Loss, lasting love, and the ding of the unplugged toaster

A new friend of mine lost a meaningful person in her life, a loss such as she has yet to know in her young life. Most of our losses in youth are from our own store of innoncence and trust and belief in those to whom we look up. The reality of that loved one being gone- it's a grandfather- has darkened her days since with the thought, "he's really gone forever." And there is nothing wrong with one's private grieving process, for as my friend Ryan put it, 'to feel it is to heal it.' Yet we don't feel our most profound losses the same way.

Let me share this one thing, and I hope it helps, but I spent a life building up to this epiphany.
When I got news my Dad passed away at 58, I felt the strangest calm, from knowing how wonderful were our last words and how he loved the Western I drew him for his last birthday. He had come to California to visit, and could well understand why I was loving it so much, how good life there was treating us. I was so happy he got to see it for himself. I was trying to figure out how to answer his call that we might need to come back and look after him some when pneumonia aggravated his pulmonary fibrosis, and he slipped away, November 29th, after a rainy Thanksgiving.

Everywhere I went that day, I felt as though a corridor of heavenly light went with me. I will never forget walking east on Market Street in the bright shining sun with my lovely best friend, whose view of life and emotionally-tangible help and ideas had opened me to feeling life in this unconventional manner.
I felt ever step was through a mystically-experienced veil. I did not exactly feel sadness, because it felt so intensely as though he were with me in an inseparable way, for always. He was no longer in pain nor living in fear of suffocation from his condition, it's true. But more than that, I felt...happy? The joy was real and beautiful. I feel it now as I visit that memory of trying to tell Angela Dawn, in that moment.

We flew back from our home in California. Many were the mourners, for he had been kind to many people, and in those days, many friends came out to support us, from a lifetime growing up together.
There must've been a dozen of us gathered in the kitchen as I spoke about how these people we love have given us something that will stay around us, always, and if Dad were here, he'd agree.
One solid silent second later, as people nodded, the toaster 'dinged.' We laughed. Then we got a look at its cord, lying pliant by the outlet.
The unplugged toaster dinged, my friend.
We laughed so hard!
For many years, I was in a good place where, whenever I was doing something I knew he'd love, I felt him right over my shoulder. I've had one friendly dream after another about talking to him, and it's always the most normal thing in the world. It made it feel like he never left my life! ONly upon returning to Georgia, and seeing what life here without him was like, did I ever feel the loss in a more conventional way. Seeing the desperation and loneliness of my mom without his companionship, as she found it was not so easily replaced by everyone who could cut and paste "I love you" or "you're beautiful." It has been hard, a few times, to see his home and acknowledge he did not get to properly retire and enjoy it in his golden years. But every time I have taken one of his old tasks in hand, there he's been with me.

But I always try to return to that good place in Life where I realize his lessons and all his love live on in me. Sometimes, the departed are not so absent as those close at hand. Let their spirit shine in you and what you do. It is no more an illusion than life in this world ever is, for it touches upon something mysterious and eternal that is the spark in our few moments of breath here. Inspiration is the true breath of life.
Ding!

Civil War dinosaurs: a letter home

Idly do some speak of 'civil war.' Yet, never should we forget the sacrifice of the brave men who lost their lives battling Tyrannosaurus Rex, that is to say, the tyranny of (lizard) kings.

I never realized anyone would think dinosaurs roamed the Earth at the time of the American Civil War. My long-neglected studies of history, however, spurred by a pastor named Matt Powell, encouraged me to unearth the forgotten story of Confederate soldiers fighting these pernicious beasts. Pastor Powell points out photographic evidence of pterodactyls, which, considering how long one had to sit for a daguerreotype, is surely miraculous. My scholarship led me to the following, touching missive.


Dear Clara,

I hope this letter finds you well. The marches are hot and the days are long, and the giant lizards are as bad as you've heard. Captain says we'll have to storm the velociraptor nests at daybreak. They are quick and craftier than Stonewall Jackson himself. But I am in good spirits and thankful.
One poor fella from Raleigh courageously volunteered to feed his sawed-off leg to the T-Rex, so that we might break camp safely. I lost that lovely wool cap you sent me, fleeing from a triceratops, which is to say, a lizard running on all fours, rather like a bull, with three horns. Thankfully, they say those beasts are not known to eat men, and so I feel sure I will retrieve it.

Camp grub is fine, but I look forward to coming home to your biscuits and gravy, and think of them often while avoiding allosaur dung on the trails. I look at the stars and remember your perfume, and rarely are my reveries interrupted by pterodactyls, which is to say, winged lizards what fly. Some of the men have taken to shooting at them. They see them better after a few sips of moonshine, it is said, but you know I abstain generally from strong drink.

This terrible business of brother fighting brother fighting giant reptiles will be done one day, Perhaps we can find a homestead to settle, far from these scaly beasts, though I confess to a certain wonder at all of God's marvelous creation. You do not hear as much of parlay as you do the fearsome battles, sweet Clara. But when you talk to the other side in times of cease fire, you find a great agreement that in these times, rampaging dinosaurs unite the hearts and hands of men, regardless of our differences.

Yours affectionately, Johnny

Freedom and status

Those who feel fatalistic in their bondage do often develop a misconception, that those who live to be free, wish to feel superior (to them). We do not think money makes us free: it serves (or does not serve) us as part of a way of life that frees us. Some people covet a way to freedom without recognizing the attitudes and ideas that make it freedom. If we did these things for status, we would still be in bondage- to living our way, relative to the slavery and sadness of others.

A friend was posting about his choice of career as a librarian. He chose this to make his own life bearable. That is the life we should choose: what would make it most seem worth living?

He gave an example of how unnecessary status is. He is glad if people who, for example, serve food, are happy in their work. I know there was a time I certainly was, but mostly when I could count on my kitchen to make the right things, in a timely fashion, and especially if I could make a connection with my guests.

I replied:
Why do we fail to appreciate people in any honest and actual labor, right? Yes, particularly those who are providing us with sustenance. What we eat should be an experience, not an after thought. We profit from seeing one another with purpose and clarity- even if those qualities are lost on the person who thinks they labor only for money.

We aspire to achieve, and to fashion labors that suit our unique temperment, as you say, not merely to acquire status relative to others.

Putt Putt

We’ve done some fun things lately like watch Harry Potter (2nd week of August), walks whenever we can, biking when one of us doesn’t have a flat or it’s not scorching hot or we’re not dealing with work or a cold onset. But last Friday, I finally realized we were going to do it: Putt Putt!
Yay!
So I nap, watching it fall towards dark. By 8pm, we were in the borrowed car (She-Hulk, our truck, has no A/C), jamming out to “Solo” by Demi Lovato on Hwy 27, Redmond Circle via the Veterans Parkway. I saw her admiring the horse being transported next to us on the way past Garden Lakes. The long way ‘round did us little short cutting but as she says, it was a nice drive, wooded neighborhoods. We passed the place where we recorded our demo, back when that was revived as important. It was a long ways out to Putt Putt, seemed like, but I’d looked up the hours and seen the address on Yelp! Sure enough, the modest family rec and entertainment area popped up on the left. We parked, with a certain thrill running through me.

Putt Putt!!
We walked into rather familiar settings. My eyes no longer scanned the Frogger or Donkey Kong machines, but it was no longer 1981 either. And now I was on a date with my sweetheart!
The girl, fresh out of high school, hooked us up with balls for $5.50 each while I asked questions about Lazer Tag and the package deal, then Anj came from the restroom and selected a plastic-headed club (red) and a blue ball, while I took the grown folks club and a red ball. Stuck One and Stuck Two filled out their card, and with daylight still glowing outside against the encroaching dusk, we stepped up to Hole One, which she made in an effortless Hole in One! Took me three. The waterfall showered some fifteen or so yards away, as we picked out the course way over the wooden parapet. Game On!

I set up for a photo on Hole Two, starting a trend towards about a score of them, which is a pain on our limited phone space. I did it with joy, even if it was a bit less relaxing, juggling sending and erasing at decade-out-dated speed, throughout the 18 holes. I reminded myself to stop and watch her, as we juggled that along with rushing to each hole to stay ahead of the biker couple. We kept switching out the score card, easier if I hadn’t been fucking with that old ass phone- yet how many times have we dropped it and it’s kept ticking? I like its funky old alarms and familiar phone number. By hole three I made note of the speakers hanging uselessly above: “Queen of Hearts” and “I Love A Rainy Night” were the pop tunes I recalled from our long-ago family visit in the early 80’s. It felt like we’d been with Dixie and Charlie ages ago, too, but never in this millennia. That alone lent the night a novelty.

“Queen of Hearts” was a hit in 1981, so I am probably remembering that year. “Rainy Night” came out in Nov. ‘80, on the heels of #5 hit “Drivin’ My Life Away” and topped Country, Adult Contemporary and Hot 100. It followed “9 to 5” by Dolly Parton- the only time Country crossovers ruled, back to back. My fondness for both of those songs was born on that Putt Putt course. It’s the era I remember my parents enjoying being young, and generally happy together!



Hole one’s straight forward. For some reason, like most people who haven’t been mini-golfing in a while, we went the maximum number of strokes- five- as soon as things got weird on Hole Two. One imagines that’s exactly what happens time and again on that course: you feel pretty good about putting it in or almost putting it in straight-away. Then hole two leads you around strategic bumpers and it starts getting away from you! A tiny lesson in humility, and most likely, a chance for a good laugh.

She finally got a nice picture of me at her request, too, by Hole Four, when it was still nice and sunny out. I’m surprised how suddenly it seemed night fell out there, by the time we reached the cave in the back nine. I only recall one five-shot folly myself; I had taken a good lead by the nine hole total, and would only get better. I tried thinking it through a bit, old instincts that made me feel like I’d figured out this course and this simple game ages ago. I could feel Dad with me, a vague feeling our original four were together again. I am so glad for the time he spent taking his family out for fun!





Most likely I first went out there as a guest at Kendall Coleman’s birthday party. I tried my hand at both of those hot video games. I didn’t really have any close friends, though I’d been to David Salmon’s house as a guest a couple of times and wanted to count him, but he was much tighter with Freddie Smalley and Stephen King. I also went over to Evan Locklear’s house a couple of times; I used to play house with him and Nell Whatley. I remember it as the trip excited me enough to interest Dad in taking us all out there. The early to mid 1980s were peak time for my family unit, for sure. Trips were really where many of the other highlights came in. It's meant to be a bonding experience, getting out of the regular routine and surroundings.

I don’t recall P-Putting that day of the party, just burning through my arcade tokens with my usual ineptitude at video games. It was the year Arcades ruled, for sure. I used to daydream of walking into Aladdin’s Castle in Riverbend Mall and doing the one thing I thought cool kids did. The Mall and 1981 set me off on another nice memory of Dad. He’d be 70 if he were alive, September 2nd.

Rabbit’s smash hit- this was when my folks were young enough to enjoy some popular music and cards at a friends’ trailer, can’t recall who they were- was dug out of the 1960’s, itself, from a phrase Rabbit recorded onto a cassette. Eddie found it in his basement in 1980 and got together with two other song-writers to perfect his finger snappin’ clappin’ feel-good hit. Digging around in the past to find fond memories and catchy phrases can positively change your life.

So, back to hole five.




That was my first hole-in-one, and sort of where the game started to turn in my favor. She took a five stroke cap on that one. Hole six was my next hole-in-one! However much her shots bonged around, Angela never lost her good cheer. Hole seven was her next hole-in-one; she pulled up a bit as it took me three. She started getting it together, and by the middle nine, we were only four strokes apart, me in the lead.

I only felt compelled to write because in our quiet little life, this was a special day. A date. I wanted to hold on to the memory vividly. The years have a habit of slimming things down to impressions, and certain clusters around moments somehow out of the ordinary. The drama’s very low, unless you play it for comedy. I don’t recommend putt-putting with anyone who’s not up for a laugh.

Hole in One! Triumph!
Cartoons love mini-golf. Along with that bit from the Wong not-so-mini golf in one of the Futurama movies - the Green one- here's one we loved that I just remembered:
Watch Regular Show Season 6 Episode 3 Daddy Issues Online - Regular Show https://www.watchcartoononline.com/regular-show-season-6-episode-3-daddy-issues#.W45FSANKIgc.twitter

There’s three variations, really. You’ve got the ‘pipes sticking up around the hole’ obstacle, which eventually adds the second kind: the dreaded hills! As we closed out our front nine, she kept her blue ball steady on the rise without rolling off, which set her up to follow on holes eight and nine with two strokes each. Then you’ve got the third obstacle: those wooden triangle you have to bank around. Once you combine that with, say, a hole on an upwards tilt, it gets harder to predict the best way to shoot. That’s how the next nine began. We both did okay.

The sun sank to twilight as she took a picture of the simulated waterfall down the side of the cave. We stopped for our portrait together beside the worn elephant. From this point on, I got the intuitive pressure of the putt down better. One thing we did I don’t recommend: she began letting me go first. Don’t change your order unless you are ready to screw up your scorecard! It’s hard enough with the missing scorecard platforms around hole fourteen or so. I was sketching our numbers in on a fence as we kept up our pace, so the biker couple behind us wouldn’t have to wait. We never had to wait on the family of six- I’m not sure how many were playing, but the bearded guy seemed to be dating the late teenage daughter, while little brother, an adolescent, kept sneaking a glimpse of Angela’s backside.

At least, hole sixteen was another Angela hole-in-one. I begged her to please re-create her moment of triumph- it’s hard to participate AND take good pictures, especially if you have a phone where you wait forever to send each individual one, then have to erase for space (due to the lovely pics I’ve kept over the past four years we’ve had it). Our phone is even older, model-wise. It’s become a spot of familiarity, I guess, outlasting the second, smarter phone we got. She looks like she’s holding a bolt of light, she said.

I can’t blame you for rooting for her to win. I got her by eight strokes on the back nine, though. By the time we sank our ball out of sight on hole eighteen, it was dark. We’d had a fun summer evening.
Call My Killer, Arcade!



Turns out, we didn’t play a second game, because she wanted to try the arcade. This idea got better and better as we went along!

Some games might have a ticket pay out if you master them, but they are one play and done affairs, with more lights than fun. We had to try our hand at skee ball, sure, and I think we tied. We offered a ball to a little boy who came up. His mom declined, explaining he had a habit of throwing the heavy skee balls at people! I could tell you she tried a game of dropping a ball through a hole for a reward, where you time the plunger for the most points possible.





When we finally found Elk Hunt, we two non-shooters got back in touch with our ready-aim-fire sides!

Our expedition lasted much longer than the other games, and ate another round of quarters. We seemed to get worse about shooting the cows – the female elk- as we went along! But we had a lot of good laughs. I had to remember to pump and reload after each shot. What creatures were we shooting in the bonus round? Boars! We went hog wild. We were after geese on the first bonus round, as she reminds me. We had put our names in on each other’s player, but as you can imagine, that didn’t matter.



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She finally found a game that lasted more than one action AND paid some tickets. It was a jungle explorer sort of deallie-o, with a ball controller you rolled for ducking, jumping, and apparently, diving off the bridge out of control. We took turns playing out the rest of our tokens. Your pulse rises that incremental bit as you get sucked into the game, and the pace runs away from you, like so many fun things in life do.

We chatted up the girl working there, who’d given us our scorecard and told us about the deals on a relatively quiet point in the night. One of the long line of Coosa alumni to be Putt Putt employees, she was starting college locally. IN fact, we were very ready to go in part because I had my next-to- last awful two in the morning shift at DaDa. It’s only awful because there’s no time to sleep before the six in the morning shift, and then, your sleep careens wildly for days. But this is how I will remember it was Friday, August Twenty-First, too.

By the time we cruised by Taco Bell, we realized we’d only spent sixteen dollars on our date. I was glad to put aside speculation about how many checks and how many hours it would take to purchase our new truck- the key to our next move. Games bring you into the moment! Yeah, there was a nostalgia factor involved, but we made new memories. Anj said she didn’t remember us ever visiting an arcade together in all these years, but now, we’d remember. I’ll probably recall stopping at that grocery store across the highway, in hopes of a deal on a gallon of milk to drop off for Mom, fresh off her trip to Alabama. I just knew we’d had a time I wanted to imprint, in every possible minute. Yeah, I discovered it wasn’t quite a scenario I’d deliver two weeks later in precise detail- and I do desire strongly to write minute-by-minute scenes again, as it’s been too long. But who does that with their fond memories, anyway? I think we should hang on to them in the form that makes us most happy.

A day off with the world's strongest man: remembering Dad on his birthday

My recent date at Putt Putt made me remember my visits there in 1981. Thinking of those times has taken me back to a special day that year. Dad asked if I'd like to go somewhere, just me and him. Off we went that afternoon to Riverbend Mall, during a spell his sister and her three kids – four, there was a baby!- had moved in with us. Mom thought I might be lonely to get a bit of Dad’s attention- I probably admitted as much, glumly. (OR it could've been something else and I liked her guess? It made sense?) I was a fun lovin' kid, but I'd also sat beside a small bin of garbage and cried when I was three or four. The trash was done being part of our lives, you see. I knew it was going somewhere it'd never see us again..

Back when I watched G-Force and Spidey each afternoon, you find the days my young father would show me his muscles. So impressed, I was, with his ability to toss me and crush my hand in a handshake! I remember asking if he was the strongest man in the world. He always seemed able to lift anything, open anything. He didn't mind my speculation and questions. He never showed off the bigger feats like lifting cars and buildings, because, he said, he didn't want to- maybe later!

> Here's the original page that inspired most of the Reel B battle, set up with Doc's tragic origin and Spidey's mysterious, almost sinister peep into the facility before the battle at the end of Reel A.


I clicked through the story, bereft of Stan Lee’s script and captions, funky and quirky drawings so different than the usual commercial way I saw Spidey represented. I didn’t explore the entirety of the View Master Stereo-scope experience- I see they produced some amazing slides for the clunky plastic 3-D handheld toy of my childhood. Eames, Kaplan and Wright’s amazing nature and architecture. Did I also have the booklet? Funny what you don’t recall! More I think about it, I had to have read it.
My two heroes, side by side in 1979.

I do know I got a cool Hulk slide set later. I eventually tracked down a reprint copy of Hulk #125, think it is, where Hulk battles a very formidable Absorbing Man. My most vivid memory was figuring out that one side had the triumphant green Crusher Creel holding the boulder to crush Hulk, his foot absorbing Hulk's strength. But ViewMaster was a vivid way to experience the Banner/ Hulk transformation! Sapped of his power, the Hulk was changing back to his human alter ego. The villain strained as he also absorbed the change, now becoming human, too! In the other side of the slide- one for each eye- he was turning human. The Hulk's great secret spelled the unexpected downfall of the Absorbing Man! It's from a great action story, complete with Banner heroically piloting an experimental plane, only to pick up a deadly passenger and return them both to Earth in spectacular fashion. Reel C's climatic battle enthralled me.

I imagine I had Rocky Road when we stopped in Baskin Robbins’ 31 flavors with Dad. The trip renewed a bond with him I will never forget. There is something special about being little, being loved, walking beside your big adult and feeling wanted. It seems crazy now to think it was ever so hazy, recalling how much I loved and admired him and Mom. I guess you have to go through enough changes that you, bored, think will never come.

If your Dad wasn’t the Strongest Man in the World, I don’t envy you.

HEre's to all the STrongest Men in the World.