Chills and the Warmth from Within

(I started this on Monday and finished up on Wednesday…doing a little time traveling here.)

“When all is said and done, friendship is the only trustworthy fabric of the affections. So called love is a delirious inhuman state of mind; when hot it substitutes indulgence for fair play; when cold it is cruel, but friendship is warmth in cold, firm ground in a bog”- Miles Franklin

I’m cold. I’m in my house and I feel frigid. I’ve got a freakin’ coat on, for crying out loud. I do like the cold, but when I can’t shake the chill from my bones, that’s about enough. Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing better than to see your breath in the chilly air, bundling up in a favorite coat or jacket and talking a walk in the brisk air. But to be cold inside your own house? Nope. Nonetheless, I haven’t turned on the heat here. I’m trying to hold out as long as possible. I do know that when my kids come back this week, I just might have to suck it up and turn it on. I don’t want them to be cold. The guy who lived here last told me that I should expect anywhere from $250 to $300 electric bill in the winter while using the electric furnace. Great. Just freakin’ great.

Every morning since I moved into this place, there has been a great amount of condensation on my bus. This morning, that condensation had turned to ice. The windshield wipers were stuck for a moment then started moving over frozen dew on the windshield. The scraping sound it made as it moved over the icy coating reminded me of fingernails on chalkboard and it gave the same spine-chilling effect. I tried moving the heat directional cable to defrost, but it moved a few inches and then stopped. Oh yeah, I forgot about the broken heater cable. The one that opens the heater flap on the left side heater box had snapped a few days ago. The right one hooks over the end of the left one and when I tried to increase the heat flow, jams occurred under the dash, making both levers catch on each other. So I had little to no flow of heat and couldn’t choose where to make it flow. Finally, enough heat was leaking through the holes in the dash to create peepholes, at least enough to see the road to drive. (Note: last night at my buddy’s house, I zip tied the heater flaps open so there is a constant flow of heat. The afternoons are not so cold, so I just roll the windows down to even out the temperature. Winter is coming though, so I am ready).

Then there was my gas tank. The sending unit in the tank must be damaged, because when I get down to about ½ tank, the needle starts to move all over the place, then drop to empty. When I take a sharp right hand turn, the needle moves up to about where it should be, but then slowly starts heading back down again. On left hand turns, it drops below empty. So I never really know how much gas I have. Going by mileage doesn’t help much either. I always forget to check the odometer after putting gas in. This morning, the needle wouldn’t even float. I figured I only had a few gallons in there, hopefully enough to get me to work. Once I got there, I could figure something out. I had to borrow money from my boss one week, and if I had to do it again, well…I was going to suck up and do it again. Turns out I didn’t have to. At work (I did make it!) and in a conversation with a friend of mine, I told him I was tired. I had been literally falling asleep standing up doing my job. He said to find a dark place and take a nap. I jokingly told him it was a good idea, since I was probably going to have to spend the night there if I was to work the next day. Well, he talked to another friend of mine who came over and told me to stop by his house after work and he would put some gas in my bus. I protested, but he says that I have done so much for him over the past 10 years or so, he feels like he owes me. The first friend came over later and tried to hand me $10, but I wouldn’t take it. I found it in my jacket pocket later while leaving work. Friends, I tell ya…sometimes they work to move my heart. They didn’t have to do that.

I hate that I’m in the situation where they even think about doing stuff like that. It hit me hard after the offer for gas. I put down the tube that I was sanding, walked out the back door, leaned against the building and cried. I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know what it was. I think I was mad at myself for being in the situation that I was in. But another thing was this; I was getting what I had asked for. I had literally prayed to make it to work. I did. I also asked for some way to get some money for gas to make it to work and home for the rest of the week. I got that too. Not only were those damn tears ones of sadness; they were tears of joy as well. I got what I had asked for and I realized that.

The night before was my VW club’s meeting at China Moon restaurant. I didn’t have money to eat, so I sat there while everyone else ate. That wasn’t too bad. I’ve done it before. But I was hungry. I got up and left several times just to get away from the food. I love Chinese food, and to be surrounded by plate after plate of food that I really wanted and know that I wasn’t going to eat any, well, it was hard to sit there. The smells, the sounds of others eating…it was too much. Again with the friends. One couple’s daughter got way too much chicken for her to eat, and she had it sitting right there next to me, tempting me to snatch up a piece, dip it in some of that red dipping sauce, and stuff it in my mouth. It was food that was going to be thrown away. I snatched up a piece and popped it in my mouth. The dad, who was sitting across from me, told me to eat the whole plate if I wanted to. But I hadn’t paid to eat, so essentially, it would have been stealing. He said that he paid for it, so no, it wasn’t. The establishment wouldn’t have seen it that way, but it did make sense. I got a plate of sweet and sour chicken…something in my belly after all. I was grateful. On the way out, I grabbed a fortune cookie. I usually get two of them, just so I can have a multiple choice fortune, but this time I only got one. I opened it up and read words that rang true that evening and the next day. It said, “Rely on friends to make future hard decisions”.

I won’t be like this forever. Things have got to get better. I am selling things off to make it possible, even selling precious things in order to have a buffer zone and to not have to worry about money from week to week. The biggest thing I have to sell is also the hardest for me to let go. I am going to sell my VW camper. It was the first VW I had bought and it has enormous sentimental value. I once said that I would sell my house before I would sell Sweetpea. Well, I’m not selling my house (ha ha ha) but Sweetpea is going anyway. I will survive, I’m sure. I’m not looking forward to handing over the keys at any rate. It will most likely be an emotional transaction.

I don’t ask others for help. I just don’t do it. I am not above doing it, but I don’t like doing it. Call it pride or call it what you like. I don’t like relying on others if I can do something myself. But there comes a time when I realize that I can’t do it myself. That’s when the outer skin of pride covering this broken man’s body slides off and opens the way for the humble man inside to reach out to friends, to reach out to others, to bow his head and reach out to God. That is something I don’t do enough of. I’m not the best example of a Christian…I’m not a bible-thumper (ahem), but there is one thing that is true about me. I do believe. I may not go to church every week. I may not sit up in the front row with my eager face on, letting every word soak into my brain…but I do believe. I’m not a narrow minded imp. I know there are other religions and no religions. I know that people are going to believe what they want to believe. They have every right to do what they want to without prejudice. I don’t judge. In the same respect, I don’t want people to judge me either. Just because I believe doesn’t make me a mindless sheep waiting to follow the herd and do whatever I am told. I make up my own mind. We all have that right. Do what you do and I’ll do what I do. That is that.

It is now Wednesday and the weather has warmed up a bit. I won’t have to turn the heat on here after all. It feels ok in here. Not too cold; not too hot. But rain is in the forecast. That’s ok. A little rain is good. Oh, to have a tin roof and to hear the rain falling while lying in my bed, under the covers up to my neck. It’s better than music to soothe and relax me and lull me to sleep. But I won’t be doing much sleeping this weekend. Busy, busy, busy is what this weekend is going to be. And tomorrow? Well tomorrow is coming and I have special plans for the late afternoon/evening. I can’t wait. I am finally doing something I have been talking about doing for months. It is a secret, but maybe one day I’ll reveal what it is.

And maybe one day I’ll be able to repay the kindness shown to me by others. One day I will be able to help those who have helped me. And one day I will be the happy person I have always been. He’s still here, but just hidden underneath the skin of someone I don’t know. I want him to go; go far away and never come back. Take away the cold on the surface and warm up my heart from inside.

The Road to Home

What a day. I just got home to this lonely house. Why can’t I seem to get here before dark? Well, I did today, but just barely. I don’t like coming home after dark. Sure, if I’m out doing something and it turns to night, that’s just fine. But I’m coming home from work. You go to work, you work, you leave, and you get home. For me, hopefully home comes sooner than later. I got to spend an entire day here for the first time this weekend. I woke up to the sun, and was here to see it set that night. It was nice.

The road to my home is long and windy (hmm…full of twists and turns?). You can go faster than the posted speed limit, but only for a short time, then you hit hard turns that you must slow down for. The drive is absolutely beautiful. Farmland and woods for as far as you can see. Off in the distance to the east, mountains loom up, pushing the horizon up above the tree line. I can see them on the drive here…I just wish I could see them from my yard. Maybe I can when the leaves fall off.

Have you seen them? The leaves? They are not just changing to brown this year. Last year, it seemed like they didn’t go through the beautiful changes…the reds, oranges, and yellows that make this time of year such a sight to behold. It seemed like they were green, then they were brown and on the ground. Anyway, just before you get to my place, there is an open field that used to be a forest. Trees are still there, just patches of them in lieu of the closely placed trees that make a forest. Along the road, between the pavement and the edge of the trees, flowers fill the space, making a sea of yellow waves. Well, they were there. I guess they got mowed down last week. Well, more than mowed. The ground looks like it was plowed up as well. I hated to see the flowers go.

On the road to my home there are chickens, horses, cows, mules and I wouldn’t be surprised to see ostriches or emus as well. Next door to me is a field with a cow and a mule. That cow has a cowbell around its neck. No need to ask for more cowbell…I swear that cow doesn’t sleep. I hear that cowbell late at night. Shouldn’t Bossy be in bed at midnight? The mule doesn’t do much except for look at me while I’m in the yard. He acts like he wants to come over to the fence and say hi, but I think he is just too shy to do it. Beyond the stream at the bottom of my property, there are horses and mules. And in the yard next to me at the top of my property, there are 5 (or is it 6?) Petite Yapping Chihuahuas. It is funny to see them bark at me when I come out of my house and stop when the door is closed behind me. Open the door…yap, yap, yap. Shut the door…silence. Oh yeah. Just up the road there is…get this…a wrestling ring in someone’s front yard. I kid you not. I have even seen some dudes in tights practicing their wrestling moves. Not the kind of wrestling you see in high school. This is the wrestling with actors playing their parts on television. Professional wrestling, if you could call it that. I need to get a picture of that ring…it’s just too good.

On the road to my home, there is this smell. It isn’t a wonderful smell such as fresh gingerbread cookies just removed from the oven or the faint scent of strategically placed Egyptian Goddess or Patchouli. It smells like Essence of Cow Field mixed with Eau de Chicken House. I don’t know why, but by the time I reach home, the smell is gone. It is surprising to me that the smell isn’t here as well because of all the livestock right next door. I’m not complaining though. I have been around chicken houses enough times to know that nausea-inducing smell. I’m so glad that the wind always seems to be blowing in the right direction.

On the road to my home there is this noise. In my bus, it is usually the sound of wind and the creaking (as long as the stereo is off, which isn’t very often…but sometimes it is) of a 30 year old vehicle bouncing down the road, faithfully taking me where I command. But the other noise I speak of is the sound of silence. Not complete silence, but the silence you get way out here, away from the busy highway just two miles down the road. Away from noise pollution. Almost (but not quite) off the grid. Sitting on my front porch at night, the crickets and frogs compete to see who is the loudest. Hummingbirds fly in to sup from the feeders. The mules in the field across the stream make this sound that is like maniacal laughter. The cowbell is clanging as the cow makes the slightest move. And I swear that I have heard coyotes out here. After a rain, the stream rises and runs a little faster, bubbling and creating voices you can hear if you just listen long and hard enough.

On the road to my home there is time. It’s a good 30 minutes to Ooltewah. 20 minutes to Cleveland. 30 minutes or so to Dalton. There is time enough for the mind to start wandering if I let it. Today was a wandering day. On the drive home from my old house, I start thinking. Even with Tool cranking on the stereo, I was thinking. Maynard couldn’t sing loud enough to distract me from thoughts. Thoughts about how messed up my life is right now, how can I reach the rim of this hole I’m in. Every time I seem to have a grip on the edge, it crumbles away and I’m left with only a handful of dirt and grass. I don’t know…can men have the apparent emotional upheaval that women have once a month with the arrival of Aunt Flo? I swear we do, or at least I do. Tonight is a full moon. I can almost feel the pull of the glowing white orb floating in the sky, pulling whatever is deep inside me to the surface. Maybe that was what was happening today. My body knew that a pull was about to take place and was going ahead and pushing from deep within. At any rate, I was quite depressed by the time I got home. I vainly fought back tears that were coming for no apparent reason. I soon immersed myself in cooking supper for one, unpacking a few boxes, and sitting in front of the computer, thinking about what I was going to say tonight. I knew it had to do with coming home, but didn’t really know until I sat down.

Just like the road to my home, the emotional road to my home that I am on is long and winding. I can’t get to going real fast for “S” curves are up ahead and I could easily run off the road if I’m not careful. Sometimes there are unpleasant things, such as the smells I smell on the way home. I just hope I don’t smell them when I get there. Sometimes life gets noisy and I wish for silence; the kind of silence with a little white noise. Then there are the beautiful things, like the sea of yellow flowers, the whirring of a hummingbird coming to feed, the babbling brook carrying on a conversation with itself, maybe even saying something to me. The words seen on a computer monitor from a face that brings joy as soon as it pops up in front of me. Even that confounded cowbell…beautiful things that remind me that life is like that. Up and down, sad and happy, evil and angelic. Just to keep things in balance, there is an ugly for every beautiful, a cry for every laughter, sadness for every joy. I just wish the scales wouldn’t tip so far in the wrong direction all the time.

I haven’t told many people, but I might be in for a change. This change may even transform who I am, creating in me a new form of patience and love for my fellow man. I love my work, I really do. I work with my hands and that is something I am good at, doing things with my hands…ahem. Yeah. But even though I love it, I may be getting tired of it. Not just the work, but the way that I’m not getting paid what I think I am worth for what I am doing. This change may not bring more pay, but I think that it might bring more satisfaction. I have been working with products for so long; maybe it is time for a change. I am thinking of working with people. I applied for another job today. I applied for a job that some people might wonder, “What in the world are you thinking? I could never do that.” What is this job? I applied to work with the mentally handicapped. There is a place called Open Arms Care across the street from where I currently work. I walked over there last week and inquired about what it takes to work there. I was told that all I needed was a high school diploma and a valid driver’s license. I have those, but that wasn’t exactly what I was talking about. I meant what kind of person do I need to be to do a job like that. Would I have the patience for it? Can I handle working in a home environment taking care of the daily needs of some people who can’t take care of those needs themselves? Could I even take on the responsibility of (gasp) their personal hygiene? And even though it shouldn’t be a criteria, what about the money? Do I think that the wages earned are worth the work and the responsibility entrusted to me? With the way things are nowadays, money is a big issue.

I’m going to go sit outside for a while. Tomorrow is going to come quick. I must work and then…and then I get to refill myself with some joy. I can’t wait. I have missed this joy for a short period of time, but it seems like it has been a lifetime. But for now, I am going to sit and listen to the night sounds, smell the country smells, and think about the future, starting with tomorrow.

I can’t wait.

What I Got

“I complained about having no shoes until I met a man who had no feet”- Unknown*

I’ve never had it so good. Life could never be better for me than it is right now. I am full of joy and happiness, overflowing with love from family, friends, and relationships. Life is good.

Am I being sarcastic? Maybe a little bit, but let me be real here…no, not really. Things aren’t as good as they could be. I wouldn’t miss worrying each week about where the money is going to come from to pay for the essentials. Gas and food, which are my main expenditures beyond rent and utilities, has done nothing but raise in price. I could do without missing people that I have known for nearly a lifetime, and others known only for a minute. I could not be healthy…I could hang on to every day with the knowledge that an ailment could result in death or a life of pain and misery. But I do worry, I do miss people, I do wonder what medical condition could pop its head up at any moment.

Here we go again with the money woes. History has a way of repeating itself. No matter that I try to be careful in what I spend. Nothing goes into the frivolous expenditures. I try to stretch each dollar for what is needed; gas, food, utilities, rent, small things for my kids. I went camping last weekend. The gas used was not that much. I filled up in Ooltewah for about $30 and it lasted until I was nearly home again two days later. I did buy some groceries, but nothing that I couldn’t use at home if it didn’t get used while camping. That is where I could have waited. Little did I know that there was plenty of food brought by others to serve all of us in our little circle of campers. I spent more than I should have. $66 for food for the weekend and for the week? It doesn’t seem like a lot, does it? It could have waited until this week if I had known that I wouldn’t even use a little of the food I took. So…with the money used to buy groceries…I used more than I thought I had in the bank. Once again, overdraft fees have wiped me out. I can’t take it anymore. I didn’t mean to do it; it was a mistake. Yet it was a mistake that was my own fault, nobody else’s. Blah, blah, blah…enough about that.

I do miss people. Some have been in my life since I was born. Others I have met through the years, some in childhood, some in college and some after that. Others I have only known a short while. I miss them all. It is partly my fault, this missing of people I care about. Shoot, I have family in town that I rarely ever see. For 15 years I lived less than 3 miles from family and visited them only several times a year. I blame myself for not having enough time to spend with them. I blame myself for not taking the initiative to just stop by, to call, to keep in contact with them. But every relationship is a two-way street, whether it is with family, friends, or loved ones. Communication must flow in both directions to keep traffic flowing consistently. In all that time, they made contact with me just as much as I did with them…which is hardly enough contact to call a relationship.

I’m pretty healthy. I don’t wake up every day with back pain. I don’t have to take medication on a daily basis just to keep my blood sugar stable or to manage pain. I’m not on dialysis or chemotherapy. I must admit that I do some things that are considered unhealthy. I ummm…imbibe every now and then upon some God-given, naturally occurring, medicinal quality-like, earth-grown leafy substances. I smoke cigarettes (tried to quit, trying to quit, will try to quit…done it all). I don’t exercise as often as I should. But I feel good. I am losing weight. I blame it on stress and a change in eating habits. Near the beginning of this year, I entered a weight-loss program at work. I didn’t do so well. Of course, the program was in the wintertime of the year, where statistically speaking, weight loss is nearly impossible for me. I’m the opposite of a bear; I lose most of my weight in the summer, and put it back on during hibernation. But I don’t want to put it back on this time. I am down to 205 lbs. from 225 lbs. at the beginning of this year. My clothes don’t fit me anymore. If I don’t wear a belt with my pants or shorts, after a minute of walking, they start to travel downwards and would end up around my ankles if I let them. My goal is to get to 195 lbs. I can do it.

I guess I could complain about my woes into eternity. I do have it bad, so much that I can’t stand it. I am listening to some dark music with some dark thoughts and overtones. I can’t say that I have dark thoughts. Some pretty woeful ones, but not those deep, dark ones that take you to the point of not coming back. I could complain a lot. But you know, at least I have a place to live. Rent is hard to come by, but there are people who don’t have a home. They are living in boxes, on benches, in alleyways without even a blanket to keep them warm. At least I do have food on my shelves. Some go without food on a daily basis (well, I have skipped meals myself, but that was by choice, and there is food there if I want it). I do have friends that stand by me. I don’t know what I would do if some of them weren’t around to give comfort, give financial help, give a shoulder to cry on. I want to give back and one day I will be able to. I am trying to keep in contact with family as well. Support comes with many faces…might as well look at them all. And my heart…my heart is still wary, hiding behind the wall I have erected. The wall has a few holes that have been worn into it. The heart hiding behind it is visible, possibly even wanting to tear down that wall, become brave enough to let someone in to hold it and to do some holding itself. Do I hear knocking?

In reality, I do have shoes. I have feet to put them on. I have a vehicle to put gas in. I have a job. I do have it pretty good, I guess. Just little things wear me down to the point of not caring, to the point of not feeling like I can handle it, to the point of just wanting to give up. I got a little reminder of just how good I do have it, despite all my worries. This weekend, I saw someone who I only see at certain VW shows/campouts. I don’t remember his name, and that doesn’t really matter…I call him “Hat Man”. He sets up a booth and sells stickers, shirts, patches…and lots and lots of hats. I hadn’t seen him in over a year, so we get to talking about our lives. I tell him what has happened in my life since the last time we saw each other. I tell him how hard it has been just trying to make it. He listens patiently till I am done, tells me that he knows how hard divorce is, how hard financial troubles can be, then just as nonchalant as he can be, says, “I have bone cancer”. I shrunk to the size of a slug, and I felt like one as well. He doesn’t know how long he has, he just is thankful for each day. He is in pain, a pain that I can’t even imagine. When your bones hurt…you know the saying “Hurts me to the bone”? He is living it. He believes, just like I do, that things happen for a reason. He told me he is still waiting to find out the reason behind his ailment. If he doesn’t know yet, I certainly don’t know either. Time will tell. I just hope he has enough time to find out what it is. I hope to see him next May when this show occurs again. Maybe he can tell me then.

I just gotta keep on keepin’ on. Things come and go in cycles. The rich can end up poor. The healthy can end up sick. The homeowner can end up on the streets. Sometimes all of those things come back around again. The poor get wealthy, the sick are cured, and the homeless are sheltered once again. Time is the component that completes the story, makes the circle whole, shores up the castle walls, does with us what it will.

And just because I found a man without any feet, that doesn’t mean that having no shoes wouldn’t suck. It sure would.



*Historically attributed to Confucius. Also by R.W. Emerson