Blog on Boys Part 1 (B.O.B. P1) Rated G, for all audiences.
When I think of my oldest sons, I recount the blessings that they have given to me. I have thought of them often today, Thanksgiving. I miss them, probably more now that I have ever missed them (which is more than I can bear to tell right now). They are a part of my life that I wish there was more of. Since they have started driving and graduated, I haven’t made the trip to Lapeer to see them, I rely on them to come here. I have Jimi’s cell number, AJ’s no longer works. They have moved from the house where we so often picked them up for visits and I no longer know where they live. I email them from time to time, the phone is more reliable but even that goes to voicemail most of the time. I miss my sons and I love them, let me tell you why.
I guess I will have to start at the beginning. It is not an easy tale, not always a pleasant one, but as I remember it, there were a lot of good things going on, a lot of nice times spent with these boys and, yes, with their mother. It is easier to remember it that way, less hard on the heart. Others like to focus on the negative but we don’t see the good when we do that. Today I’ll try to keep focused on the good things. Lets get started.
I met Chris at her open house. I crashed the party, sailing in to drink beer on the coat tails of a co-worker, Steve. Steve has such a common name that I can give the whole thing here, but why make things easy. His name is the same as a band member in Journey. He introduced me to Carol and Chris. I don’t remember what happened to Steve that night except that Chris wanted to cheat on him with me. We mashed and made out for a while and the last thing I remember is holding Chris’ hand while passing out on her bedroom floor. She and Steve were in the bed. (Something auspicious about this beginning, however I am having difficulty putting my finger on it).
She dropped Steve. We still worked together (Steve and I, at the mental institution, sometimes working with Carol, she was a nurse there) and he tried to get me beat up one night at the bar, but I outsmarted that move (or out drank it, can’t remember which). He eventually realized that he was better off, after all his divorce from his first wife wasn’t final yet. She (Chris) dropped Steve and I know the reason she did, but that will have to wait for B.O.B. P3..
I lived at my home, she at hers, and I visited often. Beer and other libations were often part of these visits and Carol was often part of the celebrations. She (Carol) spent a lot of time telling me about the virtues of her daughter, how she was good with money, managed it well and was incredibly organized. Chris even planned a trip. We were to go to Mackinaw Island. Finally, we were going to get busy. We went, we shopped and I remember Chris’ cute flannel pajamas. I don’t remember getting lucky.
I kinda moved in with Carol, Chris, and the boys at this point. We shared a room. I remember getting pleurisy while living there and a severe case of abdominal cramps. I must have gotten lucky at this point. I don’t remember who mentioned wedding plans first, probably it was me, but I remember Chris talking a lot about it. See, I had this condition, one usually thought of as a female condition. I wanted babies. I needed desperately to have children; it was my overwhelming desire and my only ambition at that time. So I agreed and we were wed.
We weren’t well off, I was making decent money but we weren’t rich. We lived in an apartment in town, but we didn’t spend much time there, Chris liked to be near her mom. We found a house about three months after we were married. Out in the country but close to mom’s. German road. It was a single story with a basement. The basement was half finished and the main floor had paneling in the dining room and living room that had the stripe going the wrong way, horizontally. It was there that she became pregnant with Jimi. He was born in a clear January night, I was there and I remember how beautiful he was. Chris shared the beauty with him and everything was perfect in the world. Going home January 3rd, I saw the longest shooting star I had ever seen streaking straight down in the western sky. They came home from the hospital quickly; both quite healthy, and the routine began. I would work afternoons and take care of Jimi in the mornings and my days off. Chris shopped for all of the things she didn’t get in the showers.
When Jimi was about one, I got laid off for the first time. I spent everyday of that lay off with him. A few of the nights were spent boozing, but I almost always waited till he went to bed (or at least after dinner) before beginning. We played, rode bike and walked all the time. I got work with the state in Saginaw and I began commuting an hour to and from work. The job and commute were hard and I started drinking more, often on the long drive home. One time my co-worker Greg (we worked together at the mental institution, Saginaw State Office Building and the Flint State Office Building) had to fend off a vicious dog while I changed a tire. The whole process would have been quicker if we didn’t take turns with the tire iron so the other could finish his beer.
Chris and I started arguing more, money was tight and the bills kept getting bigger. We stopped sleeping together (that is; less than the twice every six months we had been doing). She spent a lot of time at her mother’s and I spent a lot of time in a bottle. Still, evenings and weekends, I was there for Jimi, playing and being with him was my world. We went a couple of years like that, I transferred to Flint after six months working in Saginaw, it was a lot closer to home and the party never ended there. Money was still tight and we took to burning Kerosene in the winter to ease the Propane bill. One morning I was getting up with Jimi and I warned him not to touch the heater which was already hot. He followed me to the kitchen (I was getting him his breakfast) when he let out a yowl. I thought he’d stumbled into the heater. I ran to him and inspected him carefully. The only thing was a blister on his pointing finger of his right hand. He didn’t believe me when I told him that it was hot and he’d checked it for himself. Jimi always needed guidance like that.
The party at Flint was getting too much for me, too often, too much, and the boys were moving into worse and worse areas. These were places that I knew would kill me (and my addictive personality) if I went there. I got the opportunity to go back to the mental institution and I took it.
I liked being back there and around this time, video tape came out and we’d rented one of those that you had to pick out of a special room. I got lucky and AJ was conceived. He too was born healthy and came home quickly. Jimi was getting used to his big boy bed (dad put him to bed every night) and I had almost forgotten about diapers. Jimi liked having AJ around, they were quite a pair.
I got laid off from Oakdale (mental institution) around this time. Unemployment bought the beer, social services paid the mortgage. Chris was very good about managing the money and secured a new furnace and a new well free of charge during this time. I spent every moment of the summer with my boys, playing in the yard, riding bike, and generally taking the summer off. I got tanned and my boys were growing, there was little else to care about. But as the days grew shorter, my anxiety built.
JTPA, joint training and partnership act, a Reagan trickle down program was suggested to me while I was working for food stamps down at the social security building. They paid for a two year program, books, gas, and tuition; for people who needed retraining due to the current recession. I signed up and my life changed. I started at Mott Community College, with the idea that I was going to be a prison guard. I took a math class and a criminal justice class. Once a lady from Pakistan asked were I was from. I told her Michigan. She said, no, were was I from; originally. I told her that my family was german and british and she walked away confused. Later I realized that my deep tan made me look like I was from India and she was certain that I shared her middle eastern heritage.
I found a job for the state (the only option I was considering) in Port Huron at a rest area. I took it and informed JTPA that because I was working, I would be leaving the program. They didn’t let me and I transferred to St. Clair County Community College. I worked full time and carried a full load in the evenings. It was an hour drive in both directions and college kept me out till around 10 or 11 Monday through Thursday. Still, days off and vacations were full of my two sons. One morning I was on the couch (lots of those mornings now) and Jimi got up early. It was Saturday, so I got him some breakfast and laid back down. He came into the living room, chatty, gibbering, so I turned on the tv. He’d have no part of it and continued to speak and chatter and gibber to a sleepy dad trying to get him up. I wasn’t mad, he was quite amusing. I finally sat up and said, “All you have done this morning Jimi is bitch, bitch, bitch.” He spent the next five minutes repeating the last part of that statement to the delight of his father. I ran down the hall and woke his mother, “Jimi, tell mom what you’ve done all morning,” “Bitch, Bitch, Bitch!” he happily replied.
I remember taking the boys to parks. We’d walk back to the Holloway Lake and walk along the beach. We biked less because there were three of us. I remember playing in the yard. Our dog, Duke. Sitting on the front step as both boys played in the drive or under the front window. I remember when I leaned down to pick up a cigarette I’d dropped and AJ sliding off my back and landing on his face. He got scraped pretty good that time but he handled it like a trooper and the scabs came off his face within a week. They had lots of toys and they were always scattered about. I liked that kind of mess, the kind my boys made.
I have a lot more memories of my two sons, Jimi and AJ. Most of them happen after this time, this chapter in my life. We moved on and our lives did too. I remember snow forts and beach trips and camping with my boys. I remember fishing and walking. We walked and not just down the road but through the woods and over the river and just about anywhere we could. Once, when Jimi was in cub scouts, we needed to find animal tracks. In the creek flats at Grandma Shirley’s house, we found and identified fox tracks. We followed those tracks till we found bunny tracks that intersected the fox tracks. We could tell that there was a struggle; little patches of grey brown bunny hair still littered the scene. From there the fox went on alone with little drops of blood every now and then. We lost the trail finally when the fox came across a deer trail and his prints were obliterated by the troop of hooves. I remember three little boys, one with a broken leg, another with a broken back and the last too exhausted to continue back home (we were only a mile away). “Stay Here,” I cried, “I’ll go for help!” Three confused boys thought of the moments they would spend alone waiting for my return and all three decided that they could make it home. I remember rockets and M.A.S.A. fliers given to all the neighbors about the upcoming flights. Several turned out for the launch. I remember more camping trips, swimming at Ed’s and jumping on the trampoline.
There are so many more memories I have with Jimi and AJ, more than can be recounted here. But most of them are after that eventful day, the day that changed not only my life, but the lives of Chris, Jimi, and AJ.
I think I’ll save that for Part 2.
I guess I will have to start at the beginning. It is not an easy tale, not always a pleasant one, but as I remember it, there were a lot of good things going on, a lot of nice times spent with these boys and, yes, with their mother. It is easier to remember it that way, less hard on the heart. Others like to focus on the negative but we don’t see the good when we do that. Today I’ll try to keep focused on the good things. Lets get started.
I met Chris at her open house. I crashed the party, sailing in to drink beer on the coat tails of a co-worker, Steve. Steve has such a common name that I can give the whole thing here, but why make things easy. His name is the same as a band member in Journey. He introduced me to Carol and Chris. I don’t remember what happened to Steve that night except that Chris wanted to cheat on him with me. We mashed and made out for a while and the last thing I remember is holding Chris’ hand while passing out on her bedroom floor. She and Steve were in the bed. (Something auspicious about this beginning, however I am having difficulty putting my finger on it).
She dropped Steve. We still worked together (Steve and I, at the mental institution, sometimes working with Carol, she was a nurse there) and he tried to get me beat up one night at the bar, but I outsmarted that move (or out drank it, can’t remember which). He eventually realized that he was better off, after all his divorce from his first wife wasn’t final yet. She (Chris) dropped Steve and I know the reason she did, but that will have to wait for B.O.B. P3..
I lived at my home, she at hers, and I visited often. Beer and other libations were often part of these visits and Carol was often part of the celebrations. She (Carol) spent a lot of time telling me about the virtues of her daughter, how she was good with money, managed it well and was incredibly organized. Chris even planned a trip. We were to go to Mackinaw Island. Finally, we were going to get busy. We went, we shopped and I remember Chris’ cute flannel pajamas. I don’t remember getting lucky.
I kinda moved in with Carol, Chris, and the boys at this point. We shared a room. I remember getting pleurisy while living there and a severe case of abdominal cramps. I must have gotten lucky at this point. I don’t remember who mentioned wedding plans first, probably it was me, but I remember Chris talking a lot about it. See, I had this condition, one usually thought of as a female condition. I wanted babies. I needed desperately to have children; it was my overwhelming desire and my only ambition at that time. So I agreed and we were wed.
We weren’t well off, I was making decent money but we weren’t rich. We lived in an apartment in town, but we didn’t spend much time there, Chris liked to be near her mom. We found a house about three months after we were married. Out in the country but close to mom’s. German road. It was a single story with a basement. The basement was half finished and the main floor had paneling in the dining room and living room that had the stripe going the wrong way, horizontally. It was there that she became pregnant with Jimi. He was born in a clear January night, I was there and I remember how beautiful he was. Chris shared the beauty with him and everything was perfect in the world. Going home January 3rd, I saw the longest shooting star I had ever seen streaking straight down in the western sky. They came home from the hospital quickly; both quite healthy, and the routine began. I would work afternoons and take care of Jimi in the mornings and my days off. Chris shopped for all of the things she didn’t get in the showers.
When Jimi was about one, I got laid off for the first time. I spent everyday of that lay off with him. A few of the nights were spent boozing, but I almost always waited till he went to bed (or at least after dinner) before beginning. We played, rode bike and walked all the time. I got work with the state in Saginaw and I began commuting an hour to and from work. The job and commute were hard and I started drinking more, often on the long drive home. One time my co-worker Greg (we worked together at the mental institution, Saginaw State Office Building and the Flint State Office Building) had to fend off a vicious dog while I changed a tire. The whole process would have been quicker if we didn’t take turns with the tire iron so the other could finish his beer.
Chris and I started arguing more, money was tight and the bills kept getting bigger. We stopped sleeping together (that is; less than the twice every six months we had been doing). She spent a lot of time at her mother’s and I spent a lot of time in a bottle. Still, evenings and weekends, I was there for Jimi, playing and being with him was my world. We went a couple of years like that, I transferred to Flint after six months working in Saginaw, it was a lot closer to home and the party never ended there. Money was still tight and we took to burning Kerosene in the winter to ease the Propane bill. One morning I was getting up with Jimi and I warned him not to touch the heater which was already hot. He followed me to the kitchen (I was getting him his breakfast) when he let out a yowl. I thought he’d stumbled into the heater. I ran to him and inspected him carefully. The only thing was a blister on his pointing finger of his right hand. He didn’t believe me when I told him that it was hot and he’d checked it for himself. Jimi always needed guidance like that.
The party at Flint was getting too much for me, too often, too much, and the boys were moving into worse and worse areas. These were places that I knew would kill me (and my addictive personality) if I went there. I got the opportunity to go back to the mental institution and I took it.
I liked being back there and around this time, video tape came out and we’d rented one of those that you had to pick out of a special room. I got lucky and AJ was conceived. He too was born healthy and came home quickly. Jimi was getting used to his big boy bed (dad put him to bed every night) and I had almost forgotten about diapers. Jimi liked having AJ around, they were quite a pair.
I got laid off from Oakdale (mental institution) around this time. Unemployment bought the beer, social services paid the mortgage. Chris was very good about managing the money and secured a new furnace and a new well free of charge during this time. I spent every moment of the summer with my boys, playing in the yard, riding bike, and generally taking the summer off. I got tanned and my boys were growing, there was little else to care about. But as the days grew shorter, my anxiety built.
JTPA, joint training and partnership act, a Reagan trickle down program was suggested to me while I was working for food stamps down at the social security building. They paid for a two year program, books, gas, and tuition; for people who needed retraining due to the current recession. I signed up and my life changed. I started at Mott Community College, with the idea that I was going to be a prison guard. I took a math class and a criminal justice class. Once a lady from Pakistan asked were I was from. I told her Michigan. She said, no, were was I from; originally. I told her that my family was german and british and she walked away confused. Later I realized that my deep tan made me look like I was from India and she was certain that I shared her middle eastern heritage.
I found a job for the state (the only option I was considering) in Port Huron at a rest area. I took it and informed JTPA that because I was working, I would be leaving the program. They didn’t let me and I transferred to St. Clair County Community College. I worked full time and carried a full load in the evenings. It was an hour drive in both directions and college kept me out till around 10 or 11 Monday through Thursday. Still, days off and vacations were full of my two sons. One morning I was on the couch (lots of those mornings now) and Jimi got up early. It was Saturday, so I got him some breakfast and laid back down. He came into the living room, chatty, gibbering, so I turned on the tv. He’d have no part of it and continued to speak and chatter and gibber to a sleepy dad trying to get him up. I wasn’t mad, he was quite amusing. I finally sat up and said, “All you have done this morning Jimi is bitch, bitch, bitch.” He spent the next five minutes repeating the last part of that statement to the delight of his father. I ran down the hall and woke his mother, “Jimi, tell mom what you’ve done all morning,” “Bitch, Bitch, Bitch!” he happily replied.
I remember taking the boys to parks. We’d walk back to the Holloway Lake and walk along the beach. We biked less because there were three of us. I remember playing in the yard. Our dog, Duke. Sitting on the front step as both boys played in the drive or under the front window. I remember when I leaned down to pick up a cigarette I’d dropped and AJ sliding off my back and landing on his face. He got scraped pretty good that time but he handled it like a trooper and the scabs came off his face within a week. They had lots of toys and they were always scattered about. I liked that kind of mess, the kind my boys made.
I have a lot more memories of my two sons, Jimi and AJ. Most of them happen after this time, this chapter in my life. We moved on and our lives did too. I remember snow forts and beach trips and camping with my boys. I remember fishing and walking. We walked and not just down the road but through the woods and over the river and just about anywhere we could. Once, when Jimi was in cub scouts, we needed to find animal tracks. In the creek flats at Grandma Shirley’s house, we found and identified fox tracks. We followed those tracks till we found bunny tracks that intersected the fox tracks. We could tell that there was a struggle; little patches of grey brown bunny hair still littered the scene. From there the fox went on alone with little drops of blood every now and then. We lost the trail finally when the fox came across a deer trail and his prints were obliterated by the troop of hooves. I remember three little boys, one with a broken leg, another with a broken back and the last too exhausted to continue back home (we were only a mile away). “Stay Here,” I cried, “I’ll go for help!” Three confused boys thought of the moments they would spend alone waiting for my return and all three decided that they could make it home. I remember rockets and M.A.S.A. fliers given to all the neighbors about the upcoming flights. Several turned out for the launch. I remember more camping trips, swimming at Ed’s and jumping on the trampoline.
There are so many more memories I have with Jimi and AJ, more than can be recounted here. But most of them are after that eventful day, the day that changed not only my life, but the lives of Chris, Jimi, and AJ.
I think I’ll save that for Part 2.