55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer
I read a lot of different blogs and read random things that I find on the internet – WordPress helps by giving me suggestions for blogs that have similar themes ore that are comparable to ones I’ve favorited.
I read this blog piece the other day and commented on it:
The Wednesday Question: What was the Weirdest Experience you had at at Funeral
In 1982 my mother decided to run from her troubles and move to Florida. This run she took us kids with her, which I thought was very considerate of her, in later years she couldn’t be bothered with kids tagging along.
We were living on Elm Street in Whitehall WI at the time, I was 11 or 12. Mom was buying through a HUD loan and it was nice – the bedrooms were downstairs for us kids and I think we had bunk beds. There was a huge back yard and we had family friends that lived on the same block almost. Not to far away was the railroad tracks and the golf course – lots of things for a kid with an imagination to enjoy. We’d lived on this street before in a little red house where I broke my two front teeth and threw Kilo, the dog, down the stairs… long story. Aunt Gerry and her daughter Angie were living with us too, Gerry’s boys had opted to live with their dad. This was a house that has a lot of odd memories for me, I can recall us kids doing a performance for our parents (just like the Brady’s) a few times.
I can recall someone calling the house and asking if Mother was home and me telling them she went to the AAA Meeting – I had one to many A’s and Mom was very upset about me telling someone even though I named it incorrectly. So this was one of Mom’s attempts at getting sober, but all she really did in AA was date men, go to potlucks dances and complain about her life.
“My mother was born in the psychiatric unit…”
That’s how I always planned to start my book. It’s true… we think… and I like truth. Also it really kind of makes things seem like they happened for reasons. Some of the things that happened probably didn’t have to happen at all, but they happened nonetheless. But I wonder if I were a reader reading that first sentence would I then expect to find a book about my mother? Cause it wouldn’t be about her that much, it would be about my experiences. I find though that it helps to have backstory for your own experiences to strengthen the validity of the story.
–
I wrote a lot more of this and expanded a bit on mothers aunts and siblings… and then I kept running into things that I didn’t want to say here … partly because I didn’t want to suddenly argue with her born again christian brother and sister and partly because I wanted to be sure my stories were accurate. That means I have to collaborate with someone and that’ll be fun, but it also means that this story will have to be told somewhere else and I’m alright with that.
I’m in a writing mood I guess, I’ve got thoughts running rampant in my head and have written quite a lot in the last few days… a few posts I cannot post yet due to surprises that are in store for others that I can’t share now… don’t you just hate a tease? But after next Wednesday those will start to appear.
I’ll continue the story of my mother, myself and growing up… and maybe once in a while I’ll post a snippet of that here for your amusement or shock or what have you, depending on the situation. I never thought the story was all that but others have consistently told me it is so we’ll get it out there and deal with debate after the fact.
I was at a small birthday celebration for a friend Friday night when I overheard one of the attendees talking about being a foster parent. I listened as best I could over the din of the bar. You should have heard this woman talk about some of the kids she had come through her house – she talked with joy, pride and sadness, sadness that some of them were now back in danger again. She’s also a teacher, elementary school I think, and that in itself should be considered a superhero, the foster parent doubly so.
I’m a product of Foster Care, I wasn’t really in any danger, but I was one of those kids that lacked proper supervision and was amok in most parts of my life. When I entered my foster home for the first time I tried to talk myself into running the first day – nothing bad had happened, but these people just didn’t understand me and couldn’t possibly keep up with me. My Ma had plenty of foster kids before me and was more than a match for my teenaged ideas of right and wrong.
My Ma and Pa held me responsible for my own actions – I had to wake up to my own alarm clock for school each day, I had chores, I received allowance, I had dinner every night at the table with the family (seemed stupid at the time, but it was something I came to look forward to each day and long for today). In my foster home I didn’t fear anyone coming home drunk in a rage to beat up anyone else, I didn’t worry about having food for dinner, I found peace. I wrote a poem about it a few years ago you can find here: (Foster Home) and I’ve pasted it here too
brown house now blue
gray hair then and now too
Ma in rocker knitting
Pa in recliner
fear crawls up my spine
my bags packed, all that is mine
social worker pressures shoulder
keeps me from running
dinner together, conversation and laughter
alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty
tears delay that first night,
though hard fought, buried deep
rules, responsibility, chores
wake up myself for school
wash dishes, mow lawns
allowance? what’s that?
foster brother and i
share smokes and stories
on the front patio
now enclosed, then exposed
three years teach me, show me love me
five years gone, back i come to make right
show them i’ve found the light
love unconditional, no exceptions
dc bound, to find my way
just call anytime
no questions asked
you can always come home
breast cancer scare,
tears unhindered
stream down my cheeks
fear strikes deep and hard
twenty years later, college bound
ma and pa, rhonda and greg
come to see the sites,
nope!
to see me off, wish me well, show me love
the family i didn’t choose
forced upon me by action of youth
became the one that mattered most
showed me the truth of love itself
When my Pa died a few years ago it … it still brings tears to my eyes… I decided to change my name to honor him. That’s the kind of impact they had on me – I owe my life to them (to AA too, yes) and have had so much opportunity as a result of everything they gave me.
I’m not a foster parent, I’m not very patient with kids, but I urge you to be. I urge you to be the person that makes a difference in the life of a child, show them that not all parents are irresponsible, hurtful and mean. Show them a path that leads to a better life… and make sure you hug them, kids need hugs.
Here are some links about foster care, if you’re interested give them a read and help make a difference.
In May of 1988 I graduated high school with a whole bunch of people I hardly knew. See I’d been at G-E-T High (that’s really the name of the school) for only 2 years after I’d been shipped off to foster care because I was a dirty rotten thief – actually, more of a petty thief or a snatch and grabber… To be fair, I can only recall a handful of the folks I went to school with in Whitehall also and I spent many years in elementary and high school with those folks. – I think drugs did a lot to my memory….
It was mentioned to me that it’d be nice to get together and I created a Facebook group and invited a bunch of the old gang. A year later we all actually showed up. Some of these people I hadn’t seen in 22 years. People get new jobs, join the military, marry, move a million times and disappear from our radar – one good thing about Facebook is the ability to find some of these folks again.
We had a dinner Friday night at Wason’s Supper Club outside of Galesville and most of us were there, we quickly fell into old patterns of solving the worlds problems and rolling our eyes at one another. Time may have come and gone but we are all basically the same people – the same friends – we were back in school.
Saturday we had a bar-b-q, and even with a few of us getting lost we all managed to find our way to the old cabin where we used to do all manner of things which young people do that they are encouraged not to :-). Someone found a radio station that played old 80s music and we all brought food and drinks. Just being in the cabin stirred up all kinds of old memories:
beer parties
pot smoking
don’t worry the alcohol will kill whatever is wrong with you, just take a sip
warm fires in the cold winter
getting snowed in for a few days and running out of booze – that was terrible, running out of booze is unforgivable
the old nicknames: Burnout, Sleazy, Zeus… more I can’t recall
I had to head out early and didn’t get to chat with all of my old friends as much as I would have liked, but it was nice to see them. They are people that help make me who I am today a million different ways and I’m glad I had them in my life them and hope that i’m lucky enough to have them in my life for however long I have.
I recently had a story published on aagrapevine.org which makes me quite happy. This is the second time the Grapevine has published one of my stories, the first time was in the magazine back in May 1998 Issue. I’ve reprinted the story below:
“You Kept Your Promise
I work the graveyard shift at the local treatment center. It’s a laid-back job with not a lot to do, and there are times when I wish something would happen just to relieve the routine. One night that’s just what happened.
A former resident called at two A.M., drunk as a skunk. He’d just been released the week before. He told me he’d always respected me and wished he could have what I had. He kept jumping from subject to subject but finally he said something that chilled me to the bone: “I have a gun. I just can’t live like this anymore.” I thought about myself having those same feelings before I sobered up. I remember feeling that hopeless. I tried to talk some sense into him which really didn’t work too well. He kept talking about how he liked my home group, the Eau Claire Pacific Group, how close we were, how family-oreinted. I kept telling him that AA could give that to him too. All I could do was share with him what AA had given me, how it had radically changed my life for the better. After this conversation had gone on for a while, he said he had to find something else to drink and that he’d call me back. I extracted a promise from him that he would call. When we were off the phone I called the police.
When he called back, he agreed to go into detox if I’d send a bunch of people from AA up to see him in the hospital. I agreed readily. I started to tell him about the program of action I’d been shown in the Big Book. He said he’d never experienced any of that. He hadn’t done any of the Steps except in treatment. He said he’d be interested in trying our solution but still wasn’t convinced it would help him.
The police managed to trace the call, found him, and escorted him to detox. I started to call the people in my home group at six A.M., and didn’t stop until iI had gone through all my phone numbers. When I got off duty, I went straight to the hospital. It amazed me how fast he had deteriorated; he was hardly recognizable. The alcohol was just oozing out of his pores. When he saw me, he was astounded. “You kept your promise!” Throughout the day, fourteen more men from AA went up to see him. He was in detox for two or three more days, and by the time he left you could see that little spark of hope in his eyes had grown a thousand fold.
Today this man is a member in good standing in our group. His family is slowly getting on the right track, and he attends three to four meetings a week with commitments at all of them. His little stay at the hospital opened up the doors for AA to continue to help drunks there. Every tie the hospital gets a drunk who needs help, they call us and we send a troop of AAs over there to carry the message. So helping that one drunk has led us to help countless more.
James A. Eau Claire, Wisconsin”
Just an upfront disclaimer: this is how I perceive things. You may not perceive things the way that I do. You might be offended or butt hurt at what I’ve had to say, if that’s the case you really shouldn’t be reading my blog…
When I sobered up I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by Big Book Thumping, Tradition Practicing, Service oriented old-timers. I was told on a few occasions to take the cotton out of my ears and put it in my mouth until I knew what I was talking about – that was usually during a step meeting where they were discussing a step I hadn’t done yet… you know, any of them. From that group, I think it was called the Sunday Serenity Group, I not only got to hear about the Steps and Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous I got to see people actually putting those principles in action in their daily lives. This was my first “Home Group” and I made it there every Sunday night for a year, just like I was told to do. That meeting wasn’t a Big Book Study Group, it was a Step meeting with the last meeting of the month the Tradition of the month. What I did get at that meeting was a sponsor who had been taken through the Steps as laid out in the first 164 pages of our text-book, Alcoholics Anonymous – and he was willing to take me through that same process which gave me the tools I needed to not only find a power greater than myself that would relieve me of my alcoholism, but also provide the tools to be a productive member of society.
One of my other regular meetings was the 5:30 Monday Night Big Book group, there we went through the book; every week reading a couple of pages out of the Book and then folks could share their experience with what was read – if they had any. This group would get to the end of the 164 and turn around and read it again. The Book, the Steps, the Traditions – were everywhere that I went to meetings. I couldn’t have escaped if I had wanted to.
I was also a member of the Eau Claire Pacific Group that meets every Thursday night. An open speaker meeting with thirty minutes of call-up before the speaker. Great enthusiasm, lots of service work, experience strength and hope each week from the podium. It’s where I learned to feel comfortable introducing myself to strangers, where I learned to shake new people’s hands and where I learned the importance of suiting up and showing up.
When I moved to the DC area I tried to find meetings that were similar to what I had gotten sober with. I looked for a good Step Meeting that met regularly, I sought out a Big Book Study and I also hoped to find a regular speaker meeting. I didn’t find things that were like home. This is typical, and something I should have anticipated but did not. In hindsight upon traveling all over the country in the last ten years – every region has its little traditions that are specific to the region and as you may know each group is autonomous except in matter affecting other groups or AA as a whole.
Every Big Book meeting I encountered was focused more on reading the stories in the back of the book (after Page 164) then they were the meat of the deal. The directions, the prayers, the actions in the front of the book weren’t read at all – unless it was to read the Promises, How it Works or the end of A Vision for You. Every step meeting I encountered focused more on the steps as laid out in the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (the argument here by those with more time than I have is that when Bill wrote the 12×12 he had more experience and knew better what to say for how to stay sober – but I’ve not found in that book anything like the specific direction and suggestions that I find in the Big Book so I nod and smile at them).
A few months before 9/11 I started a Big Book Meeting using the format I grew up with in WI, but between 9/11 and the honest belief by attendees that AA is about coming to complain about your day – it didn’t last. So I officially gave up trying to find or create meetings that were similar what I had been brought up with. I still went to meetings just to occupy the chair, not much more. If I shared, which was rare, it was because of something I had heard that was just that outrageous that I couldn’t contain my anger or disappointment. That’s not really a good way to share the message – brow beating people who have managed to NOT pick up a drink today or for the last 10 – 20 years is no way to win friends either. So I settled on continuing to read my book, listening to speakers via Round-Ups and Conferences, Podcast or CD of the month clubs – while still attending meetings regularly.
Then I met my tattoo artist, who’s been in DC a few years now from Houston, TX (there is a Houston WI or MN just a FYI) who talked to me over long tattoo sessions about his sobriety, the book and the difference in meetings here in DC vs meetings in other parts of the country. He invited me to come to a Saturday meeting he attends where he said was attracting people interested in the book. I honestly just didn’t give it any real consideration – I had given up on meetings here after all. Then a person heard me share at a meeting I regularly attend and he thanked me for sharing and ALSO invited me to that group, so I figured maybe there was something to it – never saw that person again btw.
That first Saturday Noon meeting I met two or three more people, relatively new to the area who also were brought up on the Big Book and were desperately seeking a solution based meeting. The next week, I met another two people and before you knew it there were six of us that really wanted to start a new meeting that would “study” the book. We started mass texts, long chains of emails, discussed formats, laughed at one another, ate lots of food and became a group – sooner than we’ve become a meeting.
Our book, our text-book, says in There is a Solution page 29 “Further on , clear-cut directions are given showing how we recovered.” It’s my belief, and the belief of this new group, that people need to be shown these directions. It’s my belief that if they follow the suggestions as written in this book they will be “rocketed into a fourth dimension of existence of which we had not even dreamed”
So on Tuesday nights at 7:15, starting on July 31, 2012 at the Dupont Circle Club we’re going to start reading the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. The format of the meeting is reading a small section of the book, then allowing all those who want to participate a chance to share – lather, rinse, repeat. Once we get to page 164 we’ll start all over again. If you want to discover a design for living that really works, a way of life that is immensely greater than you ever imagined… come join us.
This time I’m not creating a meeting alone with no one else knowing what I’m talking about, this time I had to compromise on several things that I wanted, this time … well, this time it might really work. I’d love that.
If you’re looking for a meeting to talk about your bad day or complain about your spouse… this is probably not the meeting for you, fortunately for you there are plenty of those type of meetings and we can probably direct you to one within walking distance.
Thump, Thump, Thump
I flew out to Wisconsin this time for the wedding of very dear friends, Eric and Rosy. Eric and Rosy dated back in high school and like most high school romances it came to an end and they went their separate ways. A few years back they rekindled the love they felt and I was fortunate enough to be the best man for the ceremony. They got hitched in Wisconsin Dells at a little hotel called the White Rose Inn. I had never been to Wisconsin Dells before and was amazed at the traffic, tourists and teething toddlers.
I stayed at the Great Wolf Lodge, Eric picked it I think, a family friendly resort with it’s own water park – let me say it was more expensive than a very nice hotel in DC would have been; Eric is no longer allowed to pick hotels. I was given an accessible room (there was a wheelchair symbol on the sign outside the door) that wasn’t fully compliant, I notice these things now that I’ve worked for Jim for six years – I’ve sent them an email about the issues I noticed. Eric and Rosy managed to pick one of the hottest days of the year to get married, and I’m amazed we all survived the sweltering heat. It was very sweet and I finally got to meet all of the kids and had a great time.
On Sunday morning I left the Dells for Galesville, I told my Ma I’d be there about noon so she wouldn’t skip church or her regular Sunday routine, I really don’t want her to go out of her way. Rhonda, Michael and Michelle were at the house when I arrived. Ma returned from lunch and Cory and Danielle came over with Charlie and Patrick and we had pizza. Mostly at Ma’s Ma and I read while Rhonda went to work and Michael worked on demos or what ever. At the suggestion of my best friend Suzanne’s dad, Chip, I started to read The Godfather and couldn’t put it down – after reading it I started to watch the movie but it really is watered down so I don’t know how much I’m going to enjoy it.
Tuesday night I had dinner with my sister Amy, her daughter Joplin and Amy’s long term boyfriend who’s name escapes me for whatever reason. Afterwards we played Cranium for a while which was fun.
Wednesday I headed up to the Chippewa Valley. Pat and I went off to see The Amazing Spider-Man which I really liked. Pat, Brenda and I went out to dinner at Texas Roadhouse and then headed back to my hotel where we all partook of the swimming pool. Did I mention this was the hottest week of the year? Thursday I had lunch with Nicholas at Taco John’s, swam for a while in the hotel pool, napped and finally headed out to the Eau Claire Pacific Group where I was the main speaker – I did ok, nothing to get excited about, just ok. After the meeting I joined the guys for food at Perkin’s before heading back home to bed. Friday I had breakfast with Pat and Brenda. Friday afternoon I met my brother Ryan for dinner at Texas Roadhouse and then we went to see the movie Savages, which was ok.
Saturday morning after dropping in to say goodbye to the Isenberger’s I drove down to Galesville and used my GPS, which was a huge mistake. The GPS on the way down to the Dells had me leave the interstate to go off on a county road for a few miles only to put me back on the interstate – it also had me drive through the Dells to my hotel which was two exits up and would have been easier to get to had I stayed there… had I remembered all that I might have not even thought of following the GPS. But I did and ended up on several back roads but finally did make it to my Ma’s. Ma and I went to Winona for dinner. Michael was brough back from canoeing and was passed out in his truck until about 1:30 a.m. Sunday morning Ma, Rhonda, Greg, Michael and I went out to breakfast and around noon I headed off to the LaCrosse airport.
I had a long lay over in Minneapolis, three hours, and then the head flight attendant was pretty grumpy on our plane. She had us turn off our electronic devices 5 – 10 minutes before the door was closed and came on the loudspeaker a few times to insist that we turn off our electronic devices so we could depart on time, meanwhile folks were still coming on board and we were subjected to listening to children crying an obnoxious laughter. Any time she made announcements you could here the frustration in her voice, obviously she’d had a long day and been subjected to annoying passengers, but at the end of the day you still have to treat your customers right. As we were landing there was some turbulence before the initial decent and she had us turn off our electronic devices much sooner than we normally would and then when the pilot announced we were beginning our initial decent she came on to say something about us not following crew member instructions – really if she had been even a bit nicer I’m sure it would have gone better for her.
Then I arrived home and the kitty was very happy to see me, and she’s interrupted my writing this several times for love… so I’d better go see to her.
