Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Tag: memories

  • Songs Tied to Memories

    In the car today the song New York, New York came on. It’s on my iTunes account as part of a Frank Sinatra greatest hits album. I love Frank, he can really get me singing along with songs. New York, New York though brings up a childhood memory that I can’t let go of. So I hit skip.

    I was relatively new to a school district, I think in Florida. I had garnered all the attention for a few days. It was pleasant to have the attention, fear and distrust of others focused on me. (I seek attention in all its forms) But just a few days into my new school another new kid came to the school. I don’t even remember his name. When the teacher introduced him to the class she made a big deal about him having been to Broadway and singing on stage. For me, all she did was say “this is James, he’s new here”. (more…)

  • Random Memories

    I cried the first night at the foster home.

    I had been picked up by the police the Friday before, spent the weekend in a group home and then the day with a social worker before arriving. No tears during all of that but that night in own room of the new foster home I cried. Maybe it had finally sunk in that everything I had done that led me to this place all caught up to me, there was no where else to go.

    I hadn’t ever faced consequences of any kind prior to this – not skipping school, smoking or drinking, stealing and vandalism never brought me any time. Until this time… until the one time myself or a friend had the “clever” idea to take the hinges off the locked door. I still believe that had we only taken the time to put the door back on the hinges I would have never been caught. Interesting that that’s the thought that still comes even after 30 years. (more…)

  • Time

    I had dinner tonight with an old friend – we both talk about the rapid growth of gray hairs in places we still have hair (that’s old) – and his daughter who might be coming out this way to go to college. He now lives in Maryland, but he’s a friend from WI high school, when I moved to DC it was nice to have him there and even though I didn’t get to see him all that often, when I did I always enjoyed it. Tonight we had some small talk, a good meal, and some laughter; it was just nice.

    It does make me reflect on how quickly the time goes now. Back in high school it seemed we had eternity to do all the things we wanted to do, but looking back now (some 26 years later) it seems like it just flew by and we missed it all. We didn’t of course. He spent 20 of those years in the military and I wasted six of those years in drugs and alcohol before starting a new life sober. He created families and I created new friends, he continues to cheer for the Green Bay Packers and I knew better…

    But tonight sitting there with him, pausing before I say his name (I want to call him his high school nickname, but it doesn’t fit so much anymore) each time, I see my old friend with his black hat and blue car in Galesville just living and doing and being. It’s nice to have friends like that, I’m fortunate that I have him, and others, that I think of in that way.

    –

    Last night I had dinner with another friend – from Washington, DC. I know him from the rooms of recovery. He’s a great guy and comes out here at least once a year to visit other friends. I can expect to see him pretty regularly I think. It was nice to sit with him and talk about old times and current times and fear (I asked him about steps 6 and 7).

    I spent 15 years in DC but that time seems to just crawl at times – not necessarily in a bad way.. but like I was there for a year or so and driving by the Pentagon I was struck by where I lived, and the significance of that place… I had driven by several times before and even been in for an interview, but that one day just stuck out and grabbed me.

    But I can look back at helping Gary to set up the dial-up internet at the house and how exciting it was, and the next day there was DSL (that didn’t work most of the time) and then cable the day after… and all that happened in a blink of an eye and the longest of years (trying to connect with dial-up or diagnose a DSL issue took decades).

    It’s hard to believe that I was there that long but at other times it seems I just got there and felt so scared and alone in the big city and before I knew it I was gone, off on a new adventure on the other side of the country.

    I want a time machine to go back and advise myself to

    enjoy

    taste

    savor

    risk

    live

    love

    hope

    dare

    forgive

    forget

    cry

    and maybe not to get one of my tattoos… maybe.

    I think as time goes by I become more of an old softie… all I really wanted to be was a curmudgeon.

    Time and friendships… never enough of both and especially together.

  • Sports

    I’ve never been a big fan of sports – I do though enjoy cheering against fanatics teams (Green Bay Packers and Washington Redskins for example) just to annoy the fans. The olympics don’t really ignite any flames for me, I think about all the money spent, the hours kids/young adults spend getting ready for their one chance to win a gold – a silver, a bronze just won’t do, it has to be gold… and if they fail the first time out the chances of a second win 4 years later is harder… unless you’re a doping cyclist or on an NBA super team.

    So how i ended up being the water boy for the girls high school basketball team in Whitehall eludes me.

    Ms Matchey (I think was her name), was the assistant coach and asked me and for some reason I said yes… me, the loner stoner, hanger-headed outcast participating in sports (not actively mind you, just on the sidelines). I filled their water bottles, cheered their points, watched the games with mild curiosity and actually began to understand it. These girls were very good, they were fast, strong and could make a basket, nothing I could claim myself. I was there for practices, games, and in the locker room (though this did nothing for me some people were jealous) they were always clothed when I was there. I’d pick up the wet towels, I’d make sure there were new towels… basketball

    (more…)