On our last “adventure day” on our wonderful get away, we did something I always wanted to do, we went on a legitimate Mississippi river boat. It was also July 4th, our nations birthday. I found this to be the best way to celebrate our country, to learn about one of the first engines of our capitalist nation.
While I wanted to go on the Natchez, it’s apparently out of service with “The City of New Orleans” fulfilling it’s duties for the time being. I chose the Sunday brunch cruise, not too early not too late. Perfect for us.
The line to board took me this far away
Personally, I had a blast. The adults enjoyed the food, which included grits that were so fine I originally thought they were mashed potatoes, red beans and rice and jambalaya.
The interior was pure 19th century recreated
While not an actual steam boat, The City of New Orleans gives you a similar experience, with it’s paddle wheel and large stacks.
Kira was originally scared of the paddle wheel, out of a fear of something I had done earlier when we went to the Children’s museum. Amelia showed her that it was nothing to be scared of, and I assured her that I would not throw her overboard or hurt her in any way, and she relaxed.
I can see it in her eyes, “don’t throw me into this thing.”
The cruise involved a jazz band, who’s music was streamed all over the ship on TV and audio, they were stationed on the 3rd deck. There was also a gentleman who narrated the history about the areas we were traveling through and past.
Many onboard, didn’t take the food option and grabbed seats on the decks instantly, so we didn’t have the opportunity to find a “good” place to see the sights on the river, but that was okay. I didn’t take too many photos because I was again on water, and after the swamp tour I was a bit on edge.
While there are some changes, I can only imagine this is somewhat similar as to what people saw hundreds of years ago as they came to the French Quarter.
The French Quarter from the Mississippi River
This is definitely something I would recommend any family do if vacationing in New Orleans. It was nice and fun, suitable for all ages. Not something that is applicable for all things New Orleans.
I’m thankful Amelia gave me some good photos, it’s such a rare thing anymore
The next day we planned our exit strategy and packed up. It was a wonderful time in the crescent city. The big easy pulled all of her charms on me, and opened my mind on so many things that had been closed for years.
After getting back from our jaunt to Florida, we took a day to rest. We got back late, and were all exhausted.
We took two day trips to two uniquely different locations that are as far south in Louisiana as you can go. Following The Great River Road, led us to Venice, LA where they even have a sign.
If you look closely, you can literally see the end of the road.
There isn’t much to do in this area of Louisiana, but there is much to see, to take in, to experience. With the loss of swamp lands due to the engineering of the Mississippi river, these lands could not exist within a few years.
The area is primarily filled with bunk hotels and heliports for oil rig workers. There are also many echoes of the past, with buildings that have been destroyed by hurricanes. Some are time capsules of sorts, as they appear untouched.
There is one pretty interesting place on the way to Venice however, Fort Jackson. There is another fort across the Mississippi river from it, but we had no way to access it. It was wet, and so we did not have an opportunity to access the interior of the fort itself.
From Wikipedia
We parked at the entrance and proceeded down the wood bridge to the gate, unknowing what we would find. The area was flooded, and it was soon fairly obvious to us that we were not going to be able to enter.
What we arrived to. The wheels were used originally to open the door that protected the fort
I didn’t know that any American forts ever had moats, but this one did. We then ventured over to the cannon battery as it looked like something we could catch a case of tetanus on.
It had some very hard to read but interesting plaques and memorials on it. Most of which I still have not read fully.
The views from the gun battery helped show the fort in better contrast. It’s very old, damaged from hurricanes, but it still stands today. I didn’t even know about this place until I was reading a very interesting story on the destination I was heading towards.
We didn’t visit the museum that is just down the road from the fort, but did stop at this very interesting memorial, which sits on the bank of the Mississippi river.
Walking up to it, I thought an animal tried to attack meCavelier De La Salle 1640-1687
On our way out, we then made notice of these brick and earth shelters that littered the grounds outside of the fort proper. I could only assume that they were storage bunkers for things such as gunpowder and ammunition. They were wildly fascinating to me.
The next day, we went to the other southern tip of Louisiana, Grand Isle.
I did all of the driving, so I was unable to get any photos of our trips to either destinations. This trip was more residential however, and was filled with plenty of ship yards. It was quite fascinating. The last leg of the journey involved a toll bridge, that I honestly didn’t mind paying the toll to use. The views were quite breathtaking. Now mind you, this wasn’t a regular bridge. This was a several mile long, Louisiana bridge.
Then we made it. Lyndsey and I enjoyed the laid back atmosphere, and thought it was adorable that all of the homes along the main drag had names. I noticed a trailer park that had all of the trailers in the air about 25 feet, with further reinforcements so the trailer did not fly off it’s supports. I had never seen anything like that before.
We proceeded to the state park, where we just made it in time. They were about to close the gate for the evening. There isn’t much to the park itself, there is a camping section, and a day use section. We ventured to the fishing pier where I enjoyed the views of the oil drilling platforms in the distance.
The Deepwater Horizon was out there somewhere…..The fishing pier is very photogenic
Just when we got there, a dolphin was almost at the shore line. The image I got would make you wonder, but others said it was a dolphin and not a shark.
Da da…….da da………She’s was in heaven when by the sea
We then made the arduous journey back to defend New Orleans which was made very complicated. The road we had taken in was closed on our way back. We didn’t learn this until our GPS took us to a complete dead end. For a while we were driving blind, in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t until after about 30 minutes or so that we were shown signs of detours. This detour took us to Houma, where we ate and then continued on our way.
One thing I noticed on our way back on both trips was what I only assume is one of the protective systems Louisiana has. At one point, I noticed a large door/gate that blocked the entire road off which was accompanied by a levee the same height as the door/gate. I found this very fascinating and interesting at the same time.
The next day we made a run to Florida, in the section I was informed is called florabama by the locals, due to it being directly south of Alabama. It was an adventure for certain.
Our first stop was in Panama City Beach, and not for the beach. We went there to see a person I treasure, a person I look up to, a person who moved away years ago to which I said that I would see if I was ever in the area again.
We had some hiccups due to the loss of the wallet however, something they told me over the phone wouldn’t be an issue. I have to go on a bit of a rant about the hotel we stayed at before I get on with this post however.
Under any and all circumstances DO NOT stay at the Boardwalk Beach Hotel. FULL STOP. I refuse to link to it, but it is on all of the typical hotel booking sites. I only got the room because it was the cheapest one I could find, and Hotel 6 was charging $500 a night. At $390 a night, I was expecting to find some comfort after a long day on the road, but that was only after I went through their gauntlet of horrors. The line to check in was about 100 feet long, and while their convention space seemed nice, the hotel rooms were the polar opposite. The lady at the desk was extremely rude to us, giving obvious examples that she had no cares about our unique situation (my wallet being taken by an alligator). They required I provide a different credit card, even though I had already fully paid for the room with one I had lost. They then stated that I would receive a refund on my first card within 10 days. I didn’t, and reported this to both of my credit card companies – who were very displeased.
But I got to have dinner with my friend. She hadn’t seen Amelia in a few years, I had been telling her about how much she had grown, but she got to see my tales with her own eyes. I was first introduced to her by another friend who did all of the music for a movie she had just finished. Dad was still with us back then, and the local connection was invaluable to me. I thought she and dad would become instant friends, and he could be invaluable to her in her work in the visual arts.
We then tried to get some rest, all four of us in the double beds we were provided. We were unsuccessful in our quest, but arose to something beautiful the next morning.
The view outside our room
My girlfriend finally got some beach time. I could tell she was very happy in her soul.
I chose to stay in the room while the girls went down to the beach and played in the water. Before I knew it, it was check out time and we had another place to visit before we made our way back to defend New Orleans. So I went down to the beach to collect my wayward girls, pack up and hit the road.
I adore this image of Amelia
Before we left PCB, we had to make a few stops though. Amelia wanted to go to Ron Jons and Margaritaville to pick up some things. I only had Google Pay on my phone to purchase things – and it quit working. So it was all on Lyndsey, we walked out of Ron Jons with a $600 bill. I was shocked when I saw the receipt. Shocked I tell you. I swiftly returned snorkels that Lyndsey had picked up for the girls – they were $100 by themselves.
After a long, and arduous drive across the panhandle of Florida, we made it to our second destination, Pensacola Beach. We drove there to see Lyndsey’s half sister, whom she had never met before. I was pretty amazed at her home, on one side is the ocean and beach, on the other side is the inlet, and behind their house is a channel for boats.
We sat and talked for a while, where I just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately I didn’t get the chance to do that. Both Kira and Amelia kayaked down the channel with Lyndsey’s nephew. Amelia took some prying to do it, but eventually gave in.
The channel behind their house.
We then went to the inlet, where Kira was swimming while under the watchful eye of her cousin. We stayed to watch the sunset, it was pretty breathtaking.
Ain’t it beautiful?
We then scuttled off to Peg Leg Pete’s, a beach/island bar & restaurant. It was a hit with everyone.
I attempted to drive us home, but had to give up not too long into the trip. I was just too tired to really drive. So Lyndsey took the helm, and she did it well on this trip, driving about half way to our destination and the vast majority of the way back home. I’m really proud of the abilities her new car has provided her. Driving her old car was really a strain on her body.
Not literally, but in a way. In actuality, an alligator did. But I’ll get to that later.
After our day at the museum, we got organized and made some plans we both couldn’t cancel and had hard timelines on. We were to have a day split with time in the French Quarter and on a Swamp Tour, something a friend of mine had told me many times to do.
Since I had been to the French Quarter before, and we had some tight timelines, I decided it would be best to drive and park in the French Quarter. I found us a parking garage we could park in that was just a block away from Jackson Square, and pre-paid. We had this block of time, there was no going back. We decided that we were going to split up, each parent with their child. Go do things we wanted to do. But there was a slight hiccup, Lyndsey left her phone at the house, something we didn’t realize until we got there. To go back we would lose about an hour of time, so to hell with it.
Amelia and I instantly went to our place, Stanley. I didn’t get the picturesque photo that I got last time, but it’ll do.
We had our breakfast, and were on our way. When we came in 2019, we really didn’t do much. So we explored the French Quarter as much as we could. Stopping at many of the gift shops along the way. Google maps wasn’t of much help, as it kept changing orientation on me. So we made some disorganized criss cross motions around the southern end of the place.
We stopped at the Museum of Death, which was cool but nothing awe inspiring in my opinion. They do have David Koresh’s band shirt, which is pretty cool.
We then made our way to The Art of Dr. Seuss, part of the Angela King Gallery. It was a small space, but my eyes were in heaven. They had lots of pieces that I found highly interesting, but one stood above the rest. I found it curious as it had no price tag on it. It was from my favorite Seuss book, “Green Eggs & Ham.” I had to ask, I had to prod.
“Would you? Could You? In a Car?” Arabian Edition
It was apparently the only copy remaining for sale. I was told that any works where duplicates were made are all done in limited copies. The price they gave was something I could handle, and so I bought it. I had it shipped to my home, just receiving it a few days ago.
By this time, we were both getting hot and we needed some hydration. Trying to find a place where you and your underage daughter can sit down and drink something non-alcoholic in the French Quarter isn’t an easy task, but I found a Oyster Bar on Royal street that let me do just that. Amelia had water and Sprite while I had water and a Hurricane, because why not?
I then started getting messages from Lyndsey, via her watch. She kept telling me where she was, but I was not getting cross streets to get a proper location. It appeared that her and Kira had went the polar opposite direction as Amelia and I did. After some back and forth, I settled up and we made our way to find them. When I reached them, they were both hot, thirsty and hungry. I wanted to go to the Hard Rock Cafe earlier, but knew they were closed. So I thought we’d stop by there, grab some grub and then head to our next destination. By the time we made it there, we discovered that they didn’t serve food until 4pm.
So I decided we would cut our losses and get out of dodge, with the traffic in the quarter – we were pushing making it to our swamp tour. We drove to the nearest place everyone could agree on and/or eat at. I just drank copious amounts of fluids to re-hydrate myself.
We made it to the location of our swamp tour just in time. After getting our wristbands, we sat and waited until the boats were ready. Something had happened to the boat we were originally scheduled to use, which bothered Lyndsey, as the boat we were on was a little larger than the one we were to be on.
Our Boat
There were many warnings about either locking things in your car, or making sure they are zippered, as items have been known to get lost on these tours. We were going along, having a blast. We would stop in locations and our guide would throw out marshmallows and hotdogs. The alligators faces would soften up, and act like puppies that were trying to steal food from the table. It was adorable.
He then popped out a little stowaway, a baby alligator. Lyndsey felt like she was in heaven, and Amelia smiled – which is rare anymore. I refrained, but relished in their happiness.
Recall what I mentioned about things being lost? I had put everything but my wallet inside a zippered pocket of my shorts. Through all of the bumps and hits that you get on an airboat, my wallet slowly but surely slipped out of my back pocket. While we were sitting still, there was a noise on my side of the boat. Someone stated they thought it was a fish jumping out of the water, then someone else said, “no it’s that guys wallet.” I happened to be “that” guy. Just then, a large alligator came to the boat, coming right up to me.
Everyone thinks that gator ate my wallet. Our guide told me that the wallet was in about 5 feet of water, and that if he felt like there was a chance to retrieve it, he would have. He kept apologizing to me, but there wasn’t much that could be done. Sure, it dampened my spirits but there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to proceed forward and enjoy things as best I could.
I had fun on the swamp tour, but spent the rest of the time trying to figure out how I would get my credit cards, ID and other items I keep in my wallet back. This created a real situation for us the next day as I had booked us a hotel room in Panama City Beach so I could see a friend who had moved away.
I kept repeating this phrase when on our vacation. I’m not one to like normal tourist spots, do normal tourist things. Even when I am the tourist. The next day we planned on going to the French Quarter, do some exploring and some shopping. We woke up late and not feeling the best – but we sure had to do something. XY (That’s Christy for the uninitiated) told me that they just built a new children’s museum at City Park, so we went for it.
For those who have never been, City Park in New Orleans is amazing. I would go to New Orleans just to visit that park.
We started the way we started many of our days, with a visit to Café Du Monde, as they have a location at City Park that’s laid back, easy to access and hello did you even read the title?
Located in the Casino Building
After the beignets were consumed, we carried on to the Louisiana Children’s Museum. XY wasn’t wrong, the place was new and mighty interesting.
The kids and I had fun with these chairs, the fog is actually an art installation and provides a cooling effect
The building was made to be as earth friendly as possible, and it shows. I appreciated the thoughtfulness in the design.
Speaking of design, the main entry doors even have a door specifically made for children. It was adorable as it is thoughtful.
Kira felt embarrassed, but I thought it was the cutest thing in the world.
The main lobby is a little blah for my tastes, but once you get to the primary areas it’s a hit. The first floor didn’t have much that intrigued our 11 year old brewing drama queens except for a really awesome magnifying station. The rest of the space was more for the younger kiddies.
Next to this were shelves filled with jars of things to discover.
The design continued with the windows for the building, which is full of to let in natural light and help eliminate the need for heating systems. There are a few windows that are larger on the outside than on the inside, causing an opportunity for the photogenic mind.
Where’d the rest of her body go?
We then went upstairs, where they had a “toy” replica of Jackson Square, a large bubble machine, a music room and a really fascinating recreation of the Mississippi river.
Someone could have a lot of fun with this and Photoshop
I really loved the umbrellas hanging in the air.
Their interpretation of the river was great for all ages. So much so, that the kids (ours included) got in trouble for attempting to flood New Orleans.
We then ventured outside, which is really the beauty of the museum and City Park. We first took the path northward, leading to a floating classroom. There was a marsh like area that had Adirondack chairs, so I made myself comfortable. There were sight glasses, where Kira did some turtle watching as well.
I spy with my little eye.
We then made our way back to the museum, and explored the southern portion, taking a bridge to the labyrinth.
Kira was not impressed
The girls had more fun with the ducks and birds around the area though. Cries of “oh my he’s so cute, I want to get close to him.” Were heard more than anything else.
We then went back to our “house” and rested, and had dinner. We just had a big day. Children’s museums are always a big energy suck for parents.
We then made some plans for the evening. First up, dessert. The first place on my mind, Angelo Brocato’s. This place makes genuine gelato, and has since it first opened it’s doors in 1905. Thankfully it was just a few blocks away from the house we were sitting. Mid-City has everything you need I tell you.
There’s a marker on the door of how high the water level was during Katrina.
After getting our fill of sweets, we made our way over to The Broad Theater, on the recommendation of XY. A place that’s not even a thing around here, a theater with a bar. We watched Cruella and I had a beer.
It was a good day in the Crescent City. The Big Easy really wooed us, and we miss it.
On this day (4/16) in 1960, in Kokomo Indiana, my mother was born. Her life was full of what I can only assume was a hard childhood. Her mother, my memaw was not married and in her later years confessed to me that she became pregnant with my mother during a tryst in a church in her hometown of Leavenworth, IN.
My mom and my aunt, 1962
Soon she would have a sibling, from a different father. I know as sisters they loved each other very much, and her new stepfather legally adopted my mother, but there was something she never elaborated about that she didn’t like about him.
From the combination of things both my mom and dad said to me, my mom grew up not knowing her real father, but she eventually got to. I don’t know if she was still in high school or not, but it was around the time she was 18. The experience was not what she had hoped for it to be, she had additional 2 half sisters. In the end, my father (who had just started dating her at the time) had to drive down to Floyds Knobs to get her. According to my father, he ended up putting a bullet through his head around the time I was born.
Senior picture, BHSN 1979
Motherhood wasn’t something my mom was prepared for, or enjoyed. She was still trying to figure out who she was when she became my mom. They were some hard years for her, trying to find her place in this world. It’s then when I think her never ending search for a “dad” began.
Little me and my mom, in our first home
My father loved my mom deeply, and wholeheartedly until the day he passed away. Unlike my own experiences in life, he was always a part of the family to which he had divorced from. Even as an adult, my dad would come over to my moms for holiday events.
My mom on the other hand, spent several years cheating on my father, going to parties and spending time with darker ends of society. I even have memories of being at these gatherings with her, drugs and alcohol on full display, sex everywhere. The TV was a tool used to distract my eyes from what was going on.
My parents eventually divorced, with my father uncommonly retaining full custody of me. My mother could have visitation with me, but often didn’t have a place for me or transportation. I don’t think she ever paid child support.
For years, my mom disappeared. She was with her new man on the run from the law. Originally they had plans to go to Washington State but the gas money ran out in Texas, and that’s where they stayed. She eventually returned in an effort to get away from him but that was only temporary. It was however a sign of life getting better, as she started the job she would hold for almost 20 years then, at General Electric.
Through no choice of my own, I was forced to live with her between sixth grade and the age of majority. They were best of times, they were the worst of times. For the most part, it was like living with a room mate. There were a couple of times where I genuinely felt like I had a mother; but I always relied upon my dad for emotional support.
She supported me financially. She gave me what I can only call a middle class life, but our family unit was definitely shattered. I would often times purchase drugs for her. She would buy me a carton of cigarettes a week. She only had 1 rule, that if I was doing something illegal – I stay put. I kept my word on that rule, as I felt that it was the single thing I could do to honor her.
My wedding, where my own parents and grandparents were married
As an adult, her life seemed to be one series of disasters after the other until a large disaster reformed her life, she was laid off. The GE factory that I had even worked at was coming to a stand still. It’s now been closed for years. Through a program they have however, she was able to essentially skip the line and get a new job at the GE Appliance Park in Louisville, Kentucky. At the start it was a little rough, but she eventually was able to buy a home! Something neither of my parents had really done, owned a home.
Then, in the spirit of Star Trek, “Shakka, the walls fell.”
She lost that job too, she had amassed a large amount of debt and had nothing else to cling to but the inheritance her own mother left her of roughly $50k in an investment account and shared ownership of her home with my aunt, a home I always adored.
Unbeknownst to her, my aunt had allowed her youngest son and his newly started family to live there. I understood and appreciated it. It was better for someone to be there than for it to be empty, abandoned. I always wanted to keep that house in the family, no matter what.
With nowhere else to turn, and nothing else to lay claim to, my mother filed a protection order on her own nephew, who is an active member of the US Army. This forced him to leave the home his own mother let him stay in, that she legally owned 50% of.
It was during this time that I was going through my own circles of hell, with a divorce under my belt, a protective order on me and pending criminal charges happening. I had just gotten the job that I still have, giving me a level of financial freedom I had never known before. A load of responsibility came along with that however.
So here she was, my mother, in my deceased memaw’s house, “cleaning” it. There is no power, there is no water – there are no utilities. She asked for my help, and I did the only thing I felt that I could. I bought her as many non perishable goods I could, and loads of bottled water. I took her out to dinner, and I filled her gas tank up. I didn’t want her to die.
It was when she asked me to buy her cigarettes that I drew the line. I had tried to get her to quit smoking and at minimum start vaping for years. It is also at this point when the physical track on my mother went cold. I only heard from her two times after that day. All other information I have is 2nd hand or from law enforcement, doing welfare checks.
I found out years later that my memaw’s home, that her and my papaw had worked many hours of overtime and put lots of blood, sweat and tears into turning into the house of this grandchild’s dreams, was sold due to being behind on property taxes. It was sold to my half-sister’s uncle. Who has now turned it into something I don’t even recognize anymore. I refuse to even drive down that stretch of road anymore. My heart can’t bare to see it. They spent their lives trying to make the lives of their descendants better; and in the end the temple to which our family celebrated many of the things families celebrate became the subject that tore ours apart. It hasn’t been the same since.
So, happy birthday mom. Your children are doing okay. You have a new grand daughter. Both of your children do love you, and we do worry about you. Your oldest grand daughter needs you back in her life, as you are the only grandparent she has left; and that has left a tremendous hole in her heart.
I’ve made some changes to my bedroom. My girlfriend had been complaining about my queen size bed, it hurt her back. It was old and it did need to be replaced. I got a deal on a nice king bed and foam mattress from Amazon and went with it.
Extreme Wide Angle: I had to put my phone on panoramic mode with it against the wall to get the entire bed
This caused a problem however, as I had less space in my bedroom. I needed new night stands. Fortunately, I know a guy and I enjoy what he does. He’s my girlfriend’s brother.
He had shown us the ones he made for himself, and I really enjoyed how they came out. Knowing him as I do, I also felt comfortable letting him have his way with any creative endeavors he wanted to have on this project. My only dictation to him, the dimensions.
Assembled teaser image
He kept sending me pictures through the whole process, and got to work on them rather quickly. I was surprised really. In all reality, these tables cost me just a little more than something I would have bought; yet these are handmade and will last generations versus something I might keep for a decade and throw away.
When I picked them up
The tables are compromised of Walnut and Cherry with traditional joinery. The only screws on it are for the table and top. Finished with wax.
Top View
A week after I got them, he sent me some messages asking how I liked them. If I wanted anything different or if I had any tweaks about them. The only real issue I can see is the size of the drawers, as they are a touch small – but okay for my use. I sent him the following image of one of them in my room. I’m a happy man.
Craftsmanship isn’t appreciated as much as it should be in our consumer centric society. When and where I can, I try to buy nice things instead of just things.
I will forever be appreciative of Tim’s talents and efforts in making these tables for me. Just as I asked him to make them, he told me that he is planning on moving clear across the country. It made me sad, as he’s a really awesome guy. Someone I strive to be like.
One of these days I’ll get around to actually working on this place, like I’ve wanted to. I have so many things I want to get done, but so little will to actually do them. It’s hard.
With the pandemic in full force, I cancelled Thanksgiving and Christmas festivities with my aunt and uncle. My uncle said it was the first time in 60 years that he hadn’t came home. They are in their 70’s and I didn’t want to risk their health.
It’s commonly known that this and other coronaviruses can silently spread, as some people can be infected and contagious without even knowing. I have been careful, so has my girlfriend. But my daughter’s back and forth lifestyle finally caught up to us, and her.
I had her for almost a week around Christmas, but not including the day itself. It was that day that she spent with her mother, per our divorce decree.
The day after I returned my daughter to her mom, my ex wife texted me to inform me that her husband had been admitted to the hospital with double pneumonia caused by covid.
I was floored. She went onto say that he had been sick since the 18th of December. I was enraged. I demanded our daughter get a test, as she had obviously been exposed. Her mother refused. I offered to do all of the legwork and get her tested myself, she still kept up her stonewall tactics. Instead of continuing to argue with her, I called my attorney. By the time he called me back, she gave in and scheduled her to get a test.
The results came back, positive.
My daughter hadn’t shown any signs or symptoms of infection, sans a runny nose here and there or a sore throat. After the results came back however, she apparently got sick.
Then we started showing signs and symptoms ourselves. I felt very flu-like, but had no fever. My girlfriend however got what seemed to be a full onslaught of Covid symptoms. It seemed like she could barely breathe, and would get light headed after walking ten feet. We all immediately ordered tests, with all results being negative.
Then, in the middle of the day while sleeping, I heard a scream. It was her daughter. She had fallen down half a flight of stairs in my home. I instantly called 911, with VBFD paramedics responding within a minute. I wasn’t sure if the fall had broken anything or made any of her ongoing spinal issues worse. She spent the day in the ER, where they performed a series of tests. She turned out to be okay physically, but still well in the throngs of symptoms. I was concerned.
It’s been a couple of weeks since those events happened, and while she is still healing, she is significantly better now. I still worry about her though. I still haven’t seen my daughter since the weekend after Christmas. My ex wife started texting me again, and I told her that I want her to get another test before I see her again. She didn’t give much resistance, but still refuses to test her household. I don’t understand.
I miss my daughter, but I will never miss the onslaught of ways in which we have felt due to this exposure.
Last week something pretty awesome happened, my oldest child turned twenty one.
Her mother and I were young when she was born. I blame it on kids who weren’t using their minds. Regardless, we’ve loved her from the beginning. I had more difficulty along this journey. I always felt like she was mature as I was.
Her mother and I split up early in her life, I was going through some of the heaviest things I had dealt with up to that point, causing me to be just another child for her to deal with. We sometimes bicker, we sometimes fight, but it’s always been about her interest.
Over the years, she did what a kid does, she grew. The time was passing by and I didn’t even know it. Had I known, I would have taken those opportunities to do so much. I was in a semi-permanent state of exhaustion just trying to keep the lights on.
Those are my pajamas
She often talks about how one of her happy memories of childhood is when I would play barbies with her. She would put Barbie into a situation where she needed rescued, and I would turn Ken into Superman. He would fly up and rescue the damsel in distress.
As the child became the teenager, that closeness disappeared. In many ways, it’s the circle of life. I was just starting to get a grasp on how to be a father. She went off and did her teenage things, and I took those lessons she gave me to provide the things I should have for her, to her sister.
The day she was born, I had my mom buy a bottle of Jack Daniels (I was too young). To be held onto until her 21st birthday, when her mom, I and her would celebrate this accomplishment. I feel that modern society doesn’t give our children any real rites of passage through their journey to adulthood.
Some get graduation or commencement ceremonies for each level of school (I didn’t). Some get parties for these things, I didn’t. I wanted to ensure my children knew and had the depth of thought about their father holding onto something for 21 years, just to share it with them.
I was happy to share my home for people from all over to come celebrate her graduating high school. It filled my heart for this experience however.
Cheers kiddo!
The next day, I took her out to dinner in her papaw’s Camaro. I had driven her around the neighborhood, but she had never properly rode in it before in her life. I think that ride showed her why it’s special to me, and why I want it to stay in the family.
Here’s to adulthood, and all the responsibilities contained in it. Life is a complete mess for all of us right now, but we will always have each other. I love you kiddo, and always will. Through the ups and downs life throws us, we need people we can depend upon and I’ve always tried to be just that for you. Ol’ dad will always have your back, without question.
My goal in life is to see you succeed where your dad never could. I’ll do just about anything to help you do that, but like my father before me I won’t dictate your vision for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Two days ago was a holiday to celebrate the fathers in our lives. It’s a hard day for me, as my father, grandfather and papaw were all heroes to me. With each one passing, my heart broke more, my optimism for the world vanishing. Let me tell you about those men, and why the loss of them continues to break my heart each and every day.
My Father
My own father grew up without his father. His brother, my grandmother and his own grandparents was his family unit as a child. My grandma worked at the Stone City bank in Bedford, walking to work every day. From the ways my father described growing up, they were poor. Regardless, they always had a roof over their heads and always had a meal to eat. If my father wanted something he had to work for it however. He and my uncle had paper routes and as my father grew up, he mowed lawns for money.
This is all you need to know to know the path my father took for the rest of his life. His number one goal in life was to not be poor, and to provide whatever he could to his family. Due to his “having nothing” as a child, he was also a closeted hoarder. When he passed away, I got rid of 500 pounds of “things” he had collected that were in the bed of his pickup truck.
When I started Civil War Re-enacting, dad jumped right in.
His faithful devotion to his job was something I always admired, and picked up after a hard start in adulthood. His desire to give his child (me) the best things in life, is the same thing I do with my own. Money is often no object, as long as those I love are happy.
Education was important to my father. He graduated high school in 1969, and immediately went to Indiana University, but never got a degree. Instead choosing a career in industry. It wasn’t until that career crumbled for all that he enrolled in Ivy Tech State College and achieved a degree in computer networking. When he passed away, he was a student in film studies at Indiana University while working 3rd shift as a custodian in the same building I would eventually start working in. He was tired, but he was also happy.
He never pushed me, but gently guided me in the subject of education. When I got my GED at the age of 17, he told me to go enroll at Ivy Tech and not worry about the costs. He didn’t tell me, but he secretly paid for all the tuition and books. I’ve given that same opportunity to my oldest daughter. Education hasn’t been an easy subject for she and I.
There’s a phrase that circles social media that sums up my father quite well, “My father didn’t tell me how to live; He lived and let me watch him do it.”
My Grandfather
Born not too far away from where Will Rogers was, he was a free spirit in a way that is hard to understand if you aren’t close to native culture. Growing up in the dust bowl era Oklahoma, it was a new state – and for the most part, still Indian Territory. A radio operator in the Navy during WWII, who installed radar systems on the pacific fleet prior to Pearl Harbor, he met my grandmother in Washington D.C. while on shore leave from that post.
She nor him could decide on where to live. She hated Oklahoma, and he was not a fan of Indiana. He worked at RCA where they made radios at the time, and always stayed in the field of electronics. My grandparents split and he built a new life back at home. While there, he built a career and a new family. He was the radio & TV repairman for the entire area, back when that was a thing.
A soft spoken man, I can still hear the way he spoke with a bit of a southern draw but soft volume.
All of his electronic equipment made a young boy really fascinated with technology. A fascination that lives on to this day. Sadly, many of the lessons he taught me on his oscilloscope and other equipment have long since left my mind.
The first time he visited us in Indiana, I was awestruck.
A humble man, never one to boast or brag. I appreciated that about him. He named all of his trucks “Johnny Brown.” I was fortunate to own the last one for a period of time, Johnny Brown IV. A deeply spiritual man too, although I never got to see that side, he was a faithful member of the Assemblies of Yahweh.
His generation, much like mine saw tremendous amounts of change. Change in technologies and society. The world he grew up in was significantly different than the one he saw his later years in. I was fortunate to actually know him, I don’t think any of his other grandchildren did. I spent a week with him in 1996, just he and I. I would give anything to recapture that time with him.
Due to his influences in my life, I have always taken the Cherokee culture he provided to me seriously. Never doubting but sometimes questioning the mason jars of herbs and roots he kept in his kitchen. I also give him credit for the paths in technology many members of our family have decided to take. My uncle became a mainframe programmer in 1968, I began working in IT support in 2008 and my cousin does the same but with cellular phones and technologies.
My Papaw
This one is the hardest of all to write. He passed away when I was 7 years old. That said those years were very influential on me. He wasn’t my biological grandfather. He wasn’t my adopted one (yes I had one), no he was just the man who was married to my memaw when I was born, and took the job as his own.
Completely different than my own dad or grandfather, he grew up locally in Smithville, a 1957 graduate of Smithville High School. He was a “greaser” when he was young. His family name, well known in the area.
In her final years, my memaw gave me a few things including his class ring.
From a young age, we did things that are quite frankly hard for me to do even now because of the memories. We would spend hours “mushroom hunting.” My memaw would give us a bunch of bread sacks and he and I would just go walking in the woods, for hours. I’ve never been a fan of those mushrooms, but I’d give anything to spend that time with him again.
We spent countless weekends fishing. With him buying me my very first fishing pole. We would fish at Lake Monroe and several pay lakes in the area. On one occasion while at a pay lake I thought I had caught a fish. Once I got it reeled in however, it was quickly discovered that it was a bobber (a device used to keep the line from sinking to the bottom). We talked about that until my memaw passed away. One of the few things I have of my papaw’s is his tackle box, which is just a repurposed lunch box.
We would often catch a whole stringer full of bluegill and sunfish. Papaw and I would clean the fish, and then memaw would fry them up in a coordinated assembly line. They were wonderful times.
He taught me lessons of hard work, as their property had lots of trees. To mow, we had to pick up all of the sticks that had fallen, to ensure the mower would not get damaged. We would spend countless hours upon hours doing chores of little note really, but that time he spent with me will forever be priceless.
Their house was always a safe space for me, to the point that one time I even “ran away” and rode my bicycle 6 miles to their house. Completely exhausted, I slept for hours once I got there. That house was always my safe space as a child.
Summary
These three men all provided me with gifts that made me who I am today. They all provided me with a stable, solid foundation of what it means to be a good man. Their losses also haunt me each and every day. I’m surrounded by my fathers things, my grandfather is always on my mind and in my spirit. His grave is the one grave I have to visit. I’m sad that my papaw didn’t get to see the next 10 years, where the family exploded with babies and happiness.
While I know death is a part of life, nothing prepared me for it. I feel ill prepared to give those gifts to my children and this next generation of humans. I feel stuck emotionally and spiritually. To me, Father’s day is a day that brings me immense sadness on a level that my vocabulary simply cannot describe.
I hope this period of my life provides me with the tools to cope, and the tools to break out of this shell of continual penance I seem to be putting myself through. I somehow feel to blame and/or destined to follow the same paths my literal forefathers took. It’s wearing on the soul.
