The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for March 2010

I Won’t Back Down

by Leave a Comment

For Fragments of Fiction

“I’ve been tryin’ to get to you for a long time
Because constantly you been on my mind
I was thinkin’ ’bout a shortcut I could take
But it seems like I made a mistake

I was wrong, mmm, I took too long
I got caught in the rush hour
A fellow started to shower
You with love and affection
Now you won’t look in my direction”
Expressway To Your Heart- The Soul Survivors

There are more than a few stories about the experiences we have with the people who change our lives. Part of the beauty and majesty of the world is that we are given a lifetime in which to go find them. And if we are lucky we recognize them for who and what they are while they are a part of our lives and not afterwards.

But sometimes circumstances blind us. Sometimes life gets in the way or maybe it is our own fear of the future and the unknown. I suppose that you could say that it really doesn’t matter what the reason is because once that moment has passed you don’t always get a second chance to try to do it again. At least that is the rationalization that some people use.

Not I. I see the distinction between the two. No I have a perspective that claims that circumstances and timing can  blur those moments and create the appearance of an unmovable object. Yet when studied more closely you often find that there are multiple ways to get over, around or under it. You don’t have to be a Faraday or a Newton to find it.

All you need is time and determination.

“Your love’s a gathered storm I chased across the sky
A moment in your arms became the reason why
And you’re still the only light that fills the emptiness
The only one I need until my dying breath
And I would give you everything just to
Feel your open arms
And I’m not sure I believe anything I feel”
Without You Here- Goo Goo Dolls

I caught a glimpse of Jericho today. For a brief moment in time I found myself staring directly into her eyes. It was unheralded, unexpected and without fanfare but that isn’t surprising for Jericho. The woman tends to glide in and out of the room. If she heard me say that she’d probably blush, but that is ok. I have always been good at bringing that out of her.

The fire and the rain. I told her way back when we first me that where I walk storms follow. She threw back her head in laughter and told me that she wasn’t afraid of me. For a moment I was confused, wasn’t sure whether she was making fun of what. I must have looked away, can’t tell you if it was in sadness or anger, just that I did it.

And then she did something that caught me off guard and completely disarmed me. She put her head on my shoulder, squeezed my bicep once and then took my hand and intertwined her fingers in mine. Such simplicity tore down all the walls that I had erected around my heart and destroyed any resolve I had to stay distant.

It was endearing, charming and exceptionally frightening. To know that someone had decided to accept me unconditionally, to love me without exception and without question was among the most powerful moments I have ever experienced.

But that was then and this is now. Back then there was never any doubt that we would find a way to live the kind of life that others read or dreamed about. We were the couple that you hated. The man and woman who would couldn’t stop smiling at each other. The boy and girl who would tickle, tease and wrestle. The couple who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

We were all that and more. We were in love and on fire in the best possible sense of the expression.

And then….life happened. We got caught in a whirlpool of chaos and craziness. Pulled in a dozen different directions we found ourselves pulled apart. Separated by circumstances we found ourselves lost in unfamiliar territory.

We tried to hold on. We tried to keep it all from tearing us apart but life happened and we got lost in it. Mistakes were made. Things that under normal circumstances would have never affected us took on greater magnitude than normal and we slipped further.

Eventually we reached the place where we no longer spoke. The pain of the separation was significant. I was so very angry. I had always been there to protect and care for you. How many times did you see me go to battle for you. How many times did I wade into the thick of it and take on the hordes. I never cared how big or how many because I had your love to support me. No matter how badly I was battered or bruised I would come home to your arms and know that I was safe.

Oh did that fire burn inside of me. Woman, you know how brightly it burned. I waded back into the wars more than once knowing that the battles would keep me busy. Only this time was different. Now I fought to forget and more than once I intentionally bit off more than I could chew. It was part punishment, part crazy and two-thirds stupid. I know the math doesn’t work, but I don’t care.

“Well I won’t back down
No I won’t back down
You can stand me up at the gates of hell
But I won’t back down

No I’ll stand my ground, won’t be turned around
And I’ll keep this world from draggin me down
gonna stand my ground
… and I won’t back down”
I Won’t Back Down- Tom Petty

After a while the anger and frustration faded and my head cleared and I began to carefully consider the situation.  You used to tell me that you were impressed by how calm I was under fire. Until you came along that was how it had always been.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own stupidity and with that laughter I began to heal. Not just heal but recognized the little signs you had left for me, the simple notes that told me that this wasn’t forever. Oh, there was no guarantee that there would be another opportunity, but there were plenty of reasons to suggest being optimistic.

But you used to let me see you and I learned a lot about you, about me and about life. And because I know you love your puzzles I won’t say any more than that.

“I thought that I was over you
But it’s true, so true
I love you even more than I did before
But darling, what can I do?
For you don’t love me
And I’ll always be
Crying over you, crying over you”
Crying- Roy Orbison

You never saw me lose a fight. That is not ego talking, it is the truth. So you remember that and remember that I know that the fire still burns for both of us.

Talent- A Heavy Bag & Dad’s Medicine Cabinet

by Leave a Comment

Life is more interesting right now than I’d like it to be. I think that someone missed the memo stating that 2010 is the year of Jack. Went out to the garage and punished the heavy bag for the misunderstanding. Started out slowly, circled the bag and taunted it. Called it fat and stupid, accused it of the most terrible misdeeds and then I unloaded upon it.

I know, it is a bag. A big unthinking and unfeeling bag that won’t respond to the taunts, couldn’t care less about the little barbs, slings and arrows I fling at it. Doesn’t matter, all that matters is that it helps alleviate some of the stress and frustration. Pent up energy is flung at it. I turn up the music and scream once or twice. Hope that the neighbors don’t hear the noise for fear that they’ll call the police.

Now that would be interesting, having the police show up asking questions about who is screaming as no one is ever going to mistake my bellowing for a female of the species. I don’t sound like this guy, but maybe I should. Go viral and watch my blog blow up, receive book deals, newspaper opps, talk shows etc.

The music changes and I start swinging faster, dancing in circles around the bag, still thankful that no one can see me. The mental image I have shows me looking just like Ali but reality is probably closer to Butterbean.

Apparently I am not doing working hard enough to exhaust myself, mind starts mulling over talent. Success in life isn’t based upon talent or hard work. Can’t say that it is really based upon luck either, it is some sort of combination of everything and nothing. The big dogs don’t always have more bark or a stronger bite than we do.

This is part of me that I don’t share with the kids. Don’t rail on about being frustrated or how unfair life can be. There aren’t good answers because life isn’t predicated upon fairness, equality or time served for good behavior. They’ll learn these things in time and then we’ll talk about it. For now I am happy to let them live in the bubble, it is ok and they won’t be hurt by it.

And the truth is that I do believe in Thomas Edison’s quote “Many of life’s failures are men who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.”

Makes sense to me. It is a meld of luck, talent and hard work that I can buy into. It doesn’t require unreasonable faith in any one item and it still allows me to retain control. Control to a point, but control nonetheless.

I can accept hard work as a recipe for success. I can believe it and therefore I can get behind it.

Workout is almost over, arms are getting heavy. Sweat is rolling down the forehead and seeking refuge within the eyes. The stinging sensation reminds me that the orbs aren’t quite a hundred percent and consequently need some assistance.

I use the back of my wrist to wipe my face, and take advantage of my teeth to tear off my right glove. In a moment both of my hands will be free and I will head into the house to grab some eye drops and two Motrin.

The medicine cabinet shows a few signs of aging. Got a few more odds and ends in it than I did twenty years ago. Not all are medicinal in nature. All sorts of creams and accessories for shaving are located within, some of them gifts that have been accumulated over the years.

I tear off my shorts, take off my shirt and step into a shower that is cold, shockingly so. The juvenile mutters “there was shrinkage” and then giggles at my own silliness. I lean against the wall and realize that in some ways my medicine cabinet resembles the one I remember my father having. I shrug once and duck my head under the water.

Thinking time is over- now is time to dry off and fall asleep unencumbered by thoughts, worries or concerns that are more serious than hoping my dreams are those I wish for.

Dad, What is Prostate Cancer?

by Leave a Comment

I am stopped at a red light, one man behind the wheel of a minivan. To my left A beautiful brunette is behind the wheel of a Prius.I smile and think about how different life is now from what it used to be. I turn onto the on ramp, step on the gas and smile at the memory of my Camaro. It is different for all sorts of reasons, not the least of which is that there are children in the car with me, my children.

My driving and general demeanor are a bit different when the kids are around. I am not just a commuter on the road today. No, I am a the chief of staff, head of security and knight protector of my charges. Watch me walk with them in public and you’ll see my eyes scanning the crowd, always alert for the first sign of trouble.

The morning routine was a bit different than normal. The children know that their grandfather is having surgery and have all sorts of questions for me. We made sure to be prepared for just this thing and have laid the groundwork for this talk. Shouldn’t be a big deal.

It was supposed to be easy and had my plan worked it would have been just that, easy. Except as the saying goes people plan and G-d laughs. I know, because I can still hear him chuckling, or maybe it is a more a of a belly laugh. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Grandpa has prostate cancer. The docs caught it early so the prognosis is good. But there is no need for the kids to be given more information than they need. So we told them that he had a medical issue that the docs wanted to take care of. They asked if he would be in the hospital for a long time and were told no. That satisfied their curiosity or so I thought.

But what I didn’t realize was that they would pull the time honored trick of pretending to be asleep. Well, I don’t know if they pretended or not, what I do know is that they overheard a late night conversation and remembered hearing “prostate cancer.”

So now I am being interrogated about what prostate cancer is and can I show them a picture of their prostate. I explain that it is something that boys have and my daughter shouts out “I know you have a penis and we don’t.” I smile and tell her that she is right. She tells me that she knows all about this and proceeds to list all of the penises she has seen in more detail than I’d like.

Most of her list is composed of her friends baby brothers. Apparently she and her friends like to help the mommys change diapers. She tells me that she pays attention since one day she is going to be a mommy. I tell her that sounds great and that it is ok for her to wait until she is 50 to do that. She laughs and tells me that’s way too old. Something tells me that my baby girl is way too smart, certainly smarter than I am. So I make a mental note to amp up my work out so that when she is old enough to attract boys I have the kind of biceps that will scare them.

Her brother tells me that since he is a boy he needs to know what the prostate does and asks if there are exercises for it. I take a breath and consider what sort of answer to give them. Before I can answer he follows up with a comment about cancer. I don’t quite catch what he says, a woman in a Mercedes is trying to force her way in to my lane.

I glare at her. It is the interchange between the 101 and the 405. She has intentionally waited until the last minute to switch lanes. But I am not moving over. There really isn’t anywhere for me to go and she had plenty of time to move before. This is about trying to save two minutes at my esxpense.

She is lucky that I don’t have telekinetic powers because if I did her car would magically be transported to the side of the freeway.

I answer his question with a question. I want to know if they are nervous about the surgery. They nod their heads and I offer them a reassuring smile and tell them that it is not a big deal. A few moments later we approach school and they are distracted by their friends.

As we walk to their classes I hug and kiss them goodbye. Neither one of them ask me any more questions so I don’t offer anything. Silence will be my answer for now, but if they ask I’ll come up with something. Hours later school is over, homework is done and the phone rings. It is grandpa and he wants to speak with them.

They take the phone and giggle. I don’t know what has been said, but they are happy and that works. Doesn’t mean that this topic won’t be revisited, but until it happens I am keeping my mouth shut.

Georgie

by Leave a Comment

( The story continues) 

The funny thing about my relationship with Georgie was the way we looked together. Georgie was only about 5’7 or 5’8 and he couldn’t have weighed more than 165 pounds or so.

On the other hand I was almost 6’4 and weighed a solid 230 pounds. If you looked at us you would have never guessed that for years I had been scared of Georgie, afraid in a very real and tangible sense. And he knew it, he could smell it in my sweat, or so he claimed.

I can’t explain what it was about him that frightened me so, I just know that he did. It might have had something to do with the time he beat David Jackman with a tire iron, or the time that he hopped over the counter at the mini-mart and beat the shopkeeper up for insulting him by asking for proof of his age. He was like a mini-volcano, ready to blow at any time and unpredictable.

In some ways my size had put me at a disadvantage. I had always been bigger than everyone else. In school the bullies had avoided me as had most of the other kids. No one wanted to risk having their head handed to them. The end result was that because I never had any fights I was afraid of what would happen, worried that I could get hurt and quite concerned about what a fist to the mouth would feel like.

Georgie never had those fears and I don’t know why. He came from a middle class home. His mother was a housewife and his father was chief mechanic. It was a blue collar job that paid enough to provide a white collar lifestyle. Georgie’s father never hit him, never used any sort of physical threat to control him, so who knows why he turned out as he did.

Psychologists and social workers get paid a lot of money to improperly diagnose people like Georgie. I won’t waste my time trying to do their job, and who cares what made him the way he was. The more important question was how to stay on his good side because he was mean and proud of it.

Georgie bragged about the fights he got into, showed off his scars and told stories of the past hurts and battles like they had just happened. The chip on his shoulder was never very far from his present.

We must have been around 20 or so when Georgie decided to teach me his life lessons. At first I was shocked and confused. I couldn’t believe that he was hitting and kicking me and then I was too bloodied and bruised to do anything but curl up on the floor and try to protect myself.

If I had any sense he beat it out of me there because the smart thing would have been to just walk away and not speak with him again. Alternatively I could have fought back, hit him, the lack of resistance only encouraged him to continue to batter me longer and harder.

This went on for a couple of years, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. I was in a funny place then, so time really didn’t have much meaning to me. It would probably still be going on if not for the accident.

It was a Saturday morning. Georgie showed up at my apartment at around 9 am, sat there kicking and yelling at my door. When I answered it he told me to get dressed, we were going out.

I threw on a pair of jeans, some Timberland boots, flannel shirt and topped it off with a baseball cap turned backwards and followed him to his car. We were heading into the mountains to “see someone.”

That was bad news for someone. Any time Georgie said he wanted to “see someone” it meant that he wanted to see them bleeding, preferably because of him. I didn’t bother to ask who or why, it wouldn’t matter and it wouldn’t change anything. Georgie would do what he did just because and that was the fact of the matter.

Five Years Later

by 2 Comments

This is a copy of the post that I submitted as part of the series that Leslee runs on her blog.

“Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone
Susanne the plans they made put an end to you
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song
I just can’t remember who to send it to
I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain
I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I’d see you again”
Fire and Rain- James Taylor

You can find the back story here.

‘D’, it is March of 2010. We turned 40 last year, but in my head I see you as the 29 year-old you were when you left us. When we lived next to the cemetery I used to visit you on a regular basis. I’d come by almost daily and sit next to your grave. Sometimes I’d tell you stories about what was happening in the world and other times I’d sit there quietly.

Been a while since I have come by but don’t think that I have forgotten you. Don’t think that you aren’t a part of my life, because you are and always will be. I miss you. Miss having you around because you were the kind of friend that everyone needs and deserves. Doesn’t mean that you weren’t a bastard at times because you were, we all are.

But you really were like a brother to me and you don’t find many of those in life. If you are smart when someone like that comes into your life you do your damndest to hold onto them because you only get to go round the carousel so many times.

My kids are getting bigger. They see your picture and they know your name. Sometimes they ask me about you, “dad, that is your friend, the one that died right?” I smile and say “yes.” They know a few stories about you and when they get older I’ll tell them more. More importantly I’ll tell them about some of the things that I learned.

I’ll them about how quickly things can change, how life can spin on a dime and how you have to live and love each day. I’ll tell them to treasure their friends and to remember that there are going to be moments where life makes no sense.

Moments where you don’t have a clue as to what to do or how to get through the day. So all you can do is shrug your shoulders and keep moving forward.

One day I’ll tell them about the guilt I still carry to this day. I’ll tell them about that last summer and a missed opportunity. You came home to L.A. and called with an invitation to dinner. I was jet lagged and exhausted. I had just come back from Israel and felt like I was carrying Masada so I asked if we could do it later. You said ok.

I knew that you were sick. I knew that the illness had spread and that they weren’t sure exactly what was going on. But I was naive and didn’t think that the worst would come. Couldn’t believe that you wouldn’t beat the cancer. You had done it twice before and I just believed that you would again.
I was wrong.

You didn’t die that day. In fact it would be around 10 weeks or so later. But something snapped inside and that changed everything. You had a seizure and afterward you couldn’t carry on a normal conversation. ‘D’ the scientist would yell at me for not including the details in this note, but they aren’t important for this.

We were around for that final hurrah. Your friends and family, we visited you daily and saw it all. We watched you slip away. And then at your funeral, we buried you. Not strangers, not some hired hands who didn’t know or love you. We did.

I know, I have written about this before. But, it changed me. And after I became a father it changed me again because losing a child is our greatest fear, an incomprehensible horror. And I have never forgotten the look on your parent’s face as we shoveled the dirt onto your casket.

But it was among the last things that we could do for you. The last physical act of love that we could show and we did it willingly. I do it again, without thought or hesitation because it was the right thing to do. And that is part of this for me.

The right thing to do. I work so very hard to teach my children to do the right thing. To help give them the tools and ability to make smart choices and to do the right thing. But I know from my own experience that I can’t protect them from everything. I can’t promise that the things that go bump in the night will always be just the house settling.

So I lie about some of those things, some but not all. When they ask me if I am going to die I tell them that we all do but that we aren’t going to die for a long time. And that seems to hold them, so I leave it at that. And on those occasions that it doesn’t we discuss it further until they are comfortable.

I am sorry that you didn’t get the chance to experience this part of life because it is amazing. I am sorry that my children never got to meet you or see another example of true friendship. But as I said before, I did learn much from you and from this.

I have always valued friends and family, but I am less likely to pass on opportunities to spend time together. I do my best to do as I teach my children, to live each day to its fullest. Don’t care if it is a cliche, I know better. Life happens, things change. All we can do is roll with it.

You are not forgotten.