This Is Family

Another Family Reunion is coming. Unlike what some members of my family think, I happen to look forward to them. Yes, we only see these people once a year. Yes, We all promise to keep in touch, but of course it never happens. These are just things people say to each other having the best intentions. You know that going into it, so therefore I don't understand the reluctance in going.

I have memories of the reunion being held at my Grandparent's house. I was very young but I do have scattered pictures of them in my mind. Gathered around a campfire, My Cousin singing. The most reunions were held at my Uncle Larry's and Aunt Fran's. they held them for many years until they passed it on to my Cousin Karen. It was never the same after that. Karen's place makes everyone to scattered around. Karen says she is not able to hold it this year so Uncle Larry is taking it back.

When I was younger these held a special place in my heart. As I have gotten older though it has become less so. Everyone is grown now and has families. The second cousins are now where we were 30 years ago. We are in the middle now. In 15 or 20 years we will be the oldest generation. That is a weird and sobering thought. I hold dear the people who have left us: My Grandparents, Great Uncle Art, Uncle Dave, Aunt Gloria & My Brother Jimmy.

I go because of one reason: This is family. These are the people who we were given, like them or not. We all have our quirks that others look down upon. We all have relatives that we get along better with then others. We all have our own lives and concerns. But for one day a year we all get together and catch up. This or that one is still drinking. That one over there is still on drugs and on and on it goes. But we are family and you walk in knowing what to expect.

My big disappointment and sadness is that for the sixth year in a row I will be going alone. No partner, No kids. I will be asked politely how things are, if I am seeing anyone. I will answer them and they will smile and move on. I really hate that part of it. I am becoming one of those that people talk about. "Gary is alone again. It's been a long time since his Ex left" I hate that. Once again I go as just me. No stories to tell, no kids to show off. Just me. I am so sick and tired of just me. I want to slam it into the wall and destroy it. For once I want to hear "So, who is this, and how did you meet?"

I look forward to seeing my Cousins, I look forward to seeing my Aunts and Uncles. My Cousin Bill is very sick so it will be nice to see him, I can't wait to hear about peoples travels and one Cousins music.

For all the reluctance some have on going this weekend, I know that someday these reunions will stop. I for one want to hang on to them for however long we have left.

If you think really hard, maybe we can stop this rain

The 40th Anniversary of the Woodstock concert is coming next month, and I am very excited. I have loved the whole legend of Woodstock since I was a kid. I still tell my mom now that I was born way to late.
I discovered Woodstock at a neighbor's house. We all grew up mowing these peoples lawn. One day I ventured to a side house that they had. I saw some albums and went through them. On the cover of one of them I saw a picture of a large group of people. They were of all ages, long hair, men & women. They were dancing, laying, squatting, and having sex with the back drop of a huge stage. I asked about it and was told that it was a festival. A huge gathering in which people lost themselves in music and peace.
As I got older I would learn more about Woodstock. The bands that played there. Where it was held. The people who put it together. I watched the video of the concert and fell even more in love with it. Every now and then I would hear a song on the radio. Once when I was with my Brother Brian and our friend Richie the song "Fixing to die rag" from Country Joe came on and I just stood mesmerised.
Behind the legend of Woodstock of course is drugs and death. It was a mess with the rain and mud and poor resources. A 17 year old died there after being run over by a tractor. Rumors were a baby was born there also. But even with all the bad things I just love the whole feeling of togetherness. These people were there not only to see great music, And what great music it was. But they also were there because they were trying to run away from something. They were lonely, sad, depressed, hurt, near death, going off to war. I have read many books about people who went there and they all convey this one theme. To run to something. For a long weekend they were family.
The most interesting thing about Woodstock is that it was not put on to become the legend it eventually became. It was put on to usher out the 1960's and all the tragic events of that decade. It was also nothing more then a money making venture. But in the end the fences came down and they lost everything. Also if you look at it music wise it is interesting. Most of these acts were not big by any means. It was the first concert for CSNY. The Who had never played outside England. You look back on these people now and they are the innovators of rock and roll. Then they were just struggling musicians.
When Woodstock 1994 was put together I was in School and was so excited. I spent my money to get it on Pay per view and taped the entire concert on video. I then put this onto cassettes. When Woodstock 1999 was put together I did the same thing. I still have these videos and cassettes and listen to them as well as watch them at least 3 times a year. As with the Original Woodstock these concerts were a mess. Many people claimed that it was nothing but trying to make back the money they lost in 1969. This may be rightfully so, but who cares. People still needed a place to go.
Something about being with like minded people in a comforting environment just makes me want to run off and be part of it. I understand what it is like to question your life. I am 42 years old. I am divorced, have no kids, I work at a dead-end job. I hate myself so badly at times that I cry when I am alone but put on my smile and crack jokes to cover my heart when I am with people. I see people with kids and someone to love them and it tears me apart. What is wrong with me? Why is it that people who lie and cheat have it, but I go to bed alone and wake up alone every day? I crave for someone to look beyond my weaknesses and love me. Running away and trying to discover yourself and doing it in a communal environment. I get it.
I am romanticising Woodstock. I know. But in my heart the idea of people all gathered together for a weekend just listening to music, sleeping in tents, just forgetting for that short amount of time who you are and what you have waiting at home. Just forgetting all your pain and sadness and what you lack in life. That to me is poetry.

Vox Clamantis In Deserto

I wrote this back in May 1987. I saw this saying in the newspaper and fell in love with it. It means "The voice of one crying in the wilderness"
---------------
Alone among the trees and animals, sitting amongst some rocks, crying, I found my inner self.
I approached the figure, slowly. scared and confused.
I reached out and asked why it was crying. It turned to me, stared into my eyes and uttered "Don't you know"?
Confused, I sat next to it and a feeling of remorse came over me. I saw every moment of my life. The good and the bad. The good being outnumbered.
I came back and looked at my inner self. Slowly we became one and I alone was in the wilderness crying.
If you come across my secret place, listen.
Vox Clamantis In Deserto

A Letter To My Unborn Child

I was hoping to meet you many years ago. I had it all set in my head on how it was going to be. Your Mom would be having you and I would be by her side, holding her hand, helping her with her breathing. You would come and I would look down at you as the nurse cleaned you up and wrapped you in a blanket. I would be crying as I brought you to your Mother. We would just be together as a family. I imagined it would be the most important, meaningful moment of my life.

Sadly the Woman who was supposed to be your Mother decided a few years ago that she no longer loved me. She cheated and left me for another. As much as your birth would have been the most important moment of my life, this ending was the most painful, heartbreaking, life changing event of it.

As the years have gone by, I am seeing you in my future less and less. I have not found the Woman who would be your Mother. Maybe I am not trying hard enough, or perhaps I am punishing myself for all that was taken away from me. I am slowly starting to believe in myself again, but I still struggle. I think I was a good Husband. I left her love notes, sent her flowers, was there for her to cry with and lean on. Not a day went by that I did not make sure she knew how much I appreciated her. But yet she left me for a Man that will do none of these things. How I am supposed to feel about myself when I lost out to a cheating jerk?

Maybe someday I will end up with a Woman who already has Children and your spirit will end up as not a newborn, but in the shape of a pre-teen or teenager in need of a Fathers love, guidance. Perhaps some day when your heart is broken your Mother, my soul mate, will wrap you in a blanket on the couch and we will sit as a family and talk.

I imagine it will be the most important, meaningful moment of my life.

Mean People Suck

The mother could not have been more then 40 yrs old. The son was about 10, The daughter 7 or so. I approached the check out line at the grocery store clutching my few items. The line was long and I heard people making sounds that impatient people make: moans, groans, muttering under their breath. I had no idea what the problem was until I stepped behind the last person in line. God forbid. The woman at the register did not have enough money to pay for all the items she was buying.

The cashier could have been nicer about it. Try to keep it private. But instead she said very loudly "Their is not enough on your card. Do you have any cash?" The woman turned red from embarrassment and I am sure a touch of shame. "You are going to have to decide what to take out" the cashier informed her. Loudly.

At this point the woman's kids looked at her. The son seemed to want to run away and try to not claim this as his mother. The daughter took her moms hand and looked up at her with questionable eyes "Mom"? Very quietly the woman started to hand the cashier items: Tuna, a can of fruit, a box of tissue. Beep, beep, beep, the cashier waved them back over the register. "You are going to have to take out more" the cashier, now visibly frustrated shouted.

The people in front of me were shuffling their feet. "COME ON"!! a few yelled. The son at this point walked away from his mother and sister and went closer to the doors. The daughter was handing things to her mom: Juice, frozen breakfast meals. Beep, beep, beep, went the register. I noticed that not one item was frivolous. She had food and household items. No junk, no candy, ice cream. Nothing that a mother would hurriedly buy after hearing their child say "Please, please, please" a hundred times. She was just a mother trying to provide for her family.

The cashier hit a button that let other employees know that a second line had to be opened. A man came over, put away the plastic "Closed" sign, and everyone in front of me went rushing over. Everyone. I stepped behind the woman and her daughter and waited. Now that the line had dispersed the son came back over and helped his sister hand over items. Beep, beep, beep went the register. "Do you want to just leave and come back with the money"? the cashier mumbled. "You are still short by a few dollars". The woman looked at me and I could tell by the look on her face that part of her wanted to run. Just take her children and get away from the situation. She wanted to go and put her kids in the back seat of the car so that they would not see her crying. The cashier looked at me rolling her eyes, expecting me to look down at this woman like everyone else.

Back in the late 80's I was living in Hartford and I was poor. I would live off of hot dogs, cereal, and eggs. I would have $20.00 to my name that needed to last me 2 weeks. I was ashamed, sad, depressed, scared, and hopeless. I had to survive so I starved at times. I finally did receive food stamps which helped greatly. Like this woman though I would be red with embarrassment when I had to pull out the book and tear off the bills within sight of everyone. I would just whisper to myself that at least I was going to be able to eat.

"How much is she short by"? I quietly asked the cashier. She looked puzzled. "You mean now, or from the beginning" she asked "The beginning" I said. "$15.47". Her eyes bulged as I went over and gave her my debit card. "Put it on my card" "What..Umm..Ok" she stammered as I put my numbers into the register. The other line had emptied out and the "Closed" sign was back in place. The woman standing behind me on her cell phone didn't seem to notice what was going on.

The mother just looked at me. She whispered "Thank you, thank you". The son smiled, the daughter was still holding her moms hand. The transaction finished they went to the counter to put the groceries into bags. I bought my few items and started to leave. "Thank you mister" said the daughter. the mother smiled at me with a look that I will never forget. The cashier continued on with the woman with the cell phone. She acted like her response to this mother was fine. No apologies, no looks of understanding. She just went on with her business.

As I drove away I hoped to myself that these children would remember this small gesture and learn from it. I hoped that they would have a good life.

You Got Lucky

This is a song from Tom Petty. It is one of my favorite songs. When I hear this song it brings me back to when I was young and I was a patient at Newington Children's Hospital. I was there for yet another surgery.

I made a close friend during this stay. her name was Karen Scanlon and she was 12 years old. This was back in 1982/1983. We became friends very quickly and spent most of our time together in the play room that was at the end of the hallway on the floor we were on. This room was filled with books, toys, games, stuffed animals, puzzles, a stereo that was always on and set to WHCN. A popular rock station at that time. It also had a bumper pool table.

Karen was there because she was dealing with an eating disorder. We told each other everything about our fears, desires. We shared stories of being scared, shy and lonely. We clung to each other.

We played bumper pool as often as we could with the radio blaring. The nurses would have to come rushing in yelling at us to turn it down. We would and then laugh as we turned it up even higher as the nurse left.

The day finally came when Karen informed me that the doctors were letting her go home and attend a day treatment program. She told me she was scared but thought she was going to be ok. As the day of her departure arrived we played one last game of bumper pool sharing knowing glances. We most likely would never see each other again. yes, we could have exchanged numbers and addresses, but in reality our time together and friendship was like lightning in a bottle.

As we gave each other hugs and she walked out with a nurse and her Mother "You got lucky" was playing on the stereo. I sat there and felt alone and cried.

I don't remember how long afterwards it was, or even where the information came from. I just remember being near some elevators. But I inquired about Karen and was informed that she had died from a heart attack brought on by her eating disorder.

We never saw each other again after that last pool game, but for some reason that image of her leaving for the last time and that song playing has remained with me all of these years later. I just heard the song on my Zune and I needed to write this. I wanted to pay my respects to my wonderful friend. I smiled, closed my eyes and for a minute I was back there during that scary, traumatic, wonderful time with her.

She will always be in my heart. I certainly did get lucky.

Cherished Ground

I wrote this in 1999. My Mothers Stepfather had died and his ashes along with her Moms were buried together in the yard of the house that we had so many years of loving memories.

My Mom wanted me to add this to my blog. So this is for you Mom:
___________

What god giveth god taketh away. Two stars collide and your love is forever more

Rest here in peace

As you were in life, you are in death: Loved.

Thank you for the gift of life, for the memories.

May you both forever embrace your heavenly bodies around these cherished grounds.

May each one of us feel you as we make our pilgrimages here.

Tears will fall, for the living still cry. Still feel.

May we smile at the memories of days past, and may the rustle of a leaf or the landing of a butterfly on a flower or a cooling summer shower be a signal from you that you are with us.

May you keep everyone we've ever loved and lost company and may we share the same love story you two lived.

We bury the two of you together on this day in love.

On these cherished grounds

Someone to watch over me

It happened again. that moment when something happens to you that could have been worse if.

When I was at the beach with my brother Jimmy and his then girlfriend Sandy. I got caught in a riptide and could not swim. I remember being beneath the water, my lungs bursting, seeing rays of sun rippling in the water above me. A hand gripped me, lifted me up to safety, lying me down on the beach. I never knew who it was for they vanished as a group of people surrounded me.

When during one of my many operations I remember seeing myself on the table, roaming the hospital. Seeing a white light and going towards it. Seeing shapes appear, greeting me. But then hearing my name called out and waking to the feel of someone slapping my face in post op.

When I was with my parents driving to my Uncles house and as we approached a curve a car came barreling around it with a police car right behind. 2 more seconds we would have been going around that curve and their is no way they would have missed us.

When I was in the depths of depression and self-hatred I was brought out of it by many wonderful people. They came into my life at just the right time and then like that person on the beach, vanished forever.

When I was driving a family car and ended up rolling it down an embankment. It stopped on its roof and I hung upside down with the seat belt tight around me. The only injury I sustained was a cut to the head when I frantically let the seat belt go and fell on my head.

Yesterday I drove home from work after a half day. I looked forward to having time off, my mind filled with all the things I could do. Going 70 on the highway, in traffic. Instead of taking my usual exit which gets me off the highway quicker, I followed the highway to the exit nearest my apartment. I pulled into the parking lot of Aldi's to get some groceries and the right rear wheel locked up on me. i was going no more then 10 mph so I was able to stop.

I nursed my car home in the rain, rear wheel locked. I only had a mile if that to go and my mind set was "Just get home" I made all the necessary calls. Got the tow truck to come. Turned out the man used to work at the garage where I wanted to bring the car. he knew exactly where it was located and did not charge me the fee of $5.00 for each mile past 5 miles AAA requires.

At the garage the mechanics asked me where the tire locked up on me. I told them the story and they informed me that I was lucky. If I had been on the highway when this happened I would have been in an accident. They had heard stories about things like this. I would have gotten sideways going 70. the cars to my side would have hit me. The cars to my rear would have hit me. Who knows what would have happened to me personally.

I sat and thought about it. It happened again. That moment when something happens at just the right moment. I was no more then a mile from exiting off the highway when the tire locked. A mile. Wow.

Lying in bed last night I cried. I admit it. Not ashamed. I cried for everything that could have happened to me. I whispered thank you to my guardian angel. Thank you for everything.

A conversation with my parents

It was the most we have talked about my brother in a while. The whole story. The call his wife made to my parents about Jimmy borrowing the vacuum cleaner. My mom realizing right away what Jimmy had done. The night before when he stopped by with his wife Sandy and baby son Luke. They stayed for dinner and he seemed distant in a way. My mom telling me about a book that he was focused on that he did not want to put down. That book ended up being about a man who felt like he didn't fit in anywhere. My mom glanced through the book after Jimmy died. What I remember vividly is Jimmy coming to my room and saying goodbye rather then see you or talk to you later.

That afternoon when I was walking down the road with my brother Brian and our friend Richie, mom drove by quickly and told us to go home. The walk home was filled with talk on which grandmother we just lost. We decided it was moms and headed home. I remember my oldest brother Vernon showing up with a blank look on his face. My sister Tracy just crying. My parents returning and telling us that Jimmy was in the hospital after putting a vacuum hose to the exhaust of his car. He took some pills and also tied his hands to the steering wheel waiting to die. My parents had found him before he completed the task.

The words didn't make sense. WHAT? I ran up to my room and I wanted it all to be a dream. I asked myself what did I do to make him want death over his family. It was my fault of course. If I had not grown up needing all of those surgeries then Jimmy would have gotten the attention he needed. It was my fault. My God, Jimmy did this because I was so selfish.

He died a week later. Relatives and friends came by, not really knowing what to say. That first night I remember crying and my sister Tracy held my hand and rubbed my head. I was already a loser in school because of health issues, now on top of that I would be the kid people whisper about in the halls "His brother committed suicide". The rest of the week is a blur. I was in shock. I do remember something about his funeral and my brother Alan and me not wanting to get out of the car.

The next few years were filled with self-hatred. Wishing and believing that I was the one who should have died. I did many things to get that wish fulfilled but I just saw myself failing at it as in everything else I attempted. It took many years, many starts and stops and stays at a few places but I finally learned to forgive myself for Jimmy's death. I also learned to forgive him.

Having that conversation with my parents made me realize how much I have grown and how much Jimmy missed out on. As with me, If he had just held on for just a little bit longer it would have been ok. But at that place in your mind you do not see that. believe me, I never did.

We are planning on getting a bigger stone for Jimmy's grave 27 years after his death. I hope it works out because I would love for us all to be together and have a memorial for him rather then be filled with shock and fresh pain. I want the nieces and nephews he never had the joy to meet learn more about this man who is their uncle. Not that they don't already know about him. We make sure to keep him alive for the next generation. One year we were at my parents house and my niece Kortney, who was 11 or 12 at the time, came out with "I miss Uncle Jimmy"

Yes Kortney. we all do.

Old Friends

This was written a few Months ago...

I had lunch with an old friend tonight. This person was a big part of my life in the late 80's thru the early 90's. We would lose touch but when I wanted her at my wedding, she was there. When I needed someone to talk to when my wife had an affair and left me 8 years later, she was there. When I had the thought of just uprooting myself and moving to Virginia, she was there to listen.

Why then I wondered to myself was I so nervous about seeing her again after a few years? Sadly after my wife left I have started to become very homebound. I see my family and a close friend who lives nearby (And that truly is because she tracks me down and yells at me) i also see an old friend once a week to walk, but besides that I truly like being alone.

When I close the door to my apartment at the end of the day I am free to throw my clothes wherever, let them pile up on the ground. let the dishes pile up, dust only when I can write my name on the coffee table. I am free to watch what I want, when I want. I have time to think and read and listen to the quite.

So why did I search out my friend to have dinner you might ask? Because my clothes are piled up and I trip over them. The dishes in the sink get annoying when I need to use something to eat. Because I can only write my name in the dust so many times. Because besides a few Can't miss shows, nothing worthwhile is on TV. because I have read and reread many books. Because the quite does not tell me that I will be ok. The quite does not make me laugh and feel strong and liked, loved, respected.

I had lunch with an old friend tonight. I felt awkward and uneasy and fearful that I was boring. But I also felt alive and refreshed and I laughed and I felt liked, loved, respected.

Thank God for old friends.

I Did it!!!

My first try at something like this. This came to me all of a sudden. A writing class I wanted to take was cancelled and I wanted, no needed a way to express myself in writing. Writing has been my shadow since I was young. Why can't I be like my brothers who know all about cars and working with their hands? I know nothing about cars, nothing about directions. heck I am lucky I get myself home after work. I just follow the other cars and hope that they will lead me to something that looks familiar.
No, I have to be the one who is "Artistic" why is it that when I see an episode of a show and it touches me and I understand what the writers were trying to say, others just see it as another brainless diversion? When I hear a song and feel the emotion the writer must have been feeling, others just hear a song. I have been that way all my life. I would love to be able to be like my brothers, I am so jealous of them for so many things. Why wasn't I born to be a "Real" man? Oh well. This shadow maybe needs an outlet. Maybe it won't haunt me as much if I let it out.
The door is open now. What comes out may be upsetting to some, wonderful to some, and just plain stupid and pointless to some. I am not a great writer, my grammer sucks, I misspell words. But like I said, That shadow just sits their needing to show its head.

Well this was just my test run. Stay tuned in the future for random thoughts on just about anything.