Month: September 2016

The back seat of a 1967 Buick

/ fearsomebeard / 5 Comments

Riding in the back seat on that black vinyl upholstery in the darkness of a rural Tennesee nighttime, I remember the sounds of this tune coming from the single speaker of the AM radio as if it were yesterday.

Dolly is one of those talents who touches a place deep in my soul. A special place. Dolly can take me away from all the static surrounding me and fill me with crystal clear beauty. She can give me peace. That night I first ever remember hearing her she was singing Jolene. It was one summer night in the very early 1970s as we sped toward my mother’s hometown for a family visit in the southern boot heel of Missouri.

This tune has had staying power and has been honored by many an artist. Today I was made aware of this PENTANONIX a Capella remake featuring Dolly herself.

Oh and the Buick? It was a white Electra 225 sedan with a black vinyl top and interior.

This isn't the car but it's just like the car I grew up with.

This isn’t the car but it’s just like the car I grew up with.

The Car

/ fearsomebeard / 8 Comments

Goals are good to have.

Goals give life purpose. A purpose even when the odds are against us.

Sometimes a life goal can be a significant gift to humanity.  Sometimes they are simply for personal satisfaction.

The Big Brother's 1969 Corvette

The Big Brother’s 1969 Corvette

His life goal was to both see and drive this car fully restored. He bought it in the mid 1970s when married to his first wife. He kept it after the divorce and it sat in pieces for many years in his garage, most of it in boxes, waiting for its restoration. Three years ago no longer in good enough health to restore it himself, he sent it away. Sent it for its restoration. This past week it was finished. He can’t even go down to the parking lot to see it.

Brand new ground up restoration.

Brand new ground up restoration.

I printed a dozen different photos of it and posted them around his room. When he is awake and able he points to the photos, smiles and he mouths the words “I am going to drive that car”.

No matter where we are in life we need a goal. I sincerely doubt he will actually ever even see it up close, but I am not the one who decides when he lives or dies. In the mean time he has a goal in front of him and it’s making him smile.

The drivers seat awaits it's driver, a driver who dreams.

The drivers seat awaits it’s driver, a driver who dreams.

Life is a journey. Life is a gift. Life is but a dream.

Dreams bring goals and goals give purpose. Big or small, go ahead and dream your dream…

Chevrolet's 1969 finest.

Chevrolet’s 1969 finest.

1969 Corvette Stingray, a beauty.

1969 Corvette Stingray, a beauty.

…dream that dream, find your purpose.

Unstable Stability

/ fearsomebeard / 6 Comments

The Unknown. What is going through that mind? What is going on inside that body? He responds unresonsibly. The body is failing yet the breath keeps inhaling and exhaling. Empty eyes open and close yet do they focus? Is that a smile?

This is going to last awhile, or at least it seems to me.

My middle brother returns here from his Italy holiday Saturday evening. I just booked a flight out Monday afternoon. While he will not last much longer on this earth, I believe he will still be with us Monday and if so I’ll say my last goodbye just before I board a United flight out of here. I have missed two weeks of therapy and have to get to a postponed appointment for surgery follow up.

Am I cold for not sitting the death watch until it concluded?

He isn’t having a service. He’s being cremated to sit on a shelf with the ashes of his cats that have left the planet before him. This is very much him. He has been a recluse for years that has all of his neighbors scared of him. I already have a trip scheduled to visit here October 19. Mom says she is ok with this.

He is unstable yet stable on this level of instability.

We are here, he knows that. We must also find our stability and live our lives to.

A year ago today THIS happened. I don’t mean to be morbid or some Debbie Downer. I’m just sorting feelings. In all of this there is love, strength, growth and peace. It’s a journey. A journey of family and of love.

Mom support

/ fearsomebeard / 6 Comments

This morning I woke up in my old bedroom. The one from my teenage years. It no longer looks like my room but it still is. I awoke bleary eyed and slightly confused. My shoulder and upper left arm hurt. I had slept hard.

My old friend Doug, or as I call him Trixie, picked me up at the airport about 2 pm yesterday. It was good to hug him and feel his support before facing reality.

Mom was waiting at the house. We visited with Doug for a minute then we were off to the hospital to see the Big Brother.

He looked like shit.

White as a ghost yet with a yellow cast. Deep dark set eyes hardly opened when we said hello. Skin barely clinging to the thin bones with all the veins exposed like a little web of roadmaps. Huge protruding belly making a stark contrast against the frail fragile body. That belly is the capsule holding the failing liver within.

This isn’t the virile strong athlete I wished to emulate when we were kids, but he is still my brother.

His wife hugged me and told mom he hadn’t eaten all day. He went back to sleep with a weak snore.

We have no idea when he will go. It could be in the next couple of days or he could rally into an extension of suffering.

Here I sit waking up with my coffee. I am deciding at this moment to be thankful that I have the health and means to be here for mom. Gratitude will give me the grace to walk through this.

We are family. Family is love. Family is understanding without judgment. Family is care.

He was someone I looked up to

/ fearsomebeard / 11 Comments

April 6,1954 was the day my mother gave birth to her first child. Born in Las Vegas Nevada the son of an Air Force Lieutenant, he was named David after our dad.

I am in Ft. Lauderdale. I have been very busy with renovations on a property here. I was supposed to fly home today. I have yet to leave. Travelous interupptus.

No not an airline mishap nor a renovation glitch. Family matters.

David has been sick for many years and is now in end stage liver disease. David is the oldest of us three boys. I am the youngest. David is only 62.

I got the call from my sister-in-law this morning before I was to head to the airport to fly home. David isn’t expected to live past the weekend. Internal bleeding.

Early in the morning I will now be flying to Newark, then Dulles and finally in the mid afternoon I arrive in my hometown to be with my mother.

I had to call her today with the news. It isn’t easy telling your 84 year old mother that it looks like her son will die this week. This week marks one year since her husband of 62 years left us.

My middle brother is in Italy on holiday. He’s due home the end of this week. Mom needs one of us now. I’m closer and don’t have to clear customs.

I’m tired. I’ve been on the phone all day. I’ve cried. I walked on the beach. I had a good dinner alone overlooking the ocean. I’ve planned and changed plans. I’ve gotten confused. I’ve consoled. I’ve communicated.

I write.

Writing helps.

He’s my big brother. We aren’t real close. As a boy I wanted to be like him in many ways. He was popular, athletic and handsome. Alcoholism took all of that away from him.

I now live as a sober younger brother. I am confused, frightened, angry, empathetic, and powerless. I’m grateful that I found a way out. I’m bitter that many who succumb to addictions don’t make it out. I understand the ones who don’t find a way out, as I was once there. I am one of the lucky ones.

Fearsome on Ft. Lauderdale Beach

Fearsome on Ft. Lauderdale Beach

Sober Beard

/ fearsomebeard / 11 Comments

Earlier today we swore. We swore using several F-bombs due to pain.

We went to physical therapy and were referred to our surgeon probably because I was sweating and crying tears as the shoulder was getting checked out. Fearsome did his duty and just absorbed the tears into beard oblivion.

The shoulder and bicep are ok. The bicep is still attached to it’s screw and didn’t separate as was feared. Dr. Surgeon felt it best I step down the intensity of PT (trying to be the perfect patient I apparently overdid it a bit) and re-start on pain meds. As he put it “take these and get some sleep”.

I filled the scrip. I came home. I had lunch and took a pill. Now instead of in fucking pain, I am fucked up. Seriously fucked up. Pain is better but I’m dizzy, giggling and half in the bag. I remember feeling this way on the way home from the surgery itself.

Since getting sober almost five years ago this surgery and associated meds are the first time my consciousness has been altered in all this time. I can say that I do not like this altered state and am grateful I not longer live in it.

Why do I write this? FearsomeBeard is our journal. It’s a place for our fun, feelings, opinions, likes, dislikes, love, humor, sadness, anger, attractions, affections, inspiration, motivation and self realness. This post is self realness. A post to remind me if ever tempted to break my sobriety purposefully, that I don’t like this inebriation. A post to reinforce my sober life. A life lived in full unaltered experience.

God knows I had 35 years of altered experience. I did enough of anything and everything I wanted and more. It was fun, it was bad. It is part of what made me who I am today. I have no regrets. I have many beautiful days of sober clarity ahead.

Pain …(Language Warning)

/ fearsomebeard / 4 Comments

Nine weeks out of surgery. For most part I have done well.

I have one thing to say this morning. Fuck! This fucking shoulder surgery recovery can hurt. Good god it can hurt. I just experienced the worst night since the first week of surgery. I don’t mean to bitch but I am because I need to. Fuck!

Off to physical therapy this morning, I hope it’s ok.