I am so lucky. My sister's side of the family and I are perfect for each other. We lean on, and enjoy helping each other. My dad was chastised by most of my family, when he decided to move to El Paso, and be near my niece Taumie and her family, because 'they' thought he had already given them too much. Someday, I hope, 'they' will realize that there is no definition or description, or even the need to try to define what is enough. What is enough is like beauty… to me.
Friday, June 18, 2010
6am - Up and at 'em.
7am - My obligatory visit to the gym was once again, a perfect way to start my day. I've been starting most of my days like this, for about five or six years now, and have been grateful for my decision to do so. A warm soak in the hot tub… a 30-minute ride on the stationary bike, and an always-random work out with the basketball and weights does something indescribable for me. But let me try:
Not long after I turned 45 years old, I realized I was in trouble. I had no fucking idea I was actually gonna live this long, and realized that if I didn't change my patterns, I was gonna be in a world of hurt. My body was breaking down, and my pride took a good look at myself, and said, "Ned… if you don't loose some weight and mix in some good habits with your bad ones, you are gonna be sorry."
So I committed myself to a regiment. A very lightweight commitment… of simply showing up at the gym each morning. Before long, I felt something. Then I saw it in the mirror. Since then, I have found that if I don't start at least four or five days a week… sweating profusely, and panting for breath… I am not nearly as happy.
9am - Last night, I'd asked Kristie (my niece's neighbor and very good friend) to call me when she woke up, and let me know if she needed or wanted my help finishing up with her packing. She's moving (from Killeen, TX) to ?Podunk? Alabama.
When I hadn't heard from her, I called her (cell) number first. She had it turned off. I left a message. Then I called my grandnephew Brice. It was on, but… no answer. I left a message. My third attempt at finding out if they were alive was successful. My grandniece Brynn, bless her heart, is almost always there to answer her phone. Thank goodness someone in this god-forsaken family of misfits has some common courtesy.
She handed the phone to Kristie, who told me to common over… she was up and ready to get started on the final touches of the packing.
9:30am - I arrived at Kristie's to find her weeping about her sister (in-law) not being able to come out to help drive one of the caravan's vehicles back to Alabama. Let me stop right here… Kristie was NOT weeping. This gal is amazingly strong and capable. Her courage and fortitude is commendable, and… yes… I want her… bad.
I even went so far as to offer to drive one of the trucks for her, and take a bus back to Killeen. A FUCKING BUS from Hicksville, Alabama, thru Mississippi and Louisiana… back to the civilization of Killeen, Texas. Jeesh almighty… how far have things gone in my life, when I can say that a place like Killeen is civilized.
10:30am - The vehicles were almost filled to capacity, and the garage was still full. I left after Kristie assured me she and Brice were gonna go get a trailer.
11am - I went the four miles back to my apartment, and sat down and breathed. I was hoping to get a phone call from a young gal I'd met on-line. I wish I could tell you her name, but she says, "The Canadian Government owns me." She's a 20-year old red head, who's working herself up the ranks of boxing, and says she may qualify for the Olympics in England in 2012. Does this sound like a woman for me, or what?
Noon - I got the call from the Canadian red head and it was great. Details deferred.
1:00pm - I called Kristie, and surprise surprise… she answered. She said Brice was on his way over to pick up the trailer, and that Taumie (my niece) had been admitted to the hospital. I knew she had gone to the doctor's office that morning, to try and find out what was wrong with her, but I had no idea is was so serious that she needed to be 'admitted.'
This is a good time to go back to the beginning (of this story). My sister Jackie, and almost every single one of her offspring, has always required lots of help. That's why some people in my family (all of them except me) have discontinued their emotional and financial offerings. I have never been able to offer them any financial help, but my heart has never stopped me from feeling like it was a good thing for me to help them in any other way that I could.
Now that I'm here with them, and a passenger on their boat-ride from Hell… I finally feel at peace… I have found my home. My dad 'needed to be needed,' and I am the same way. If I am not able to help people (especially family) in some way… I feel alone and empty. Taumie and her family and friends are gifts to me.
1:15pm - I pulled into the visitors' center at Ft. Hood, to get my pass to get on base, to visit Taumie. I had my cribbage board, a brand new deck of cards, and a six-pack.
2:15pm - After 55 minutes waiting in line, I received my pass. That's the good news. That bad news was that I could not get thru the gate on my motorcycle without the 'appropriate attire.' I was in shorts and sandals, not even close to military requirements. I didn't want to join the Army… I just wanted to visit my niece in their hospital.
2:45pm - After leaving the visitors' center, it took me 20 minutes to get out. I hadn't even been allowed to get ON the base, and I had to go through a gate to get OUT. They wanted to check my paperwork, to make sure it was in order. What the fuck? First you won't let me in, and now you won't let me get out?!!!
I am so lucky they stopped the draft just before my number came up. I would've been a whole lot of trouble for the commanders of 'This Man's Army.' Remember Steve McQueen, in "The Great Escape"? That would've been me. And I woulda been on their side… for god's sakes.
3:00pm - Instead of going home for my 'proper attire,' I decided to take a short detour, and go by Kristie's to see if she and Brice could use any help loading the trailer. When I got there, no one was home. I was snickering at myself as I punched the numbers to call them, but I went thru the process anyway. First Taumie… I didn't even bother leaving a message for her… she doesn't listen to them.
Kristie… no answer… left a message. Brice… left a message. Brynn… once again, my heroine, tells me the rental place didn't have any trailers, so Kristie and Brice were unloading the 12' truck, and moving everything into a 16' one.
I wandered next door, and rocked Brynn's youngest daughter (Geralynn… my great grand niece) for while, waiting for Cheri (Brynn's sister) to call back with directions for me to get to the truck rental place, so I could help these poor bastards who were too lame to answer their phones.
3:15pm - I gave up and called Cheri. She gave me very clear and understandable directions and I was on the road.
3:20pm - Stopped off at my house for more beer and appropriate attire. Don't worry, you'll get a full description of what that means, in a minute.
3:30pm - Dropped of one of my resumes at a potential employers business.
3:45pm - Arrived at Penske's U-Haul just as Brice and Kristie were leaving. They'd gotten help and were already done with the switch over. PHONES people? Have you ever heard of communicating with people who are trying to help you? Jeesh… my work here is only just beginning. These people have so much to learn.
Etiquette and decorum… yeah… that's gonna work out just peachy. They're gonna latch onto those concepts and run… like hell away from me.
4:00pm - Got pulled over by a City Cop, for sharing a lane with another car. I'd been told that it was 'frowned on,' but NOT illegal. This cop told me something different than the other cop I'd asked. Yes, it's legal to share a lane… with another bike… not another car. I think he pulled me over cuz I split/ shared the lane just as the light at the intersection turned green, and hit it just right, and he was bored.
I'll get back to ya'all about this one. Now I am really curious… I love Texas…
… Maybe BECAUSE… it's so totally different from Santa Cruz (California). Oh… the cop told me he gave me, "The break of all breaks," and gave me a warning. I politely thanked him, and told him I'd never share a lane with a car again, while to myself I was thinking… I need to confirm what the fucking law is, or isn't, in Texas. This is a challenge for me now. It's the principal of the thing. Can you share a lane, or can't you? Or is it up to the individual cop to decide. I may have to stop wearing sandals and swimming trunks around town, if that's gonna be a red flag to these rednecks. Get it… red flag… red necks…
4:15pm - Arrived again at the front gate of Ft. Hood. I pulled over just outside the gate, and started putting on my appropriate attire. First I slipped out of my sandals and pulled my jean up over my swimming trunks. Then I took off my tank top and put on my long sleeved shirt. Then my boots (no socks), then my helmet and gloves.
4:30pm - Now I was parked (again) by the side of the gate, waiting for them to check my paperwork. The gatekeeper had already told me that my tie-dye shirt was not bright enough, so I was pulling out my tank top, to put on over the top of it, when he asked me about my glasses. I said, "What about my (didn't say fucking) glasses?", and he said, "They're not appropriate."
If I'd been as tipsy then as I am now, I'm sure I wouldn't be typing this story right now. The other 'gate-keeper' had specifically told me the first time I'd been asked to step to the side of the road and wait for further directions, that the glasses I'd been wearing WERE 'appropriate.' So… I chuckled out loud, and instead of giving him a reason to check my breath for alcohol… I said, "OK... fine"
As I started to take my jeans off, I heard a loud whistle and a voice… "Sir, you cannot take your clothes off here." What? All I was doing was doing the exact opposite of what I'd done 15 minutes earlier on the other side of the gate. This REALLY cracked me up, and I heard at least one of the gatekeepers laugh when I laughed.
This Mans Army… clearly, they do not want my kind.
Oh… the proper attire: " Shoes over the ankles; full length pants; long sleeved shirt (either 'brightly colored by someone's definition or); a reflective vest; a helmet; full fingered gloves; and… this is the one that kept me out… WRAP AROUND eye protection."
I think they just didn't like my tie-dye.
5:00pm - Back at Kristie's to share my saga and beer.
6:00pm - Back at home to write this story.
7pm - Story complete. 8pm - Edit complete. THE END. NO REVISIONS ALLOWED.
