Dad went off and called my Mom. I sat in my room, dried my eyes and dreamed of living back in LA with my Mom and Darin, less stress, less fear. So, imagine my surprise when Dad came back into my room and told me it was settled, Darin was moving up to San Jose also. I remember thinking, "well, that wasn't what I thought was happening." People talk about hearing shocking and unexpected news, the dull ringing in your ears. I have to tell you, it really happens, and a certain emotional cloudiness. I remember it from that day in March of 1977.
Darin moved up a couple of weeks after my birthday and told me of Mom's depression and that she had lost the baby and had a nervous breakdown. I did not learn until 20 years later that she had actually had an abortion. I do not often comment on abortion other than to say that I don't know much about it, but I have to say, anyone who thinks this helps or liberates women is lying to themselves and others. I am sure there are people out there who don't think twice about it, but even people like my mom are devastated by this decision. She still can not talk about it without crying. My mom sees literally no moral boundary to anything, but she is deeply shamed by this decision she made 30 years ago. To me, that says volumes.
Darin and I shared a room in San Jose. Although we had three bedrooms, Dad need one for his "studio." He recorded his music in there and Dad saw himself for years as a musician, even though I don't think he had played publicly since before I was born. I assume this is similar to me still calling myself an actor for the twelve years in between stopping pursuing a career and the next time I went on stage (last Christmas, I was terrible). So our lives were a little odd. Dad's girlfriend Carole worked at Apple and sometimes I would get home from school and she would be sitting in the lotus position smoking a bong on the couch. Dad smoked a LOT of weed and we did fun things like they would hook a rope to the bumper of the car and pull us on our skateboards like we were water skiing. We called this concrete skiing, as opposed to concrete surfing which was my description of rolling earthquakes we ould experience from time to time.
Times weren't too bad, a little stressed and I was always fearful as corporal punishment was all my dad understood. Dad and Carole married in April, I was the ring bearer and got a second chance to wear my Polyesther leisure suit. I had a rough time of it in 4th grade, but I really don't remember much about it. We went camping near Lake Tahoe in that spring, we went to the renaissance faire, which I loved and I got to fly to LA to visit with Mom for a couple of weeks alone. Carole sent instructions of how my Mom was supposed to supervise me, which I still find pretty pretentious. My mom was dating one of the special effects guys who worked on "Jaws" and rumor has it I met Steven Spielberg that summer. It was at a pool party, which I remember, but I don't remember him. I wish I did, or more I wish he had remembered me when I grew up to be an actor. I remember LA night-time pool parties, they were fun. All the kids played in the pool, all the parents got drunk. I can still smell the chlorine from the water and feel the slippery wetness of the concrete under my feet and hear Elton John and Kiki Dee singing, "Don't go breaking my heart." I don't know why, it wasn't a special occasion, but I remember that night really well.
My youngest uncle was out of prison at the time and I spent a good deal of time with him and his girlfriend. They took me to the airport with my Mom and somewhere I have a picture of the three of us (Mom probably took the picture) at Hollywood-Burbank airport. They had flowing, feathered 70's hair and I had my tan polyesther leisure suit and patent leather shoes.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
commitment
This week I had two opportunities to see some amateur entertainment and I came away with a stunning revelation. In fairness, it is not new, but it was re-affirmed as I was reminded of the absolute necessity of one factor in all performance. This factor is often lacking in even the most high-paid performers and it shows itself immediately in those who embrace it. This element is commitment.
On Thursday night, we all got together at the local High School for an event I am never looking forward to. I would like to say I am bigger than this and that I always want to see my kids in whatever they do, but its just not true. I find the High School theatre to be cramped, claustrophobic and the people around me to not have the common decency to keep quiet while others are watching a performance. This year, my kids elementary school was putting on their rendition of Seussical the
Musical. My boy was either Thing 1 or Thing 4, there is some confusion on this. We had our kid's friends and our friend's kids in a number of the parts and there were few we did not know in the main parts. So, you will understand that I am not going to be identifying any of the players by either name or character. However, it must be said that most of the kids simply did not commit to their roles, to being on stage, to the fantasy they were trying to put forward. Some were horribly untalented and it made me wonder why they were given the parts. I am not trying to be mean, but if singing is not your thing, a bunch of solos will not help you grow. However, there were three kids in particular whose commitment greatly impressed me. They sold it and I bought it, I was with them in the world of Dr. Seuss and enjoyed their portrayals. Talent is not a factor, they were probably equally talented as some of the other kids, no more no less. But they really dug in and played the roles, sang the songs and danced the dances and I really enjoyed it. I won't disdain the production as much next year due to the performance of 3 individuals ...out of 140.
Then Sunday night came and my church was putting on a fund-raiser of lip-synching. I have to be honest, I really thought it was going to suck something fierce. But I love my church, I adore some of the kids who were performing and I wanted to support the HS group for whom the event was raising money. So, we arrive and I am absolutely stunned to see that a couple of hundred people are loading into the sanctuary for this performance, but we are a supportive bunch and maybe a little starved for entertainment. When the evening began with some kitsch by a couple of High Schoolers as hosts, I thought my worst fears would be realized. But, to my surprise, it was good. Not just the lip sync, but the hosting. I was impressed. And you know what impressed me the most? Commitment! I was particularly impressed with our Pastor doing the Sonny & Cher song, "I got you babe" (yeah, he was Cher and the ugliest woman I have ever seen). There were many stand-outs and I had a great time. My friends' daughter, Abby, did two numbers and fully sold them. Seriously guys, she has a future up on the stage if she wants one. The element which made this so great, in every piece which was (probably 80%, no joke)...Commitment! Each of these people let down their guard and committed to the performance and it made it really, really fun.
I have to tell you, one can change the entire outlook for someone else due to only their commitment. Our talents are fine, our ideas interesting, our work valued, but without commitment, it is meaningless. So, I guess what I want to tell everyone is just this, whatever you do, no matter what, no matter how big or small, seen or unseen, own it. Step in with gusto and give it everything you can. Because there is something amazing and appealing about that.
On Thursday night, we all got together at the local High School for an event I am never looking forward to. I would like to say I am bigger than this and that I always want to see my kids in whatever they do, but its just not true. I find the High School theatre to be cramped, claustrophobic and the people around me to not have the common decency to keep quiet while others are watching a performance. This year, my kids elementary school was putting on their rendition of Seussical the
Musical. My boy was either Thing 1 or Thing 4, there is some confusion on this. We had our kid's friends and our friend's kids in a number of the parts and there were few we did not know in the main parts. So, you will understand that I am not going to be identifying any of the players by either name or character. However, it must be said that most of the kids simply did not commit to their roles, to being on stage, to the fantasy they were trying to put forward. Some were horribly untalented and it made me wonder why they were given the parts. I am not trying to be mean, but if singing is not your thing, a bunch of solos will not help you grow. However, there were three kids in particular whose commitment greatly impressed me. They sold it and I bought it, I was with them in the world of Dr. Seuss and enjoyed their portrayals. Talent is not a factor, they were probably equally talented as some of the other kids, no more no less. But they really dug in and played the roles, sang the songs and danced the dances and I really enjoyed it. I won't disdain the production as much next year due to the performance of 3 individuals ...out of 140.
Then Sunday night came and my church was putting on a fund-raiser of lip-synching. I have to be honest, I really thought it was going to suck something fierce. But I love my church, I adore some of the kids who were performing and I wanted to support the HS group for whom the event was raising money. So, we arrive and I am absolutely stunned to see that a couple of hundred people are loading into the sanctuary for this performance, but we are a supportive bunch and maybe a little starved for entertainment. When the evening began with some kitsch by a couple of High Schoolers as hosts, I thought my worst fears would be realized. But, to my surprise, it was good. Not just the lip sync, but the hosting. I was impressed. And you know what impressed me the most? Commitment! I was particularly impressed with our Pastor doing the Sonny & Cher song, "I got you babe" (yeah, he was Cher and the ugliest woman I have ever seen). There were many stand-outs and I had a great time. My friends' daughter, Abby, did two numbers and fully sold them. Seriously guys, she has a future up on the stage if she wants one. The element which made this so great, in every piece which was (probably 80%, no joke)...Commitment! Each of these people let down their guard and committed to the performance and it made it really, really fun.
I have to tell you, one can change the entire outlook for someone else due to only their commitment. Our talents are fine, our ideas interesting, our work valued, but without commitment, it is meaningless. So, I guess what I want to tell everyone is just this, whatever you do, no matter what, no matter how big or small, seen or unseen, own it. Step in with gusto and give it everything you can. Because there is something amazing and appealing about that.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Part X
So, we had moved to Santa Clara and three weeks later moved to San Jose. I was in the 4th grade and began at Country Lane Elementary School in San Jose. It was the first time that Darin and I had been separated for any period of time and I was lonely. My Dad really saw me as an odd child and constantly derided me for "not being logical", "not being normal" or "being lazy." The last one stuck with me for years and it was told to me so much that I believed it deep down, that I was somehow deficient and did not have what I would later learn was called a work ethic. I would like to say that I am over it, but I still struggle whenever I don't feel like doing something. Even this morning I had to fight myself to go to work.
I also began an unusual habit which lasted for about two years. I would do my homework, but I wouldn't turn it in. My parents talk about this all the time, but I really don't remember it at all. However, my son who is in 5th grade, struggles with the same malady. So, it must be true and apparently, hereditary. I had always been a dreamer and thinker, I still have a huge imagination and quicker processing than one would think having met me. During the previous two years, I had been given multiple IQ tests which were literally "off the charts." Since 1977, I have always seen intelligence as a birth defect. I simply refused to do any work on paper I could do in my head. I think it took me 15 more years to learn to do what was asked of me, even if I feel I don't need it. In 1977, they changed the special classes. Prior to this, I was involved in what was called MGM or Mentally Gifted Minors. They changed the classes to GATE, or Gifted and Talented Education. Unfortunately, they changed the name of Special Ed in the CA school system to MGM. This caused a good deal of misunderstanding.
I was technically not a member of MENSA, at the time they did not permit people of my age into the group, but I was in some form of it which was designed for younger kids. The problem comes with testing. When one is so young, different factors throw off the tests. So, from one test to another, I could vary by 40 points. The tests have their own problems, which I will not get into, but they really test the speed at which you process and due to other elements, I could test as fairly gifted to prodigy. Later in life, I was told I was an analytical prodigy. According to the MENSA folk, there are three types of prodigies, Musical, Analytical and Mathematical (all of these are mathematical, but I digress). The rarest, according to one of my psychiatrists, was analytical. It can be seen as a little creepy and is the most anti-social of the group. The interesting thing about MENSA is that people seem to fall on two sides of the law, about 40% seem to gravitate to the law and about 40% to lawlessness, with the remaining 20% just ordinary folks. The lawless of the analytical prodigies tend toward being sham psychics, fortune tellers and the like. I don't have a theory on whether or not psychic abilities are real, are evil, are good. It is something of which I have never had an interest in pursuing the study.
So, I was a smart kid who was a little odd and did not almost ever do the popular thing, whatever that might be. It drove my teacher nuts and my Dad called my IQ my Idiot Quotient. Dad's contention was there was a direct relevance the the height of the number and my laziness. If you know him, you are probably laughing at the irony.
Anyway, within two months, I had enough. I cried my eyes out one night due to the stress, the excessive discipline and the loneliness. My Dad asked me what the problem was and I told him I wanted to go back to my Mom's. The hurt in his face was too much for me, so when he asked me why, I said (truthfully, but partially)"I miss Darin." And to my surprise, he said, "okay, let me call your Mom."
I also began an unusual habit which lasted for about two years. I would do my homework, but I wouldn't turn it in. My parents talk about this all the time, but I really don't remember it at all. However, my son who is in 5th grade, struggles with the same malady. So, it must be true and apparently, hereditary. I had always been a dreamer and thinker, I still have a huge imagination and quicker processing than one would think having met me. During the previous two years, I had been given multiple IQ tests which were literally "off the charts." Since 1977, I have always seen intelligence as a birth defect. I simply refused to do any work on paper I could do in my head. I think it took me 15 more years to learn to do what was asked of me, even if I feel I don't need it. In 1977, they changed the special classes. Prior to this, I was involved in what was called MGM or Mentally Gifted Minors. They changed the classes to GATE, or Gifted and Talented Education. Unfortunately, they changed the name of Special Ed in the CA school system to MGM. This caused a good deal of misunderstanding.
I was technically not a member of MENSA, at the time they did not permit people of my age into the group, but I was in some form of it which was designed for younger kids. The problem comes with testing. When one is so young, different factors throw off the tests. So, from one test to another, I could vary by 40 points. The tests have their own problems, which I will not get into, but they really test the speed at which you process and due to other elements, I could test as fairly gifted to prodigy. Later in life, I was told I was an analytical prodigy. According to the MENSA folk, there are three types of prodigies, Musical, Analytical and Mathematical (all of these are mathematical, but I digress). The rarest, according to one of my psychiatrists, was analytical. It can be seen as a little creepy and is the most anti-social of the group. The interesting thing about MENSA is that people seem to fall on two sides of the law, about 40% seem to gravitate to the law and about 40% to lawlessness, with the remaining 20% just ordinary folks. The lawless of the analytical prodigies tend toward being sham psychics, fortune tellers and the like. I don't have a theory on whether or not psychic abilities are real, are evil, are good. It is something of which I have never had an interest in pursuing the study.
So, I was a smart kid who was a little odd and did not almost ever do the popular thing, whatever that might be. It drove my teacher nuts and my Dad called my IQ my Idiot Quotient. Dad's contention was there was a direct relevance the the height of the number and my laziness. If you know him, you are probably laughing at the irony.
Anyway, within two months, I had enough. I cried my eyes out one night due to the stress, the excessive discipline and the loneliness. My Dad asked me what the problem was and I told him I wanted to go back to my Mom's. The hurt in his face was too much for me, so when he asked me why, I said (truthfully, but partially)"I miss Darin." And to my surprise, he said, "okay, let me call your Mom."
Thursday, April 24, 2008
no continuation for today
my intention was to blog part X today, but it will have to wait. This morning in Men's group, there was such great sharing, such touching stories and not a few tears shed and I feel a little raw again. My lovely bride has suggested I take the day off and I am just not in a place to dredge this stuff up today. I am sorry, but I think it will have to wait until tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Stressing the past
Ack! I have been writing my story for about ten weeks and I have to say, it occasionally makes me feel a little raw. I have really struggled in my relationship with my Dad this week and I don't think it can be removed from my writing about first moving in with him. It was such a hard way to live, such an unsafe and stressful life during those days. It is hard to write about it and not be effected. On top of that, I am again struggling with the fear that I will be just like him, that my kids will not feel safe around me. While my intensity was one of the things that attracted Cathy to me, it definitely can interfere in our relationship.
Additionally, I hate that I put off so many people with that intensity. Don't get me wrong, I like who I am, I just wish I could chill out a little about the little things. God has granted me so much grace in this life, with my wife and kids, with my friends. I just want to give some of that back and not seem too harsh, too overbearing, too ogre-ish. Anyway, I needed to get that out, so thanks for reading it.
Additionally, I hate that I put off so many people with that intensity. Don't get me wrong, I like who I am, I just wish I could chill out a little about the little things. God has granted me so much grace in this life, with my wife and kids, with my friends. I just want to give some of that back and not seem too harsh, too overbearing, too ogre-ish. Anyway, I needed to get that out, so thanks for reading it.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
hecticity...if that is a word and I am sure its not
Sheesh, life is busy right now. All of a sudden there is huge activity in my business, well really just for me. I am somewhat getting the rain in the drought, so thanks to those of you who are praying for me. Also, please keep praying as I am working on a deal that feels out of my league. My brother always tells me that you know when you are working on something worthwhile, because you feel totally incapable of completing it or acheiving it. What do you think, is it true that feeling humbled by the size or scope of a project means you are in just the right place?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Part IX
Mom was pregnant and this seemed like a great thing. Harvey was already a father of a boy of about my age, but I really don't remember his name. Christmas was on the way and our friend in the apartment complex's Mom went on Wheel of Fortune and won a boatload of stuff. It was really cool and fun. One of the things his mom had won was a huge train set, so we would go over to his house and set it up in different configurations in his living room until his mom would come home and make us put it away. We lived in the little burb just north of Encino, called Tarzana. I went to Tarzana school and was in the 4th grade. Darin was in the 6th grade and was somehow judged to be the smartest kid in elementary school in the entire state of CA. It was, all in all, a pretty good time in our lives. Mom had a steady job, was in a relatively steady relationship, we were doing well in school and were both in sports. It was too much to ask for.
On December 24th, Christmas Eve, we got an unexpected visit from my Dad (well Darin and I didn't expect it) and he dropped off presents and told us he would see us on the day after Christmas as he was going to see his brother in Orange County. This seemed a good thing to add to a life which was really looking up. We went through Christmas day with Mom and Darin, but no Harvey. Now one might ask, if we were Jewish, why were we celebrating Christmas? We never really celebrated Hannukah, but rather celebrated Christmas and added a decorative manorah, some blue and white lights added to our red and green, and occasionally called the tree a hannukah bush. This may be hard to understand, but that is what we thought all Jews in L.A. did, celebrated Hannukristmas. Maybe it is.
On Christmas night, Mom sat us down on the couch to chat with us. She told us that Dad wanted one of us to move in with him and the other would stay with Mom. Darin, being the champion of all the trodden, said he would go. Mom sighed and said okay, and Darin broke into sobs saying he didn't want to go. Mom comforted him and was giving all the attention to him, so I began to cry and said, "No, I'll go." Then I waited for my sympathy and for Darin to say that he would go in my stead since he was the older brother. But that didn't happen. Mom said okay, kissed me on the head and got up and Darin didn't say another word. Suddenly, I was going to some far off place with a father I barely knew and I had tricked myself into it. No one cried but me.
On December 26, Dad came and picked me up. Mom had packed up all my bags and we loaded into Dad's Ford Gran Torino (the same car as Starsky & Hutch, but ours was baby blue). We drove up the old highway 101. Back then, it was less of a freeway and you could pull off the road at fruit stands and such. Dad did so and got me hooked on Pistachio Nuts. It took us 6 hours to drive to Santa Clara, which is on the south side of the San Francisco bay. Dad lived in a little one bedroom apartment, which had a tennis court (this seemed very elegant to me). This apartment building was one of those specialties of the 1970's, adults only (read as hook up central). My Dad's girlfriend, Carole, lived in another apartment in the same complex. I slept on the couch and they looked for a house to move into. For New Year's Eve, Dad took me out and bought me a beige polyesther leisure suit with a wide lapel and a brown satin shirt with an even wider collar to go underneath. He bought me some brown patent leather shoes to go with it and we went to a party, at which I was the only person under 30. I don't remember much, other than being bored. This party was the first time I ever saw people smoking pot. Dad and his friends sat in a big circle and passed a bong around.
Dad was in a band, but mostly, he worked in sales in something called the semi-conductor industry. Apparently they had some sci-fi belief that one would soon be able to computerize every function in their house. Carole worked for an upstart company which had just moved out of its founders garage. They were in a one office industrial space in Cupertino and had a really cool logo, which I put on everything I could find. She was the receptionist and the company had about 15 people who worked there. Their logo was a rainbow colored apple, and their name was Apple Computers. They were ALL hippies, but they business-y hippies. It was a weird concept. Both of the founders were named Steve, which I found really funny. (On a side note, everytime I tell this part of my story, I feel a little like Forrest Gump)
OJ Simpson had just come to play for the 49ers at the end of his career and we went up for the last game of the season to Candlestick Park to see him play. I wore number 32 in his honor the previous season and was thrilled to see him at the game, but for some reason they never put him in. I believe he retired the next season. They were playing against the Denver Broncos and it was not until 1984 that I ever saw them play live against any other team. I saw a black belt do a board-breaking demonstration before the game and it fanned the flames of my interest even more for martial arts. Although not training yet, I began to think I could whoop anyone and everyone. It was....not accurate.
On January 13, 1977 we moved to a little yellow house in San Jose. It had 3 bedrooms and I had my own room for the first time in my life. Dad bought me a skateboard and took me down to enroll me at school. When he heard there was a music program, he got visions of me being the next great jazz flautist and took me to a music store and bought a flute. This was not the cruelty some would think, it was really just a lack of understanding as to just how much I would get picked on. While we were packing Dad's stuff for the move, he unpacked an old box and pulled out something from his army days. It was a small paddle about 6 inches by 8 inches with a handle and a word written across it in white paint, "Allegiance." I did not know why but as soon as he pulled it out, I began to cry. Dad and Caole thought this was funny, and unfortunately, Dad saw that "Allegiance" brought fear back to me. In the new house he hung it on a wall and when I was in trouble, he would tell me, "go get Allegiance." I can still see that paddle in my minds eye, I can smell its wood and feel its sting. I can see its texture. I hated that little piece of wood and it has become a symbol for my Dad's entire relationship with me until I was an adult, it was cold discipline and it defined our family.
On December 24th, Christmas Eve, we got an unexpected visit from my Dad (well Darin and I didn't expect it) and he dropped off presents and told us he would see us on the day after Christmas as he was going to see his brother in Orange County. This seemed a good thing to add to a life which was really looking up. We went through Christmas day with Mom and Darin, but no Harvey. Now one might ask, if we were Jewish, why were we celebrating Christmas? We never really celebrated Hannukah, but rather celebrated Christmas and added a decorative manorah, some blue and white lights added to our red and green, and occasionally called the tree a hannukah bush. This may be hard to understand, but that is what we thought all Jews in L.A. did, celebrated Hannukristmas. Maybe it is.
On Christmas night, Mom sat us down on the couch to chat with us. She told us that Dad wanted one of us to move in with him and the other would stay with Mom. Darin, being the champion of all the trodden, said he would go. Mom sighed and said okay, and Darin broke into sobs saying he didn't want to go. Mom comforted him and was giving all the attention to him, so I began to cry and said, "No, I'll go." Then I waited for my sympathy and for Darin to say that he would go in my stead since he was the older brother. But that didn't happen. Mom said okay, kissed me on the head and got up and Darin didn't say another word. Suddenly, I was going to some far off place with a father I barely knew and I had tricked myself into it. No one cried but me.
On December 26, Dad came and picked me up. Mom had packed up all my bags and we loaded into Dad's Ford Gran Torino (the same car as Starsky & Hutch, but ours was baby blue). We drove up the old highway 101. Back then, it was less of a freeway and you could pull off the road at fruit stands and such. Dad did so and got me hooked on Pistachio Nuts. It took us 6 hours to drive to Santa Clara, which is on the south side of the San Francisco bay. Dad lived in a little one bedroom apartment, which had a tennis court (this seemed very elegant to me). This apartment building was one of those specialties of the 1970's, adults only (read as hook up central). My Dad's girlfriend, Carole, lived in another apartment in the same complex. I slept on the couch and they looked for a house to move into. For New Year's Eve, Dad took me out and bought me a beige polyesther leisure suit with a wide lapel and a brown satin shirt with an even wider collar to go underneath. He bought me some brown patent leather shoes to go with it and we went to a party, at which I was the only person under 30. I don't remember much, other than being bored. This party was the first time I ever saw people smoking pot. Dad and his friends sat in a big circle and passed a bong around.
Dad was in a band, but mostly, he worked in sales in something called the semi-conductor industry. Apparently they had some sci-fi belief that one would soon be able to computerize every function in their house. Carole worked for an upstart company which had just moved out of its founders garage. They were in a one office industrial space in Cupertino and had a really cool logo, which I put on everything I could find. She was the receptionist and the company had about 15 people who worked there. Their logo was a rainbow colored apple, and their name was Apple Computers. They were ALL hippies, but they business-y hippies. It was a weird concept. Both of the founders were named Steve, which I found really funny. (On a side note, everytime I tell this part of my story, I feel a little like Forrest Gump)
OJ Simpson had just come to play for the 49ers at the end of his career and we went up for the last game of the season to Candlestick Park to see him play. I wore number 32 in his honor the previous season and was thrilled to see him at the game, but for some reason they never put him in. I believe he retired the next season. They were playing against the Denver Broncos and it was not until 1984 that I ever saw them play live against any other team. I saw a black belt do a board-breaking demonstration before the game and it fanned the flames of my interest even more for martial arts. Although not training yet, I began to think I could whoop anyone and everyone. It was....not accurate.
On January 13, 1977 we moved to a little yellow house in San Jose. It had 3 bedrooms and I had my own room for the first time in my life. Dad bought me a skateboard and took me down to enroll me at school. When he heard there was a music program, he got visions of me being the next great jazz flautist and took me to a music store and bought a flute. This was not the cruelty some would think, it was really just a lack of understanding as to just how much I would get picked on. While we were packing Dad's stuff for the move, he unpacked an old box and pulled out something from his army days. It was a small paddle about 6 inches by 8 inches with a handle and a word written across it in white paint, "Allegiance." I did not know why but as soon as he pulled it out, I began to cry. Dad and Caole thought this was funny, and unfortunately, Dad saw that "Allegiance" brought fear back to me. In the new house he hung it on a wall and when I was in trouble, he would tell me, "go get Allegiance." I can still see that paddle in my minds eye, I can smell its wood and feel its sting. I can see its texture. I hated that little piece of wood and it has become a symbol for my Dad's entire relationship with me until I was an adult, it was cold discipline and it defined our family.
Monday, April 14, 2008
food
I have been overwhelmed with ideas of late about food. Now, I always have restaurant ideas and such, but lately, I have been getting many thoughts of different types. Of cousrse, this week there have been third-world food riots and much news about the price of food going through the roof, so it is not unusual that it would be on my mind. Also, as a restaurant broker, I am constantly researching the state of that industry. But, lately, I have wondered why more isn't done with food in ministries at church. With all the clear interest in Food Network, Top Chef and other shows, why hasn't there been developed a complete food ministry which is not only serving, but social and educational? "Food is culture" is the mantra of the chefs everywhere, so why are there no food-based missions trips? (well none I have heard of)
What are your thoughts? How could we better incorporate this into a more progressive benefit?
What are your thoughts? How could we better incorporate this into a more progressive benefit?
Saturday, April 12, 2008
to clarify
In Part VIII yesterday, I stated quite emphatically that we were not jewish. It may have confused someone so I wanted to clarify. My grandfather was a southern Baptist and my Mom had no faith to call her own. We are Hebrew (is that the right word for it?) but can not claim to be Jewish in the religious sense. There are fairly strict rules to Judaism and who is in and who is not. By some standard I would be in because my mother is Jewish/Hebrew, but the problem is that her mother is not, so she is not, so I am not. Does that make any sense? I both am and am not Jewish in other words....so figure that out! My story is hard to tell with any clarity, even with the facts straight, so I am sorry for the confusion, I feel it too.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Part VIII
I need to back up a couple of months....
While Darin and I were in Arkansas, my grandmother had called my Mom to tell her some news. It had always seemed odd that Popo's mom was 53 years old when she gave birth to him in 1920. She died a few years after I was born at 102, but 53 years old was really old to have a baby in 1920. Heck, its pretty old to have one now. So the new story was passed along as such: in 1919, Popo's "aunt" was sent to an asylum where she spent the rest of her days. The story is that she was crazy, but one of Popo's sisters told the true story. She had been in a relationship with a travelling salesman and had become pregnant. The salesman was Jewish, so they sent her away so that no one would find out. Popo was raised as the child of Levi and Elisabeth Bowman of Delonegut, GA. However, they were his grandparents, not his parents as he thought.
So, what did my Mom do, you ask? She had Darin and I start Hebrew school. She told the rabbi that we were Jewish, it did not seem to matter to her that we were not and that our hebrew school was a direct violation of the rules for a number of reasons, not the least of which was we were not jewish! Anyway, we continued that for more than a year before someone figured out just how Goy (gentile) we were.
In January of 1976, Mom dumped Howard for a bouncer and bartender at Mom's work named Harvey Wolfe. I am convinced she did this because Harvey was Jewish and Mom wanted to be with "one of her own." Before she made the change, she, Darin and I went to the Rose Parade. On the first day of the bicentennial, it was good day to do this and was great fun. I wondered why Howard was not with us and found out shortly thereafter that Mom had dumped him. It should be noted that Howard was Jewish also, but was non-practising. This was as opposed to us, we were practising but not jewish. Harvey was a large man and he cared very much, too much, for my Mom. As a large man who cries occasionally, I am constantly trying not to turn into the blubbering fool that Harvey was. At numerous times (and I was not yet 9), I would think to myself, "Harvey needs to man up and cut out the blubbering!" Okay, I am sure I did not use those words, but the sentiment was there. Mom dated Harvey for quite a while, but clearly never respected him.
In the summer of 1976, Harvey dragged me to Reseda Park to do flag football. He wanted to coach and got me over my lack of interest in sports. I was usually much more happy to pretend than to play anything organized. I was a fairly big kid and Harvey put me in at Fullback and Noseguard. We were pretty good and to my shock, I was put on the all-star team at the end of the season. My season's highlight was that my Dad and his girlfriend, Carole, came to see the all-star game. He had lived for many months about 400 miles away in Santa Clara and I had not seen him since the previous Christmas. I became very interested in various forms of art that autumn and for a while, drew a monster-based cartoon which I sold to my friends for 5 cents each. We lived in a nice part of the valley and sometime in December, Mom found out she was pregnant.
While Darin and I were in Arkansas, my grandmother had called my Mom to tell her some news. It had always seemed odd that Popo's mom was 53 years old when she gave birth to him in 1920. She died a few years after I was born at 102, but 53 years old was really old to have a baby in 1920. Heck, its pretty old to have one now. So the new story was passed along as such: in 1919, Popo's "aunt" was sent to an asylum where she spent the rest of her days. The story is that she was crazy, but one of Popo's sisters told the true story. She had been in a relationship with a travelling salesman and had become pregnant. The salesman was Jewish, so they sent her away so that no one would find out. Popo was raised as the child of Levi and Elisabeth Bowman of Delonegut, GA. However, they were his grandparents, not his parents as he thought.
So, what did my Mom do, you ask? She had Darin and I start Hebrew school. She told the rabbi that we were Jewish, it did not seem to matter to her that we were not and that our hebrew school was a direct violation of the rules for a number of reasons, not the least of which was we were not jewish! Anyway, we continued that for more than a year before someone figured out just how Goy (gentile) we were.
In January of 1976, Mom dumped Howard for a bouncer and bartender at Mom's work named Harvey Wolfe. I am convinced she did this because Harvey was Jewish and Mom wanted to be with "one of her own." Before she made the change, she, Darin and I went to the Rose Parade. On the first day of the bicentennial, it was good day to do this and was great fun. I wondered why Howard was not with us and found out shortly thereafter that Mom had dumped him. It should be noted that Howard was Jewish also, but was non-practising. This was as opposed to us, we were practising but not jewish. Harvey was a large man and he cared very much, too much, for my Mom. As a large man who cries occasionally, I am constantly trying not to turn into the blubbering fool that Harvey was. At numerous times (and I was not yet 9), I would think to myself, "Harvey needs to man up and cut out the blubbering!" Okay, I am sure I did not use those words, but the sentiment was there. Mom dated Harvey for quite a while, but clearly never respected him.
In the summer of 1976, Harvey dragged me to Reseda Park to do flag football. He wanted to coach and got me over my lack of interest in sports. I was usually much more happy to pretend than to play anything organized. I was a fairly big kid and Harvey put me in at Fullback and Noseguard. We were pretty good and to my shock, I was put on the all-star team at the end of the season. My season's highlight was that my Dad and his girlfriend, Carole, came to see the all-star game. He had lived for many months about 400 miles away in Santa Clara and I had not seen him since the previous Christmas. I became very interested in various forms of art that autumn and for a while, drew a monster-based cartoon which I sold to my friends for 5 cents each. We lived in a nice part of the valley and sometime in December, Mom found out she was pregnant.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
headache
So, I went to bed with a pretty bad headache, but it was nothing compared to the one I woke up with at 4:21 this morning. I was definitely looking for a sharp stick to jab into my eye. I ate, drank milk, drank water, took naproxen, prayed and finally played a video game until it miraculously disappeared at about 6:30. It was weird. In my hypochondriac fashion, I immediately started thinking I had some brain deformity and was dying. Either I am not, or it gets better before you die. Stay tuned and we'll see which it is!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Is the news causing you anxiety?
I am having a heck of a time keeping positive with the doomsday predictions in business news. People with $400 haircuts and $2000 suits are telling me everyday, with smiles on their tanned faces, that the world is coming to an end financially. Now, I am struggling enough with my own issues, doing my taxes, paying my mortgage (not a sub-prime), trying to help build up my wife's business and feed my kids. So, I don't need to be told everyday that things are hard. But, doing it with a big grin and a "have a great day" might just force me to kick some newscaster butt. Like the old song says, "I may not know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future." If you have a chance, pray for me and millions of others that we will remember that sentiment. And if you have time, drop me a note to let me know what you do to get through the drudgery when the stresses of life hit hard. Thanks!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Part VII
...so, I was just reading part 6 to figure out where I was in the story and saw that I had written that I didn't have time to write about Howard. But, I had not said ANYTHING about Howard. It's funny how the mind works...
So Part VII, or "Howard and the three Christmas Trees"
Sometime that fall, Mom started to date a man named Howard. To my recollection, he owned an Italian restaurant in West L.A., though Mom says he was just a manager. I also thought his parents owned the West side Country Club in West L.A., but it turns out they were just members. He owned a condominium, which to my poor young mind was a very exotic thing to do and made him seem to me a prince. He also used to pay us for things. First he started by paying us to run around laps and do sit ups and push ups, 5 cents for every push up or sit up and 50 cents for every lap. Darin never left Howard's house without five bucks in his pocket and that was a lot to us. Howard also taught us to play chess and when he realized that I was not into the athletic thing, he began to present me with "difficult" math pages, which he would pay me if I answered right. These pages were all about algebra and geometry, when one of my teachers saw me doing them in class, she had me accelerated into a class where I did that type of math. I began doing High School Math in the second grade, mostly because Mom's boyfriend wanted to reward me for doing well at something. Mom only dated Howard for a few months and he was one of many boyfriends, but he was special to Darin and I. I hope he got married and had kids, he would have been a great father. I have never heard Darin make the connection, but I just put it together. Darin was the whole state of California's chess champion for his age when he was in 6th grade and ran track in JH and High School. I went on to see the great value and dignity in running restaurants, most of which were Italian even though I am allergic to tomatoes. This is anecdotal, but I assume these good experiences with Howard contributed more than we even know.
Sometime that fall or winter, Mom stopped using the wooden spoon on me, because she broke it across my butt one day and I laughed and laughed, which I assume she thought did not achieve her punishment goals. My mom was never able to punish me after that, and she would say from that point on I was incorrigible. I don't know, but I do know she never was an authority to me again after about 1978, I guess she just seemed small to me, its hard to say.
Christmas that year was especially rough financially. We had moved to an apartment in Canoga Park, on the west side of the valley. I had not seen my Dad in over a year and he was never one to keep up his child support. Later in life, I found out that Dad and Mom had made a deal so Dad could get out of it. I will get to it later in the story, but he does not know that I know. And he does not read my blog. Well, the week before Christmas, Mom was able to scrounge up just enough to get us each one present. We were not hard to buy for because unlike my kids, we didn't get much and did not expect much. So usually a pack of army men or a matchbox car was enough to fill me with joy. Those items can still be bought together for less than five bucks. But we were poor and Mom sat us down to tell us that this year, we could not get a tree. We told her it was okay and we went out and got some candy canes at Thrifty and one package of red shiny garland to "decorate" with and decided to have a good family Christmas, sans tree.
I woke up on Christmas Eve morning to a surprise. Mom said Howard was taking her out to get us a tree and had brought over a couple of presents. This was very exciting, Christmas was really looking up. She left Darin and I at home so they would have room for the tree and headed out. About 15 minutes after they left, there was a knock on my door, Darin opened it and it was my Dad. I guess my Mom had called him and told him our Christmas was going to be rough, and there he was...with a tree...and presents. So, we brought it in and set it up in the living room and he had brought a few decorations, so we began to decorate before Mom got back. While we were working on the tree, I heard someone walking up the stairs to our apartment, and thinking it was Mom, flew to the door to tell her we had a tree. I pulled the door open wide to see my Uncle Gene...with a tree. I am not kidding. So, by the time Mom and Howard returned, we had three trees. We started December 24 with no tree and woke December 25 with three. We started with one present each and finished with seven or eight. I don't remember all the presents, just one. My Dad had gone home and was going to come by and open presents with us the next day. One of his presents to me seemed kind of big, so I picked it up to shake it and accidentally dropped it. It nicked the corner of the TV stand and the wrapping tore, then I tried to tape it to cover up that I had been shaking it. Mom caught it the first time she looked at it and the next day, I got a spanking (from Dad, the one who still scared me) for being sneaky and opening the present early. The gift was a box set of CS Lewis' "The Chronicles of Narnia" which neither my Dad nor I had any idea had any metaphoric relationship to Christianity. But, I loved those books and still do.
(Up next, Harvey and Hebrew School)
So Part VII, or "Howard and the three Christmas Trees"
Sometime that fall, Mom started to date a man named Howard. To my recollection, he owned an Italian restaurant in West L.A., though Mom says he was just a manager. I also thought his parents owned the West side Country Club in West L.A., but it turns out they were just members. He owned a condominium, which to my poor young mind was a very exotic thing to do and made him seem to me a prince. He also used to pay us for things. First he started by paying us to run around laps and do sit ups and push ups, 5 cents for every push up or sit up and 50 cents for every lap. Darin never left Howard's house without five bucks in his pocket and that was a lot to us. Howard also taught us to play chess and when he realized that I was not into the athletic thing, he began to present me with "difficult" math pages, which he would pay me if I answered right. These pages were all about algebra and geometry, when one of my teachers saw me doing them in class, she had me accelerated into a class where I did that type of math. I began doing High School Math in the second grade, mostly because Mom's boyfriend wanted to reward me for doing well at something. Mom only dated Howard for a few months and he was one of many boyfriends, but he was special to Darin and I. I hope he got married and had kids, he would have been a great father. I have never heard Darin make the connection, but I just put it together. Darin was the whole state of California's chess champion for his age when he was in 6th grade and ran track in JH and High School. I went on to see the great value and dignity in running restaurants, most of which were Italian even though I am allergic to tomatoes. This is anecdotal, but I assume these good experiences with Howard contributed more than we even know.
Sometime that fall or winter, Mom stopped using the wooden spoon on me, because she broke it across my butt one day and I laughed and laughed, which I assume she thought did not achieve her punishment goals. My mom was never able to punish me after that, and she would say from that point on I was incorrigible. I don't know, but I do know she never was an authority to me again after about 1978, I guess she just seemed small to me, its hard to say.
Christmas that year was especially rough financially. We had moved to an apartment in Canoga Park, on the west side of the valley. I had not seen my Dad in over a year and he was never one to keep up his child support. Later in life, I found out that Dad and Mom had made a deal so Dad could get out of it. I will get to it later in the story, but he does not know that I know. And he does not read my blog. Well, the week before Christmas, Mom was able to scrounge up just enough to get us each one present. We were not hard to buy for because unlike my kids, we didn't get much and did not expect much. So usually a pack of army men or a matchbox car was enough to fill me with joy. Those items can still be bought together for less than five bucks. But we were poor and Mom sat us down to tell us that this year, we could not get a tree. We told her it was okay and we went out and got some candy canes at Thrifty and one package of red shiny garland to "decorate" with and decided to have a good family Christmas, sans tree.
I woke up on Christmas Eve morning to a surprise. Mom said Howard was taking her out to get us a tree and had brought over a couple of presents. This was very exciting, Christmas was really looking up. She left Darin and I at home so they would have room for the tree and headed out. About 15 minutes after they left, there was a knock on my door, Darin opened it and it was my Dad. I guess my Mom had called him and told him our Christmas was going to be rough, and there he was...with a tree...and presents. So, we brought it in and set it up in the living room and he had brought a few decorations, so we began to decorate before Mom got back. While we were working on the tree, I heard someone walking up the stairs to our apartment, and thinking it was Mom, flew to the door to tell her we had a tree. I pulled the door open wide to see my Uncle Gene...with a tree. I am not kidding. So, by the time Mom and Howard returned, we had three trees. We started December 24 with no tree and woke December 25 with three. We started with one present each and finished with seven or eight. I don't remember all the presents, just one. My Dad had gone home and was going to come by and open presents with us the next day. One of his presents to me seemed kind of big, so I picked it up to shake it and accidentally dropped it. It nicked the corner of the TV stand and the wrapping tore, then I tried to tape it to cover up that I had been shaking it. Mom caught it the first time she looked at it and the next day, I got a spanking (from Dad, the one who still scared me) for being sneaky and opening the present early. The gift was a box set of CS Lewis' "The Chronicles of Narnia" which neither my Dad nor I had any idea had any metaphoric relationship to Christianity. But, I loved those books and still do.
(Up next, Harvey and Hebrew School)
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Brilliant!
My beautiful and beautifully talented wife has begun considering making prints by painting, then scanning and enhancing her paintings. I am excited to see this develop. She is so creative and gifted. I strongly suggest you keep updated and see if you can buy one from her. She rocks!
Isn't it exciting to live in an age where you dont have to live in a major metro to see and buy great art, to read and buy great writing, to hear and buy great music? I am very grateful to be living in this time.
On a side note, there is a window washer right outside my window right now. He is about 18 inches from my face and it is making me uncomfortable. I am going for a stroll. Have a great day!
Isn't it exciting to live in an age where you dont have to live in a major metro to see and buy great art, to read and buy great writing, to hear and buy great music? I am very grateful to be living in this time.
On a side note, there is a window washer right outside my window right now. He is about 18 inches from my face and it is making me uncomfortable. I am going for a stroll. Have a great day!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
updates
Sorry for the long pauses the last couple of weeks. The combination of illness and having much on my mind has caused me to neglect my blog a bit, but I will try to do better. Just some notes and thoughts:
-Thanks, Dawn, I don't know why I put 4th and 5th graders.
-I am missing seeing my friends as I was "out of pocket" for about two weeks prior to Sunday and I would like to get together for lunch or whatever with any of you.
-My son is figuring out how to work the system and taking direction on how much more he will get what he wants if he does not whine....YAY!!!!
-My wife is brilliant, and beautiful, and awesome...still.
-finances are still tough, but we are getting all kinds of messages from God that say "It'll be okay, wait for Me."
Lastly, I want to say that I am grateful that all of you take time out of your weeks to read my story, my angst, my confusion. It makes me feel interesting, and that is something I want to be. God made each of us special, different and intriguing. I thank you for making me feel the truth of that as it relates to me. You guys rock!
-Thanks, Dawn, I don't know why I put 4th and 5th graders.
-I am missing seeing my friends as I was "out of pocket" for about two weeks prior to Sunday and I would like to get together for lunch or whatever with any of you.
-My son is figuring out how to work the system and taking direction on how much more he will get what he wants if he does not whine....YAY!!!!
-My wife is brilliant, and beautiful, and awesome...still.
-finances are still tough, but we are getting all kinds of messages from God that say "It'll be okay, wait for Me."
Lastly, I want to say that I am grateful that all of you take time out of your weeks to read my story, my angst, my confusion. It makes me feel interesting, and that is something I want to be. God made each of us special, different and intriguing. I thank you for making me feel the truth of that as it relates to me. You guys rock!
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