to Tyler (to work on my shitty Ford) and shortly thereafter mom and I went to the DMV so I could take the driving test. I figured that compared to Manhattan it would be a piece of cake and I was right. I scored in the high 90s...
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