Yesterday I'm on my way to an audition downtown. I left home early because of the snow, and I was on the Green Line train.
There was a young man with his headphones on, listening to LL Cool J...yes, I knew the cut...He had it cranked up as high in his ears as it would go, and it brought no peace to the folks around him. Across the aisle, there was a mom and her young son; he was probably 3-4 years old.
All of a sudden, he jumps out of his seat next to his mother and runs to the music man with the headphones. He pats him on the knees. The young man looked down and the kid says loudly for everyone to hear, I kid you not:
"TURN THAT FUCKING THING DOWN!!!"
Once it was apparent what he said, EVERYONE started laughing. The young man look at the mom, stupified. Mom grabbed her son and pulled him back to the seat. The young man look at her and shouted "What the fuck is that???"
A man up the aisle said with a chuckle in his voice "You heard him. Turn that fucking thing down!" Again everyone started laughing. The young man grabbed his belongings and moved swiftly to the other end of the train car.
Out of the mouths of babes...
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Group Post: The Day....
It was forever memorable. This is a true story.
I walked into the clinic. There were endless young girls and their mothers, their boyfriends, all seemingly bawling their eyes out. I had filled out the forms required and sat down, waiting my turn. After sitting for nearly 30 minutes, a short black woman who reminded me a lot of Moms Mabley, a legendary black comedian…floppy hat, gravelly voice, no teeth, full of good humor and laughter…walked out with a clipboard.
“Uh…Mistah Ronjazz?” I stood up. She smiled a toothless grin. “Follow me, sir.” And we went in to a small back office just off to the right of the reception area. She examined what information I had shared, asking the prequisite questions, insurance, etc.
Then the interview began in earnest.
“So.” She said, pausing for effect. I do my best to write in her speech, meaning absolutely no offense to anyone reading here. “Mah name is Joyce.” We shook hands. Hers were strong and wellworn. “…Now…It say heah that you don’ want no li’l babies. Is dat right?”
Just hearing her speak to me was positive, because her tone was so relaxed, so nonchalant. And funny. One of those ‘anchored funny’ people. I said yes, and I shared with her my reasons. Lifelong, well thought out reasons. She wrote a few things as I spoke. Took a long pause when I finished. Finally she said “…Well…I’ll buy dat…You don't sound stupid, I'll give you dat...” We both chuckled. Upon completion, we shook hands and I was asked to wait back in the lobby. Again I sat waiting for about 15 minutes more. The waiting area was not comfortable…too much pain and anger going on. It was a women’s clinic, and the only one at the time that would accept my HMO through the actors union. Actors are regarded as one of the most high-risk groups in the world, mostly because of the AIDS epidemic at the time.
Joyce finally came back out and gave me an appointment card. “Okay, young man…de doctah will see you Saturday mornin’ at 7:00. Bring wit you an extra-extra large at-a-letic support.” And that was that.
Saturday morning arrived. I admit to being nervous, no matter how easy the procedure was supposed to be. I was 40 years old and this was way overdue. After checking in, I sat in the lobby, almost in the same chair as before. Since it was a weekend (or despite it), it was more filled than before. I sat for nearly another 30 minutes – efficiency was not this clinic’s strong suit – when I heard loudly and almost boisterously “YO! Mistah RONJAAAAAZZZ!” Scared the hell out of me and woke the room up. I stood up and walked toward her.
In front of all these people in the lobby, she said “Did you bring yo’ support?” Shocking pause. First thing that came to mind: “Oh yeah, Joyce, she’s in the car.” Everyone laughs. Joyce waves at me to come on back.
I was given a gown and told to change and wait. Dutifully I did so. And then it was another 45-minute wait. Fuck. Finally…finally the doctor came in and we greeted each other. He took the time, thankfully, to explain what he was going to do, step by step. Then we went into gear.
I took off the gown and laid down on the operating table. All kinds of mirrors, up and down, ostensibly so the doctor could use them in ‘other’ procedures. For me, he simply said “Ron, you can watch if you like.”
Do I want to watch the doctor cut into my balls??? Would you???
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Doc: “Yes?” Guess who walked in.
“Doctah…I had a little time. And I ain’t nevah seen dis done. You mind if I watch?”
He laughed heartily and looked at me. “Well, Ron, what do you think?”
WHAT DO I THINK??? Well, it was different than what I said, I promise you that….
“SURE, Joyce, come on in. The more the merrier…” They both laughed. I had a captive audience. Whoopee.
And so it went. I was numbed locally and he began his work. Joyce pulled a chair up…yes, she was fucking ringside…At one point, she literally leaned over me to look across the table at what the doctor was doing. I could feel her tits on me, like two water balloons just waiting to burst. She looked at my cock and then back at me: “Ron, dat’s GOOOD…” Smiling.
I said “NOW you want me?” She laughed out loud. The doctor said “Don’t make me laugh too hard, Ron, I have these tools here in my hands, you know…”
The whole procedure did, indeed, take less than ten minutes. I went to change clothes and yes, put my jock strap on. Washed up and went out into the lobby. Waiting on Joyce. I had to wait until I got my insurance card back with a receipt for payment of services.
Joyce came out. Gave me everything, along with instructions for my self-care. Then, as we shook hands, she whispered in my ear:
“Mistah Ronjazz…..you have fun, you hear?” I whispered back “Honey, you have my number. Call me in six weeks!” She let out a delighted whoop, as we hugged each other. “HAPPY NEW YEAR, son!!!” And she laughed herself back into the office, disappearing into memory.
The story of my vasectomy…The day was December 31, 1995. Just a happenstance, the date was. The rest, as they say, is history.
Happy New Year, Joyce.
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
Go read my friends, too:
Petal http://secretlifeofaslummymummy.blogspot.com/
Kink Chronicles www.thekinkchronicles.blogspot.com
Autumn http://www.autumnmistspeaks.blogspot.com
Veronica http://anothersuburbanmom.blogspot.com
Ms Scarlett http://msscarlettletter.blogspot.com
Hubman http://hubmanshangout.wordpress.com/
Aurore http://dangerousliaisons-aurore.blogspot.com/
Mykeyman: Www.outsidevanilla.blogspot.com
Gray: Http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
Advizor: advizortoall.blogspot.com
Duchess: http://theduchessissexy.blogspot.com
FG Sakes: http://fgsakes.blogspot.com
Topaz: http://topaz-gemology.blogspot.com
They belong to us: http://theybelongtous.wordpress.com
Kimberly: http://yourerrantwife.blogspot.com
I walked into the clinic. There were endless young girls and their mothers, their boyfriends, all seemingly bawling their eyes out. I had filled out the forms required and sat down, waiting my turn. After sitting for nearly 30 minutes, a short black woman who reminded me a lot of Moms Mabley, a legendary black comedian…floppy hat, gravelly voice, no teeth, full of good humor and laughter…walked out with a clipboard.
“Uh…Mistah Ronjazz?” I stood up. She smiled a toothless grin. “Follow me, sir.” And we went in to a small back office just off to the right of the reception area. She examined what information I had shared, asking the prequisite questions, insurance, etc.
Then the interview began in earnest.
“So.” She said, pausing for effect. I do my best to write in her speech, meaning absolutely no offense to anyone reading here. “Mah name is Joyce.” We shook hands. Hers were strong and wellworn. “…Now…It say heah that you don’ want no li’l babies. Is dat right?”
Just hearing her speak to me was positive, because her tone was so relaxed, so nonchalant. And funny. One of those ‘anchored funny’ people. I said yes, and I shared with her my reasons. Lifelong, well thought out reasons. She wrote a few things as I spoke. Took a long pause when I finished. Finally she said “…Well…I’ll buy dat…You don't sound stupid, I'll give you dat...” We both chuckled. Upon completion, we shook hands and I was asked to wait back in the lobby. Again I sat waiting for about 15 minutes more. The waiting area was not comfortable…too much pain and anger going on. It was a women’s clinic, and the only one at the time that would accept my HMO through the actors union. Actors are regarded as one of the most high-risk groups in the world, mostly because of the AIDS epidemic at the time.
Joyce finally came back out and gave me an appointment card. “Okay, young man…de doctah will see you Saturday mornin’ at 7:00. Bring wit you an extra-extra large at-a-letic support.” And that was that.
Saturday morning arrived. I admit to being nervous, no matter how easy the procedure was supposed to be. I was 40 years old and this was way overdue. After checking in, I sat in the lobby, almost in the same chair as before. Since it was a weekend (or despite it), it was more filled than before. I sat for nearly another 30 minutes – efficiency was not this clinic’s strong suit – when I heard loudly and almost boisterously “YO! Mistah RONJAAAAAZZZ!” Scared the hell out of me and woke the room up. I stood up and walked toward her.
In front of all these people in the lobby, she said “Did you bring yo’ support?” Shocking pause. First thing that came to mind: “Oh yeah, Joyce, she’s in the car.” Everyone laughs. Joyce waves at me to come on back.
I was given a gown and told to change and wait. Dutifully I did so. And then it was another 45-minute wait. Fuck. Finally…finally the doctor came in and we greeted each other. He took the time, thankfully, to explain what he was going to do, step by step. Then we went into gear.
I took off the gown and laid down on the operating table. All kinds of mirrors, up and down, ostensibly so the doctor could use them in ‘other’ procedures. For me, he simply said “Ron, you can watch if you like.”
Do I want to watch the doctor cut into my balls??? Would you???
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Doc: “Yes?” Guess who walked in.
“Doctah…I had a little time. And I ain’t nevah seen dis done. You mind if I watch?”
He laughed heartily and looked at me. “Well, Ron, what do you think?”
WHAT DO I THINK??? Well, it was different than what I said, I promise you that….
“SURE, Joyce, come on in. The more the merrier…” They both laughed. I had a captive audience. Whoopee.
And so it went. I was numbed locally and he began his work. Joyce pulled a chair up…yes, she was fucking ringside…At one point, she literally leaned over me to look across the table at what the doctor was doing. I could feel her tits on me, like two water balloons just waiting to burst. She looked at my cock and then back at me: “Ron, dat’s GOOOD…” Smiling.
I said “NOW you want me?” She laughed out loud. The doctor said “Don’t make me laugh too hard, Ron, I have these tools here in my hands, you know…”
The whole procedure did, indeed, take less than ten minutes. I went to change clothes and yes, put my jock strap on. Washed up and went out into the lobby. Waiting on Joyce. I had to wait until I got my insurance card back with a receipt for payment of services.
Joyce came out. Gave me everything, along with instructions for my self-care. Then, as we shook hands, she whispered in my ear:
“Mistah Ronjazz…..you have fun, you hear?” I whispered back “Honey, you have my number. Call me in six weeks!” She let out a delighted whoop, as we hugged each other. “HAPPY NEW YEAR, son!!!” And she laughed herself back into the office, disappearing into memory.
The story of my vasectomy…The day was December 31, 1995. Just a happenstance, the date was. The rest, as they say, is history.
Happy New Year, Joyce.
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
Go read my friends, too:
Petal http://secretlifeofaslummymummy.blogspot.com/
Kink Chronicles www.thekinkchronicles.blogspot.com
Autumn http://www.autumnmistspeaks.blogspot.com
Veronica http://anothersuburbanmom.blogspot.com
Ms Scarlett http://msscarlettletter.blogspot.com
Hubman http://hubmanshangout.wordpress.com/
Aurore http://dangerousliaisons-aurore.blogspot.com/
Mykeyman: Www.outsidevanilla.blogspot.com
Gray: Http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
Advizor: advizortoall.blogspot.com
Duchess: http://theduchessissexy.blogspot.com
FG Sakes: http://fgsakes.blogspot.com
Topaz: http://topaz-gemology.blogspot.com
They belong to us: http://theybelongtous.wordpress.com
Kimberly: http://yourerrantwife.blogspot.com
Monday, February 15, 2010
"I can't regulate morality...."
Well...that's not necessarily true. Governments do it all the time. But when I read this in the Chicago Sun-Times this morning, I chuckled. Take a look....
___________________________________
A Melrose Park pornography bookstore -- run with the help of a former crooked cop with ties to the mob -- offers a party room in the back where couples and singles have multiple sex partners as part of organized, late-night sessions.
It costs $30 or more per person to get in to the party room at 15th Avenue Adult Books, run for months out on a nondescript building in an industrial area. Guests can linger at chairs and tables or get up on a stage and partake in the activities, according to people familiar with the business.
Finger foods, such as chicken wings, are provided. They also offer drinks.
And despite months of investigation by local and county officials, there's apparently nothing illegal about it.
One of the people behind the business is Robert Urbinati, a former Franklin Park police officer, who runs the business with his wife. Urbinati was sentenced in 2002 to 33 months in prison for taking $500 in bribes each month from the mob to protect a lucrative video poker gambling operation.
Urbinati, 68, also allegedly was an Outfit message man, reportedly passing communications between two high-ranking mobsters, the late Anthony Centracchio and the onetime head of the Chicago Outfit, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello, now in prison after being convicted of racketeering and other crimes in the historic Family Secrets mob case.
Centracchio made the news in 2001 when it was revealed the geriatric mobster was caught on a secret FBI video recording having sex with a younger employee at the abortion clinic he ran.
As for Urbinati, "my client has done his time, and now he's moved on to the second phase of his life," said well-known criminal defense attorney Joseph "The Shark" Lopez, who has represented many alleged mobsters.
Urbinati could not be reached for comment.
Lopez stressed that there was no prostitution at the business, and no illegal drugs, just consenting adults doing their own thing. The party room is used for other activities too, Lopez said, like bachelor parties.
"No different than the Sybaris, except more people," Lopez argued, referring to the motel chain where couples go for romantic weekends.
Since last year, the Cook County sheriff's police has sent in undercover officers on several occasions and found nothing illegal happening, a spokesman said.
Melrose Park Mayor Ronald M. Serpico said he'd rather not have the business in his town but there's nothing he can do about it. His own police have investigated it and called in the Cook County sheriff for assistance. The Cook County Department of Public Health investigated and found no issues, Serpico said.
"Is it fun for us? Absolutely not," Serpico said.
"Do I want to be having this conversation with you?" the mayor asked. "I'd rather be talking about the Super Bowl."
The pornography bookstore meets village zoning requirements for such businesses, which were set up after Melrose Park was sued in federal court over the issue.
Serpico argued that the vast majority of Melrose Park residents don't even know the business is there or what goes on there, given its location.
"It couldn't be further away from civilization," Serpico said. "Not one resident has called to complain."
The mayor said he did not know who was running the bookstore until recently.
When asked if he had qualms about a onetime associate of organized crime helping operate a business in his town, Serpico said no, adding, "I can't control what somebody has done in the past."
The bookstore "is what it is," Serpico said. "I can't regulate morality."
___________________________________
A Melrose Park pornography bookstore -- run with the help of a former crooked cop with ties to the mob -- offers a party room in the back where couples and singles have multiple sex partners as part of organized, late-night sessions.
It costs $30 or more per person to get in to the party room at 15th Avenue Adult Books, run for months out on a nondescript building in an industrial area. Guests can linger at chairs and tables or get up on a stage and partake in the activities, according to people familiar with the business.
Finger foods, such as chicken wings, are provided. They also offer drinks.
And despite months of investigation by local and county officials, there's apparently nothing illegal about it.
One of the people behind the business is Robert Urbinati, a former Franklin Park police officer, who runs the business with his wife. Urbinati was sentenced in 2002 to 33 months in prison for taking $500 in bribes each month from the mob to protect a lucrative video poker gambling operation.
Urbinati, 68, also allegedly was an Outfit message man, reportedly passing communications between two high-ranking mobsters, the late Anthony Centracchio and the onetime head of the Chicago Outfit, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello, now in prison after being convicted of racketeering and other crimes in the historic Family Secrets mob case.
Centracchio made the news in 2001 when it was revealed the geriatric mobster was caught on a secret FBI video recording having sex with a younger employee at the abortion clinic he ran.
As for Urbinati, "my client has done his time, and now he's moved on to the second phase of his life," said well-known criminal defense attorney Joseph "The Shark" Lopez, who has represented many alleged mobsters.
Urbinati could not be reached for comment.
Lopez stressed that there was no prostitution at the business, and no illegal drugs, just consenting adults doing their own thing. The party room is used for other activities too, Lopez said, like bachelor parties.
"No different than the Sybaris, except more people," Lopez argued, referring to the motel chain where couples go for romantic weekends.
Since last year, the Cook County sheriff's police has sent in undercover officers on several occasions and found nothing illegal happening, a spokesman said.
Melrose Park Mayor Ronald M. Serpico said he'd rather not have the business in his town but there's nothing he can do about it. His own police have investigated it and called in the Cook County sheriff for assistance. The Cook County Department of Public Health investigated and found no issues, Serpico said.
"Is it fun for us? Absolutely not," Serpico said.
"Do I want to be having this conversation with you?" the mayor asked. "I'd rather be talking about the Super Bowl."
The pornography bookstore meets village zoning requirements for such businesses, which were set up after Melrose Park was sued in federal court over the issue.
Serpico argued that the vast majority of Melrose Park residents don't even know the business is there or what goes on there, given its location.
"It couldn't be further away from civilization," Serpico said. "Not one resident has called to complain."
The mayor said he did not know who was running the bookstore until recently.
When asked if he had qualms about a onetime associate of organized crime helping operate a business in his town, Serpico said no, adding, "I can't control what somebody has done in the past."
The bookstore "is what it is," Serpico said. "I can't regulate morality."
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Valentine
Just a thank you to all my friends here...
For allowing me to offer myself to you in the way I wish.
For coming along with me on a strangely wonderful trip.
For offering what you can to encourage me along the way.
For accepting that I am who and what I say I am, even with the bumps in the road.
For being available for counsel; for take my own encouragement in a positive way.
And most of all...For being my friends.
Hope it's a wonderful day, you sex gods and goddesses.
For allowing me to offer myself to you in the way I wish.
For coming along with me on a strangely wonderful trip.
For offering what you can to encourage me along the way.
For accepting that I am who and what I say I am, even with the bumps in the road.
For being available for counsel; for take my own encouragement in a positive way.
And most of all...For being my friends.
Hope it's a wonderful day, you sex gods and goddesses.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
What Makes You Tick?
A hot new friend, heelsnstocking, dropped me a note and asked this question. Go read her...she is nothing but FUN and more!
_________________
What makes me tick? So many things. What a great question. Okay, here we go...In no real order, but just as they come to mind.
Creativity. People who have it, who own it, who utilize it in their daily lives. I personally feel quite an affinity for those who have the ability to weave and build and make something, whether tangible or esoteric, and have something to say. Like to think I have that in me to offer the world.
Physicality. I need to touch. I do it every day with the people in my life. It's an energy for me that I can't easily explain, but it is real and powerful. I shake a hand. I pat a back. I stroke an arm. I offer myself in the same way. To touch means that I am IN touch with the world around me as well as with who I am as a man.
Risk. I've said in my blog ad nauseum that we all need to take chances in life in order to grow. And we find that growth in the results of taking the risk. How a person can sit quietly at the table with a pat hand without throwing a little in the kitty is beyond me. Yes, at this point in my life, I have a few limitations, both physically and emotionally, that I have to take time to work through. But the desire to continue the search, to push the envelope, well, that will always be in me. And I crave those people in life to surround me.
Passion. How one can live in life without the passion to be bold, to search, to learn new things is anathema to me. And yes, pursuing my passions has cost me some. Got my first job as an actor in 1970 at 15. Forty years later (something that I'm very proud of and is almost unheard of in my business), I"m still strong and energetic and vital and wanting so many things. When I find those things that satisfy the passions I have, I work hard to cultivate them. It will always be a part of who I am. I plan on having sex in some form right up to the day I die...which is another forty years that I'm aiming for at the very least.
Openness/Intimacy. There is nothing more satisfying in life than finding true intimacy with a kindred soul. I believe that we gravitate to those folks, that we all find each other eventually...the trick is in recognizing who they are. And when I mention intimacy, I speak of much more than just sex, just as I believe that real openness between people is more than just fucking who we choose. Real intimacy is both a truly one-on-one experience between two people AND an all-encompassing attitude of what touches you and how you need to keep yourself truly open to achieve such a thing. For me, they are one and the same. I know for a fact that there are very few people with my attitudes. Yet I have been able, in some way, to arrive at such an understanding with many folks in our blogging sphere, for instance, and most of them I will never physically meet. You are now one of those people that I want to find that feeling with...and we all need it in some way.
Friendship. Maybe this most of all, Scarecrow...lol.. You know, I've never really had a best friend. There is no one in my life that I have ever had the privilege of sharing all my secrets with. Instead, I'm like a bartender with the desire to invest in the people who arrive in my life. Just as I touch, I also need the emotional and spiritual interplay. That again entails take chances with people. And yes, even in friendship, we make our mistakes and get our hearts affected. But the rewards of taking those chances with people, by allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, are endless.
How's that? Oh, yes....and my sexual appetite is wide and varied like yours, heels. Ever been flogged yet?....
Smile...
_________________
What makes me tick? So many things. What a great question. Okay, here we go...In no real order, but just as they come to mind.
Creativity. People who have it, who own it, who utilize it in their daily lives. I personally feel quite an affinity for those who have the ability to weave and build and make something, whether tangible or esoteric, and have something to say. Like to think I have that in me to offer the world.
Physicality. I need to touch. I do it every day with the people in my life. It's an energy for me that I can't easily explain, but it is real and powerful. I shake a hand. I pat a back. I stroke an arm. I offer myself in the same way. To touch means that I am IN touch with the world around me as well as with who I am as a man.
Risk. I've said in my blog ad nauseum that we all need to take chances in life in order to grow. And we find that growth in the results of taking the risk. How a person can sit quietly at the table with a pat hand without throwing a little in the kitty is beyond me. Yes, at this point in my life, I have a few limitations, both physically and emotionally, that I have to take time to work through. But the desire to continue the search, to push the envelope, well, that will always be in me. And I crave those people in life to surround me.
Passion. How one can live in life without the passion to be bold, to search, to learn new things is anathema to me. And yes, pursuing my passions has cost me some. Got my first job as an actor in 1970 at 15. Forty years later (something that I'm very proud of and is almost unheard of in my business), I"m still strong and energetic and vital and wanting so many things. When I find those things that satisfy the passions I have, I work hard to cultivate them. It will always be a part of who I am. I plan on having sex in some form right up to the day I die...which is another forty years that I'm aiming for at the very least.
Openness/Intimacy. There is nothing more satisfying in life than finding true intimacy with a kindred soul. I believe that we gravitate to those folks, that we all find each other eventually...the trick is in recognizing who they are. And when I mention intimacy, I speak of much more than just sex, just as I believe that real openness between people is more than just fucking who we choose. Real intimacy is both a truly one-on-one experience between two people AND an all-encompassing attitude of what touches you and how you need to keep yourself truly open to achieve such a thing. For me, they are one and the same. I know for a fact that there are very few people with my attitudes. Yet I have been able, in some way, to arrive at such an understanding with many folks in our blogging sphere, for instance, and most of them I will never physically meet. You are now one of those people that I want to find that feeling with...and we all need it in some way.
Friendship. Maybe this most of all, Scarecrow...lol.. You know, I've never really had a best friend. There is no one in my life that I have ever had the privilege of sharing all my secrets with. Instead, I'm like a bartender with the desire to invest in the people who arrive in my life. Just as I touch, I also need the emotional and spiritual interplay. That again entails take chances with people. And yes, even in friendship, we make our mistakes and get our hearts affected. But the rewards of taking those chances with people, by allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, are endless.
How's that? Oh, yes....and my sexual appetite is wide and varied like yours, heels. Ever been flogged yet?....
Smile...
Thursday, February 4, 2010
HNT ???
I always admire all you gorgeous women and the guys with more courage than me to offer something for HNT. I took my first pic the other day and am trying to find my OWN courage to post it. Shared it with a couple of folks who were encouraging, but I haven't yet found my way.
Just a curiosity that the adventurer in me is considering following through. Would any of you be interested?
Just a curiosity that the adventurer in me is considering following through. Would any of you be interested?
Monday, February 1, 2010
Dad
I"ll get back to the fun stuff next time. Right now, I'm a bit challenged. This is always, always a painful day. So I ask your indulgence as I get all this out of the way, and I won't bother you with it again.
Today is my father's birthday. He reaches 80 today; you get that far only once. He is a very private, protective man who simply does not know how to let people in. We are absolute opposites. Over the years, I have reached out to him in whatever way will work.
And nothing does. Because my father never knew how to be a father.
He was a uniquely brilliant man in his prime, who allowed life to intimidate him thoroughly. A Marine who reached the rank of master sergeant. He helped on the assembly line in a military unit as part of those who developed the engine for the Mustang jet, one of the prime jet fighters in the 50s. Was in the service for eight years. I remember as a 5-year-old boy seeing him come home in his uniform with all the stripes. He never kept it...I never saw it again after that day.
He was a milkman, believe it or not. Worked for twenty years on home routes, business routes, school routes, driving cattle cross-country for the dairy company. One day, he was offered the opportunity of a lifetime. A promotion as the deputy district manager. Tripling his salary. Changing his life in a positive, forward way.
He turned it down.
My mother did not understand it. She badgered him for weeks. Making fun, calling him names, as my mother was the dominant personality in the house. Oh, wait until I tell you her story in July on HER 80th birthday...Anyway, it was one night at the dinner table that apparently did it. She was complaining on the subject again, apparently. And he didn't have any courage or fortitude to hold it in any longer. He told her in a hurried voice:
"I didn't take the damned job because I can't READ."
My father couldn't read. And it explained so much about how I grew up. We'd be at the dinner table. He'd have the paper in front of him, turning pages, seemingly reading. Every once in a while, he'd look at me, point at a picture and say "I don't have my glasses, what's that say?" So I'd tell him and he'd launch on a tirade about something he didn't understand verbally, most on the Vietnam War...I remember that he didn't sign my college applications. I had to forge his signature because, in his words..."I didn't go and I turned out all right. We can't afford it." I always thought it was because he didn't like me. I thoroughly intimidated him, and I didn't even know it.
We went to one movie once. We went on a picnic once, and he threw a ball to my brother. No one in my family has ever seen me work as an actor. Forty years, since I was 15. That's embarrassing and very painful.
Lots of stories. A fistfight between us. So many times, it became hard to deal with, so when people would ask about my family, I would simply say that they were gone. So I didn't feel the need to pour it out, as I have here to you...But I'm almost done, friend, I promise.
Last time I saw my father was in December 1993. I brought presents that he couldn't open. I made dinner that he didn't like. I...well, anyway, it got to be around 9:00 PM, and it was obviously that he couldn't deal...and by the end of the evening, neither could I. So I say goodbye and drove out to the hotel I was staying at...yes, I stayed at a hotel in my hometown. Hopped in my car and drove back to Chicago, five hours. Got home around 2:30 AM.
I've tried every year. On his birthday or at the holidays. He just doesn't know how. I pour all this out, because the computer screen can be empathetic in that regard, at least to a point. But in the end, I think my upbringing, along with my job, taught me to create family in my life in the best way I know how. I don't dwell on it...it's just too exhausting. But every once in a while, we all need to unburden. You all, as my blogging family, can always simply click past this rambling and move on. I'll never know.
But my father knows. And I will call as I always do, leaving my number for the umpteenth time in an attempt to fill a void. And he will leave it unanswered, just as if I hadn't called at all.
THIS is why I refuse to live my life in fear. THIS is why I live my own life so hard, so openly, with all its warts and all its surprises. Because on the other side of all this lies my father, who has been frozen all his life.
It hurts. Always. But I live with it. We all have our ways. Happy birthday, Dad.
Thank you, friend, for listening. You may now return to your day...
Today is my father's birthday. He reaches 80 today; you get that far only once. He is a very private, protective man who simply does not know how to let people in. We are absolute opposites. Over the years, I have reached out to him in whatever way will work.
And nothing does. Because my father never knew how to be a father.
He was a uniquely brilliant man in his prime, who allowed life to intimidate him thoroughly. A Marine who reached the rank of master sergeant. He helped on the assembly line in a military unit as part of those who developed the engine for the Mustang jet, one of the prime jet fighters in the 50s. Was in the service for eight years. I remember as a 5-year-old boy seeing him come home in his uniform with all the stripes. He never kept it...I never saw it again after that day.
He was a milkman, believe it or not. Worked for twenty years on home routes, business routes, school routes, driving cattle cross-country for the dairy company. One day, he was offered the opportunity of a lifetime. A promotion as the deputy district manager. Tripling his salary. Changing his life in a positive, forward way.
He turned it down.
My mother did not understand it. She badgered him for weeks. Making fun, calling him names, as my mother was the dominant personality in the house. Oh, wait until I tell you her story in July on HER 80th birthday...Anyway, it was one night at the dinner table that apparently did it. She was complaining on the subject again, apparently. And he didn't have any courage or fortitude to hold it in any longer. He told her in a hurried voice:
"I didn't take the damned job because I can't READ."
My father couldn't read. And it explained so much about how I grew up. We'd be at the dinner table. He'd have the paper in front of him, turning pages, seemingly reading. Every once in a while, he'd look at me, point at a picture and say "I don't have my glasses, what's that say?" So I'd tell him and he'd launch on a tirade about something he didn't understand verbally, most on the Vietnam War...I remember that he didn't sign my college applications. I had to forge his signature because, in his words..."I didn't go and I turned out all right. We can't afford it." I always thought it was because he didn't like me. I thoroughly intimidated him, and I didn't even know it.
We went to one movie once. We went on a picnic once, and he threw a ball to my brother. No one in my family has ever seen me work as an actor. Forty years, since I was 15. That's embarrassing and very painful.
Lots of stories. A fistfight between us. So many times, it became hard to deal with, so when people would ask about my family, I would simply say that they were gone. So I didn't feel the need to pour it out, as I have here to you...But I'm almost done, friend, I promise.
Last time I saw my father was in December 1993. I brought presents that he couldn't open. I made dinner that he didn't like. I...well, anyway, it got to be around 9:00 PM, and it was obviously that he couldn't deal...and by the end of the evening, neither could I. So I say goodbye and drove out to the hotel I was staying at...yes, I stayed at a hotel in my hometown. Hopped in my car and drove back to Chicago, five hours. Got home around 2:30 AM.
I've tried every year. On his birthday or at the holidays. He just doesn't know how. I pour all this out, because the computer screen can be empathetic in that regard, at least to a point. But in the end, I think my upbringing, along with my job, taught me to create family in my life in the best way I know how. I don't dwell on it...it's just too exhausting. But every once in a while, we all need to unburden. You all, as my blogging family, can always simply click past this rambling and move on. I'll never know.
But my father knows. And I will call as I always do, leaving my number for the umpteenth time in an attempt to fill a void. And he will leave it unanswered, just as if I hadn't called at all.
THIS is why I refuse to live my life in fear. THIS is why I live my own life so hard, so openly, with all its warts and all its surprises. Because on the other side of all this lies my father, who has been frozen all his life.
It hurts. Always. But I live with it. We all have our ways. Happy birthday, Dad.
Thank you, friend, for listening. You may now return to your day...
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