I’ve went all Ebeneezer Scrooge this year for some reason. I don’t know why, and I definitely do not like or enjoy it.
I’ve had a lot of things dumped on me at the last minute at work, with a demanded completion date of by the end of the year.
My girlfriend, and her children picked up some sort of sickness. So I did what I do in these situations, stay away. I’ve been at home, by myself all week.
I have a ton of things to do here, but no will to do them. I need to wrap Christmas presents, disassemble that darned TV antenna to return to Amazon, and work on the Camaro.
I’m stressed, the clock is ticking on Christmas, and I seem to be getting more depressed by the day.
I thought this was supposed to be “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” For me, it has been the darkest time of the year for 5 years solid now.
Before posting this, I decided to do something. Just writing this motivated me. So I attempted to install the new speakers in the Camaro. The drivers side went well. Then I attempted to install the passengers side. Everything went well until I tried to test them, they didn’t work. While trying to diagnose the issue, the speaker fell apart. Sigh. I’m going to bed, maybe I can forget this day.
That’s been a pure mess, trying to edit and finish the latest video I shot about my dad’s IROC-Z.
First, editing the video on my Macbook turned out to be a hassle without a mouse. So I tried to complete the task on my work computer. It became incredibly slow and quit on me. I lost all of my work.
So I rebuilt it using this different work build we are now using. I was having incredible difficulties being able to open any Adobe applications, and got no help from any of my co-workers on the subject. I figured it out though.
I seem to become a blubbering idiot when I film myself. It’s one of the reasons why I’ve never been a fan of video, or being in video. I’m slowly becoming more comfortable. I started this for two reasons; the kids in my life who are hopelessly addicted to YouTube and to remember my father. He was a man who loved the art of film-making from when he was young. I have large boxes that are filled with his Super8 films.
Here’s my old man, doing what he did best
I’ve primarily used Youtube to watch music videos on, I miss my MTV. I’ve learned through these kids though, and I think it makes them happy to be a part of the whole process.
Winter has come in southern Indiana, and so I’ve put the car away for the season. I have many things to upgrade however. Primarily the brakes and the suspension. I’ll also be taking the driver’s seat out to be repaired by my uncle Ed, a god in my eyes for many things.
Thirteen years ago, Editor B gave me this blog. It’s one of the greatest gifts anyone has ever given me.
Education did me no favors as a child, and my writing skills proved this to be true. Where that system failed me, this blog gave me a gift that cannot be measured in dollars and cents. It was the gift of writing, and not for required purposes but for pleasure.
This blog has taught me new words to use in my vocabulary. It has shown me that I infamously use too many commas, it’s really a bad habit. This blog has helped me grow, this blog has helped me reflect, this blog has helped me remember.
In the time that I’ve had this blog however, life and more succinctly, electronic life has changed significantly. Blogs have primarily become a tool of the past from what I have seen. Personal websites? Most people think of the giants of Facebook and Twitter for their personal web presence.
I hope to bring that back, at least for my little corner of the Earth. For quite a while I’ve found myself receding back from “social media” and the norms of my electronic life. This is my safe space, a place where I can say my thoughts, and hide them if I don’t want the world to see them. I make the rules here, and can silence dissent.
For me, it’s not about control. It’s about silence. It’s about not seeing conflict, which I do not handle well. It’s about inner peace.
So again, thank you B. You bestowed upon me a gift that I plan to cherish for the rest of my life. You have been an amazing friend, and will continue to be a person I look up to in life. I look forward to seeing you again this summer.
That’s how long my father has been deceased. I seem to relive that morning mentally and emotionally, every year. I had just started my first full time position in almost a decade and was in training when I got the series of calls.
My dad was my hero and champion in life. Not a hero as in “I wanted to be like him” but my hero in that he stood for the same things I stood for, and as an adult, he could do them! When I was with him, I knew anything was possible.
Now I’m the adult, but nothing feels possible anymore.
Long foregone is the time of blog posts being what I looked forward to writing. It seems to be a thing of the past, an online journal to express ones thoughts, feelings, actions. This mystifies me, it also troubles me on a deep level.
This blog was a gift to me by one of my life’s heroes, Editor B. I grew up in a lot of ways watching his antics on local cable access. The show wasn’t exactly “suitable” for kids of my age, but I had already experienced much of what was in the show anyway. None of it was new to me.
Since then, he’s also my friend – not just a hero. My heroes in life have always been regular people. I’m not sure why people get attracted to celebrity, nor why people want to be like celebrity.
I documented much of my life between 2006 and 2015 on this blog. It’s contents hold a treasure trove of “me” in it. This also documents the change in my writing and vocabulary, as I only have an 8th grade English education. I may hold an Associate’s degree from Indiana University, but this blog helped me get there.
But life has changed for me, in significant ways that I’m still trying to figure out. I’ve found myself retreating from social media, and society. Work is no longer the adventure I loved but the thing that sustains me. My love of technology is just something I handle now. I’ve changed. I still don’t know if it’s for the better or not.
These days, I have been depleted of energy due to my ongoing skin disorder primarily. Slowly but surely I have been restoring my fathers 1988 Chevrolet Camaro IROC-Z. He purchased it new, with my stepmother eventually selling it to me after his passing.
Me and the car when it was newPresent day
Speaking of that, the anniversary of his death is approaching. It’s placed me into a bit of a downward spiral emotionally. He was the singular true champion of my life. Since then, so much has happened that only his voice, his mind, and his actions would have helped me with.
I have my girlfriend of 3 1/2 years, I have my daughters, and I have my ROX friends. I also have lots of online friends, but that hole in my life from the loss of my father still weighs heavily on my soul. Many times, I still feel lost and completely alone, even when surrounded by many who care for and love me. It’s baffling, and mightily frustrating.
I will be moving this blog to a new domain soon per Editor B’s polite ask. I dare not remove this archive of my life from the Internet. I will always want this as a place to let those inner thoughts out, to show progress on projects, and to give a written record of the life I have led. I would have loved my father having something such as this in his time. I don’t know where it will move to yet, but it will be something that signifies me.
It’s been four years since my father passed into the afterlife. It’s almost hard to believe when I think about it. Time stood still for me for quite some time after that tragic event in my life story. He was the man I admired, he was the man who conquered all. Most importantly, he was the man I wanted to be when I grew up. With him gone, I didn’t have that example to turn to. I didn’t have that voice telling me to “quit getting the cart before the horse, son.” It rattled me to my core.
I had to start over in life, figuratively speaking. Financially and career wise my life is in the best place it has ever been. But emotionally? It’s a tough tale. That’s where I’m still picking up the pieces.
I try to look at when my grandfather passed, and how my father coped as a guidebook. My dad, did everything he could – including trying to get a 21 gun salute for him. Emotionally, that’s where my dad seemed to be a black hole however. He wasn’t very talkative about how he felt about the situation surrounding my grandfathers death. I know he wasn’t happy with the “family” decisions that basically led to his untimely passing, but that was all I got out of him. When it came time to write dad’s obituary, guess what I copied? My grandfathers. Dad had written it.
His urge to make the trip to Oklahoma lessened after that. He became more about life here, his granddaughters and his First Baptist family. He became the de facto caretaker of his mother, my grandma. His love for me? It never faltered. It never failed. It only blossomed over the years.
So why do I feel stuck in an emotional labyrinth? Why?
Each and every day I feel tormented. Not by the loss of patriarch of my family, but by the feelings of helplessness with my daughters. I don’t feel like I give them enough of me, enough time to enjoy things with their dad, or enough adventures with the man they look up to.
Each and every day I fight it. I try to do something, reach out. SOMETHING. But it never feeds the torment, it only seems to expand it.
I have been embraced by a wonderful, yet crazy family. One that sees me for who I am, and doesn’t give me too hard of a time about it. It helps, but only takes me so far. My experience with the “blended family” situation has not been the most idealistic. I hear this is a common situation. I often feel much more at ease when I am solitary. I think I pushed the healing of my losses, and still need that time.
In the end, I have a roughly set plan for how I want my life to be from here on out. The loss of my marriage and the loss of my father taught me this. If it isn’t going how I want it, I will make it that way, no matter what the costs or consequences are. The torch has been passed, not in a way I wanted it to. It is now up to me on how to handle and direct this sect of the family to proceed. I just have to pull myself up by my boot straps and take care of what needs done.
That is what I’m having trouble with. I’ve never been one to proclaim what I want, or expect anything. It’s part of that humble nature.
August thirteenth. For many, it’s just a normal day. Some years, it’s the dreaded “Friday the 13th.” But for me, it’s my father’s birthday. A day of eternal celebration. Sixty seven years ago, my father was born, at a soon to be decommissioned hospital where me and my children were also born.
That’s me, and that car is only a couple of years old.
From the beginning of my memories, he was my hero. My dad and I were like peanut butter and jelly. Good by ourselves but better together.
I only regret the times that in hindsight I could have spent more time with him but didn’t due to “marital obligations.”
I’m only thankful that his passing has given me guidance on what is important in life, and those are the ones you have, the ones you love.
I have almost every one of his worldly possessions. Some of which are valuable, some of which are not. His clothes are being transformed into quilts for me and his granddaughters. His vehicles are at my house. The thousands of pictures and video he shot over his lifetime are in the process of being digitized. I just need to find a good way to share them with the family – for input on who/what/where regarding a lot of them.
1968. It was a big year in the United States. I only know of it from second and third hand accounts, due to being born in 1980. Little did I know however, how important the events of that year and the sixties in general were to my fathers worldview.
A few months ago, the newspaper from the town my father grew up in said they were looking for him or his ancestors. He had placed something in a time capsule that would be opened. How exciting! Why did he never tell me of this thing?
That day was the start of 3rd grade for my youngest daughter. As soon as I got her contact information, I emailed her explaining the importance of this event to our family and that I would be taking her from school early to attend. My oldest daughter is out of school, but working. She got permission to leave work early to attend as well. I wanted them to be present.
The small meeting room, where the time capsule would be opened was over crowded. The three of us crawled onto the floor and kneeled on the floor between aisles to see it be opened. The event was also live streamed on Facebook.
The tears started flowing as soon as dad’s envelope was called out, with my youngest daughter handing the envelope to my oldest. We left the room to get some space. We were then video taped as I read the letter. I tried but couldn’t keep composure of the words a sixteen year old version of my father wrote.
The contents of the envelope were a typed letter, two newspaper clippings and a post card. I came to tears when I saw the post card. Whenever I would travel anywhere – he would say the phrase “send me a postcard.” Which I did, often.
The newspaper clippings were from both of the assassinated Kennedy brothers, lying in state. His letter primarily spoke of the Kennedy’s. I’m attaching a scan of that letter for the world to see. My daughters and I are continuing this trend, and will be adding something to a new time capsule to be opened in 2068. We will see if I make it. Dad’s letter closes with “see you in 2018.” It broke my heart, and brought my oldest daughter to tears, as he didn’t get to see us.
The loss of him from our lives still breaks our hearts, and forever will.
This summer has been a hard one on me, for a multitude of reasons. Reasons I will outline below.
Work
There have been some changes to my work environment. The director that hired me had to step down and officially become an emeritus due to policies I don’t exactly understand. The new “interim” director isn’t exactly as social or open, and it has the staff and faculty mighty concerned. For instance, he has requested several things that I should have been in the loop on, but I’ve found out third hand about them. We will carry on, but it’s a time of a lot of unknowns. I’m not a fan of unknown.
Fortunately I work for a different department technically, so he does not have the capability to fire me, or even discipline me. But these are my people, and I will stick up for them with everything of my being. It’s who I am professionally.
Vacation
The girlfriend had planned a vacation for all of us, and I left the details up to her this time. It seemed like a fun time, but quickly turned into a nightmare. We went to Williamsburg, KY. They have a waterpark there. What caught my eye was that the fee to get in was only $2 more than it was to get into the local city pool. Attached to the waterpark is a campground. We were all going to camp there for three days, go to the waterpark and try to visit any other sights in the area that weren’t too far away.
When originally planning and booking the site, the weather was supposed to be comfortable, it turned out to be the opposite. We had absolutely 0 shade at our camp site. The tent camp sites were relegated to an area around the “backwash” of the waterpark. It seemed very 3rd class.
Our Campsite
After a day at the waterpark, I got the worst sunburn I’ve ever had in my life. With the combination of the heat and humidity, it felt like it was at least 110 degrees. I was done. My anger and frustrations at this situation couldn’t take anymore.
So I sat in my vehicle with the air conditioning on most of the day. Later, I took a couple of the kids with me, and we drove to wherever. Eventually making it to Chatanooga, TN and turning back around. Me and her got into a fight. For some reason she thought I was going to leave her and her kids there, five hours away from home without a way back home. Did I think about it? Yes. But I could never do something like that.
We ended up staying for the Independence Day fireworks and leaving immediately afterwards. I told her things would be different after this. I needed peace, I require peace.
The next weekend, I took my daughter on a trip she deserved. It was short but sweet. We went to Abraham Lincoln’s birthplace, then went over to The Biltmore Estate. Something her mom and I did 13 years prior, we even stayed in the same hotel.
Lincoln’s Birthplace
Biltmore
The Bathroom
We get home, and my main bathtub faucet wouldn’t stop dripping. This remodel that I had been putting off for 12 years decided for me that it must be done now.
I have 3 bathrooms in my house, and this one has for the most part remained untouched since I purchased my home in 2006. I knew it would need a complete gut, and I wasn’t prepared for the expense. There was mold that would keep coming back. This told me that it was in the wall.
So, after taking essentially two vacations – I am now knee deep in a bathroom renovation.
I have removed the tub surround, purchased a new one (that was just delivered to the store today), had my tub refinished and purchased a new tub faucet.
Now it’s just a matter of installation, and that disaster will be over with partially. Once I get some of these debts paid off, I’m going to complete the rest of the renovation.
Divorce, it’s an ugly word. It brings out the worst in everything involved. The people and the government. Fathers of children are typically taken for everything they have or are attached to, and mothers are given sainthood.
Well, that didn’t happen here. I wasn’t about to let it happen either.
All she wanted to do was run away and start a new life with someone new. This left the house. As I said in my previous post, at the time – I didn’t make enough money to even consider making the mortgage payment, which was $960 a month at the time due to her mismanaging of our finances. That was literally my entire net income.
She wanted to give it back to the bank in a short sale, but agreed to let me try to save it. I knew that I couldn’t afford to rent an apartment, and I knew that I would have to get a room mate if I got an apartment. So why not use this asset of mine for my own gain? Right?
As soon as I could, I put an ad up on Craigslist and all other sites trying to find a room mate. My area has a problem with rentals, as they are typically priced to a point of luxury. I’m not trying to make any money here, just trying to survive myself. What I charge for rent basically pays the utilities.
I also refinanced the house. I didn’t want to, but needed to for two reasons. To get my ex wife’s name off of the mortgage, and to make that payment lower. It set me back a decade, but now it is mine.
It all started with phone calls and emails. I would get calls with nobody on the other end of the line, and emails with nothing in them, not even a subject line. It was constant, it was nagging and it was frustrating.
Once I was able to actually communicate with this person, he ended up being the best room mate a guy could have. He was originally from the area but had lived a life of adventure, traveling the famous trails of our country. He had to come back to town to take care of things due to the death of his father, needing a place to stay for a few months.
He kept his area clean, and would even clean the entire house! I loved that guy. When he told me that he was done here and going to pack his bags to move in with his brother in Bozeman Montana, I was a little heart broken.
I then got another room mate, this time a female. For a period of a couple of months they were both in my house at the same time. This is when I learned that more than 1 room mate just doesn’t work well. Too many people.
She is the polar opposite of Tony, on the level of hoarder. I try to do my best to have more of a friendship than straight up business relationship with my room mates, to weed out people I would not be comfortable living with. I will be more cautious with the next one.
A few months ago, her mother passed away and left her the entire estate, including a home. She is currently working on fixing it up and will be moving out when she is ready. So the search will be on again for a person to help me sustain my home.
I had to start over in life, figuratively speaking. Financially and career wise my life is in the best place it has ever been. But emotionally? It’s a tough tale. That’s where I’m still picking up the pieces.
His love for me? It never faltered. It never failed. It only blossomed over the years.
The torch has been passed, not in a way I wanted it to. It is now up to me on how to handle and direct this sect of the family to proceed. I just have to pull myself up by my boot straps and take care of what needs done.
