Part 72

The restaurant I was working at was suffering from a poor location, or so we were told, and I could not make enough money. I have always suffered under the delusion that I will have more time to look for a job when I am not employed and I ended up quitting that job just 2 short weeks before they closed. I began looking for management jobs, it was time to be responsible. I had a few interviews, but nothing panned out, and after a visit to my brother's in Santa Monica, Cathy and I decided to move to Southern California.

On June 28th, 1992, we packed up a u-haul (even throwing one of our couches away because it didnt fit) and headed down the 5 towards Los Angeles. Keep in mind, we had no idea where we were going to live. My mom had suggested that we move in together and said she was going to rent an apartment the week before. When we arrived, she acted like the conversation never happened. So, Cathy and I were standing in my Aunt Carole's house in Simi Valley with a u-haul full of our stuff and nowhere to live. Luckily, Mom went out that night and rented a 2 bedroom and we moved in.

Cathy was miserable. I spent all day with our one car (out other car was still in San Jose) looking for jobs on the west-side and Cathy was stranded, alone, at my Mom's apartment...she just hated it. We were there for just a couple of weeks when she told me and we went and rented our own one bedroom in the quaint little suburb of Brentwood. Having no money, I took a cash advance on one of those credit cards they used to send you in the mail and we were immediately in the most debt I had ever been in. In late August, we both got jobs. Cathy began working at an upscale baby-furniture store called Bellini, and I became a day server at the well-known eatery, Broadway Deli. Cathy began some classes at UCLA extension, as she transitioned to UCLA proper. I began sending headshots out to agents and different gigs I would hear about. I also began to write more, and develop ideas for shows, movies and plays. We were poor, but we didn't really know it and we were beginning this great adventure called marriage together.

This feels like too much

To be honest, I have avoided delving into the difficulties of life this year due to a combination of depression, anxiety and downright denial. Additionally, I am more proud than I would like and I really don't want people to know how badly I have failed this year. However, in the hopes of catharsis, I will burrow through this and reveal the struggle.

This morning I woke up to realize we had $19.50 in our account and the feelings of abject failure washed over me like a huge wave. Although I can honestly say that this time it was not my fault, there have been so many times that it was my fault that I have a hard time not second guessing every decision I have ever made. HSBC is threatening to take my car and I am wondering if it wouldn't be better to just hand it over and give up the payment. The $4200 per year I spend on just the car payment could be put to better use, and I could buy something functional and cheap in a couple of months. The difficulty with this is that I can't get much of a job if I can't get around. It is a little bit of a catch 22.

The job is a whole other struggle. My business was steadily growing, but beginning in the summer of 2008, a number of deals fell apart due to lack of financing, leaving me making only 16K this year. A friend of mine who has been in commercial real estate for over 25 years and is considered pretty successful told me yesterday that he has only made 18k in the same period from commissions. Additionally, I can't even get anyone to talk with me in my job search and I have a decent resume, I am good at what I do and have a whole nest of transferable skills. I can speculate on the reasons for not getting any responses for 6-8 months, but in the end the only thing that matters is the wall of silence I face every day. Cathy's business continues to grow, and I am so grateful for that, but I am supposed to be the one making the money and taking care of responsibilities. I am so proud of her that I don't have words for how great she is, and how impressed I am everyday by both her art and her business sense. However, no matter how much she brought in, it would never be enough to help me not feel like a failure for bringing in nothing.

I do know this, that God has and will provide for us and in the end everything will be okay. But today, I feel like a total failure. Here is hoping for a better day tomorrow.

Part LXXI - seriously, I will have to give up roman numerals soon as they are becoming encumbersome

Coming home from our beautiful honeymoon to open a plethora of presents sounds more fun than it actually is. Realizing that some of your gifts are re-gifts does not sound as amuzing as it felt. All in all, we were getting into the swing of our new life together, getting to know each other in all new ways. I have to say the first time you walk in on your wife on the toilet, you know you are married, there is a familiarity that takes some getting used to and that is all I have to say about that.

Since Cathy wasn't yet twenty-one, our first foray into the world of gambling that I had known growing up was about a month after we were married, we took a trip up to Lake Tahoe for her twenty-first birthday. Cathy has no use for gambling and it took her years to get a vague impression of the dream that I enjoyed when I would gamble. I play nickel slots, I am not a huge gambler, but I love the return when you hit a big jackpot...it may only be seven dollars, but since you put in only a nickel, that is awesome. My mom always told me, you take money to spend, only a fool thinks they will win. I didn't think we would win, but I could dream about what would happen if we hit some big numbers and that was worth the 20-40 dollars I would spend when I would go. We have only ever been to a casino two other times in almost eighteen years and I actually find them seedy and gross, but I was young so I enjoyed it.

About a month after that was my twenty-fifth birthday. And now is a little harder revelation. There are a number of people who I love and respect, who let me borrow their cars over the years under the mistaken impression that I had a license, but I didn't until my 25th birthday. Although I talk a lot about the accident where I "lost my license", the truth is that I should have been jailed for not having one and the cops just let me go. The state of California revoked my ability to get a license in 1987 after my accident until I turned 25, or until I had proof of insurance which I couldn't get without a license (or so I was told). So, on March 4th 1992, I drove Cathy's car the block or two over to the Los Gatos DMV and took my driving test and got a license. Prior to this point, I had been pulled over by police for everything from standard checkpoints to wrong turns to bad tags, everytime wiggling my way out of it through false sincerity and charm. Now I actually had a license. Cathy would proceed, through a good influence and genuine love and care for me, to change my paradigm without really challenging it directly. Her goodness is a mirror for my flaws, and her love is the support I often need to change. I love her for that and many other things.

Part LXX - a new beginning (that is just for all of you Star Wars Geeks out there)

January 3rd, 1992 came upon me rather quickly. I had a job and a life, but was fairly surprised at how weak and transparent I felt as I headed into my marriage. It was a Friday night and we were at our rehearsal for the ceremony to take place the next day. I would like to tell you all about this rehearsal, but I remember nothing about it. I do remember a few things about the "rehearsal dinner", because the groom's family is supposed to pay for that. Since my family was barely involved in my life, they had not offered to pay for anything and I had not asked. My father had opted not to come because it was a long way away and he would feel uncomfortable with the other attendees (that is what he told me, I think it probably had more to do with the costs associated with coming as the early nineties were a very hard time in his industry). Since I could not afford a dinner, My soon to be mother-in Law had allowed us to have a little dessert at her house. That night was the first time I saw my brother smoke. Having grown up in smoking households and both of us hating the smoke, it really surprised me to see him smoking (he quit in the late nineties). After the get together, I went back to the new apartment with Darin, his girlfriend Antoinette, my Mom and her husband, Ted. I did not allow smoking in my house, so Ted grabbed one of my new dishes to use as an ashtray and after lighting up inside the apartment, walked out onto the deck to soil my new dish. That guy was such a jerk.

Although it was hard to go to sleep, eventually I did and woke early to get ready for the most important day of my life. Again, I would like to relate many things about the wedding, but I remember so very few...it was a blur. Unfortunately, I do remember a few bad things. It is sad to me that this wonderful day that legally bound my beautiful Cathy to me, and all I can remember is a few bad things. Oh well. One of those things was that we waited and hour and a half after Cathy and I got to the reception for my family to arrive before eating. I did not know it at the time, but they had all stopped for a few hours at a bar for drinks...I am not kidding. So, eventually, we started without them. I am allergic to tomatoes and had made it very clear to my friend and groomsman, Steve, who had catered the food. His explanation of the tomatoes in my pasta were that they were only a garnish, showing a clear lack of understanding of the nature of food allergies...so I did not eat at the reception. When my family finally did arrive, we got to the first dance and that cherished wedding ritual, the money-dance. Except no one at our wedding danced except Cathy, myself and my Brother and Antoinette. I was counting on the money dance to pay for part of the honeymoon, but had to borrow money from my mother-in-law instead. During the wedding party dance, one of my groomsmen, Allan, refused to dance with one of the maids, because she was not his wife...no joke...what a tool.

When we had enough, we left for our overnight stay at the Fairmont in downtown San Jose. It was a relief to be out of there and I stopped thinking at all about the things that did not go well as we headed out for a full week of honeymooning. The next day we went up the coast to Mendocino county, to a little bed and breakfast in Gualala CA. It was called the Old Milano Hotel and we had rented a train caboose that was out on a cliff, high above the pacific ocean. It was beautiful, but very cold, and I had a great time. Those memories are clear and I will keep them for my honey and myself, except to say this....after all this time, if that B&B still exists, I highly recommend it. It had no TV, no radio and no heat except a wood-burning stove, so we had to get close and spend a lot of time in conversation. This set the stage for what our marriage would look like and I am blessed by this. We learned to enjoy the quiet and every once in a while, we just have to remind ourselves of that trip and we remember the quiet and the peace and the great joy of beginning our lives together.

Part LXIX

So, after asking the big question and getting the answer I had hoped for, we began to plan our big wedding. You have to remember that I was an actor-waiter at the time and had no real means to support my wife and I, much less the means to afford a wedding. But, kids are stupid and all that mattered to us was that we were in love.

Our first decision was who to choose for the minister, and usually that person would be doing the pre-marital counseling as well. Neither of us wanted to choose the College Pastor for personal reasons; I had a friendship with the High School Pastor but he was out of town and we needed to book the date; The Counseling and Junior High Pastors were either not that kind of Pastor or too green to handle our nuptials; the Music Pastor and Senior Pastor were close personal friends of Cathy's Mom and that left us with the Family Pastor. We didn't know him, had no connection to him and that was what we were looking for. He had some similarity in looks to Michael Landon, so we called him our little pastor on the prairie. His name was Dave.

Dave started us out with a financial review, since this partnering of our lives would include the mixing of our assets. It didn't take long. I had no bank accounts and only clothes to my name, I was house-sitting at the time and had no permanent place to live. Cathy had about $600 in a checking account, a Visa with a credit limit of $400 and all of her furniture from her childhood room. Yeah, we were living in style. The next thing Dave got into was Generational Sin. This was the first time I had ever heard the concept, but man it is a real thing. Our next three or four sessions were like group therapy and Cathy would cry for hours afterward. We were undaunted, though, by either our lack of means or my familial history of lack of commitment and we headed into our wedded bliss.

As a word of caution, or perhaps foreknowledge, to all couples with impending nuptials out in the blogosphere, the engagement period is one of the most trying times with your soon-to-be spouse that you will encounter for some time. I have heard the same story from many people and I believe it stems from the subconscious realization that forever is about to happen and your inner brain begins to doubt your ability to decide. We got through it with only a few bruised egos and in November of that year, we rented a 1 bedroom apartment in downtown Los Gatos (although only I moved in for about 5 weeks prior to the wedding). I had chosen Paul to be my best man and had filled my groomsmen with either old friends or new friends with whom I did not have a long relationship: Mark (from High School); Allan (Former Roomie) and Steve (Newer friend who I thought would be a friend for life, but I have only spoken with him twice since 1992 - haven't spoken with Allan except maybe 4 times in that period). Paul arranged my bachelor party at a Teppanyaki restaurant (think Benihana, but less traditional) and an evening of indoor paintball. I think he may have had trouble finding people who wanted to come, because I seem to remember some "fillers" in there to make it look like I had more friends.

I had a decent job, an apartment to call my own and was heading into one of the more important days of my life. All was looking okay.

Friends

So, in the past few weeks I have really been struggling with the concept of friendship and what it means. Contrary to what some might think, I am a fiercely loyal friend, and it takes some time for me to adjust to the realities of time and distance. However, I have seen the entire spectrum of friendship recently and am left wondering what it means.

I have realized that old and dear friends never really liked me, and seen former friends reach out a hand of encouragement. I have seen the deterioration of strong bonds and seen others hold against all odds. For many friends, old and new, I have seen that the intensity of my personality has been too much. At the same time, for others, I have had them tell me it is what they like most about me. I have had some of the strongest encouragement and some of the deepest hurts, all in the same period of time. I am confused, befuddled, questioning.

Is my perception so poor that I can not tell who will like me and who will not, or has liked me and who has not? How can one person draw the sneer from one person and the genuine affection of another...with the same actions? I want to know your thoughts on friendship. Though I almost never get a response or comment on my blog, I would love one now. Enlighten me! I want to know.

Thanks, Mom!

My mother-in-law saw the typo in yesterday's post, which I have now fixed. I asked Cathy to marry me June 19th, 1991 (not 1992 as previously stated). Thanks for catching that!

Part LXIII

June 19th of 1991 was going to turn out to be an eventful day, but it all started on June 18th. Although we had discussed marriage a number of times already, Cathy and I had only been dating a short time. In fact, that Wednesday the 19th would make it five months. So, I planned to take her out for dinner. Walking through a local mall, I stopped into a jewelry store and saw a ring I wanted and I decided to buy it, but it was $3500 and I could not qualify for the loan. Choosing instead a crappier version with a minuscule diamond for $1600, I bought the ring set and carried it around in my pocket all day. That night, I informed Cathy that I wanted to ask her to marry me (after all I had a job now) but that I could not qualify for the ring. She cried and cried, all the while I had the ring in my pocket. A plan began to form.

Later that night or early the next morning, I put the plan in motion. I asked my friends, Paul and Steve, to lend me a hand and set up my elaborate scheme. Cathy was not surprised that I asked her for a special date for our "5 month Luniversary." She wasn't surprised because I was kind of goofy like that...I still am. She got all dressed up in her finest clothes so I could take her to a nice restaurant in Santa Cruz. Instead of taking the freeway, I decided to take a back route which went through the hills and I always enjoyed driving. I stopped at a reservoir I liked and told her I wanted to get out. There was an island in the middle of the reservoir, but since California was in one of its many droughts, there was a small muddy path which lead out onto the isle. Cathy was not thrilled with me when I suggested that we go for a walk. There was a lot of mud and she was wearing nice shoes and hose.

Somehow I convinced her that there was a sight she needed to see and we got to the dry ground on the isle and a path that went straight over the two hills which comprised the little isle. As we came over the top of the hill, in a clearing in the wood, there was a white-tablecloth table for two. It was set up for dinner and had a small vase with a sunflower in it (both of us were very fond of sunflowers). Cathy forgot how annoyed she was about the walk as she sat across from me. She was a little stunned when Steve came out from behind a bush as our server (Paul was back behind a bush somewhere playing a CD and preparing the meal or something). We had strawberries and a cold pesto tortellini which we loved. Cathy was having a great time (it seemed so anyway) and we had finished, so I asked Steve to bring dessert. When he came back with a tray covered in a white napkin (as he had with every other dish), she thought it was just another part of the meal. When he pulled the napkin off to reveal the ring and I asked her to marry me, she went crazy.

So that is how we got engaged, this beautiful woman who I do not deserve said yes. We told her mom who said she expected it, and jumped into planning a wedding. But, that will take its own post. Maybe next week!

Part LXII

This is a sure thing, the first time you meet a girl's parents, it is a gamble. So, it was with some concern that I agreed to go to Carmel for Cathy's 20th birthday with her Mom joining us. Actually, I think her Mom drove, but I don't remember. I can't imagine what Jane was thinking, her daughter was dating an out of work, poor, no-car actor and seemed to like him a lot. To her credit, she was easy-going on the outing and I don't remember her grilling me with questions or anything. Overall, that day was nice and we had a good time. A couple of weeks later (Valentine's Day), after a dating period of less than a month, I asked Cathy to marry me. I know how crazy this sounds, but I had known her for quite a while and I was in love. She laughed at me...that's right laughed (it would not be the last time). Her reasons had to do with having no job, no prospects and most importantly, no ring. Little did she know, I was paying close attention to the requirements and got to work pretty quickly at fulfilling them.

In late March, I heard about a stage audition in San Francisco and drove up (borrowing an ex-girlfriend's car) for the day. It was a dream audition, so I was prepared to do what I could to get in the room. It turned out to not be hard to get, I called two friends and one of them knew one of the casting directors and got me right in. The audition went well and I went back to San Jose to tell Cathy that if this audition went well, we would get married and move to London. There was at least one more step and that was a follow-up audition in Los Angeles in two weeks. Having no money, Cathy offered to drive me and we arranged to stay with my brother. The drive was hot and we had the sunroof open...unfortunately, I got a diagonal sunburn across my head. The sunburn was the only topic of discussion in the audition and for some reason, seemed to turn them off. They let me know that they did not see me going any further with them this year. Casting Directors are very direct people, so if you are thinking of auditioning and have thin skin, don't do it.

I was devastated by the rejection, but not as much as Cathy was. I think that was the first time I really knew how much she wanted to marry me. After we returned to San Jose, I immediately got a job at a nice upscale cafe as a server and bartender. The money was good, but my new room mates were tired of carrying my load and kicked me out before I had a chance to pay them back for their generosity. Cathy and I also began taking massage therapy classes together as a potential alternative career. Cathy did that for a living for a year or so, I did two massages and it grossed me out. Still, it gave me a lot of training in taking care of my wife's achy back and shoulders. That makes it worth every minute I spent there.

Part LXI

Asking a girl out on a date is one thing, asking a girl out on a date and asking her to drive is a whole other thing. But, I was in luck, and she was not totally put off by my lack of a car and two weeks later, we went to see another movie, "Vincent & Theo." This movie was about Vincent Van Gogh and his brother Theo and it was both well made and enjoyable to watch. It was just the two of us and I paid for the movie, which was the least I could do since she was driving. After the movie we decided to go out for coffee and on the way there, she asked me a fairly simple question.

"Is this a date?"

Now, one may think that this is either a yes or no question. But I began to squirm in searching for the right answer. To the best of my recollection, my answer was, "well, it could be a date if you want it to be a date, but it doesn't have to be a date unless you want it to be a date..." She cut me off with a quick, "just answer the question." So I said, "Yeah, it's a date." She said that was good and I was able to relax. Cathy was going to San Jose State to get her degree in Psychology at the time, but with a minor in Art and I did not realize how good of a painter she was, and is. A few days later she brought one of her paintings over for me to see and I have to admit, it was a little abstract and I didn't get it. I wasn't that much into abstract art and I looked at it, trying to give the proper amount of interest before I handed it back to her. Just before I was about to do that, she looked over my shoulder and said, "It's upside down." So, I flipped it over to pretend to know the difference and I have to tell you...it made a huge difference. It opened up for me and I felt it. This was the first time I truly appreciated a painting. It was the fist time that an abstract piece which had shapes rather than scenery touched me in such a profound way. She is truly a gifted artist in everything she does, but this was the first time I saw it, the first time I recognized her gift and I was blown away.

This was also the night of our first kiss and I will not go into detail, but I will tell you that it is still a wonderful thing to kiss a woman you love. I am not sure if it was our friendship, her painting, the connection we had made in the past few days or a combination of all of the above, but I knew I loved her. As the old movies would say, there were sparks. There still are.

Part LX

When the young lady I was dating came back in August of 1990, she went to see her old boyfriend and hooked up. I don't really know all the details, but she quickly let me know that her heart still belonged to another. Unfortunately for her, so did his, as he announced his engagement to another girl within about two months of this. She and I remained friends until I moved away and I continued therapy which was mostly focused on why I could not stay with a girlfriend or keep a girlfriend or something. My longest relationship up to that point had been seven or eight months and I was beginning to think that like my mother, I was a serial monogomist. What I realized shortly thereafter was that I was trying to date girls who my head told me would be right for me (April, Dianna, Jenn), but with whom I had no real connection. All of that would change before long.

Paul and I were now working together at Red Lobster (or as I like to call it, Seafood Denny's) and while Paul seemed to enjoy it and the people with whom we worked, I saw it as an embarrassment. I can't really explain my snobbery about certain restaurant jobs, but there are still some places that I know would not be right for me. The worst part was an obligation I felt to remain since Paul had got me the interview there. I don't do well with obligation, it turns into resentment for both people.

On December first we moved into a new apartment which Allan had rented to prepare for his upcoming marriage. I can't say I remember the time that well, we were there for about 4-5 weeks. I do remember that this was where Paul told me he was going to move back to his parent's house and that I got the impression that this was because he didn't want to live with me any longer. Allan was married around the 20th of December and went on his honeymoon. We had to be out by the first week in January. On New Year's Eve, I DJ'd for Paul's annual party and was pleasantly surprised to see that Cathy Thompson had come. We had become even closer friends as she was struggling through some things related to feeling like she belonged, among other issues. I asked her to dance and left the turntables to dance with her. Later in the night, I danced with her again. It was not until the next week, when people were asking me what was up with Cathy and me that I realized that she was the only person I had danced with. I moved into a house with a bunch of other guys in the next day or so and called Cathy to see if she wanted to go with a large group of us to an Art Film house to see the French production of Cyrano DeBergerac. She was the only girl with us and neither of us grasped on that this was a group date. For the first time, I didn't think it out but my heart was making the decisions for me. It was a good thing.

Difficulties in writing

What a couple of weeks it has been. I am again sorry for taking so long to post, but the past few weeks have been a doozy. First, I had a painful conversation with a longtime friend that I am still processing and it was taking up a lot of my thought time. Second, another deal did not close, so we are again in the position of struggling financially every day. And, lastly, some good friends of mine lost their baby girl in vitro.

The last one is the one I am having the hardest time with. I didn't want to write about it, because it is not about me. However, I guess I just have to say how much I feel for them. I just sat and cried when I read the facebook posts to Jeff's page and felt how senseless this is. Intellectually, I know that in a broken world, horrible things happen. But I must confess to being one of those people who thinks everything happens for a reason and there is no good reason for this. I understand when bad things happen to me, but I just can't grasp this. I have to admit to having some pretty harsh words for God in some sleepless nights. My thoughts and prayers and love go out to Kerry & Jeff, to their son Caleb and their baby girl Sadie. Also to Sadie's Grandparents, and the rest of her family, whose grief is large because their hearts are full of love.

Part LIX

It was less than a month later when Paul and Allan offered me a place as they were looking to rent an apartment near our new church and in January of 1990, we moved into the only low-income housing in the area. We affectionately called this area, the crime zone. It was only a couple of square blocks in the middle of an upscale neighborhood, but it seemed to be the only place police would visit in the area. Paul was in film school and cast me in a couple of his student films and we had a great time making them. I was always more of a dialogue guy, but Paul understood the value of a visual effect and a sight gag. Physical comedy was his forte and honestly, I was not all that physical. But, Paul cast me and I enjoyed the films, my particular favorite was "Love Dweeb." During the shooting of Love Dweeb, I began dating a girl from church named April. She was an actress and a dancer and we actually both got a talking to from the College pastor about whether or not it was wise for two actors to date....ahh Christians and their prejudice, good times.

As it turned out, it was an unnecessary warning. April was driven, I was not. April was wealthy, I was not. April's parents did not like me, I felt the same toward them. The only thing we had in common was mutual attraction and the stage. In May, I ended it with April and felt I was pretty clear about it. One night about a week later, we had a drama ministry meeting at April's house. Afterward, as was our habit, a bunch of us guys went to Denny's for late night fun. On the way out, April begged me to stay so we could talk and I was talked out, we had discussed and discussed and she could not understand that it was just over. So, the guys and I went out and a couple of the girls from the group (or maybe only one, I am not sure) remained behind to help April through her emotions. Soon thereafter, I noticed that one of the girls in the group, Cathy Thompson, seemed to have a pretty strong dislike for me. Since it wasn't that unusual for someone to take a disliking to me, I didn't think that much of it ... but when the time arrived, I was prepared to confront her about it.

The time arrived in early July of 1990. I had already started dating another girl from the group, but she had taken a vacation in France and was not around when it came time for the College group camping trip. because she was not around, I ended up with a lot of time on my hands for the trip. One night, because I saw her sitting there, I went up to Cathy and asked her what her problem was. We talked for three hours. In this talk, she explained to me that she was very upset about how I had treated her friend, April. I explained to her that I did not break up with April that night, but a week before and that I had talked at length, on multiple occasions with April, and I just didn't feel like ruining another night with pointless discussion. At the end of our long talk, Cathy and I decided to be good friends and I made efforts to call her and check up on her as often as I could.

Part LVIII

When Mary and I officially broke up as she headed off to UC Santa Cruz in August, I was confronted with a strange situation. At work, some of my co-workers had told me that one of the servers, Kristine, had an interest in me. Since I was involved with Mary at the time, I thought the easiest response was, "If anything ever happens, she is the one I would like to date most out of our co-workers." So, one day in August, I came to work and let my co-workers know that Mary and I had broken up the night before so I was a little down. Even though Mary was not right for me, I still cared about her and it was hard to let things go. Much to my surprise, Kristine did not wait an hour from the time she heard about it to ask me out and I just told her I was a little raw right now and didn't want to think about dating at the moment.

Not much happened for two months. But, on Thursday, October 19th, I was feeling much better and asked Kristine if she wanted to have dinner after work. It was the year the World Series was between the SF Giants and Oakland A's. We went over to a restaurant nearby just before 5pm. Just after 5pm, the world began to shake. It had been since 1972 since we had an earthquake that bad and I was frozen in my seat while Kristine just tried to get under the table. The glass in the windows shattered, plates crashed and broke, some of the ceiling tiles fell out. Then it was over, no power, no lights (it was still bright outside), no certainty of when the aftershocks would start. Since we all lived in California, we knew they were coming, but the size and scope of the aftershocks are always a fear. Kristine drove me to my motel and dropped me off. We had no power and by some estimates, we had well over 100 aftershocks in the next few days. My motel room was on the 3rd floor and that building rocked every time an aftershock hit. It was pretty scary.

Life goes on, and after a couple of weeks, it was just another good story. The "where were you during the Loma Prieta Earthquake" stories added to the richness of conversation for some time. I heard some good ones, but those are not mine, so I will let those people tell their own stories. Things settled back to normal and a few weeks later, I began to DJ for a mobile DJ company. It was ironic since I had no car. In early November, Allan and Paul asked me if I wanted to try out a new church that our old friend and High School Pastor from Valley Church had moved on to. The church was called South Hills Community Church and it was pretty far into the South of the greater city of San Jose. To me, this was the boonies, out there, far away. But Allan picked me up and we went to the church.

I walked into a college group of more than 100 people. It was the largest and most vibrant college group I had seen at any church. At a folding table right at the door of the room were two girls who introduced themselves to me as Elisabeth Wilkes and Cathy Thompson. The entire group was very inviting, the message was pretty good and I immediately felt like it was a place I could fit in. Besides, they had really cute girls.

sorry

Ah, what can I say? It has been a rough week and the desire to post has not been there. But, I will post today and try to post even when it feels like an impossible task. I will finish my story at some point, I promise!

LVII

Mary graduated that June and went to Illinois to visit her old friends (up until that point, I did not know they had lived in IL). Peter, Dan and I had got into a fist fight a few weeks before and they just up and moved out. My choices were to keep a 3 bedroom apartment for which I was no longer on the lease, or move out. I moved into my friend Pat's house for 2 weeks while his parents were on vacation and then moved into a motel in Sunnyvale. While Mary was gone, I bought the first car I had ever purchased at a used car lot - a 1987 Ford Escort GT which was sandalwood (according to the dealer, it looked gold to me). Unfortunately, I lied on my credit app, not wanting them to know I lived at a motel, and out Mark's address down as my address. Mark was mad at me because of the fist fight and was not really talking to me much at the time ... I did not predict that anyone would call me at the number or address I gave them.

Mary came back into town in early July of 1989 and I picked her up for a day out. Wanting to grab some snacks, we drove to the local supermarket and once inside, Mary informed me she had to use the bathroom. In my most caring way, I told her to hold it. She informed me that she could not hold it, did not use public restrooms and begged me to leave. I told her she could go sit in my car and wait and I would take her home in a munte when I was done. In retrospect, I think she have misheard my direction to SIT in the car. After buying what I wanted, I was walking toward the car in the parking lot when from a distance, I could see Mary was in the car and crying. The weirdest thought came to me, "she didn't poop in my car did she?" As soon as I opened the door, I had my answer as a rancid stench wafted out of the car. She begged me again to take her home and after checking the damage, I complied this time. There was a smeared stain across my tan cloth seats, some material down in the crevice of the seat and a hideous smell. When I dropped her off, I borrowed some upholstery cleaner from her Mom and cleaned it up as best I could...the stain never came out. When I went to tell her I was leaving, she made me promise never to tell anyone ... a promise I made but didn't even keep until an hour was up. A few days later, I also got a dent in the fender all in the first month of owning the car.

Much to my surprize, since I had not heard anything from the dealer (it didn't help that they didn't have my actual phone number), my car was re-possessed in late July less than a month after purchasing it. It never hit my credit report because they had let me drive off on the weekend without ever running my credit and they never were able to finance the car for me. If they had got a hold of me, I would have given the car back...I mean, after all, it had a brown stain on the passenger seat and smelled like crap.

Part LVI

Shortly after returning to Santa Clara, I began working a job as the Banquet bar Supervisor at Velvet Turtle in San Jose. For those of you who do not know of the Velvet Turtle, it is far less cheesy than it sounds. It was an upscale dinner-house with multiple banquet rooms and my first real taste of catering, banquets and events was formed out of this experience. Initially, I only worked on events in which a bar was needed and that was fine with me. I faked my way into the job by lying about having a long list of bartending experience, which flew in the face of reason since I had not yet reached my 22nd birthday.

In early February, Lee asked me to go on a double date with his girlfriend's friend, Mary. I initially had no interest in a blind date, especially with a girl still in High School, but when he said we were going to a showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I could not pass it up. I don't know what it is about that movie experience, but I know almost no actors who can pass up the opportunity to enjoy it whenever it is in the theater. A few years later, they released it on videotape and I have to say, that was stupid, without the audience participation it is a stupid movie....but when you lose yourself in the show, it can be really fun. So, I agreed to go. When the night arrived, I had just returned from working at a wedding and changed into more presentable clothes and Lee, Jennifer (his girlfriend) and Mary showed up. She was really not my type, she was too young, a little immature (as one would expect from a 17 year old) and just a bit tom-boyish. But, I made the most of it and we joked around, waiting for our time to head out.

Lee loved Top Gun, he lived for Top Gun. So, when Lee drove his little orange VW Rabbit, he drove it as though he were flying a fighter jet. One of his favorite moves was to accelerate in behind a car stopped at a red light if he could see the light was going to change. Then he would say, "everyone hold on," and he would swerve around the car at top speed just as the light changed. This had the thrilling effect of making me want to change my shorts, but I had been in the car with him when he had done this a number of times and it did not surprise me. What did surprise me was the tone of his voice this time...somehow I knew it was going wrong. So, on the way to Rocky Horror that night, we rear-ended a station wagon while we were going about 70 mph and they were at a dead stand still. The other car took off, but we were not so lucky. I was the only person in the car not wearing a seat belt and I flew forward with force, meeting the back of Lee's head with the front of mine. I got a bloody lip, Lee got a concussion. When I turned to look at Mary, she was bleeding profusely from a cut on her eyelid where a ring from her hand had punctured it while she was bracing for the impact. Jennifer received what are referred to as "seat belt injuries", which is much worse than it sounds. She had a bruise which extended the length of her torso diagonally across her chest. So, the only person who escaped serious injury was the only person not wearing a seat belt ... go figure.

I spent the entire night at the hospital emergency room as Mary has some surgery on her eyelid and interior eye wall (OK its called ocular cavity, but that sounds gross). A few days later, as a courtesy, I stopped by her house to check on her and was surprised when she asked me out for Valentine's day. My need to be a "good boyfriend" began to be tried out on a girl who was not my type, was too young and really wasn't that into me either. We got along well enough, didn't fight that much and a month later, when she turned 18 we were officially an item. However, in that time, I joked with Lee's girlfriend Jennifer about following us around on dates (because I saw her twice on one night out) and she promptly told Lee he could not move in with me anywhere which I thought was funny because I was Lee's roomie a year before they ever started dating. But, Lee listened to her and moved out on his own...I moved into his old room, the Master Bedroom. I had no furniture, but made so much money in cash (I had since been promoted to Banquet Captain) that I had cash in piles laying around on the floor all the time. I slept on the floor, had no light in my room at night and worked 13 shifts a week (maybe that is why Mary and I never fought...we hardly ever saw each other). It is strange to think, but true all the same, that this rebound girl who I really wasn't that into, would be the longest relationship I held until I got married. I entered a phase of life, where being an ideal boyfriend was more important to me than the actual relationship or the person with whom I was involved. It was incredibly self-centered, but at least I was concentrating on how I was perceived for once.

Part LV

So, in November of 1988, I moved into a lovely little one bedroom shanty...I mean apartment in Venice California. It was the first time I had ever lived in my own place and I liked it, but a few weeks later my newly purchased 1971 VW Bug broke down and I lost my job and I was pretty quickly unable to pay my bills. My relationship with Amy was pretty weird anyway, but she turned 18 just before Thanksgiving and we went to her wealthy parents home in Costa Mesa for the holiday and I found out a little more of why she dated me...Daddy liked preppy guys and I was anything but that. Amy was, for lack of a better term, dumb. Not unintelligent, but the kind of dumb that gets under your skin; the kind of dumb that makes assumptions about everyone and everything she comes across. She was book smart, but was a vapid pretty girl without any common sense or reason. She hated how mad I got at drivers on the road (which was probably good) and I hated that she believed everything she read in the tabloids (which was definitely not good).

Late in December we got in a huge fight because I lied to her. I had an opening gig at a comedy club in West Hollywood and I didn't want anyone I knew to be there because I felt it would inhibit me and I was already pretty nervous doing comedy. She insisted on going so I told her I made the whole thing up. After the gig, she realized that I had lied and confronted me and I just broke down. I am not sure why, but I spilled my guts about every little lie I had told (okay not all of them, but all of the ones to her). Her initial response was one of forgiveness, but our relationship did not last out the evening as she realized that she really didn't know me and she dumped me. The next week I was offered a voluntary eviction due to not paying my rent, I guess they had a better tenant ready to go. I was able to break my lease, but without penalty, and I moved back to Mom & Ted's couch.

A couple of weeks later, I called my old roomie Lee and he said if I moved back I could stay on their couch, but my room had been rented to someone else. So, I planned to go back to Santa Clara the day after the Super Bowl in January of 1989. This was the Super Bowl where the Niners beat the Bengals for their second championship. The next morning, Darin had offered to pick up the items and change the oil in my car (which had been repaired from the fateful break down). He was almost two hours late and I loaded up the car to leave. When he arrived, we got into a fist fight in which no blows landed, but I did not talk to my brother for more than a year afterwards. I still don't know what that fight was about and neither does he. Leaving the fight, I drove up the 5 to San Jose and began living on the couch at my old apartment. The guys treated me with such grace and never brought up that I had left them high and dry when I had moved before. Lee and I made plans to move into a 2 bedroom just the two of us and leave Peter and their new room mate, Dan, in the existing space. Times were tough, I was still reeling from the break up of a very intense, but woefully bad relationship with Amy and had no place of my own. But, I had friends and that seemed like a good thing.

5 guys

We went to Five Guys Burgers & Fries last week and it was yummy. There is not enough to be said for a restaurant concept which does not try to get too big for its britches, but instead does the few things they do so well that people line up to have their wares. In California, there are such wonderful places as Johnny Rockets which really only serves burgers and shakes; Pizza My Heart, a by-the-slice place that only offers large pizzas or a slice of large pizza and only cheese or Pepperoni; and the little shacks in Aptos and Capitola called Duke's that serve the best grilled dogs and BBQ you can find. Here, in Colorado Springs, Five Guys is that place. The place was packed and we weren't going to go there, we were on our way to noodles...but, man, it smelled good. So, in we go and there is no where to sit and the smallest menu known to man. The options were burger, hot dog or grilled cheese. While you can add some things to the top of your selection, there are no specially made crazy burgers waiting for you. The food was ready pretty quick, grilled right in front of you by an entire row of High School students working their way toward some weekend party. And, it was delicious. I highly suggest the Cajun Fries (just some seasoning added to their regular fries). The fries are not really my kind of fries (I am a crispy fry kind o guy) and are pretty oily, but for taste, they are pretty jammin'. The burgers and dogs were delicious. I can recommend this place with gusto, both due to the good food and for the simplicity of concept. Go have a dog and tell them I sent you...they have no idea who I am but I would love to see how they react to that.

Part LIV

Living on your Mom's couch is even worse than it sounds, but hey its better than living in the van. Shortly after arriving, I struck out looking for work which would keep me afloat while seeking my stardom. Some of that was hampered by two weeks shooting the grad film, "Noble Honor", for which I not only did not get paid, I also never received a copy. Responding to every ad in the trades, I went through a number of cattle calls. My favorite had me in callbacks for the role of Neil Perry in "Dead Poet's Society" (the part played by Robert Sean Leonard). It is still hard for me to see him in various roles (including an eight year run on House) and not be filled with a sense of "what if."

Within a couple of weeks, my brother ran me by a local restaurant called the Warehouse (no not the music store) which was almost completely employing gay men. I knew that neither when I applied, nor for a good period of time following it. later I was called into the GM's office and told that I had misrepresented myself during the hiring process. I really did not understand what that meant, but one of the other 3 straight guys (of a staff of over 70 men) told me it meant they thought I was gay when they hired me. We wore white tight shorts and Hawaiian shirts and were prodded to get a photo with any celebrity who walked in the door. The pay never worked out to be what I had hoped for and I stayed as a day server for a long time. I continued to hang out with my friend, Monica, and her three roomies: Kim, Jackie and Gayle. They lived in a two bedroom condo in Westwood and all attended UCLA. They were fun and pretty cute and it made me feel good to hang out with them. They seemed to be pretty tight with all of the UCLA athletes, including a young (but already famous) Andre Agassi and a starting quarterback who was only somewhat known at the time, Troy Aikman. There were other friends who were around at the time, relatives of celebrities or minor celebrities on their own, and I slipped back into the dullness of celebrity which I grew up with. When you live in certain parts of LA, celebrities lose their attraction and you can take them as normal folks.

October began with starting in my first professional Improvisation Troupe, LA Connection, and a continued pursuit of stand up comedy. I loved improv, but found stand up to be incredibly hard. I still believe it is more of an art than a craft. When I am in a comedic play and no one laughs, there are many people to blame. But, when I am up on a comedy stage and no one laughs, there is no way around the realization that it can only be that I am not funny. I am grateful that never really happened to me, while some jokes are better than others, I never really bombed. Just before Halloween, I went to a party with the girls and a neighbor of the person throwing the party showed up. She was very pretty and for some reason had an interest in me and I did not find out until later that she was actually 17. Her name was Amy and we began dating that night and continued for 10 1/2 weeks...I always thought that was funny because out relationship was one week longer and just a little more screwed up than the one profiled in the film "9 1/2 weeks."

Chris then, Chris now

It is a difficult thing when life brings you truly face to face with the guy you used to be. It is one thing to tell my story. I look back and remember, in a rather disconnected way, the youth who lied or who was a snake with women. I see a guy who I don't have a lot in common with anymore and can tell the story pretty easily. And then facebook came along....

Now I get friend requests from people I haven't seen in 25 years and they say, "hey aren't you the guy who did ____?" It feels like someone dragging me back into the state of mind that I have left far behind. There is no reminiscence, only fear and pain and self-loathing. It has the effect of making me want to crawl inside a shell. How could THAT guy ever come to anything good? He was just a partier, a scammer, a liar, a dog. He could never be better than where he came from, could he? These thoughts run through my head and I am stifled, set back, ashamed and alone.

But then I remember. On August 3rd, 1986, the God of all compassion and grace lifted me personally out of the muck, out of the miry clay, and set me on dry land. He lifted me up, He dusted me off and said, "It is good." I must remember that I have been redeemed and that I am not that guy anymore. I have been forgiven, I have been set free, I am not alone, I am a new creature. Thank you God for that redemption and help me to be the one You made me to be.

sometimes I just need to repeat it...

My wife is the coolest spouse ever. She is gifted, talented, amazing, beautiful and her existence flies in the face of my belief that nothing original ever happens. She is new and original and interesting everyday. We have been married for over 17 years and she gets better looking every day. She is supportive in the worst of times and a constant partner in the best. She is a blessing from God that I have never deserved and proof that He loves me even with all of my faults. She is funny, and there is just no price that can be put on that. We laugh our days away together and I can only thank God for her presence in my life. Thanks, God!

the Watchmen

Okay, I promised I would critique the film, so here goes...

First the good stuff:
The Watchmen is an intense and gripping film, with a compelling story which keeps you involved and interested for all of the 2 hours and 43 minutes of screen time. It is an artistic masterpiece of visual imagery, that while at times grotesque, is stunningly beautiful all the same. The film embraces some pretty large concepts of the nature of humanity, the nature of evil and the existence of God. It embraces the questions without any real resolution, and yet does so in a satisfying way. When I used to sneak into film classes with friends, I remember the professors telling us that there were certain elements of film which the average American audience simply could not accept. One of those was showing the death of a child, another is a story or concept which does not truly resolve. There is a story arc, and it must resolve to be satisfying. The Watchmen was able to have a pretty satisfactory ending, even though it did not resolve, because it showed a perception of life as it is and sometimes life is like that. The fascinating thing is that it showed life as it is through the lens of life as it is not. A fantastic tale is always the best way to address the larger concepts in life, in my opinion. At one point, one of the characters is treating us to a disgusting and graphic memory of death and torture and evil and he says to the person interrogating him, "I used to be mad at God for all that is wrong in the world, all the evil. But he didn't make it this way, we did." This film, however, does not only propagate one view of God, evil and salvation, but presents a multitude of beliefs as varied as the characters and leaves the audience to resolve what is true. It does not preach, it presents, and I for one appreciate that in art.

And on to the bad stuff:
It is, in many parts, pornographic. I don't just mean the sex scenes and the gratuitous nudity (I haven't seen that much male full-frontal nudity since Shaft, the Richard Roundtree one), I mean it is also pornographic in its violence. The violence is so over-the-top, so gory, so gratuitous that the audience is left numb. As anecdote, I will say it perfectly represents that genre of graphic novels and represents them well in feel and substance. However, it is just too much for me. It was disturbing and I won't be seeing it a second time, but I can not say I disagree with the choice. From an artistic sense, it was the right choice, but from a viewer's perspective, it was too much (not that my opinion will matter much, it is making gobs of money at the box office).

I guess, in the end, I would use the following adjectives for this film: brilliant, artistic, beautiful, compelling and fascinating. All the same, I can not recommend that anyone go see it for the disturbing content is just too much.

Part LIII

The spring and summer of 1988 were actually pretty fun and carefree. I was promoted to also work night shifts at Charley Brown's in April, which greatly increased my income. The need for me to work Sunday Brunch all but removed all of my church friends from my life and had it not been for dating Debbie, I probably would have had no connection with any Christians. Debbie had turned from this cool quirky girl I knew to what I am sure she thought was a model Christian girlfriend. Though I had never seen her in a dress up until then, she began wearing more conservative clothes and in early summer had facial reconstructive surgery (because her teeth did not meet in front, I guess, I never really noticed). While she was recovering, and during the weeks her jaw was wired shut, I would ride my bike to work in the morning, ride to her house in between shifts then ride home after the evening shift. I was riding about 36 miles per day and as you can imagine, keeping in pretty good shape.

Two things happened in the early summer. One was my bike got stolen, so I could not go see Debbie anymore. The second was some summer hires. My friend, Nancy, was the main training server at CB and we got along pretty well. I was an over-the-top flirt, all the time, and usually hung out with the girls. In May, I had become one of the trainers and in early June we had hired some summer help, mostly consisting of people coming back from college. One of those people was a girl I trained and was soon to be a friend, Monica. Monica, Nancy and I were inseparable for the rest of the summer and we would hang out, party, drink at bars and even go to the County Fair or the beach regularly. It was like I lived two different lives that summer. I still saw some friends from church like Paul and Allan and Joe, but mostly in odd places away from church and the facts of my dismissal and the judgment I felt from the people at Valley began its slow turn into bitterness against other Christians.

In August, I responded to an open call in San Francisco that a friend had turned me on to and received an offer to perform one of the leads in a film. The film was a full-length feature, but also a Graduate Film at Loyola Marymount University in West LA. Although I was told they had every interest in releasing the film to a large audience, and I would be paid a percentage of the profits, I was too inexperienced in the ways of the entertainment business to realize that they always say that. Shooting was set to begin in late September, but since Monica was headed back to UCLA the first week in September, I decided to give notice at CB and hitch a ride with her and another girl who went to UCLA. I gave my room mates just a week's notice and called my Mom to move onto her couch. Apparently, I told Mom that I was coming to LA to go to college, then promptly forgot I told her that. So I burned the bridge at the fun and profitable job at Charley Brown's, again screwed over someone I was living with and dumped Debbie for no reason other than I wanted more of a party life and she was keeping me tied to my faith. Full of hope of stardom, and forgetting about my faith, my friends and my past, I headed to LA to again start over.

too much to blog

I had a full day yesterday. I was enlightened to find that my perception is not always reality, and I saw what I can only describe as a truly beautiful and equally disturbing film.

First, I am a perceptive guy who is not particularly observant. It is an odd combination, because I realize that drawing a conclusion without all the facts is usually a bad idea. Yet I find myself often correct in my conclusions about people. While I do not see detail in my surroundings, I do see the smallest facial change or inflection of voice adjustment, the timing of a phrase or a sigh. I can tell you whether a smile is genuine from someone without ever remembering or even noticing the color of their eyes. I do not say this to say, "hey, look at me, look how cool I am." Rather I say it to let you know the strangeness of my perception. I come from a family of con men and I learned pretty early, or perhaps it is an innate trait, to read a person or a room.

Second, I am a rather uncompromising guy. Some see this as good, some see it as bad. In movies, the hero is always uncompromising. In the same movies, the uncompromising guy almost always dies. He is a tragic figure and I usually admire him greatly. The difficulty is that uncompromising can be seen as arrogant, unfeeling, uncaring or totally incapable of recognizing when you are wrong. And, honestly, none of those are true about me. While it is true that I believe myself to be right all the time, it is only because I would not say it if I didn't think it was right. Personally, I think everyone thinks they are right all the time, some people are just less eager to admit it. I can't imagine holding an opinion in which I have no confidence of being correct. But, I do realize all the time that I could be wrong. I do care. I do feel.

So yesterday, I went to talk to my friend about a certain defensiveness which was hurting my feelings and came face to face with the reality that my passionate convictions were hurting her feelings. I had no intention of hurting anyone's feelings, especially someone I care about. I wish I could say it was the first time it had ever happened. I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, between care and conviction. I feel a responsibility to say what is on my heart, which is different than what is on my mind. I can't describe how they are different, but they are. I am fully willing to be proven wrong, but I have heard no one even try. It is simpler to be upset with the delivery than to truly address the issue, I know I do the same all the time. But if my delivery was insensitive, please forgive me, it was not intended to hurt, but to share a conviction or convict others in a similar fashion. I guess the question I will have to answer is whether it is okay to feel right, when I feel so bad about hurting a friend's feelings. Or is this just another of those tensions in life? I was told yesterday that it felt like judging when I say things like, "My God is bigger than that." Maybe it is, but it is not towards the individual, but to the whole body of believers and the response I hope for is that since we worship the same God, you are not seeing Him as big as He is. Not somehow that you are not worshipping the same God. And, it is not my judgment, I have no right to judge anyone. But I want so much more from this church and the Church as a whole. I want us to see God for who He is, rather than living with the fear that He is not who we believe Him to be. He is a provider, a redeemer, a savior, Truth, Love, Life. If we do not look for Him out there where He wants us to step, He will meet us right back here where we are willing to stay...because He loves us. But it is simply not a good reason to stay back, to hold back or to step back. God calls us to freedom and we are content with safety. Anyway, I don't want to get up on the soapbox again. Just please hear me that I am sorry that I hurt your feelings, and that goes to anyone who has not let me know that as well....I am sure the list is long.

This blog entry is getting long also, so I will get to the movie tomorrow or the next day. It was beautiful, artistic, well made and I can not say this strongly enough....don't go see it

Part LII

A couple of weeks later, as the rain and cold got a little unbearable, Gary let me move into a different vacant room at his house. I had begun working at a stationary store at Valley Fair Mall and had within a week or two moved into a supervisory position. I was not attending church as much as I might, preferring to look for another church while no one knew what I was doing. Most of the time, I told people I had to work. After a short period of time, I gave up looking and mostly went to Valley Church again. I just didn't feel comfortable anywhere else, even though I often did not feel welcome there.

I was again invited to spend Christmas with Paul and his family, but when Christmas day came, I got the call that Paul was in the hospital with some complications of a surgery he had had as an infant (I think...Paul will have to correct me if I am wrong). So, we spent Christmas day in the hospital and I actually had a pretty good time hanging out. The day after Christmas, as most people know, is the busiest shopping day of the year. I called my work to let them know that I would be late and that I was going to stop in to see my friend at the hospital. They did not take kindly to this, and the manager and I got into an argument on the phone which resulted in my quitting my job and spending the whole day with Paul. I don't think he knew about that. But, I was once again out of work and a short time later, Gary (seeing a familiar pattern) asked me to move out.

I next took a short-term job as a telemarketer for the San Jose Mercury News, but that job really sucked so it only lasted about two weeks. In the meantime, I was staying with my friend Bobby (who has since worked on Capitol Hill for Rep. Bob Barr and Rep. Phil Gingery - no connection there, I am just proud of him) or sometimes with my friends Peter and Lee. Peter and Lee lived in a 3 bedroom apartment with a couple. The couple were odd enough, most notably because the girl was a paraplegic who refused to wear depends so she literally pissed on everything without knowing it. I am not kidding. Peter was a friend from Choir and Small Ensemble who I could not help but pick on, I don't know why. Lee was one of the linemen I used to go to dinner with on the football team, and hung out with quite a bit the summer after I graduated. In late February, I began working as a daytime server at Charley Brown's Steak & Seafood and Peter, Lee and I moved into our own 3 bedroom apartment. I also began dating a girl from church named Debbie. Debbie was a neat girl, a little different from everyone else, and we were friends. When I showed up at her birthday party without a present, I instead told her I would take her out for her birthday. I didn't mean anything by it, but she took it as a date and we began dating. I like my job, lived in a place for which I was on the lease, was dating a girl...things were okay and would remain that way for a good six months.

Part LI

As soon as the job was finished at church, I literally had nowhere to go. Since I still had keys to the church, I took to sleeping in the building across the parking lot where the College group met. I had a sleeping bag, but was once again as homeless as it gets. I decided to turn myself in at Ft. Ord in Monterey CA, because even jail was better than homelessness. So, in mid September of 1987, I took a bus to Ft. Ord and got the haircut and turned myself in.

The experience was considerably different than what I had assumed. First, we didn't do anything and we weren't thrown in the brig. 10,000 service members per year go AWOL and apparently there are not enough jails for all of us. We each had some light duty (cleaning, sweeping, KP) on one of the days and spent the rest playing basketball or processing. One of the days of processing, you have to go see the CO and he asks a few questions. Mine went like this:

Captain: Why did you go AWOL?
Me: For a girl, sir.
Captain: Ok, is she still around?
Me: No, sir.
Captain: They never are. What would you do if I sent you back to your unit?
Me: That could happen, sir? That would be great! It was the worst mistake of my life.
Captain: Ok, dismissed.

The next day, I went to see the less positive version of an officer...a JAG corps officer (defense attorneys who serve the Army, not you). My JAG Off. (yep, that's what they are called) let me know that opting to return to my unit opens me to court martial and though not a definite probability of action, there was a possibility that they would send me to jail. Well, a few nice nights in a barracks and I forgot all about how comfy jail might be. I accepted the deal proposed to me, which was a UOTH discharge (a general discharge given Under Other Than Honorable circumstances) and immediate terminal leave. In all, I was at Ft. Ord for all of 3 days.

Since I had nothing else to do, I took a bus to LA to visit with Darin and my Mom, who had moved to Marina del Rey with Ted that year (Who she had to marry twice also, because she had never divorced Bud...making Ted #6 & #7). Darin's girlfriend was buying a new car and offered to sell her old car, a 1970 Chevy Monte Carlo, to me. As I had no money, no job and no prospects of a job, I agreed to pay $600 in installments of $25 per month. I made a call to my step-brother John, who was stationed at a Naval Air Station in Hanford CA, and we agreed to meet up so I could meet his new baby girl. As I headed up the 5 (that's highway 5 for you non-Californians), Darin's girlfriend let me know that the car sometimes stalled. All one had to do was make sure to put it in park or it would not restart. I don't remember the turn off to get to Hanford, but I do remember I went the wrong way. Off on some two lane road, I realized my error and decided since I was in the middle of nowhere, with no one around, I would make a u-turn. The car stalled out sideways across the road. Remembering Suzy's words, I put the car in park and proceeded to flood the engine. Looking up, I could see a car coming in the far distance, I mean far, it could have been a mirage. I turned the key and the car tried to start, but didn't get there. The car was getting closer and I figured, of course he will stop. I tried to start up with a much more frantic move that probably ensured that it would not start. I reached my arm out to wave as if to say, "hello...I am here." Realizing that the car was not slowing, I pulled my hand in and leaped to the other side of the front seat. Unfortunately, I was seat-belted in so I didn't get far. The car hit me on the driver's side door going over 80 miles per hour. Later the police would tell me that the fact that you could read "Oldsmobile" across my door meant that he was accelerating into it. He was an old man and I think he hit the wrong pedal...it was either that or he was trying to kill me.

Luckily and un-luckily, my window was down. It was shattered inside the door instead of on my face, but since that was my new home and we were headed into colder months...it was a bummer. I got back to the bay area in the early hours of Saturday, September 26th, 1987. I felt a little free and not so worried. Yes, it sucks to live in your car, but the seats were pretty comfortable to sleep on until it started raining.

feedback

So, I was wondering what people think of the changes in the look and layout of the blog. What do you think? And yes, Traci, I changed the blue on black to something more readable just because you asked.

Cheers, all!

dismay

Well, my wife was a self-described weepy mess during last night's annual meeting and I can not say that I am much better off. I was too emotional to really know what I said, but I definitely failed in conveying how distraught the current (and now accepted) budget was making me. Or, perhaps I have overestimated the value of one voice calling out the fact that the way is wrong and we are off course. I don't remember what I said when I stood up, but I do remember the looks from friends, people I love. I am dismayed. In fairness, mine was not the only voice, they were many. People stood up to say how little sense this made, even people who the Sturms have not had a direct impact on, but it did not sway anyone. I think people voted the way they came in intending to vote. It was a complete waste of two hours and only cemented this feeling of grief over the direction of our church.

Now, don't get me wrong. The Sturms will be fine. Contrary to what the hard-hearted among the meeting might think, this is not actually an impassioned plea for my friend's job. This is a real look at the effect of losing a connection point when people are hurting, at not valuing the effect of someone with a soft heart in these times, and of saying through our actions that our God is not big enough to meet our needs. I also identified the opposite side of the "prosperity gospel", which I will call the "fiscal gospel." The fiscal gospel is as much heresy as the prosperity gospel, because it only takes a part of the gospel and tells everyone that they must live their lives and make their decisions through this unbalanced view. The Prosperity Gospel forgets the cross and the fact that Jesus tells us there will be pain, there will be hardship. The Fiscal Gospel tells us that our salvation is in cost-savings, that stewardship trumps faith. They are two sides of the same coin, and they both tell us that if we put our faith in cash all will be okay. One says if you give, you will get. The other says, if you save, you will be safe. Both are a travesty and do not reflect life as we know it. Sometimes, bad things happen...sometimes, good things happen. The truth is found in how we respond in each case. They will know whom we follow by how we love one another, well last night we just loved ourselves.

From the Mountain

So, the email finally went out about our church's budget and I can blog in a little freedom. So, here goes:

My friends, my church, my community...Wake Up! How will people believe if we do not? How will people know that there is more than this, if we do not act like there is? I am so discouraged, disappointed, dismayed. Who do we serve? Do we serve a powerless god who can make no difference in our real lives? A god who can make us feel better, but really has no impact on the things that happen in the real world? Or, do we serve a God of power, the Creator-God, Maker of the Universe, Author of history? Our actions say that our God is small...He will not meet our needs, we need to hunker down, batten down the hatches and ride out this economic storm. Apparently, our God can not help us. Is this the God we serve?

The God I serve sends a small boy to fight a giant, because He is bigger than our fears. He sends a stuttering bigot to speak to the gentile world, because He is bigger than our prejudices. He sent a hairy man clothed in rags to confront an evil king, because He is bigger than our perceptions. He sent His only Son to die for us, because He is bigger than our sin. That is my God! He shows himself strong in our weakness. But, how will He hold the hand of the weary, if we will not be those hands? How will He embrace the destitute if we will not be those arms? This is our calling and it is not one of timidity, it is one of bravery. It is not one of self-protection, it is one of reckless abandon. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, "not everyone can be famous, but everyone can be great, because greatness is determined by service." We are called to greatness...Greatness!!

We need to wake up, look up and live up. Wake from this stupor which we are in that allows us to ignore our calling to greatness and to sleep in our self-protective bubble. We need to look up to the God who is there waiting for us to look to Him. We need to live up tot he standard to which we are called, one of selfless lives and pouring ourselves out for others. Wake up! Look up!! Live up!!!


Okay, I will put my soapbox away for a little bit, but I have a feeling this will be something that needs to be said over and over for the next few years. Please, please, please repent and look to the Living God.

Part L

Late winter and spring of 1987 was a generally good time. I had good friends, passion in my commitment and a total unawareness of either my hypocrisy or of that which surrounded me. Even though the High School pastor, Keith, had a pretty low opinion of me, he and I would have lunch together 1-2 times per week. I even took great pride that he used me (anonymously) as the subject of some of his lessons, even though it was never in a good or positive context. Our Music Pastor had me write out the Hebrew for his early morning Hebrew class, Charles and I started a new drama ministry and Kurt left to take a job as a youth pastor up by Lake Tahoe. Kurt was the Senior Pastor's son, so I totally understood his need to be his own person. I started printing a newsletter for the Junior High group, but having to come up with all of the content on my own, I only did 4 months. We searched for a new pastor and I took classes with our College Pastor, Rick, on preaching. Things, in my perception, went pretty well until summer hit.

Late in June, Rick called me in to talk about the upcoming Junior High Camp at Alliance Redwoods and told me I could not go. I was really looking forward to it, and if he gave me a satisfying reason for the decision, I do not remember it. I just remember being angry and then humbling myself as much as I knew how. Eventually, they allowed me to go, but not to be a counselor...I got to clean things and get the generic term "staff." In the end, I still believe it was the same prejudice towards people who were different that did me in. I did not fit in the box of what people were supposed to be like with youth. I did not treat them like subordinates, but rather like equals. It was probably this equality which drove people crazy, but it may have been that I spent too much time with the girls. I did not have the Christian culture down enough to have a problem with inter-gender discussion and I was not self-aware enough to realize that young girls like the attention from older guys, even if the older guy is woefully unaware of what that would mean to them. It still cracks me up that some people had a problem thinking that I was gay for the way I dressed and being involved with drama and others thought I was on the move with the young girls. Either way, there was probably only a handful of people who realized that my intentions were pretty pure and I was just someone who was different.

Oh...In late May, my friend Allan had returned from College for the summer and told me I could save some money if I lived at his house for free. I do not believe he ever asked his Mom if i could, he just showed up with me one day. So, without notice, I left Mark's family hanging and moved out. I was so unaware of how my actions effected others, so dismally self-involved. It is hard to write this, to look at it on the page and realize that I hurt people and never even really thought about it.

August of 1987 was a tough time for me. Early in the month, the new Junior High Pastor was hired and began working. He let me know that I could be a probationary worker with the group until he had time to assess what all of the objections were to me. After having served in the ministry for 7 months and giving my full-throated support to this new hire, I was so offended that I told him he could keep his ministry to himself and I would move on. A week or two later, I received some other news. I had been hanging out with a girl and we were really friends. Regardless of what people thought, we never even held hands, but we did spend a lot of time together. She was in High School and Keith had gone to her parents and told them that she should not be allowed to date me so they made her stop spending time with me. This had an immense irony to it because not only were we not dating at all, but Keith was dating someone who had just got out of his High School ministry. My friend, Paul (who was the High School intern), also had a problem with my relationship with this girl and made it fairly clear to me. I can't figure out if I was dense and there was more to this relationship, or if I just came across as creepy to the extreme, but no one wanted me hanging out with her. Late in August I was called into the office of the administrative pastor and the new office manager to let me know that the church needed to make some cutbacks and they were eliminating my job and putting the old person back into it. They told me I could look for a job on my work time, but without pay. Since I could not afford to miss an hour of work, I waited til the two weeks were up. Also, around the same time, Allan told me that staying at his house was only until he went back to school, so I would need to move out within the week. I was left with few friends, no ministry, no job, feeling an outcast at my church, no home and I had no car even to get around with. It had been a year since I had become a Christian and things were most definitely, not getting better.

today's neuroses

For some time, I have wondered how the various experiences and weirdness of my life play out in the big picture. I believe strongly in the big picture, that there is more to life than just the ebb and flow of our fortunes every day. Last summer, I thought I had an answer to that and some agreed with me, while others clearly did not. I had an opportunity for a calling, which I define as a combination of my experiences, my passions and my gifting. I have seen other people who seem to understand their calling and I believe that we all have one. I guess my question is this: can we miss our calling? Can it just fly by and the opportunity is lost? If one misses the opportunity once, does it mean that was not their calling or are they destined to move on to something less satisfying? I guess that is more than one question.

As I have put down my story, and continue to write it, I can see some patterns, but also a whole lot of random circumstances. Am I the result of my experiences or do I have purpose? Can one change his destiny for the good, or for the bad, or is it pre-ordained? Believe it or not, these questions keep me up at night, make me ponder over a coffee or an evening movie. As I prayed last night, "what would you have me do?", I heard only the wind and could not hear the voice of God telling me a direction. There have been times when I felt so clear, and times like these that I can only see where I am at and no further. I must admit to preferring the former and detesting the latter. What do you think? Do you have a purpose?

*please refrain from references to Steve Martin (in "the Jerk") and "I have a special purpose."*

Part XLIX

Sometime during October of 1986, one of Gary's room mates gave his notice and I moved into his old room on November 1st. During this month Kurt also asked me to look at re-writing or doctoring a part of his script for the Christmas play and I turned my five lines into a sizable part. My friend Jon asked me if I would go to Winter Formal with his sister who was a junior, and although I did not know her well...she was cute, so I said yes. November came and I went to the dance and dinner with Laura, but we were not meant for each other and I had some reservations about dating a new friend's sister, so I never asked her out after that. I also was recruited and hired as the Assistant Manager at a clothing store just down the way in the mall and I did relatively well there, but always tried to get other guys better sales and mine suffered. I was used to spending Thanksgiving alone and when all the roomies went away, I spent Thanksgiving at our place alone. I wrote a one-act play that day on a yellow pad, but never performed it or even showed it to anyone. It was an honest look at being alone on holidays and I think it must have hit too close to home for me. The day before that I had called my friend Paul and had ended up talking to his Mom for a bit, when she found out I was going to be alone for Thanksgiving she invited me to spend the time with their family, but I assured her I was fine. She insisted that I come over and spend Christmas with them and I readily accepted that invitation. Paul was my friend, he had a good looking sister and I liked his family so it was really nice for them to ask. I doubt his Mom ever asked either Paul, his sister or his Dad before she invited me, but they were very gracious in taking in the stray. It was really nice of them and I have fond memories of that time.

In the middle of December, we performed the play with the unoriginal title of "the Christmas Gift." Kurt asked me to tell my story, or give my testimony in the language of the Christian community, and I agreed. I guess I just had never told anyone how recent my conversion was, because the response was a little drastic, including our High School pastor's immediate concern about my serving in any capacity in the church due to spiritual immaturity. That night also has an interesting asterisk, it was the last time in telling my story that I used the disingenuous line, "and everything was better after that." Life does not seem to work that way. There is an ebb and flow of good and bad and God has never promised that everything will go our way if we will do X. But, I did not understand that at the time and said what I thought was expected. After the play, Kurt asked me if I would direct a musical he had written for the Junior Highers and I agreed with one caveat, if I could serve in the Junior High ministry. I thought he would like that and was really putting the caveat in there as a joke, mostly due to a lack of understanding of how things work in ministry, but eventually he relented and allowed me to serve in his ministry and I began to direct his play.

At the end of the month, the regional manager came in to talk to me about my sales at work and told me that they would prefer to demote me or I could quit. Never being a huge fan of demotion, I quit without any care for the consequences. One of those consequences was that I could not pay rent and I ended up moving out of Gary's place and staying with my friend Mark (not the Mark from High School, the Mark from Church) for a few months. Mark's family was struggling to make ends meet, but I never even thought about that until later. My $200 per month for all expenses probably helped, but I am not sure it covered the hassle of having someone like me under their roof. Also, I was at the church one day and they told me they were looking for a receptionist. I told them I could do the job and they hired me. This was a huge deal, because our church's view at the time was pretty much that God had ordained women for office work...besides I had an earring, wore purple and was involved in theater. I had the unenviable situation of being involved in many things which a large portion of our members used as metaphor for being a homosexual. Little did they know that was not my issue, mine was quite the opposite, but perception is a bummer sometimes and I had an uphill battle from that point forward.

hmmm

Well, according to my analytics program, no one is really reading this anymore. I will continue to write when I have a chance and I know that my lack of consistency is probably the reason for the drop in readership. I will also try to blog when I don't feel like it so there is something up to update folks on my silliness and lack of a normal take on things. I hope if you read this, you are well. Drop a note and let me know that you are interested so I don't feel like I am shouting at the ocean and just getting back the occasional salty spray.

Part XLVIII

When I was in High School, I had attended Valley Church in Cupertino for a few weeks and so, when I got off work, I headed over for an evening service. I really can't remember what the message was that night, but I remember who was working the sound board. Back when I had attended the church before, I had met Paul. He was a year older than me and had attended a rival High School. Paul's school was on the good side of the tracks, as it were. Somewhere inside me, I knew that if I was going to change, I needed a new kind of friends. I decided that day that Paul was the beginning of that new direction. I really should have consulted with him, but caring about other people's needs wasn't a skill I possessed at the time. I just decided to make him my friend and it is perhaps the worst way to make friends with someone of which I have ever heard. By the grace of God and because Paul is a good guy, we are still friends to this day.

The next few weeks were interesting. I still lived in the van, worked at Foot Locker, and went to church every time I could. I went Sunday morning, College group Sundays, Sunday Nights, College Group mid-week and any event the church might plan. At work, I made everyone call me Israel ("wrestles with God") and even changed my name tag. I met more and more people who were a better influence on my life, but the truth is that Valley Church was a very conservative church and we had a mutual culture shock. I was shocked by the legalism and judgment and they were shocked at just how much I was not their idea of what a Christian was. Most of the people at Valley were what I called "lifers", meaning that if they remembered when they became a Christian it was when they were 4 or something. Paul worked with the High School group and I would hang out with him while he was setting things up and sometimes during their mid-week event.

In the college group, I met a lot of guys who seemed a lot older than me, though they were probably only 4-5 years older. One of these guys was Gary. Gary was a caring, nice, slightly effeminate guy who I was never quite sure was heterosexual. I am not casting any aspersions, it was just my perception. In early September, Gary invited me to go to Bible Study at his house, where he lived with three other guys. Every Monday they had a mandatory bible study/prayer meeting. I figured, anything to be out of the van, so I went. The guys all prayed for me and later that week invited me to move out of the van and onto their couch. It was a huge blessing as the cold months were about to hit and living in the van would have become a bummer. That Sunday I saw that the High School group's band needed a bass player and so I told them I would love to do it. What I did not tell them was that I did not know how to play Bass. For some reason, I just thought I could pick it up. It took only one practice for them to realize that they needed someone else and they never made me feel bad about it.

A few weeks after that, they posted auditions for the Christmas play. While I held a disdain for both amateur and church drama which holds fast to this day, I offered to Kurt (Junior High Pastor and Drama Geek, like myself) to help him with the auditions. During those auditions, I could not help myself and I got up to read for a 5 line part which no other guys came out to fill. Kurt cast me in that part and it gave me yet another excuse to come to church a couple of night s a week for the rest of the year. I also met Charles, a man almost exactly twenty years my senior who is still one of the greatest guys I have ever known. He was a married, Christian, dedicated actor who definitely did not fit the mold for Valley. He was accomplished enough to call me on my BS and caring enough to take me in when times were rough (but that comes later). There was a young High School girl who was also cast, whose name I can't remember, but she prayed to become a Christian during the rehearsal one night after I told her what it had done for me. Often times, within the Church, the outcasts bond together in arts ministries. This was the case at Valley and we all loved each other (okay, not all of us) and found comfort in the fact that we could be ourselves in this environment.

Around this time, I also received my first call from the Army. I was living on the couch of someone without any real ties to the house, I had no bills in my name, I was working under someone else's identity and SSN and do you know how long it took them to find me? One hour. All of this time, I had been running and hiding and no one was looking. When they did look, they found me fast. I got a call at Gary's house from a civilian who works with people who were AWOL. Apparently, 10,000 service members per year go AWOL for various reasons and they wait until you have been AWOL for 180 days to look for you. At that point, you fall under a different category and it is time to get you off the rosters. The guy told me to turn myself in and I would be fine, but I didn't believe him, so I kept living my life on the run and pretended he never called. He didn't call again, but I kept his number. It came in handy later.

Part XLVII

Julie was a nice girl who worked with Pat across the mall from me and we would say hello most days that either of us were working. I knew both from Pat and from conversation, that she was a pretty strong Christian. The last week in July she asked me to go to church with her and for some reason I agreed. I knew the deal, she saw me as a corrupt individual in need of redemption. I saw her as a nice enough girl and thought I might earn some points if I went. So I agreed to go with her the first Sunday in August.

In the meantime, Pat was throwing a party. He and some friends were renting a room on Saturday, August 2, at a Residence Inn and throwing a multi-keg party. When I was in school, there were different kinds of parties. There were 'no-booze' parties (which I rarely attended); 'bring your own beer' (to which I went with someone who had beer); 'raid the liquor cabinet' (these were usually with friends and got them in trouble, without getting me in trouble); and, finally, the kegger. A keg party had the highest likelihood of bringing people out to your shin-dig. This party was totally unsupervised (at a hotel) and a two-kegger. This was going to be a huge party. When my friends asked me to be the door-man, I jumped at the chance. I like taking the money at the door, making deals to allow entry and alerting all if the cops showed up. I also had the highest likelihood of getting in a fight, and I liked a good fight. Door man suited me just fine.

What I didn't really think about was the transfer from Partying Doorman to Church-Attender. For some unknown reason, I got up at 7, grabbed Pat's car keys and headed out without speaking to anyone. I think I figured they would be sleeping it off most of the day. It was not until I arrived at the church that I realized that I looked like I had been partying all night, had just under $800, a vial of cocaine and 10 hits of acid in my pocket. My hair was a mess, my eyes were bloodshot and I had never changed (or even undressed) from the night before. There is a better than average chance that I had a pretty good stink hanging on me since I had not changed, nor showered. This is how I looked when I arrived at Julie's church and met her parents. It never occurred to me that we would be sitting with her parents.

As the service went on, and it was very liturgical ... it went on ... I was suddenly struck by my own depravity. The style of service and the church itself were okay, not really my thing, but they were okay. I could not even tell you what was preached that day. It wasn't the message, it was just my situation, who I was. It struck me. There I sat, faking it in church; on the run from the US Army; high and hungover; holding drugs and the proceeds of a party; alone, but with other people. I am sure it did not show, but I was devastated. I think I really saw for the first time what I had become, and I really didn't like what I saw. After the service, I said my good byes and drove Pat's car back to the hotel. They were very happy to see me. After all, I had the car, the money and the drugs. All of which I quickly handed over and walked out to grab a bus to work. A few people commented on my mood that day (I seemed sad or depressed they would say). In the middle of the day, I walked back into the stock room and sat in private in a chair. My mind was ablaze with the reality of who I was and I could not hide from it. I just sat there and prayed the first real prayer I have ever prayed. I said, "God, I hate this. I don't want to be this person anymore. Please, take it away. I have known of you and played at the edges for a long time. I want to be better. Make me a better person." At that moment, it did not all change. But, there was a crack in the shell of my life and God began to get in. I felt lighter somehow and was able to lighten up for the rest of my workday. I did not realize it fully until later that night, but I had just become a Christian. It was August 3, 1986.

Part XLVI

Shortly after that I had to move out of Mark's house. I really don't remember what I did, but I did manage to burn the bridge there as I did just about everywhere. A different friend named Mark allowed me to stay at his house for a bit. I don't know if I mentioned the "Poot Mobile" yet, but either before this or when I stayed with them, I bought Mark's brother's 1970 Toyota Corolla. After purchasing it, I bought some letters to personalize the windshield (which was popular in the mid 80's). My intent was to put Porsche across the windshield because I thought that would be ironic, but on the day I was doing it, I found it harder than I had expected and decided to change the word to my nickname from High School, "Poot." This makes me have to explain the nickname, doesn't it? One day in my junior year, my friends Pat and Ed were sitting around at Pat's house watching North Dallas Forty. Throughout the film, Mac Davis keeps calling Nick Nolte's character Poot. My friends did not know that it was a nickname for farting, but they asked themselves, who is a Poot? The obvious answer was me, apparently, and I didn't mind because it was taken from North Dallas Forty.

So, anyway, after burning every bridge in the area, I decided to go stay with my brother in LA. So in late June, I loaded up the Poot Mobile and drove down to Malibu, where my brother was living. Upon arriving, I found out that I would be helping Darin and his girlfriend Andrea move to Playa del Rey, which is a nice little beach community right near LAX. They let me live on their couch indefinitely, or so we thought, while I went out and took open call auditions. I guess it never occurred to me that if I was ever cast, it might be easy for the Government to find me, especially if I got on National TV. The thought didn't really occur to me until I was in a few soap auditions, most notably General Hospital. I realize now that I was never pretty enough to be cast on a soap, but at the time, I really thought I had a chance. So I would pick up the local casting rags and go to auditions, but I didn't have headshots and I didn't have an agent, so the chances were somewhere between slim and none that I would be cast in anything.

One day I came home from "looking for work" (a combination of doing nothing and trying to go on open calls) and walked in right in the middle of Darin and Andrea having a huge fight. My brother just stood there taking a tirade from this girl he was dating and for some stupid reason, I jumped right in, asking her why she had to be such a bitch. It was not a good thing to do. Not ever having lived with a girl, there were certain things that I was not observing. First, Darin was out of work, meaning Andrea was footing the bill for my brother and his little bro (me). Second, I never even knew what the fight was about, I was just trying to stand up for my brother. So Andrea kicked both of us out and we spent the night in Darin's VW Van for two nights. When Darin had enough, he said he was going to try to work it out and there was nowhere for me to stay, so I again loaded up the Poot Mobile (in mid July) and headed the 400 miles back to San Jose. But I did not quite make it.

There is a hideous mountain slope on Highway 5 just north of LA County called the "grapevine." A good car only slows to 50 going up this hill, my car was chugging up the hill at around 25 and overheating like nothing you have ever seen. The Poot Mobile blew the head gasket just on the other side and by some miracle I made it another 100 miles or so. Somewhere in the arid wasteland of Central California's farming region, the Poot Mobile failed on me. I decided to load up what I could in my duffel bag and walk. A car stopped and two young guys got out and got me started with a push, it was great and got about another 75 miles before I saw the same guys stalled out on the side of the Highway, so I pulled over. They were not pleased that I did, because they knew my only chance was to go as far as I could. This time the Poot Mobile was dead for real and no pushing would start it. However, I was able to give them the same push they had previously given me and see them drive off into the early evening twilight. They did not come back for me.

Still having around 250 miles to go, I began to walk up the Highway 5. after walking the 4 or 5 miles to the next on ramp, I decided to hitch a ride. It was just after 10pm and was probably over 90 degrees, so I was tired. Some guys pulled over to ask where I was going and I told them "San Jose" to which they replied that they were going to Morgan Hill (just south of San Jose) and I could ride in the back of the pick up with them. they saved me about 220 miles, but gave me the boot before getting all the way they were going. So I was stranded again, but now it was closing on 2am and I was in an unfamiliar part of the South Bay. On a chance that he might answer, I called Mark (the first one) and he came and picked me up and allowed me to sleep on the floor of his room. In the morning, his Mom had found out I was there and was not pleased. I had so burned this bridge that this good Christian woman would rather see me on the street than in her house.

That day, Mark came up with a plan. I could stay in his Mom's van until I could get back on my feet. However, so his Mom would not know about it, Mark would open the van for me at 10:30pm and wake me up to get out at 6am. At the time I saw this as such an inconvenience. Had I the sense which God gives for the asking, I might have seen that it was a blessing and that the inconvenience was for Mark who watched out for me even though I never really did anything for him. He was a true friend when I was in need and I don't know if I ever really thanked him. I began a job working at the mall at a Foot Locker, across the way from where Pat worked in a Piano store. I would wake at 6am and walk around until Pat's folks went to work and then I could hang out at his house for a few hours until I had to work. Pat also let me shower at his house. My friends took care of me in any way they could. I went on that way, living in the van, showering at Pat's, eating wherever I could for 9 weeks. I was there until the middle of September 1986.