January 13, 2011
RITE OF PASSAGE - PART NINE Sex, Drugs, Rock and Roll
"Sex, Drugs, Rock and Roll"!
That's the ideal/attitude/memories that seems to paraphrase and summarize the 1970's. Even in my own mind I kind of see it that way; but the phrase itself, wasn't coined until 1979, in music by Ian Dury, a frontman for the UK band, "the Blockheads" - Wikilink:. And fact is, WE didn't live it that way.
In 1975 "we" were pretty straight. At age 18 you were legal to drink alcohol. You were eligible for the draft. You became an adult. There was no "Dirty Dancing", Gangs of any importance, conspiracy to commit fornication, or shirk society. We all knew "drugs" were bad. We all idealized the white house, the beautiful wife, the perfect job, and the picket fence. In NY State anyways most kids in HS had shot-guns in their trucks if they drove to school... there generally wasn't a student parking policy. But in NY and PA most students who were hunters got the day off. That's the way it was. We did think a lot about Sex, and Rock and Roll, but "drugs"? We had alcohol... We thought all the time about alcohol... had we thought about marijuana I believe many of us would be better off today.
Yeah, controversial. But it's the truth. Drugs were a fringe element. Getting drunk was the man thing to do. And smoke tobacco. Seriously, had cannabis been legal, I doubt we would have considered it all that much.
Until 1972 I lived in a country with a military draft. You signed up for the draft, by law, age 18, and at that time, 1972, there was a "draft lottery". On Jan. 01 of the New Year the numbers were drawn for every day of the year. My number was below 20... which meant I was drafted when I turned 18. Headed for Viet Nam.
In those days, the draft wasn't at all popular, especially since if you were "well connected" you could find ways to avoid Viet Nam. And one could always join the Coast Guard, or the Navy or Air Force. But if your mind wasn't on the military, and mine wasn't, what could one do back then?
The idea of the "conscientious objector" was a new one, and most often failed. One went to Canada often, to avoid the draft. Some cut off fingers or toes, some won insanity cases, and some even were bold enough to claim they were gay. But of the latter, few darned claim that.
My father told me sometime in the mid 70's ", he hadn't thought so at the time, but in hindsight he wouldn't have held it against me to have gone to Canada. "The War was wrong," he said.
It was the Beatles truly... who had the most influence on me in the early to mid 1960's. There was a lot of talk then, among my elders, of drugs, and the Beatles with their rock n' roll and long hair, they hated that.
I had an older 2nd cousin who was talked about a lot - John, how he was, "hooked on marijuana" and, had "attempted to jump out a window".
'Really', I wondered? At the time it was very real to me, the idea he had. But I learned later that he'd never tried to jump out a window. He had done acid, LSD, and was found out. "Marijuana and LSD", the parent's worst nightmare! All parent knew what it meant!
Your child would go insane.
I certainly vowed I would never "get hooked on drugs".
What I didn't know then, but do now, is it's a fallacy, born of political and corporate greed and fear.
I grew up on science-fiction, so I was already swimming in my imaginative universe by age 8. At age 6, 1960, I was outside most of the time, or we did have TV, though I forget what I watched that early on... other than cartoons. By age 10 it was "Dennis the Menace", Lassie", "My Three Son's" and "I Love Lucy"... "Combat", "Man from Uncle", and "The Fugitive", "Star-Trek"...
The Civil Rights Movement.
The influence of the Beat Generation and then Hippies... The Summer of Love "The Summer Of Love", The Yellow Submarine by the Beatles. "Pink Floyd", "Led Zeppelin", "David Bowie", Uriah Heap, Black Sabbath, Genesis.... .
In 1963, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I was home alone, sick from school that morning, watching TV in my parents bedroom. I was almost 10. It was an event that would be forever remembered.
The draft ended Aug. 31, 1974. I was, as far as I felt, I was "a free man". The "draft" was dark angel cloaking the country. Promising freedom, and an end to tyranny.
By 1974 things were a changing. I was 20.
In 1970, however, a documentary on Woodstock was released as a movie. Woodstock, The Movie. I was 16. That summer my family visited my father's sister and my cousins in NY City... well, Long Island. I was second oldest to my 1st cousin Wini, and on par with a cousin Kathy, with my own sister and several cousins more. They were going to the movie... my mother absolutely forbid it, so I didn't go. That would be a mistake as it only made me curious, and me being "curious", well, like I said, things started changing in 1974/75.
In 1970 my family took my sister and I on a vacation to western Florida. I smoked marijuana for the first time at age 16 around a campfire on the Sarasota Beach. Nothing happened! I didn't get stoned. I wasn't drugged. I was only a bit drunk from beer.
I didn't even go for a swim, or kiss a girl, or cause trouble. Went back to the hotel and went to sleep.
To Be Continued... Next: The Awakening...
December 31, 2010
RITE OF PASSAGE - PART EIGHT - Mother's Bitter Pill
Edited Jan. 02, 2011, 8:30PM
It's during your late teens/early 20's that you find the key, or you don't. I found it. It exists!
If my life is for no other reason, it would be my legacy and involvements in a new world order during the `970's. The '60's and 70's earned their place in history, and I'm certain historians will try to delve into people like myself during those years.
What we know of ourselves is not always obvious or understandable. It's obvious there are many different facets to our reality, who we are.
Sociologically We are:
1) Who we see ourselves as.
2) Who we see ourselves as reflected in others.
3) How we feel others perceive us.
4) How others do perceive us.
4) It's the empirical whole of all the above and that makes us who we are.
When I first moved out I faced my life... literally. I I realized I was "on my own". I had decisions to make. A life...
Sink or swim?
Mother's Bitter Pill is that for years after I moved out my mother hovered over me... today what we call "helicopter parents". Every decision I made was wrong. Every single one!
What hurts really bad still today is the fact that I made my decisions with considerable thought. My decisions made sense to me.
My father used to ask me, I think I said already, "why am I rebelling?"
I wasn't.
But to them, I was... and to my mother it was unspeakably and totally unacceptable, "my behavior".
So there, I've said it. But there's more.
I let my hair grow long, then; I worked full-time as a custodian at a college. I lived at the edge of the campus in an apartment. I rode a bike everywhere. I had a dream job, working at the college's Fine Arts Center. I had a bundle of keys I proudly wore from my belt. My position made me an employee, and a student. Tuition was part of the benefits, and I took a lot of free classes.
My father used to joke that "I'd beat the system". Ironically I was never sure how to take that. As sarcasm, since no one could, or as recognition -'job well done"!
As in the story by Ray Bradbury, "R Is For Rocket", and the short-story within, "Frost and Fire", I'd found my way to the "scientists"... I could make my life anything I wanted it to be.
And for four full years I did just that... to describe it is essentially what this topic is about... my Rite of Passage. Heaven and Hell...
Simply put, I was a disgrace to my mother. The phone calls every other day were meant to remind me of that 'fact'. With questions like "when am I going to get a real job?" When am I going to stop fucking whores and get married?" "When am I going to start caring about others?"
A total disconnect... The conversions were mostly one way and upsetting.
The farthest thing from my mind was being a disgrace to the family... but that is what I was! A total 180 degree opposite from the reality I was living.
At age 24 the shit hit the fan... the night before I was to move to Arizona. I didn't really want to move, but even my father said this town "is too small for you and your mother". At the time, the "go west young man" was on everyones mind anyways. Trouble is I gave up a lot when I moved. A huge "lot".
The night before I was to leave I called home... my mother wanted to know who I would be staying with? On the surface not a odd question, but her motive behind the question went far deeper... and I wouldn't answer her. I took the 5th. But eventually she got me to admit I was going to live with a friend that was a woman. A platonic friend.
Mother's Bitter Pill... she cursed me and damned me to hell for my choice to live in sin with a woman.
When people talk about PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), they generally don't consider my experience that night to fall into place. But after 5 years of living the good life, to hear her say that devastated me... it shrunk me back to "child". I stayed in AZ one month... and as if what my parents said would happen had happened, which it didn't, I got on a bus, left my cat, moved back home and it took a year for me to move out again. I was never the same after that night.
It's during your late teens/early 20's that you find the key, or you don't. I found it. It exists!
If my life is for no other reason, it would be my legacy and involvements in a new world order during the `970's. The '60's and 70's earned their place in history, and I'm certain historians will try to delve into people like myself during those years.
What we know of ourselves is not always obvious or understandable. It's obvious there are many different facets to our reality, who we are.
Sociologically We are:
1) Who we see ourselves as.
2) Who we see ourselves as reflected in others.
3) How we feel others perceive us.
4) How others do perceive us.
4) It's the empirical whole of all the above and that makes us who we are.
When I first moved out I faced my life... literally. I I realized I was "on my own". I had decisions to make. A life...
Sink or swim?
Mother's Bitter Pill is that for years after I moved out my mother hovered over me... today what we call "helicopter parents". Every decision I made was wrong. Every single one!
What hurts really bad still today is the fact that I made my decisions with considerable thought. My decisions made sense to me.
My father used to ask me, I think I said already, "why am I rebelling?"
I wasn't.
But to them, I was... and to my mother it was unspeakably and totally unacceptable, "my behavior".
So there, I've said it. But there's more.
I let my hair grow long, then; I worked full-time as a custodian at a college. I lived at the edge of the campus in an apartment. I rode a bike everywhere. I had a dream job, working at the college's Fine Arts Center. I had a bundle of keys I proudly wore from my belt. My position made me an employee, and a student. Tuition was part of the benefits, and I took a lot of free classes.
My father used to joke that "I'd beat the system". Ironically I was never sure how to take that. As sarcasm, since no one could, or as recognition -'job well done"!
As in the story by Ray Bradbury, "R Is For Rocket", and the short-story within, "Frost and Fire", I'd found my way to the "scientists"... I could make my life anything I wanted it to be.
And for four full years I did just that... to describe it is essentially what this topic is about... my Rite of Passage. Heaven and Hell...
Simply put, I was a disgrace to my mother. The phone calls every other day were meant to remind me of that 'fact'. With questions like "when am I going to get a real job?" When am I going to stop fucking whores and get married?" "When am I going to start caring about others?"
A total disconnect... The conversions were mostly one way and upsetting.
The farthest thing from my mind was being a disgrace to the family... but that is what I was! A total 180 degree opposite from the reality I was living.
At age 24 the shit hit the fan... the night before I was to move to Arizona. I didn't really want to move, but even my father said this town "is too small for you and your mother". At the time, the "go west young man" was on everyones mind anyways. Trouble is I gave up a lot when I moved. A huge "lot".
The night before I was to leave I called home... my mother wanted to know who I would be staying with? On the surface not a odd question, but her motive behind the question went far deeper... and I wouldn't answer her. I took the 5th. But eventually she got me to admit I was going to live with a friend that was a woman. A platonic friend.
Mother's Bitter Pill... she cursed me and damned me to hell for my choice to live in sin with a woman.
When people talk about PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), they generally don't consider my experience that night to fall into place. But after 5 years of living the good life, to hear her say that devastated me... it shrunk me back to "child". I stayed in AZ one month... and as if what my parents said would happen had happened, which it didn't, I got on a bus, left my cat, moved back home and it took a year for me to move out again. I was never the same after that night.
December 30, 2010
RITE OF PASSAGE - PART SEVEN Dichotomy
"DICHOTOMY" - Either/Or...
Black or White...
Good or Bad...
Right or Wrong...
Republican or Democrat...
Left or Right...
Moral or Immoral...
Conformist, Non-Conformist...
Insider/Outsider...
Man/Woman...
Purist/Non-Purist...
Of God/Not of God...
Need I go on...? Need I stop?
Let's face it... "You're either one of us or you're not!"
It's called "Dichotomy"...
Blessed or damned...
Accepted, Not accepted...
Either part of the solution, or part of the problem?
***
My topic, "Rite of Passage" begins with Sex and Suicide... not a savory combination of actions... but give me a chance here, because I'm about to introduce you to the best part.
For some reason beyond my understanding, our society is stuck on dichotomy... two choices in life. That's what it means.
Example... on the back of all US Money is the phrase - "In God We Trust". This was added around 1949. It doesn't mean we accept the God of all nations, despite our commitment to "Freedom of Religion". No question, it refers to the God, Christ, Jesus... none other. Sure, we "tolerate and do what we can to accept other religious beliefs, but fact is, the USA is or became a Christian Country.
We're not exactly Catholic... we don't like the "no condom" rite of sex... nor do we seem to abide by rules, like marriage vows, or loyalty to country. There's a good measure of radical to being an American. Something you'd think other countries would respect about Americans - our Wild West Rebellious side... but they don't. All PR... (Public Relations). It's like all Americans are either good or bad, for or against, open or closed.
The reality couldn't be further from the PR.
One only needs to go back to the 1960's and 70's to see that Americans are free... to a point... a point poised at your eyeball...
The great thing about Americans are that we are individualized. We have in many ways learned to cooperate. Which means I can communicate with with most Americans - being a spiritualist I can connect with a Christian, or Hindu, Buddhist or Muslim... to that extent "we are free".
Where we're not free is the PR about us, or US. Since the late 1800's we became a two party political system... prior to that, "party" meant "cause"... and since news traveled slowly, multiple parties in politics was a way for all sides to lobby for their form of government. Of course, all that changed... and now, today, you're either Republican or Democrat or Other...
Others don't really count, just so you know.
We are however a "Democracy". On paper.
I say on paper as a lot of political effort goes into maintaining the two-party system of government.
The problem with that is reality is gray and colors... not black and white.
Sure, two parties, right and wrong, good or bad, for or against is easy to comprehend.
At age 20 I ran full, blunt force into the dichotomy.... I grew up believing I was free... I found myself at 20 years old in 1976. There was no dichotomy then... not that we recognized.
It wasn't anarchy, but rather, our believe to "question reality". "Question Authority".
From 1974 to 1981 i held a public job... and I can tell you with a 100% certainty that 80% of the public used marijuana, at least once. 80% of the public were criminals, and today, they pretend they never touched the stuff. Yet 50% will get drunk, or smoke tobacco, and that's okay. 60% will favor big business over the average American worker, and that's okay. 70% will turn a blind eye to the fact that "Made in USA" means it was manufactured in a foreign country, but the label "Made in America" is fictionally applied - being as an American company produced the goods.
In 1975, I didn't know it then, but success meant choosing box A or Box B. Call me stupid as I found Box C... and that wasn't the plan. Fact is, most people my age during the 1970's should be rounded up are charged with nonconformity... as well as those during the 1960's...
Fact is... dichotomy didn't settle well with us, or US. One way to solve the current hangover from the Great recession, that was actually and still is a Depression, is to round up all "others" and execute us. Most of us used illicit drugs. most of us questioned authority. Most of us were dissidents. Rebels. Non-conformists.
Put me out of my misery when I say, quite forthright, that cannabis is far better than your friggin alcohol!!!That not for a second do I believe my government has just-cause to ban one while taxing and legitimizing the other.
The world is not black and white... it's not a dichotomy!!!
Just so you know... American Citizens are Not Free... and in New Hampshire that means it's better to be Dead!
Live Free or Die... how far did we sell ourselves to exactly what we tried to avoid.... ?
Obama, King of England/USA... what promises have you delivered??? Seems to me... politics as usual... what's worst, you laugh at people that would prefer cannabis to alcohol.
Oh yeah, cannabis is dangerous alright... when compared to legal alternatives like alcohol and tobacco which aren't even comparable the risk factor is cannabis 1, to tobacco75 to alcohol the rest. And with ALL YOUR SCIENCE you promised to bring to Washington... you've brought nothing.
2012 doesn't even matter anymore... you don't matter. What matters is you laugh in the face of science and human rights.
Rite of Passage... "Welcome to the Real World - where Myth is Master to Reality".
Good New Year to All...
Black or White...
Good or Bad...
Right or Wrong...
Republican or Democrat...
Left or Right...
Moral or Immoral...
Conformist, Non-Conformist...
Insider/Outsider...
Man/Woman...
Purist/Non-Purist...
Of God/Not of God...
Need I go on...? Need I stop?
Let's face it... "You're either one of us or you're not!"
It's called "Dichotomy"...
Blessed or damned...
Accepted, Not accepted...
Either part of the solution, or part of the problem?
***
My topic, "Rite of Passage" begins with Sex and Suicide... not a savory combination of actions... but give me a chance here, because I'm about to introduce you to the best part.
For some reason beyond my understanding, our society is stuck on dichotomy... two choices in life. That's what it means.
Example... on the back of all US Money is the phrase - "In God We Trust". This was added around 1949. It doesn't mean we accept the God of all nations, despite our commitment to "Freedom of Religion". No question, it refers to the God, Christ, Jesus... none other. Sure, we "tolerate and do what we can to accept other religious beliefs, but fact is, the USA is or became a Christian Country.
We're not exactly Catholic... we don't like the "no condom" rite of sex... nor do we seem to abide by rules, like marriage vows, or loyalty to country. There's a good measure of radical to being an American. Something you'd think other countries would respect about Americans - our Wild West Rebellious side... but they don't. All PR... (Public Relations). It's like all Americans are either good or bad, for or against, open or closed.
The reality couldn't be further from the PR.
One only needs to go back to the 1960's and 70's to see that Americans are free... to a point... a point poised at your eyeball...
The great thing about Americans are that we are individualized. We have in many ways learned to cooperate. Which means I can communicate with with most Americans - being a spiritualist I can connect with a Christian, or Hindu, Buddhist or Muslim... to that extent "we are free".
Where we're not free is the PR about us, or US. Since the late 1800's we became a two party political system... prior to that, "party" meant "cause"... and since news traveled slowly, multiple parties in politics was a way for all sides to lobby for their form of government. Of course, all that changed... and now, today, you're either Republican or Democrat or Other...
Others don't really count, just so you know.
We are however a "Democracy". On paper.
I say on paper as a lot of political effort goes into maintaining the two-party system of government.
The problem with that is reality is gray and colors... not black and white.
Sure, two parties, right and wrong, good or bad, for or against is easy to comprehend.
At age 20 I ran full, blunt force into the dichotomy.... I grew up believing I was free... I found myself at 20 years old in 1976. There was no dichotomy then... not that we recognized.
It wasn't anarchy, but rather, our believe to "question reality". "Question Authority".
From 1974 to 1981 i held a public job... and I can tell you with a 100% certainty that 80% of the public used marijuana, at least once. 80% of the public were criminals, and today, they pretend they never touched the stuff. Yet 50% will get drunk, or smoke tobacco, and that's okay. 60% will favor big business over the average American worker, and that's okay. 70% will turn a blind eye to the fact that "Made in USA" means it was manufactured in a foreign country, but the label "Made in America" is fictionally applied - being as an American company produced the goods.
In 1975, I didn't know it then, but success meant choosing box A or Box B. Call me stupid as I found Box C... and that wasn't the plan. Fact is, most people my age during the 1970's should be rounded up are charged with nonconformity... as well as those during the 1960's...
Fact is... dichotomy didn't settle well with us, or US. One way to solve the current hangover from the Great recession, that was actually and still is a Depression, is to round up all "others" and execute us. Most of us used illicit drugs. most of us questioned authority. Most of us were dissidents. Rebels. Non-conformists.
Put me out of my misery when I say, quite forthright, that cannabis is far better than your friggin alcohol!!!That not for a second do I believe my government has just-cause to ban one while taxing and legitimizing the other.
The world is not black and white... it's not a dichotomy!!!
Just so you know... American Citizens are Not Free... and in New Hampshire that means it's better to be Dead!
Live Free or Die... how far did we sell ourselves to exactly what we tried to avoid.... ?
Obama, King of England/USA... what promises have you delivered??? Seems to me... politics as usual... what's worst, you laugh at people that would prefer cannabis to alcohol.
Oh yeah, cannabis is dangerous alright... when compared to legal alternatives like alcohol and tobacco which aren't even comparable the risk factor is cannabis 1, to tobacco75 to alcohol the rest. And with ALL YOUR SCIENCE you promised to bring to Washington... you've brought nothing.
2012 doesn't even matter anymore... you don't matter. What matters is you laugh in the face of science and human rights.
Rite of Passage... "Welcome to the Real World - where Myth is Master to Reality".
Good New Year to All...
December 26, 2010
RITE OF PASSAGE - PART SIX - Let's Talk About Suicide
Who hasn't been "touched" by a suicide? We read about it all the time. We're all on suicide watch - watching out for signs and symptoms in others. But what about us?
Maybe you think now is not the time for a blog about suicide. Then again, when would be a good time?
Now's a perfect time.
In 1980 I got a job as a manager at the local ski-resort. We're talking a good sized resort. On the day they were accepting applications I like hundreds of others submitted our apps. I figured a job as life operator, grounds crew would fit in and be something different. Prior to that I'd been a maintenance guy at a college, and then I'd gone free-style, doing handi-man work.
I got the attention of the resort owner... he wanted to see me right away. He asked me to be the custodial manager... I could hire two workers. Wow. I was 26, and it was 1980... that was a great offer. I accepted.
There were some negotiations before I took the job, health insurance, etc... I hired two women, and we got to work. We made a great team. The hours were 11 - 7AM. It was a seasonal job, but I felt good about it, and what's better, I was a good manager - my two employees liked me and we worked very well together.
Christmas 1980. My employee informs me her husband is missing. A few days later he is found - he hung himself from a door knob at a motel. My employee needs some time off. I tell this to the resort owner. "Absolutely not", he says. I give her plenty already. I give her a seasons ski pass, etc...
Alrighty then...
I'm pissed!!! I try again to explain her husband is DEAD! He doesn't care.
That night i give the woman the bad news... time off declined. I also tell them I'll be throwing in my keys in the morning... that I don't believe it's fair what the owner decided, and that he also reneged on our agreed upon benefits package - I said I was sorry I had to leave, couldn't work for someone like that. I said I wouldn't blame you for quitting either - but neither one could afford to quit.
That morning I threw my keys on the owners desk and said "I quit". He said, "you can't". He really did. I told him he was an asshole! Very insensitive bastard! I said, "I can, and I do."
Soon after I moved to Boston, MA. Started a new life for myself... though "manager" wasn't an option - that bridge was burned.
So you may be thinking that's it...
Hardly.
Suicide it one of those topics we don't like to discuss. My father realized I had it in me from an early age - made me promise I wouldn't kill myself. I haven't. Many times because I promised him I wouldn't and even though now he's dead, I still feel the promise holds. Tempting though it may be at times.
There's nothing to be ashamed about or hide when it comes to suicide. There's a good chance that no matter what you share with others won't prevent you from killing yourself if you so decide. It's your life!
I'm haunted by the suicides of several friends. And friends where they tried but failed.
Community college - mid 1970's to 1979.
I used to love sitting in the college cafeteria... I'd get stuff to eat and never knew what new friends I might meet. It was during the time I was an employee.
One day i'm sitting at a table across from another person - I'm eating alone and we're making small talk. The person is a very attractive woman. And it turns out the wife of a guy i grew up with. Small talk turns more serious when she starts talking about how awkward it is in the body she's in. Being human she explains is uncomfortable. A few weeks later she kills herself. Dead.
Another time I'm in the cafeteria and this woman walks up to me and she stops, looks at me and tells me what beautiful blue eyes I have. Her name is Germaine. She has a European look about her. Short hair, leather vest, French. We become friends. During a conversation with her I ask what she is studying? "Nursing", she answers. But there's a catch. She reveals the reason she's in the nursing program is that when she kills herself she wants to make sure she does it right. Six months later she does it right - in the restroom of the General Hospital, with a 38 cal. revolver.
I have three other friends that killed themselves, and two that failed and are still alive and actually happy.
I alone seem to understand the torment these experiences have ingrained in my soul. At least that's how I feel. Alone.
It hurts still. And so much more that I could say.
Come 2011.... you can rest assured that my voice won't be a single voice. See, there's an advantage to having these experiences, and thinking about it yourself... see I think what we are witnessing as a society is a phenomena where people crack because there really isn't anywhere for them to turn, for help.
Myself... expect some serious blogging about the state of affairs in our society. In every case, suicide was not the answer. Murdering others was not the answer!
The answer is so simple...
See you in 2011.
To Be Continued...
Maybe you think now is not the time for a blog about suicide. Then again, when would be a good time?
Now's a perfect time.
In 1980 I got a job as a manager at the local ski-resort. We're talking a good sized resort. On the day they were accepting applications I like hundreds of others submitted our apps. I figured a job as life operator, grounds crew would fit in and be something different. Prior to that I'd been a maintenance guy at a college, and then I'd gone free-style, doing handi-man work.
I got the attention of the resort owner... he wanted to see me right away. He asked me to be the custodial manager... I could hire two workers. Wow. I was 26, and it was 1980... that was a great offer. I accepted.
There were some negotiations before I took the job, health insurance, etc... I hired two women, and we got to work. We made a great team. The hours were 11 - 7AM. It was a seasonal job, but I felt good about it, and what's better, I was a good manager - my two employees liked me and we worked very well together.
Christmas 1980. My employee informs me her husband is missing. A few days later he is found - he hung himself from a door knob at a motel. My employee needs some time off. I tell this to the resort owner. "Absolutely not", he says. I give her plenty already. I give her a seasons ski pass, etc...
Alrighty then...
I'm pissed!!! I try again to explain her husband is DEAD! He doesn't care.
That night i give the woman the bad news... time off declined. I also tell them I'll be throwing in my keys in the morning... that I don't believe it's fair what the owner decided, and that he also reneged on our agreed upon benefits package - I said I was sorry I had to leave, couldn't work for someone like that. I said I wouldn't blame you for quitting either - but neither one could afford to quit.
That morning I threw my keys on the owners desk and said "I quit". He said, "you can't". He really did. I told him he was an asshole! Very insensitive bastard! I said, "I can, and I do."
Soon after I moved to Boston, MA. Started a new life for myself... though "manager" wasn't an option - that bridge was burned.
So you may be thinking that's it...
Hardly.
Suicide it one of those topics we don't like to discuss. My father realized I had it in me from an early age - made me promise I wouldn't kill myself. I haven't. Many times because I promised him I wouldn't and even though now he's dead, I still feel the promise holds. Tempting though it may be at times.
There's nothing to be ashamed about or hide when it comes to suicide. There's a good chance that no matter what you share with others won't prevent you from killing yourself if you so decide. It's your life!
I'm haunted by the suicides of several friends. And friends where they tried but failed.
Community college - mid 1970's to 1979.
I used to love sitting in the college cafeteria... I'd get stuff to eat and never knew what new friends I might meet. It was during the time I was an employee.
One day i'm sitting at a table across from another person - I'm eating alone and we're making small talk. The person is a very attractive woman. And it turns out the wife of a guy i grew up with. Small talk turns more serious when she starts talking about how awkward it is in the body she's in. Being human she explains is uncomfortable. A few weeks later she kills herself. Dead.
Another time I'm in the cafeteria and this woman walks up to me and she stops, looks at me and tells me what beautiful blue eyes I have. Her name is Germaine. She has a European look about her. Short hair, leather vest, French. We become friends. During a conversation with her I ask what she is studying? "Nursing", she answers. But there's a catch. She reveals the reason she's in the nursing program is that when she kills herself she wants to make sure she does it right. Six months later she does it right - in the restroom of the General Hospital, with a 38 cal. revolver.
I have three other friends that killed themselves, and two that failed and are still alive and actually happy.
I alone seem to understand the torment these experiences have ingrained in my soul. At least that's how I feel. Alone.
It hurts still. And so much more that I could say.
Come 2011.... you can rest assured that my voice won't be a single voice. See, there's an advantage to having these experiences, and thinking about it yourself... see I think what we are witnessing as a society is a phenomena where people crack because there really isn't anywhere for them to turn, for help.
Myself... expect some serious blogging about the state of affairs in our society. In every case, suicide was not the answer. Murdering others was not the answer!
The answer is so simple...
See you in 2011.
To Be Continued...
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