We Are the Champions

by Queen

I've paid my dues - time after time.

I've done my sentence - but committed no crime.

And bad mistakes - I've made a few.

Ive had my share of sand kicked in my face -

But Ive come through

We are the champions - my friends
And well keep on fighting - till the end -
We are the champions! We are the champions!
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions - of the world -

+++++++++++++

In the early Winter of 1977, I was introduced to Roger Anderson and his Reynoldsburg Raider Wrestling program. I'd tag-a-long with my big brother, who is eight years older than me, and participate in some of the wrestling practice or sit next to the Mat Maids during the more intense parts of practice.

.

This is where I was introduced to 'Classic Rock' and Q FM 96, long before most of my friends listened to, or even liked, harder rock. I was one of the kids at Herbert Mills Elementary School who had an older sibling that went to High School. Paul Unger, Maggie Gebbie, Sandy Back, and Sara Fluck were the others I remember.

.

Sandy, Maggie and Paul's older brothers were wrestlers, too. Sometimes, I saw them at wrestling meets, but mostly I hung out with Danny Dobbs. I was the one who introduced Danny to wrestling in 5th grade when I invited him to Roger's Wrestling Camp. Once he was introduced to wrestling, he never looked back.

.

Before I realized how much I was NOT a wrestler, I spent those years looking up to my brother, who qualified for the State Tournament during his Sophomore and Senior years. During that time, RHS won the Ohio Central Conference (OCC) in wrestling about 4 our of 7 years.

.

My brother wrestled at 126 pounds. That was one of the lighter weights. The last to wrestle was the Heavyweights. Marc Unger (Paul's older brother) was next to last. Mike Moyer was last.

.

Usually, Reynoldsburg posted team scores like 65-0 or 45-12. They really dominated every team they went to at the local level. After the home meets, Roger played "We are the Champions / We Will Rock You" at the end of the matches until the coach from Westland High made a complaint of 'unsportsmanlike conduct' and demanded the song be pulled.

.

As far as I can remember, it continued playing for the next few years. The song encouraged Raider fans to stomp their feet on the heavy wooden bleachers that surrounded the gym floor. By the time the song reached a crescendo and transitioned into 'We Will Rock You", kids (including me) ran down to the center of the gymnasium and helped to roll up the wrestling mats.

.

There is something fiercely primal about wrestling. It's probably one of the two ultimate sports (the other being boxing), that's out there. It's truly 'me vs. you' - a modern gladiator match between two teenage boys who focus only on one person, while cheered or booed by a crowd of one-thousand.

.

The day I quit wrestling was the day I became Varsity. Although I love watching wrestling, I was just never a 'me vs. you' person. I always preferred me + you - like team sports or large multi-person events.

.

I prefer to sink into the scenery and be one of the thousand, cheering, booing, and celebrating those who prefer to be gladiators.

Close to Me

by The Cure

I've waited hours for this
I've made myself so sick
I wish I'd stayed asleep today.
.
I never thought this day would end
I never thought tonight could ever be
this close to me.

+++++++++++++

It was sometime around Christmas break of my Senior year (December 1986) when I went with Alan Moore and Mike Butler to Mike Gidley's house in Bexley. Mike's house was tucked into this quiet cul-de-sac. The house was two stories with a full basement. By Reynoldsburg standards in 1986, it was huge.
.
Alan, Mike and I split our time between three rooms: the basement, the entertainment room, and a small bedroom.

.

The basement had a pool table and a boom box. Three or four of Mike's friends from Bexley High spent a good part of the night there, chain-smoking cigarettes and shooting pool. There was only one girl in the basement, named Carly. She was a Goth chick before Goth chicks really existed.
.
We split up from the rest of the party and went up to the 2nd floof of the house. Someone was in Mike's parent's bedroom and someone else was in his sister/brother's room. Mike, of course, was in his bedroom.
.
We went to the entertainment room, which was bigger than the great room at most houses, tiled in wood, with another pool table, a full (but unstocked) bar, and a sound system, complete with a CD player and Quadrophonic speakers ringing the room.
.
She put in "The Cure - Singles" and we made out on the couch, girl on top.
.
Somehow, the guy who had also been chasing her came in and broke it up, then stole her away to the basement and I didn't see her the rest of the night. Alan and Mike, and I think the Beals sisters, too, came up and we listened to "Close to Me" off the 'Standing on the Beach' CD - which was the first time I'd heard the song or the album.
.
We moved onward to one of the free bedrooms and hung out. - About six of us crammed into a very small bedroom - I think it belonged to Mike's little sister. I'd even called my mom to say I was going to spend the night at Mike's house. She demanded the address, and I made up an address in Whitehall so I could stay there. I had hoped to hook up with Carly again, but she disappeared shortly after midnight, I think.
.
Alan, Mike, and I did what grown-up boys did best - we played around in the Entertainment Room, including slipping around on our socks. I'm sure we played a game where we tried to see who could slide closest to Mrs. Gidley's China Cabinet or played paper-wad basketball, no blood/no foul style.
.
We ended up crashing in the Entertainment room, listening to a mix of CDs, including 'Standing on the Beach', 'Sticky Fingers', and 'Ziggy Stardust' (on random mix) until morning.

.

When I arrived home, my mom scolded me and sent me to my room to 'think about it.' I was probably grounded for 1 or 2 weeks. The trip was entirely worth it, though. After all, I can still remember most of the details of that one short night with Mike, Alan, Beth Beals, Christy Beals, Carly and Me like it was yesterday.

The Load-Out / Stay

by Jackson Browne
.But the band's on the bus
And they're waiting to go.
We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago.
Or Detroit, I don't know.
We do so many shows in a row.
And these towns all look the same...

Please, please stay, just a little bit longer.
We wanna play just a little bit longer.
If the promoter don't mind, and the union don't mind.
We can take a little time and we'll leave this all behind
Singin' one more song.
. +++++++++++++
.
In 1980, my life was full of change. I went from the comfy confines of Herbert Mills Elementary to Hannah J Ashton Middle School. My sister was in her Senior Year at RHS; my brother graduated in 1979. My parents also managed to fit a divorce somewhere in there, too.
.
During that time, one of the things I remember most is my sister's music rotation of Jackson Browne, Tom Petty, and The Eagles. I'd sit on the silvery beige shag carpet and load layers of LP records on the turbtable and just listen to "The Long Run", "Running on Empty" and "Damn the Torpedoes" for hours on end.
.
1979 had also been the year of the 'Naked Taco' at our house. Mom prepared all the ingredients for tacos: chopping tomatoes, onions, and lettuce, grating cheddar cheese, and browning ground beef. She'd place the ingredients in separate Tupperware bowls and everyone would eat dinner whenever they got around to it.

Also, my father worked Third Shift in that year before mom and dad's divorce. Sometimes he'd be awake for dinner, other times he wouldn't. Being a night-owl myself, I understand the stresses that go along with working the graveyard shift all too well.
.
Still, the breakdown of the family unit had already begun. My big brother Ron went to Miami University in the fall of 1979. He became homesick every time we took him to the Greyhound station downtown. One time, I remember the entire family packing into the station wagon and taking him to the station. It must have been the fall of 1979, during his first Freshman quarter. He had his shaggy red hair and a large burnt orange down-filled jacket and a duffel bag full of freshly laundered clothes.

Mom just said, "Don't look back," to everyone in the car as we drove away from the bus station.Then, my sister graduated a year later, going to Ohio University. Soon after, Ron transferred to Ohio university, too. Most of his friends were already going to OU, so that was a good thing for everyone anyway.
.
In that year, my father decided to leave - he'd been unfaithful to mom for quite some time, and I guess there was a last straw in there somewhere. I ended up being one of the only of my friends who had divorced parents. For me, it just meant a longer Christmas with two sets of gift wrapping to rip apart. It also meant weekends with Dad.
.
I wasn't bothered too much by it. Ryan and Jason Vaughn or Mike Poirier or Bryan Donahue would come over and spend the weekend at my Dad's apartment, over in Carnaby Village. Our weekly road trip was usually to an OSU hockey game.
.
My big brother Ron often says he feels guilty for not being there for me during that time. In all honesty, that didn't bother me half as much as his reluctance to make it back home for Chistmas nowadays - when he has more control over the things that get in his way.

Still, in this time I've become closer to my sister and I've always been close to my mum. For all of that, I should be thankful - and I am.

Kayleigh

by Marillion

Kayleigh - I just want to say I'm sorry,

But Kayleigh
I'm too scared to pick up the phone.
To find you've found another lover
to patch up our broken home.

Kayleigh,
I'm still trying to write that love song,
Kayleigh it's more important to me now you're gone.
Maybe it'll prove that we were right
Or it will prove that I was wrong.
+++++++++++++

I remember the day I met Diane Burchett. She was the first girl I truly loved. I'd stumbled into 'Campus Life' - a Christian Youth group that I sorta hung out with during my Junior and Senior year of high school. I think it was a time-filler, mostly, but it was also the eternal 'search for God'.
.
In December of my Senior year, I met her on the band practice field. I think it was Mark Brennan who brought a Nerf football out and we (Mark Brennan, Kevin Brennan, Randy Reisling, Andy Van Buren, Jay Fulton, Diane Burchett, me) were all throwing it around. Finally, the football landed in Diane's hands. I tackled her full-on, but still landing on my forearms to cushion the fall.
.
By the time I tackled her, she heaved the ball into the air. As I got up, I kissed her smack-dab on the lips, then pulled her to her feet and just ran away - like a 6 year old playing kissy-face on the playground. half-serious, half-not, 100% infuriating to the girl involved.
.
We talked a few times, here and there, until I asked her out for Senior Prom. After Prom, Brian Long joked, "I got more than you at Prom and all I got was a good-night kiss."
.
But, the funny thing was that I didn't even attempt to kiss Diane goodnight. Just another way that the perception of the click got in the way, I guess.
.
That Summer, I went to Summer Camp for the entire Summer. In the afternoons when the Boy Scouts were too busy swimming to come to the Nature Area, I wrote letters to Diane - and Christa Smith, and Tammy Blanke, and Amy Froehlich...bored.
.
Anyway, Diane and I started swapping notes more and more until I returned from Summer camp. During my Freshman year at Ohio U and her Senior year at RHS, we started dating - and in fact, we dated for almost two years.
.
It was my longest relationship (including my marriage) - and probably the one I miss the most. Diane had a lot of soft qualities I loved in a female friend. I wrote her several poems, but I doubt any one captured the feeling. I guess that's how it goes with love.

Time Stand Still

by Rush

I turn my back to the wind to catch my breath,

Before I start off again

Driven on, without a moment to spend

To pass an evening

With a drink and a friend

.

I let my skin get too thin

I'd like to pause, No matter what I pretend

Like some pilgrim

Who learns to transcend

Learns to live

As if each step was the end

.

Time stand still

I'm not looking back

but I want to look around me now

.

Time stand still

See more of the people and the places

that surround me now

.

Time stand still

Freeze this moment a little bit longer

Make each sensation a little bit stronger

.

Experience slips away...

Experience slips away...

Time stand still.

.

+++++++++++++

.

There are places in our past that leave indelible imprints in our hearts and minds. For my friends and me, that place was Pickerington Cemetery.

.

Although I think Steve Gorgias was the first to find the cemetery, I'm sure half a dozen others will claim the find as their own. Throughout the Summer of 1987, our group ("The Pit", we called ourselves) began most nights by gathering at Burger King.

.

Dennis Macy took the brown Gran Torino, Davis took his yellow "Le Car" (not just a car...it's 'Le Car', as Poirier often reminded us), Andy Van Buren took his baby blue VW Beetle and Poirier took his bright orange Fiesta. Other cars went, too. So, it was a parade of teenagers speeding through the streets of Reynoldsburg and Pickerington to go to the cemetery. Pickerington police must've figured we were looking for our drinking spot.

.
 But we weren't. We were just hanging out. Hanging out and hanging on to our friendships.

.A small gravel drive led up the hill to the cemetery. Approximately 300 gravestones lined the cul-de-sac and the tiny turnaround at the top of the hill. At the bend, you could see the surrounding lights of Meijer's to the left and 33 South to the right. For 18-year-olds, the view was impressive. Better than the view around us was the view above. Yabo (Eric Yavitch) and Pedro (Pete DiSalvo) told us when there were meteor showers or planets or constellations to look out for. 
.

After we parked our cars, we'd all get out and lean on the bumpers or sit on the hoods of the cars. Sometimes, Yavitch would lead a group through the cemetery to the nearby apple orchard.

.

One time, we'd heard a dog barking at the top of the hill near the orchard. I remember Eric and me being there, but I also think Tiffany Reddy and Allie Woodall were there in the orchard, too. As soon as the dog began barking, we all took off, every man (and woman) for themselves.

.

I managed to avoid the barbwire fence that separated the graveyard from the apple orchard. Eric, however, did not. He tore a six or seven inch gash in the upper inside of one of his thighs. I don't remember if he got a shot for it, but he never got tetanus, as far as I know.

.

We stayed out 'til 3, or 4 in the morning, worrying our parents to death. But, we weren't drinking (well, not too much). We weren't smoking pot. We played a game we called "conversations", asking questions like "who was your first?", "If you could marry any girl from high school, who would it be?", and "best original album ever?"

.

In college, I had to write an essay, visiting a high school memory. I chose the old Pickerington cemetery. I took classes at Ohio University's Lancaster campus and the Pickerington Cemetery lay halfway between college and home.

I went to that old cemetery in the light of day. In daylight, and 5 years later, the cemetery was just a small plot of land with some gravestones. The rusty wire fence that encircled the graveyard was broken down and worn out, although it was probably still strong enough to rip another gash in Eric Yavitch's leg.

.

Maybe it was just the timing. Maybe it was just the romance and mystery that moonlight gives to a place that sunlight does not. Maybe it was being eighteen years old.

At eighteen, we were too old to be kids, too young to be adults, but we we desperately wanted to be both. We wanted to play baseball in Doug Leonard's backyard. We wanted to make out with that girl who sat next to us in Chemistry class. We wanted to know where our separate lives would take us.

.

We just wanted more time.

Afterimage

by Rush

Suddenly, you were gone
From all the lives you left your mark upon

I remember
How we talked and drank into the misty dawn

I hear the voices
We ran by the water on the wet summer lawn
I see the footprints
I remember

I feel the way you would
I feel the way you would

Tried to believe
But you know it's no good

This is something that just can't be understood

+++++++++++++

Here it is, February 15th, 2009 at 5am. Its a Sunday, which means the 5 percent of the world I'm living in is completely quiet. I stand on the sidewalk in front of my childhood home and listen.

Eric's birthday is in a month and I think about it often - he wouldve been 40. There is a large handful of schoolhouse friends who have left me in the last few years. I find it very sad...especially about the ones who have taken their own lives.

Even at its most trying, life is not that difficult. Most of the problems we face are self-wrought. Those that aren't are brought about by people who careen in and out of our lives, like balls on a pool table. Unlike the metaphorical 8-ball, we have some control over our direction and angle of attack.

I think it was lucky for me that Chuck's suicide came first. He and I were not close, even though we were on the same team in Reynoldsburg Youth Basketball during the eighth grade, we hung out together every lunch during our senior year, we went to the Winter Homecoming with a bunch of guy friends and we shared many of the same friends.

Even though there's a cloud-filled sky tonight, it reminds me of the year between high school and college. After Chuck Lane's funeral, Eric Yavitch confided to both Mike Butler and me. He'd said he had been having thoughts of suicide over recent months. He also said "I know we see what Chuck deals with on a different level."

I didn't know what to say, really. I had walked into his law office in 1996, wanting to throw myself off the bridge passing over the Scioto at I-70, just west of downtown. I have dealt with sucide and depression since I was 15 or so. I think it's odd that these two guys both committed suicide and I did not.

I still struggle...

But I don't dare to "flip the switch", because I just have things left on my "To Do List."

Mostly, these deaths of people close to me has brought me to a bigger conclusion: Life isn't about much. It's about the people in your inner circle - the parents and siblings and cousins and children and closest friends.

I had a falling out with one of these people in my Inner Circle about 3 years ago. Although we've made amends, the relationship still isn't on the same course it once was. I think it's time to make full amends. I miss his friendship very much.

Magic Power

by Triumph

Something's at the edge of your mind,
You don't know what it is.
Somethin' you were hopin' to find,
but you're not sure what it is.

Then you hear the music
- and it all comes crystal clear.
The music does the talkin',
says the things you want to hear

"I'm young, I'm wild and I'm free...
I got the magic power of the music in me."

+++++++++++++
Just about the time Spring Break came around in 1986, some life-long friendships really began taking shape. Although our friendships would still grow after that, we all could identify the people we'd still surround ourselves with (even if it was in some small way) during the rest of our lives.

On the Friday before Spring Break, I sat at lunch with the people I always hung with: Jon Trickey, Alan Moore, Mike Butler, Matt Warschauer, and Danny Friedman. We sat in the next to last table, nearest the bus parking lot.

We had been wondering "What are we gonna do for Spring Break?" all week long. It could have been the same old routines: Go to Burger King and hang out for a bit, hit Eastland Mall for awhile, then maybe return home after we watched movies like Platoon, Color of Money, Aliens, or Hoosiers.

Instead, Jon Trickey was itching to do a little bit more.

"I was supposed to go to Fort Walton Beach for Spring Break with mom, but I told her I didn't want to go."

"So you have the house alone? We could hang out and drink or something," said Jon.

"Hang out? I say Nick has a party," replied Alan Moore. Of course, Alan was joking. He always said things half-heartedly when it came to mischief. He was always the one to suggest mischief. I was always the one to act upon it.

"A party would be great," said Jon.

"Maybe something small. Jon, can you bring a band?"

"Bring a band? I can bring two."

I thought Jon was joking. Unfortunately, he was not. Because of my hi-jinx during Spring Break 1985, mom made me stay at the Singer's for 1986. I got a call around 8pm from Betsy Filmer,

She said, "Nick, you gotta get over here. There are two bands setting up their equipment."

So, I went over and tried my best to clean up. I didn't do too good of a job, though. At the end of things, I just kinda gave up, telling Greg Love to watch the house for me before going back to the Singer's for the night.

Hahaha. My god, I should NOT EVEN BEGIN to consider having offspring.

I returned to my house early on Sunday morning. Ward and I placed the outdoor trash can in the middle of the living room and filled it up. After we did, one of us took the full bags to Wendy's, down the street. We must have hauled 20 trashbags to Wendy's that afternoon.

Lord, there is so much more to this story....

Anyway, we had a great time and the song Magic Power reminds me of that time. It also reminds me of the party at Doug Leonard's house where someone turned off the heater and we woke up half-frozen.

Good times.

Too Late for Goodbyes

by Julian Lennon

Ever since you've been far away,
I've been wanting to fly.
Now I know what you meant to me.
I'm the one who should cry.

And it's much too late for goodbyes.
Yes, it's much too late for goodbyes.

+++++++++++++

During my Sophomore Year, Julian Lennon came out from his father's shadow and released "Valotte." The album was produced by Phil Ramone (more commonly known as Billy Joel), which meant it had top hit potential from the get-go.

The song was a fringe Music Video hit on MTV, but found a place in the rotation on VH-1, the adult conemporary station. In ways, I liked Julian a lot more than his father's solo works. It didn't explore too much, and although the comparisons to John Lennon were evident, it still stood alone, mainly due to Billy Joel's efforts.

In 10th grade, I fit uncomfortably between the jocks and the nerds, not really being the center of either group, but a fringe player in both. During lunches, I roamed from group to group, sitting with different people on a regular basis.

The songs from this album seem to bring back memories of later years in high school. Mostly, I remember playing touch football with the bandies while I waited for Soccer practice to begin. Steve Friend, Mark Brennan, Kurt Dieckmann, Ward Singer, and the rest.

Then, I'd head off to Soccer practice and hang out with Mike Klein, Eric Yavitch, Mike Weible, and Pete DiSalvo. Even in social ways, the two groups had such a different dynamic. I can't explain it - it just was different.

Even now, I watch "The Breakfast Club" with great reminisince; that was the movie of Generation X. I secretly root for Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwald, Emilio Estevez, Ally Sheedy, and Anthony Michael Hall to trade places for more than one Saturday afternoon.

I grow older every day and each day, my life becomes more about the next generation and less about my own. My friends have children of their own and these kids now roam the high school halls that we once called our own.

"And these children that you spit on,
As they try to change their worlds,
Are immune to your consultations,
They're quite aware of what they're going through."

- David Bowie, "Changes"
(as proscribed in the opening credits of "The Breakfast Club").

And so it goes...

.

Whenever I hear a song from Julian Lennon's "Valotte", I think of Rodney Metcalf. He committed suicide sometime during our Junior Year or Senior Year. I hung around a bit with Tim Zag. As a consequence, I also hung around a little bit with Rodney Metcalf.

Rodney was the 'doubting thomas' of our class. If there was anything he could be 'too cool' for, he'd be the first to roll his eye and shake his head. Often, it was just him and Tim hanging out for lunch at one of the benches that surrounded the courtyard. This is how I'll always remember Rodney. It'll probably also be the way I always remember Tim, too.

.

Now the courtyard is gone, along with everything but our memories. Our kids have taken our place, and as John Coffman always said, "Only the names and the faces change."

.

How can you beat a quote like that? I look back fondly on my school days and remember the faces that entertained and challenged me. In all honesty, is it ever too late to say goodbye...or even hello again?

Secret Garden

by Bruce Springsteen

She'll look at you and smile.
And her eyes will say
She's got a secret garden.

Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay
A million miles away.

+++++++++++++

Although the song doesn't remind me of Chona, the lyrics do take me back. And, Bruce Springsteen is the favorite band of one of my friends, Mike Pestich.

A young girl of only 17 came into my life when I was 26. She was soon to turn 29, but still, there were implications to a relationship of that difference in age. I was torn between young and old. I knew there was still a tender, undamaged part of Chona in both her mother and father's eyes. I was this strange older man, looking to rip that out of her.

At least, that's what some may say...

...but I cared for Chona in a way that no 17 or 18 year-old boy had the horsesense to have. At times, Chona was stoic and withdrawn; at other times, she was willing to be intruded emotionally. I think I have that way with people. I come off as abrasive on my outer layers, but deeper within, there's something more. I've often compared it to the layers of an onion revealing very different flavors, from bitter to bland.

After a dozen years or so apart, we still keep in touch quite a bit. Although we had a great emotional relationship (the Capricorn and the Pisces), we still tore each other apart. The things that made our relationship great also tore it apart. The love was great, but we frayed each other at the edges until we weren't the people either of us were intended to be at the end of the road.

Still, the song also reminds me of the basement at her parent's house and hanging with her friends or living at 380 West Third, in Victorian Village. I also remember watching her practice the clarinet, although her parents didn't allow her to actually play it, only practice the finger placements. Very odd that she was a great clarinet player although she couldn't practice in the proper way.

Still, I miss Chona from time-to-time. I miss how we got along beautifully and how she was one of those people who made me feel like there were ghosts of books waiting to be born with my name on them.

[sigh-smile]

Overkill

by Men at Work

I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perhaps it's just imagination

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away

Alone between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
It's time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation

At least there's pretty lights
And though there's little variation
It nullifies the night
From overkill

+++++++++++++

This song had so many good lyrics, I couldn't stop afterthe second stanza.

This is another of those songs I discovered on MTV when I was a teenager. I thought MTV was the next coming of Jesus: music 24 hours a day, interrupted only by people talking about music or selling music-related items on commercials. Ah, the good ol' days.

Often, after a current girlfriend made the transformation into ex-girlfriend, I found myself killing time in any way available. Usually, I took hour-long showers, hoping it would literally wash the time down the drain, go for a bike ride or weight lifting. Sometimes, I rode around the streets of Columbus in my black 1980 Mustang with Mike Smith.

Mike went to grade school at Reynoldsburg until 6th grade, when he moved to Groveport, 10 miles or so from my house. That was 1981. In 1985, he moved back to Reynoldsburg. Almost seamlessly, our friendship picked up where it left off. We were only in one class together, and I spent more time with another of my friends, Scott Davis, working on news stories for our High School TV newsprogram.

By default, Mike hung out with my high school friends. When we hung out, though, we broke off into our own group of two. Eventually, we just split from the main group more often than not.

I remember one night in Groveport, near an old Catholic church playground. Mike pointed me down the gravel road to the abandoned playground. We parked the car and walked along a railroad. The night sky was midnight blue with a full moon hanging overhead. Its faded blue light cast the fields and trees in th same dream-like hues of blue, gray, silver, and black.

Since Mike freshly turned 18 years old, we explored the few things we could do now that we were "adults"- one was a trip to the Lion's Den - an adult bookstore. As soon as we entered, the place gave even me, a person of dubious morality, a case of the heebie jeebies. The place was just downright filthy. I'm guessing it hadn't really been cleaned in as many as five years. Of course, it didn't help that everything was covered in plastic. It was like walking into an old dead grandma's living room the day after her funeral - with bookshelves of naked women doing 101 unimaginable things.

We went down the narrow hallway to the coin-operated movie booths. They were like small stalls with a coin box and a small, stained bench. Each stall was also surrounded in cheap plywood. We went from booth-to-booth, laughing hysterically at the descriptions of the bad movies each booth had to sell.

Mike urged me to watch the movie he was watching. We squeezed into the stall (about the size of a phone booth) and watched about 2 minutes of this horrible porn movie. What was better was our fear of touching ANYTHING in the stall. We balanced ourselves in two separate spots, allowing the overhead projector to show the film while not touching any of the walls or the back of the door, which also acted as the movie screen.

The door was stained, too. I'm sure the place would .glow in neon blue if a black light was brought into that place.

Luckily, we escaped without much more trauma than that. Mike's an attorney in Seattle now and I miss his friendship quite a bit. In fact, I think any of the friendships we encounter from the age of 16-22 are irreplaceable - not only for the friends themselves, but for the wild adventures we take together when we're set loose upon the world.

Slipping

by Geddy Lee

Meant to tell you, tell you from the start.
Meant to show you what's inside this shallow heart.
But I could not find the words worthy enough to say.

I've slipped along the way.
I've slipped along the way.

I'll try to be there when you fall.
Try to make feel big, when life makes you feel small.
But I could not find the steps quick enough to take.

I've slipped along the way.
I've slipped along the way.

+++++++++++++

This one is for Chona, Mai, and hopefully, Jeanette.

I'm not very good at love. My wild swings in emotion can devastate both the strongest and softest heart. I don't have the horse-sense sometimes to hold my tongue or be smart enough to smooth out my rough edges when it comes to the ones I love the most.

I have a pet phrase along the lines of: "I will only regret my future if I don't learn from my past."

Well, the lessons I learn each time out in the world, betray me, more often than not. The mistakes we've learned from lovers past usually get fixed, at the expense of journeying into new frontiers. Those new frontiers throw new challenges at us, and we are usually ill prepared for those new challenges.

But we try the best we can.

Even now, Chona says her love with me was the deepest she ever felt. Well, I think I loved her greater than her father. My love for her was all-encompassing. Unfortunately, I can't say that for Mai - but only because of the lessons learned.

And, I know her father thinks she's pretty special.

I think that also stems from my relationship with Julia. Althugh she wasn't my daughter, I loved her so. I would've done anything for her. I still would. I don't want her to suffer through the mistakes of life - but I know she will. Her mistakes will be vastly different from mine - and that is her journey to take.

I often think about "do-overs" - and the way life goes and the way we make choices based on everything coming our way - the people and the circumstances that drive us forward. I guess I wouldn't change a thing, because I'd hate to lose those glorious romantic moments I've faced with those I've loved.

Resist

by Rush

I can learn to resist anything but temptation
I can learn to co-exist with anything but pain.
I can learn to compromise anything but my desires.
I can learn to get along with all the things
I can't explain...

You can surrender without a prayer -
But never really pray without surrender.

You can fight without ever winning -
But never ever win without a fight.

+++++++++++++

In early 1995, I met Martin Pluth. He was a friend of an ex-girlfriend and we both liked Rush. We also liked hanging out and playing board games with a group of our friends.

There were three times in my life where I almost committed suicide - nearly unable to keep on strugglign with life.

The first time was February 1987. I actually slit my right wrist with a straight-edge razor blade. I still have that scar. I was having peer issues and couldn't deal with life (or more notably, a girl), so I became really depressed and pulled the razor blade over my wrist inside one of the rooms at the high school. I didn't bleed all that much. It stung like crazy and the pain really made it easier to stop.

On Leap Year's Day 1996, I packed my belongings in my room, left a clean note, then drove over to a frozen pond. I stood there for half an hour, pondering a jump into the lake. I didn't even get wet. I had left a note in my car, and decided that sooner or later, I better get back to the car or I'd go to jail for the attempt. I think that would make me nuttier.

In March 2003, I was diagnosed with Diabetes. My eyesight eroded terribly, but I had planned a move to Las Vegas, come hell or high water. I hadn't even given myself time to manage my diabetes before getting on the plane.

When I arrived in Las Vegas, my eyesight fluctuated with my fluctuating sugar intake and at one point, I couldn't even work the ATM in the Boardwalk Casino to get money without some help. I had 1500 dollars saved up for the move out to Vegas. I also wanted to attend UNLV - University of Nevada in Las Vegas, to get my degee in Hotel Management. Unfortunately, my body had different plans.

Now that I think of it, there have been other times, too. They've all been linked to either money or women. I guess that's no big surprise. We all struggle with love and money. They are two of the driving factors in all human beings.

I have this grand opportunity to fall for Jeanette. I'm somewhat excited about it. When we talk, I feel connected to her. Unfortunately, the first moment she signs off the computer - I'm off looking at Mai's webpages, disecting every detail of her and her family's pages.

It's a really unhealthy relationship. I think it was very healthy a time ago, but now it feels so alien and I almost don't like her at all. I think that's mostly her sister's influence in the matter. Then again, it may be the fact Mai had the total lack of taste to pick a new boyfriend for a first meeting EXACTLY one year after I left her arms.

I find that rude, distasteful, and I often come up with parallels between her and her wayward sister, who is essentially a mess of a person. I have no respect for people who have no loyalty. It's nearly as bad as being a rapist, in my own opinion. I don't think I'm over-stating that, either.

People who cannot sacrifice their ego or pride are very weak people. I do not respect them at all, regardless of their other amiable traits. In addition to Mai being that sort of girl, Chona was definitely that sort of person. I was lucky that Chona had the evilness to be mean immediately. Mai, on the other hand, can't bear to be the bearer of bad news. She can't face being less than semi-sweet.

Well, I should have known she'd run early on in our relationship when she confessed that she had a "bad habit of running away from committments." She reassured me on that day, and for a short time, I was VERY UNSURE of her as a person.

But, I hung on until I was hooked into her system - which is a bad place for me to be.

I think it's time to not only move forward, but don't dare to look back for awhile. Can I do it? I dougt it, but we will see. Hopefully this post will give me courage. I doubt that, too!

I just hope I heal soon enough that I don't lose Jeanette. She's a pretty fantasitc person with no flaws such as that. Hers are more of insecurity.

(sighing)

Life.

What Is Life?

By George Harrison

What I feel, I can't say
But my love is there for you anytime of day
But if it's not love that you need
Then I'll try my best to make everything succeed

Tell me, what is my life without your love
Tell me, who am I without you, by my side

+++++++++++++

I kind of tumbled into this one, looking for George Harrison's Greatest Hits.

Unfortunately, the CD that mimics the LP my brother owned is nowhere to be found. Unfortunate, because this is a great collection of Harrison's early best.

Since Grandma had to leave, there has been a remarkable switch that clicked off in my life. Constantly, she hovers near me, as does Dad. With Grandma, though, Christmas and Thanksgiving never felt the same since then.

The memories of my life flood my thoughts now - with writing, I've tapped into my inner self. It's a great thing, too. I remember wrestling practices with Ron, afternoons after school with Angie, and Grandma's migration from the garage bedroom to the Brown bedroom to the loft behind Uncle Carl's to the Mobile Home and back to the brown bedroom in our house again.

Every Christmas, I get a little lovesick and a little mad at my brother. We've been lucky for the most part, having the Irwin cousins visit as much as possible, yet Ron hasn't really ever joined the fold since he moved to Florida.

Work is a responsibility - I understand, but family is eternal. If it wasn't, why would we have the first chapters of most religions books talk about lineage? Why were there coats of Arms, and why is naming a baby such a personal family issue?

Still, I am haunted by the memories not only of those gone, but those still living around me. I broke off my relationship with Scott Davis, a childhood friend, for just over a year. I had thought about that quite a bit. I guess he had, too. During our 20-year High School Reunion, he closed the wounds and gave me a Mea Culpa.

That's the security only the knot of friendship can reward to us.

So, I listen to the great modern American philosopher George Harrison again...

And I realize how sweet this life is and how painfully short it has to be.

The Waiting

by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Oh baby, don't it feel like heaven right now,
don't it feel like somethin' from a dream?
Yeah, I've never known nothing quite like this.

Don't it feel like tonight might never be again?
We know better than to try and pretend.
Baby, no one could have ever told me bout this.

The waiting is the hardest part.
Every day you see one more card.
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart.
The waiting is the hardest part.

+++++++++++++

Life is a series of choices: off-ramps. We choose one road and leave the other behind, until we find the end of the road, or more than likely, the end of the road finds us.

Mom and I took a road trip to my cousin Mark's house in Indiana this weekend. Taking road trips is one of my favorite things to do - listening to Billy Joel or the Mamas and the Papas and watching road signs and oak trees pass me by.

I thought a lot about choices. My cousin Michelle got Welfare Aid from the government for her son Kyle's kidney problems. She spent it on a car, a VHS tape recorder, and who knows what else? My cousin Mark's daughter Bethany gets Welfare for two kids plus the third on the way.

Here I am, blind as a bat, and I refuse to get it. Why? There are two reasons, really. First off, the love of my life is in the Philippines...whether it be Mai or someone else, I don't know. I do know, however, that if Mai keeps running away from me, I won't find a lover anywhere but the Philippines. Also, I just won't roll over and play dead - not quite yet, anyway. Accepting welfare is like admitting defeat - something I've done too often in my life.

Still, I desperately want it to be Mai. I know she's reading this, so I don't know if I'm playing fair or not. But, I know that I'm waiting to return to the Philippines. Then again, there's Hong Kong. Could that be the answer? I'm not sure, in fact, I doubt it. I think that's more about taking a trip to some place other than Cebu.

Cebu is reserved for my memories of Mai - and I fear that she owns the island. If I return to Cebu to visit Jeanette, it just will bring up sore spots inside me. Spots I don't think I'll ever recover from.

I used to take showers to pass time while my heart ached. This time around, it's different. I don't have a whole-hearted ache. I'm too old for that, I guess. Instead, I just think about it, act as if this last May never happened.

Then, I have days like this, when my eyes seem like they're disintegrating and 'm waiting to go blind or die. What the hell is wrong with me? How come I constatly seek lesser options instead of going for it? Do I need a partner in crime for all accomplishments in my life?

This song, though, reminds me of Angie and Matt - when this song was a hit, Angie was dating Matt behind our dad's back. Sometimes sneaking out to see Matt, sometimes sneaking Matt into the house when our parents were out.

I think of Angie's pregnancy with Jacob. Now there's a choice...she could have gone at least two ways there, some of them not so pleasant to think about now.

I'm glad Bryce is around, too. He's the light in all of our eyes...the hope for the future.

Maybe that's why babies are so precious - they remind us of the endless possibilites and the paths yet to be chosen.

Don't Try Suicide

by Queen

Don't try suicide - Nobody's worth it
Don't try suicide - Nobody cares
Don't try suicide - You're just gonna hate it
Don't try suicide - Nobody gives a damn

+++++++++++++

Chris Fraley committed suicide last Friday - dead at 45 by his own choice.

He dated my sister in high school. He lived with my brother during college. And me? I love trees.

The summer of 1984 I was working on my Forestry Merit Badge for Boy Scouts. Chris had taken a Forestry class at Ohio University and I went over to his house to borrow several textbooks. I returned all but one, "Guide to Tree Identification" promptly because I couldn't find it. I kept it for at least a year and kept meaning to return that damned blue book.

I didn't know Chris that well, even though we had several common threads to connect us. I got my Forestry Merit Badge that Summer, as well as every other nature-related Merit Badge the Boy Scouts offered. A few years later, I became Ecology/Conservation Director at a Summer Camp, with the blue book in tow.

I learned to identify trees not only by their leaves, I learned them by their bark as well as their shape. Whenever I didn't know a tree, I figured it out, until I could identify over 100 different species of tree.

I wrote a poem at a much later time called "The Body as a Line" which was actually referring to the shape of a tree in winter as much as it was about anything else.

He shot himself in his bedroom with a shotgun. The memorial service is next Friday, a week after his death. My brother is flying into town and we're going down to Cincinnati for the service. I need a break from being home alone on the weekends - this is a morbid sort of vacation for me. I've been trying to capture photos of the autumn landscape: the red and gold leaves in the southern Ohio hills.

Tragically, my father passed away just a few days before Independence Day and I cannot see fireworks without it effecting me directly. Now, it's Chris Fraley's turn to haunt my thoughts at least once every year.

Crash Into Me

by Dave Matthews Band

Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock and sweet you roll
Lost for you, I'm so lost...
for you.

Oh, will you come...crash...into me.

+++++++++++++

It's been a sweet and complicated love affair, me and you. This song - Crash - makes me daydream about a cool summer night near the sea, on a wooden porch. The music plays and we hold each other close. Strings of yellow/white Christmas lights hang overhead like a canopy of irridescent stars, floating above us.

And all our family is there, watching and smiling.

It was some great romance we had in our heads, filled with so many great times, that's why I'm saddest - we didn't even get to create moments like that - in the spare time we had together, we had a good time, and I think had the circumstances been developed a little more (no school tugging you away, no split vacations for me, no fevers to shorten my waking hours) - it would have been magnificent.

But...it was still magnificent. My Ganda walking to the store to pick up medicine - for me. No Florence Nightingale, I'm sure, but you were Nightingale enough for me.

And I wished I had more time with your family - all of them. I was in terrible shape that weekend, plus my funds were running low - I had planned a trip I couldn't possibly afford, and other people spent my money for me quite well...

But every dime spent on us was fantastically spent.

crash into me...

>(pogi)loves(ganda)<