Monday, December 17, 2012
Shaken to my Core by Newtown, Connecticut
The massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT seems to me like the worst case of senseless murder I've ever seen, and in my opinion, one of the worst in the history of mankind. Don't be a fucking jerkoff and say I'm being insensitive to the victims of Pearl Harbor, 9/11, the Holocaust and the Oklahoma City bombing, for examples. In those cases, there was an agenda. Don't say, "Vinny, what the fuck about the Holocaust?" Of COURSE that is one of the most horrible things that has happened in the history of mankind. In those specific cases, which I'll use as examples, there was at least a reason. The reasons were albeit military or completely insane ones conjured up by the minds of madmen, but there were reasons, nonetheless, for those acts. Those examples were horrific in their own rights. A disturbed little fuckface smashing through the locked door of an elementary school, shooting his way to a 1st grade classroom, and murdering children, who have barely had a chance to live, is the worst case of evil I can ever begin to think of. I keep trying, without success, to wrap my head around it all. I can't fathom the insanity of someone deliberately shooting and killing ONE seven year old. Multiply that by 20. Of course those aforementioned examples had body counts thousands more than what happened in Newtown. They were also carried out by the order of faceless cowards. In Newtown, this "man" looked into the eyes of young children and deliberately ended their lives, far sooner than they should have been ended. It was deliberate, and needless. There is no reason that can convince me that these innocent little children were taken from us. The details aren't out as to exactly how the final seconds of those poor souls played out, but this is a fact: The shooter was a remorseless coward. As destroyed as his brain must have been to carry out such an act, it remained that way after the first child fell...after the second.....the third. And he kept going. Why? That's the cliche question, but really, WHY? Nobody on this world will ever be able to understand or wrap their heads around how this could happen. The worst kinds of questions are the ones that have no answers. The most frustrating outcomes to any situation, are the situations that if they were to somehow occur 100 times, they would be surreal and unfathomable all 100 times. Why didn't this animal just go out into the woods and end his pathetic life on his own without ruining the lives of the victims, their families, their friends, their community, state, country, planet.
I can't imagine, or maybe I don't want to, the thought of the first responders who were forced to witness the carnage of the aftermath for the first time, but carrying out their jobs regardless. How will they ever be the same after seeing that? How will they remove the images of the still bodies of the departed children. I don't even want to think of what the scene looked like. These heroes battled through a sight worse than a battlefield in a war fought by men. These were children, and my bet is that some of them had children the same age, or close to it. What about the surviving teachers doing their best to keep their children calm, somehow finding the courage to lead the surviving children from the building while trying to keep their eyes covered, blinding them when possible to what had happened to their classmates and friends? How did they compose themselves and think to do this when they themselves HAD to have felt pure terror. Learning that they huddled with their students and kept them as calm as possible while shots rang out just feet away from where they were must have been the hardest thing they have ever or will ever have to do. The bravery of the school's principal and the teachers who gave their lives, making the ultimate sacrifice, in valiant attempts to minimize the death toll that was to be carried out by a cowardly maniac is an incredible story. I can't help but marvel at these tiny shimmers of light in what was ultimately one of the darkest days in the history of the human race.
Is there a link between acts of violence and being immortalized by having your name in a history book? Did Hitler do what he did to have his name be remembered as one of the most feared of all time? How many parents have named their sons Adolf since the late 1930's? Did Osama Bin Laden's hatred for the western world cause him to carry out the worst attack on American soil in U.S. history? Or was it for the "recognition." What about Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris during the Columbine shooting? What if the media doesn't give out the name of the shooters when these events take place? Would that tiny thought in an otherwise destroyed brain prevent said person from taking out so many with him? Does Columbine take place if those two knew for a fact nobody would know who they were? David Koresh? Marshall Applewhite? Madmen who convinced people to kill themselves through brainwashing. Did they have conviction in their beliefs, or did they just want to be remembered forever for something evil because they didn't have anything else going for them. The Columbine shooters were two talentless fucks who would have never amounted to anything, and thus would never have been remembered when they were gone....unless.....
Would the fact that if "he" knew he wasn't going to be immortalized be the difference between him killing 26 people and himself just walking into the woods after killing his mother and just quietly off himself with one shot to his own head? Could it be that simple? Am I trying to come up with an impossible idea to an answerless question? Is society's need for information fueling these kids to commit these acts? Is there any way to give information about the shooter, which is fair, while at the same time calling him John Doe? It's not possible in today's world of social media and rival news outlets, of course. It's just not feasible for something like this to be done, even if it would make any kind of difference. Even if it would mean the difference between a murder suicide and a legit mass murder.
Call me one of those parents that thinks a tragedy involving young children affects me more than someone without kids. I used to HATE that. Who are you to think it affects you more than me because I don't have kids? That was my thinking, circa late 2001. But you know what? It absolutely DOES affect people with children more. That's my opinion of course, and feel free to disagree, but I've lived through horrible, senseless tragedy's and I have been much more rattled since having kids. The slaughter of 20 1st graders last week shook me to my core. And no, you can't QUITE understand the feeling if you don't have kids of your own. You can be 99.9% as upset as someone with kids, but not that .1% that parents feel. It's just an instinct your body has once there is another human being on this planet that you created, whose blood is your own. As president Obama put it, and I'm paraphrasing him, when you have a baby, it's like a piece of your heart is put out into the world, exposed, and constantly growing farther apart from you. Their comes a point where you can't be with your child every step of the way...every minute and every place you go.
Out of all of this, I'll try to end with a positive, somehow. Everyone already knows about the heroism of police, firefighters, military...those men and women go without saying. But there are heroes in this world that often times get overlooked. Teachers are incredible. You have to be a special kind of person to do that job. These people make it their livelyhood, their profession to not only instill knowledge into young minds, but to be responsible FIVE out of seven days for the children of total strangers. We put our trust in these men and women. When you hear about the acts of heroism of teachers faced with valuing the lives of children, who aren't even their own blood, over their own lives, brings me a measure of hope that at least we have good people on our side when these things happen. We're forced in this world to trust others to take care of the ones we love. We can't be with our kids 100% of the time. If I could, I would. It's not possible. We have to make a living to put a house over their heads and food on their tables. When you send your child to school, you're putting your trust in the educators responsible for not only their education, but their general well being and care. Hearing the stories of the brave principle and teachers at Sandy Hook who made the ultimate sacrifices in attempts to minimize the death toll is an incredible story to me, a shimmer of light in the darkest of days. It makes me feel better when I send my son to school, knowing that teachers are a special breed of people who would put themselves between a madman with a gun and the children they've been charged to protect. The bravery of those people should not be forgotten in the shuffle and the sadness that ultimately defines this story. It won't be for me, at least. I hope others will feel the same.
I don't care how old he grows to be before my time on this planet is done, the last words my son will hear from me whenever we part for the day, whether it's tomorrow when I drop him off at school, when I put him to bed, when I put him on the bus for school, when he gets on a plane for spring break, when I say goodbye as he leaves for his honeymoon, or 40 years from now when I hang up the phone after asking how his kids are doing, will be, "I love you."
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Life: Part 3
My sister Trid just had her first child...my first nephew. She gave birth naturally, accidentally. Trid is the best person I know at taking things in stride and just laughing it off...even if she's telling a story about how pissed off she was, she's definitely the happiest of the 4 McRoberts siblings. Being a new mom is not just an easy, everyday thing, but you'd think it was watching and listening to my sister. Nothing bothers her. The doctors fucked up her epidural, and instead of bitching about how much it hurt every second, or suing the hospital, she turns it into a funny story. That's what I love about my sister. Just like my younger sister Sissa, Trid is a natural mom. You'd think she was doing it all her life. I'm amazed by that, I really am, and I'm so proud of her.
Regarding the birth of my first nephew, I couldn't be happier that he's here. I have a son, and there's NOTHING better than that for a guy, I mean let's face it, but to now also have a nephew? I'm a lucky guy. Much like my first born son, he is a handsome dude. Trid even said that she thinks his face reminds her of Vinny Jr.'s when he was first born. I couldn't believe how incredibly happy I was when he arrived. When my other sister's daughter was born, she came very soon after my son, and I think that prevented me from enjoying her as much as I could have when she was first born. Don't take that the wrong way...it's just that I had a 4 week old son at home myself and had to focus on him. My oldest son is 3 now, along with my niece, so when my new nephew was born, I had/have a little more time to enjoy the little dude. It's great now how they get along. There is nothing better than watching them play together and hug each other when it's time to say goodbye. Maybe I couldn't enjoy her as much as an infant...but we're making up for it now in a big way.
I'm thankful to be so close to my siblings. I know that in the future, when we lose those closest to us, we'll have each other, and now we'll have the kids too. The way I figure it, part 1 of life is birth to adulthood, in it's broadest form. Part 2 is discovering who you are, partying, being with your friends, having fun, defining who you are and what you'll do for work. Part 3 is starting families and expanding your extended family. We'll worry about parts 4 and 5 in the future. For now, "Hello part 3 of life, how are you today? I think I'll grab you by the horns and fuck shit up."
I'm so happy to be where I am in my life. The last couple years have literally tried to destroy me. The world is definitely conspiring to send me over the edge, but I'm just not going to let it. I'm so happy that my family is expanding. Part 3 of life is a good part of this trip through my existence, regardless of the bad things that have happened to me. I could have easily mailed it in and gone into hiding and grown a really long beard and just live off the government and write a blog, waiting to get "discovered," which of course would never happen. I could have enjoyed my kids and basically have given a big, "Fuck You!" to everyone and everything else...but I chose not to. Sure I've bitched from time to time, but every time has been justified.
Regardless of all that, my family and my close friends have kept me afloat...especially my kids. My niece is such a big part of my life, and she didn't exist 4 years ago. That's so cool to think about. My new nephew...my first nephew, being born a couple weeks ago has reminded me why life is so great. The world could fall apart around me, and the simple fact that I have so much love for my kids, parents, siblings, and now my niece and brand new nephew, makes nothing else matter.
I wonder what life will be like when our kids are grown, but I know that nothing could tear the bond I have with my brother and two sisters. To think that our kids will grow up and see the bond that we have and the love we all have for each other is a great thought, even when the rest of my world always seems to be falling apart.
I love you Trid, thanks for reminding me what is so important in my life. Bonus thank you points for going through a miserably painful child-birth. It will be a fun story to tell my nephew one day, when he's playing with his cousins or we're around the Thanksgiving table. Parts 4 and 5 of life don't seem so bleak....hell, maybe they'll even be great!
Regarding the birth of my first nephew, I couldn't be happier that he's here. I have a son, and there's NOTHING better than that for a guy, I mean let's face it, but to now also have a nephew? I'm a lucky guy. Much like my first born son, he is a handsome dude. Trid even said that she thinks his face reminds her of Vinny Jr.'s when he was first born. I couldn't believe how incredibly happy I was when he arrived. When my other sister's daughter was born, she came very soon after my son, and I think that prevented me from enjoying her as much as I could have when she was first born. Don't take that the wrong way...it's just that I had a 4 week old son at home myself and had to focus on him. My oldest son is 3 now, along with my niece, so when my new nephew was born, I had/have a little more time to enjoy the little dude. It's great now how they get along. There is nothing better than watching them play together and hug each other when it's time to say goodbye. Maybe I couldn't enjoy her as much as an infant...but we're making up for it now in a big way.
I'm thankful to be so close to my siblings. I know that in the future, when we lose those closest to us, we'll have each other, and now we'll have the kids too. The way I figure it, part 1 of life is birth to adulthood, in it's broadest form. Part 2 is discovering who you are, partying, being with your friends, having fun, defining who you are and what you'll do for work. Part 3 is starting families and expanding your extended family. We'll worry about parts 4 and 5 in the future. For now, "Hello part 3 of life, how are you today? I think I'll grab you by the horns and fuck shit up."
I'm so happy to be where I am in my life. The last couple years have literally tried to destroy me. The world is definitely conspiring to send me over the edge, but I'm just not going to let it. I'm so happy that my family is expanding. Part 3 of life is a good part of this trip through my existence, regardless of the bad things that have happened to me. I could have easily mailed it in and gone into hiding and grown a really long beard and just live off the government and write a blog, waiting to get "discovered," which of course would never happen. I could have enjoyed my kids and basically have given a big, "Fuck You!" to everyone and everything else...but I chose not to. Sure I've bitched from time to time, but every time has been justified.
Regardless of all that, my family and my close friends have kept me afloat...especially my kids. My niece is such a big part of my life, and she didn't exist 4 years ago. That's so cool to think about. My new nephew...my first nephew, being born a couple weeks ago has reminded me why life is so great. The world could fall apart around me, and the simple fact that I have so much love for my kids, parents, siblings, and now my niece and brand new nephew, makes nothing else matter.
I wonder what life will be like when our kids are grown, but I know that nothing could tear the bond I have with my brother and two sisters. To think that our kids will grow up and see the bond that we have and the love we all have for each other is a great thought, even when the rest of my world always seems to be falling apart.
I love you Trid, thanks for reminding me what is so important in my life. Bonus thank you points for going through a miserably painful child-birth. It will be a fun story to tell my nephew one day, when he's playing with his cousins or we're around the Thanksgiving table. Parts 4 and 5 of life don't seem so bleak....hell, maybe they'll even be great!
Thursday, November 15, 2012
All the Trouble Money Can't Buy
Night 1 of vacation....home by myself...watched the first two Lord of the Rings movies on DVD....Gonna pop in Return of the King, but will likely be out before it's over. Had two subs from Quiznos and drank two Mountain Dews....yup. One of them was a Code Red. I am obviously a baddass who is not to be fucked with...if anyone can handle these kinds of late night shenanigans, come on by.
Man, what happened to me? If it was 10 years ago at this same time on a Friday night, I wouldn't even be able to type this, for several reasons: One hand would be holding a beer, one hand would be punching something or someone, my legs wouldn't be able to keep me upright, and my eyes would not be able to focus on this screen. The pussification process is apparently complete. I left my cock in Middle Earth, I guess. Fucking Gollum has it and he's all stroking it and shit going, "My preciousssssssssss......"
Anyways, I'm all healed up and I clearly have no life, so Vinny is back. Unfortunately for you poor suckers who mistakenly clicked on this link, there will be a lot more garbage jammed down your throats in the hopes that you'll find something mildly amusing or touching or nostalgic. At least my page isn't a pop-up ad. Do those still happen? Thank gawd for this guy!! Lucky for everybody out there nowadays Vinny gets a little loopy when he takes an Ambien or five and pounds away at the keyboard in the middle of the night because I fucked up and messed around too much in my 20's. Life 1, Vinny 0.
Are you kidding me? Do you think I believe that? I'm only in my 30's and I've lived like 3 or 4 lifetimes. I've had weddings, childbirths, birthdays, funerals, surgeries. I've done a lot of good things and a lot of bad things but I'm here to write about them all. So I'm beating the shit out of life on the "scoreboard." I tempt fate a little less often then I used to, sure....but a dickless loser who stays in every night? Bitch please. My dick is firmly between my ankles and I can still party with the best of them, only now it's in moderation. Sometimes I like to stay home and watch gay movies, so what? Return of the King won the Oscar for best picture. Did you know that? Go look it up, I'm not kidding....
My landlord is this 80 pound lady that comes around every month or so knocking on my door looking for rent. I basically tell her to fuck her dog every month, pay her when I feel like it, and what does she do? She writes me a letter about how great of a person I am! I shit you not. It was a page long! It would have been shorter if she didn't babble on for half a page about how she prays for me and church and Jesus and this and that, which I mostly skipped, but the point is, my parents have never written me anything that sweet. (Yes you have ma, I'm just kidding around for the thing here...relax.) We learned (or at least validated) a couple things here. I am an asshole. I am a GREAT talker. Little old ladies should probably not own property without some kind of enforcer. I do not make enough money. And lastly, my landlady probably partied harder than me tonight. HA!
See? Now if I was out all night, what the fuck would you be reading right now? Your welcome....
Man, what happened to me? If it was 10 years ago at this same time on a Friday night, I wouldn't even be able to type this, for several reasons: One hand would be holding a beer, one hand would be punching something or someone, my legs wouldn't be able to keep me upright, and my eyes would not be able to focus on this screen. The pussification process is apparently complete. I left my cock in Middle Earth, I guess. Fucking Gollum has it and he's all stroking it and shit going, "My preciousssssssssss......"Anyways, I'm all healed up and I clearly have no life, so Vinny is back. Unfortunately for you poor suckers who mistakenly clicked on this link, there will be a lot more garbage jammed down your throats in the hopes that you'll find something mildly amusing or touching or nostalgic. At least my page isn't a pop-up ad. Do those still happen? Thank gawd for this guy!! Lucky for everybody out there nowadays Vinny gets a little loopy when he takes an Ambien or five and pounds away at the keyboard in the middle of the night because I fucked up and messed around too much in my 20's. Life 1, Vinny 0.
Are you kidding me? Do you think I believe that? I'm only in my 30's and I've lived like 3 or 4 lifetimes. I've had weddings, childbirths, birthdays, funerals, surgeries. I've done a lot of good things and a lot of bad things but I'm here to write about them all. So I'm beating the shit out of life on the "scoreboard." I tempt fate a little less often then I used to, sure....but a dickless loser who stays in every night? Bitch please. My dick is firmly between my ankles and I can still party with the best of them, only now it's in moderation. Sometimes I like to stay home and watch gay movies, so what? Return of the King won the Oscar for best picture. Did you know that? Go look it up, I'm not kidding....
My landlord is this 80 pound lady that comes around every month or so knocking on my door looking for rent. I basically tell her to fuck her dog every month, pay her when I feel like it, and what does she do? She writes me a letter about how great of a person I am! I shit you not. It was a page long! It would have been shorter if she didn't babble on for half a page about how she prays for me and church and Jesus and this and that, which I mostly skipped, but the point is, my parents have never written me anything that sweet. (Yes you have ma, I'm just kidding around for the thing here...relax.) We learned (or at least validated) a couple things here. I am an asshole. I am a GREAT talker. Little old ladies should probably not own property without some kind of enforcer. I do not make enough money. And lastly, my landlady probably partied harder than me tonight. HA!
See? Now if I was out all night, what the fuck would you be reading right now? Your welcome....
Saturday, November 10, 2012
The Fire of '87
It was days after the Winter Solstice and days before Christmas. I had just turned 7, and the following is an account of what happened, as I remember it. This Christmas will be 25 years since it happened, and since it changed the lives of our family forever.
I was in my bed, on the top bunk above my brother Joey. My clock read 8:03 p.m. I remember distinctively looking at my digital clock for some reason and seeing the red numbers as my family's late friend Kenny was heard as he came upstairs from the apartment below us. "Annie, I think we have a fire escape, he said to my mother." I could see his face from my bed as he stood in the hallway, and it was a much paler shade of it's usual dark, Italian looking skin. I don't know if that's exactly what was said, but that's what I remember I heard. The next few minutes are foggy, but I remember my mom getting me and my sister Trid down the stairs, (we were on the second floor.) Kenny, I believe, grabbed 2 year old Joey and 4 month old Sissa and brought them down the stairs. My dad was at work. After safely getting outside, we went in our pj's to the Dunkin' Donuts next door, where it was warm. The next thing I think I recall is my dad screeching up the street in my family's little red car and stopping in front of our house, now engulfed in flames and surrounded by firetrucks, with their lights flashing and lighting up the night sky.
It was chaos...I remember that. Soon after my dad arrived, with the fire trucks and police already on scene, we were walked down the street to my neighbor's house, where we stayed while I imagine my parents stayed near the fire, seeking answers. As I walked down the street with my sister Trid, who had just turned 5 years old, holding her hand, and my mom and Kenny carrying Joey and Sissa, I looked up at the house and noticed the flames through the windows. It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen. All my stuff was in there! I had so many questions and I was scared, but even at 7, I was trying to calm down my little sister. I held her hand as we walked in the cold down the short street to our neighbor's home. "What about the Christmas tree?" Those words are forever seared in my memory. I had no answer...I was only 7. I figured the fireman would save it. "How will Santa know where we are?" Again, I had no idea. I think I cried at this point, because I didn't know how Santa would find us either. Of course, despite seeing my house engulfed, it was my assumption at the time that the fireman would put the fire out and we would be back in our beds by tomorrow. The next hours are foggy. I don't remember what my parents did while our home burned down. The next thing I remember is being driven to my grandparent's house, who lived a few blocks away, with a couple of my aunts and my uncle in a 3 bedroom house. My family piled in and slept on cots, on the ground, on a couch, wherever we could find a spot. I don't know what my parents did that night. I can't remember if they stayed at my grandparent's too, or if they were up all night dealing with everything or what...I remember I was on a green cot and I didn't sleep at all.
The next day, I went with my dad and a few of his buddies to check out the damage. I remember I said, as adult as I could muster..."This couldn't have happened to a nicer family." I remember everyone there laughed, and I suppose looking back, if I was an adult and heard a seven year old say the same thing, I would have thought it was cute and funny too. A moment of light-hearted innocence from a boy who didn't quite understand the scope of what happened. I felt embarrassed after saying it, because the grown-ups laughed at it, but looking back I'm glad I did. The house was all black, and wet, and it smelled like a campfire. I was amazed at what the fire had done. Everything was gone.
Our fire made the paper and the news. There's a clip of my dad picking up our charred Christmas tree from the local paper and my mom digging through the rubble. At my grandmother's house, on Christmas Eve, Santa came and visited the house and we sang Christmas songs. Donations from friends and the community poured in. We had no clothes, no toys, nothing to keep us busy...we lost everything. We didn't go without these things for very long, probably less than 24 hours before people heard about what happened and jumped into action. I still don't have many pictures of myself from when I was real young, only what my other family had. Those things, of course, couldn't be replaced. I had a glass piggy bank with probably a couple bucks in it in coins and a few bills. I was saving up for a Nintendo. A fireman who was on the scene the previous night came by my grandmother's house to check on us, and he gave me the glass piggy bank, which was shaped as a pig, that had somehow survived the inferno. Nothing much else did. My "girlfriend" Miranda Watson, who was in my first grade class, (and one of the very few real names I use in this space,) came by my grandparent's house with her parents and several garbage bags full of clothes for my sister.
We had a fundraiser, and I can't remember if it took place before Christmas or after. I have no idea how much money and donations were made, but I remember how emotional it made my parents. I remember my dad using the microphone to thank people. I remember there being food and dancing and the song "That's What Friends Are For" played at the end and everyone stood in a big circle and held hands and sang along. Seems kind of cheesy, I know, but the outpouring of generosity was touching, even for a 7 year old boy.
We were essentially homeless, and it was tight quarters in my grandparents small home, but we made it work. I can't imagine the stress it must have caused my mom and dad, even though their 4 kids were safe and had temporary shelter...they were in their late 20's. What would they do? I'm sure that thought was the only thing running through their minds. My family was eventually put up in a shelter, ironically situated directly next door to our house that had burned. I returned to school, but I don't remember how long we were out. I know that I was in first grade, and that my classmates had been made aware of what happened. When I came back, I walked around the room and each of the kids sad on the floor and had a penny or a coin for me. I felt embarrassed as I walked around and collected the coins and hand-drawn cards. My first grade teacher bought me a Huffy bike with training wheels.
My house was rebuilt, and we moved back in several months later, into the downstairs apartment this time. Kenny moved on to live somewhere else. We had learned soon after the fire had engulfed all of our personal belongings that our furnace had malfunctioned and caught some nearby items in the basement on fire, which quickly spread up throughout the inside of our home, with most of the damage being in my bedroom, directly above the furnace. If it hadn't been for my neighbor...who knows. He was a great man, and not to be overly dramatic, but could very well have saved our lives. The timing of the fire being what it was, probably saved us as well. If the furnace had faltered at 3:00 a.m., with all of use asleep, I shudder to think about what would have happened.
Now a Christmas without presents can be very traumatic for kids, especially for me and Trid, aged 7 and 5, as I mentioned. As it turned out, we never had more presents in our entire lives that Christmas. I believe my parents had to eventually turn down Christmas presents at one point. I got my Nintendo. It brought us together as a family, and I know that it brought my parents' friends and family very close together. You sure find out who cares about you after tragedy strikes. As far as fires go happening a couple days before Christmas, especially with nobody getting hurt, (except for our cat, who didn't make it) this fire brought out the best in people. And for us kids, and the presents that we got, it wound up as the best Christmas ever. More because it showed how many people cared about my family, and less because I got to stay home from school and play with all of my many new toys.
When bad things happen, it's human nature to want to help out, which is what makes people so great. The goodness of mankind is out there. Through the fighting and bad-blood that people of different races and religions have, there is more goodness out there than hate. Sometimes it takes horrific things to show it...but it's out there. Be nice to people for no reason every once in a while. I have to remind myself of that sometimes....ok, a lot. But my true belief is that treating others good will come back to you. I have no religion...not interested in it. I have faith in the goodness of people. I tend to think there are more like-minded people out there than not.
I was in my bed, on the top bunk above my brother Joey. My clock read 8:03 p.m. I remember distinctively looking at my digital clock for some reason and seeing the red numbers as my family's late friend Kenny was heard as he came upstairs from the apartment below us. "Annie, I think we have a fire escape, he said to my mother." I could see his face from my bed as he stood in the hallway, and it was a much paler shade of it's usual dark, Italian looking skin. I don't know if that's exactly what was said, but that's what I remember I heard. The next few minutes are foggy, but I remember my mom getting me and my sister Trid down the stairs, (we were on the second floor.) Kenny, I believe, grabbed 2 year old Joey and 4 month old Sissa and brought them down the stairs. My dad was at work. After safely getting outside, we went in our pj's to the Dunkin' Donuts next door, where it was warm. The next thing I think I recall is my dad screeching up the street in my family's little red car and stopping in front of our house, now engulfed in flames and surrounded by firetrucks, with their lights flashing and lighting up the night sky.
It was chaos...I remember that. Soon after my dad arrived, with the fire trucks and police already on scene, we were walked down the street to my neighbor's house, where we stayed while I imagine my parents stayed near the fire, seeking answers. As I walked down the street with my sister Trid, who had just turned 5 years old, holding her hand, and my mom and Kenny carrying Joey and Sissa, I looked up at the house and noticed the flames through the windows. It was the most incredible thing I had ever seen. All my stuff was in there! I had so many questions and I was scared, but even at 7, I was trying to calm down my little sister. I held her hand as we walked in the cold down the short street to our neighbor's home. "What about the Christmas tree?" Those words are forever seared in my memory. I had no answer...I was only 7. I figured the fireman would save it. "How will Santa know where we are?" Again, I had no idea. I think I cried at this point, because I didn't know how Santa would find us either. Of course, despite seeing my house engulfed, it was my assumption at the time that the fireman would put the fire out and we would be back in our beds by tomorrow. The next hours are foggy. I don't remember what my parents did while our home burned down. The next thing I remember is being driven to my grandparent's house, who lived a few blocks away, with a couple of my aunts and my uncle in a 3 bedroom house. My family piled in and slept on cots, on the ground, on a couch, wherever we could find a spot. I don't know what my parents did that night. I can't remember if they stayed at my grandparent's too, or if they were up all night dealing with everything or what...I remember I was on a green cot and I didn't sleep at all.
The next day, I went with my dad and a few of his buddies to check out the damage. I remember I said, as adult as I could muster..."This couldn't have happened to a nicer family." I remember everyone there laughed, and I suppose looking back, if I was an adult and heard a seven year old say the same thing, I would have thought it was cute and funny too. A moment of light-hearted innocence from a boy who didn't quite understand the scope of what happened. I felt embarrassed after saying it, because the grown-ups laughed at it, but looking back I'm glad I did. The house was all black, and wet, and it smelled like a campfire. I was amazed at what the fire had done. Everything was gone.
Our fire made the paper and the news. There's a clip of my dad picking up our charred Christmas tree from the local paper and my mom digging through the rubble. At my grandmother's house, on Christmas Eve, Santa came and visited the house and we sang Christmas songs. Donations from friends and the community poured in. We had no clothes, no toys, nothing to keep us busy...we lost everything. We didn't go without these things for very long, probably less than 24 hours before people heard about what happened and jumped into action. I still don't have many pictures of myself from when I was real young, only what my other family had. Those things, of course, couldn't be replaced. I had a glass piggy bank with probably a couple bucks in it in coins and a few bills. I was saving up for a Nintendo. A fireman who was on the scene the previous night came by my grandmother's house to check on us, and he gave me the glass piggy bank, which was shaped as a pig, that had somehow survived the inferno. Nothing much else did. My "girlfriend" Miranda Watson, who was in my first grade class, (and one of the very few real names I use in this space,) came by my grandparent's house with her parents and several garbage bags full of clothes for my sister.
We had a fundraiser, and I can't remember if it took place before Christmas or after. I have no idea how much money and donations were made, but I remember how emotional it made my parents. I remember my dad using the microphone to thank people. I remember there being food and dancing and the song "That's What Friends Are For" played at the end and everyone stood in a big circle and held hands and sang along. Seems kind of cheesy, I know, but the outpouring of generosity was touching, even for a 7 year old boy.
We were essentially homeless, and it was tight quarters in my grandparents small home, but we made it work. I can't imagine the stress it must have caused my mom and dad, even though their 4 kids were safe and had temporary shelter...they were in their late 20's. What would they do? I'm sure that thought was the only thing running through their minds. My family was eventually put up in a shelter, ironically situated directly next door to our house that had burned. I returned to school, but I don't remember how long we were out. I know that I was in first grade, and that my classmates had been made aware of what happened. When I came back, I walked around the room and each of the kids sad on the floor and had a penny or a coin for me. I felt embarrassed as I walked around and collected the coins and hand-drawn cards. My first grade teacher bought me a Huffy bike with training wheels.
My house was rebuilt, and we moved back in several months later, into the downstairs apartment this time. Kenny moved on to live somewhere else. We had learned soon after the fire had engulfed all of our personal belongings that our furnace had malfunctioned and caught some nearby items in the basement on fire, which quickly spread up throughout the inside of our home, with most of the damage being in my bedroom, directly above the furnace. If it hadn't been for my neighbor...who knows. He was a great man, and not to be overly dramatic, but could very well have saved our lives. The timing of the fire being what it was, probably saved us as well. If the furnace had faltered at 3:00 a.m., with all of use asleep, I shudder to think about what would have happened.
Now a Christmas without presents can be very traumatic for kids, especially for me and Trid, aged 7 and 5, as I mentioned. As it turned out, we never had more presents in our entire lives that Christmas. I believe my parents had to eventually turn down Christmas presents at one point. I got my Nintendo. It brought us together as a family, and I know that it brought my parents' friends and family very close together. You sure find out who cares about you after tragedy strikes. As far as fires go happening a couple days before Christmas, especially with nobody getting hurt, (except for our cat, who didn't make it) this fire brought out the best in people. And for us kids, and the presents that we got, it wound up as the best Christmas ever. More because it showed how many people cared about my family, and less because I got to stay home from school and play with all of my many new toys.
When bad things happen, it's human nature to want to help out, which is what makes people so great. The goodness of mankind is out there. Through the fighting and bad-blood that people of different races and religions have, there is more goodness out there than hate. Sometimes it takes horrific things to show it...but it's out there. Be nice to people for no reason every once in a while. I have to remind myself of that sometimes....ok, a lot. But my true belief is that treating others good will come back to you. I have no religion...not interested in it. I have faith in the goodness of people. I tend to think there are more like-minded people out there than not.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Ohhhhhhh, Love
Gay title right? Well it's a new Green Day song, and it felt inspirational at the moment, so.....don't worry, the actual body of the post is even worse, but I recently did some soul searching and am attempting to come up with some finite conclusions.
I'm trying to figure out a few things about relationships, compatibility, friendship, and all of those age old meanings for the way people interact with each other, particularly those of the opposite sex....(or I suppose the same sex, if that's your thing.) There are people on this world capable of absolutely being in love with someone else, and receiving that same love in return. The "ideal" group. Good for them. They seem to be few and far between, but if you have that, hang on to it. Don't fuck it up, no matter what you do, because you'll regret it.
There are hopeless fools who wander the Earth looking for the perfect person, only to settle and become too stubborn as time goes by to make a change. There are people who have been in love, and somehow blew it, and are now stuck in limbo, maybe never to return to what they had before. What's that saying? "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all..." I'm not sure I believe that. It's kind of like a tease from which you generally have nobody to blame but yourself. There are people on the other end of the spectrum, who feel they have the perfect life, the perfect mate, and they get cheated on or they wind up not loving them as much as was thought.
Out of the above, aside from the couple madly in love who wind up together for 70 years, it's about how brave one is about their situation. They can settle, be satisfied with their life, and just go on, being halfway miserable for the rest of their life. It's the easy play, ya know? It's the safe way out. I'm starting to think that may be the chicken-shit way to do things. The life that these people have, though it may not be complete happiness, it's at least a routine. It's comfort. For some people that's ok. Some people get so hurt that they give up. Maybe they wait for something to happen, and it never does, and they never have the life they want to have.
I think it's a brave thing to be one of the people in the above paragraph and do something about it. Now. Make a change. Do what you have to do to be happy. If it's not with the person you're currently with, fucking change it man....make the bold move. Do what you need to do to find complete happiness. Peace. You only have one life. Think about that for a minute....REALLY think about that....how many years do you want to be miserable when happiness is out there for you somewhere. Just have the balls to go get it. I know it's easier said than done, but like I said, you have one lifetime, don't waste years of it being unhappy.
Same thing with your job, or your friends, or your lifestyle in general. Have the intestinal fortitude to change the things you don't like in your life. There are better things out there for you. Better people. Just remember your family. They're the constant. Be good to your family. If you have a bad family situation, that's different...and I'm not talking about you and your brother had a scuffle on Thanksgiving 4 years ago, I mean things like abuse, etc. Clearly a different situation. For those lucky enough to be loved by your family, don't let that go for anything. If you have kids...be good to them. Even if you don't have the nuts to make changes to relationships or careers or friends, your kids will always be there for you if you show them the love that a parent should.
So what are you waiting for?
"Oh Love, Oh love
Won't you rain on me tonight
Oh life, Oh life
Please don't pass me by
Don't stop, Don't stop
Don't stop when the red lights flash
Oh ride
Free ride
Won't you take me close to you
Far away, far away
waste away tonight
I'm wearing my heart on a noose."
-Billy Jo Armstrong
I'm trying to figure out a few things about relationships, compatibility, friendship, and all of those age old meanings for the way people interact with each other, particularly those of the opposite sex....(or I suppose the same sex, if that's your thing.) There are people on this world capable of absolutely being in love with someone else, and receiving that same love in return. The "ideal" group. Good for them. They seem to be few and far between, but if you have that, hang on to it. Don't fuck it up, no matter what you do, because you'll regret it.
There are hopeless fools who wander the Earth looking for the perfect person, only to settle and become too stubborn as time goes by to make a change. There are people who have been in love, and somehow blew it, and are now stuck in limbo, maybe never to return to what they had before. What's that saying? "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all..." I'm not sure I believe that. It's kind of like a tease from which you generally have nobody to blame but yourself. There are people on the other end of the spectrum, who feel they have the perfect life, the perfect mate, and they get cheated on or they wind up not loving them as much as was thought.
Out of the above, aside from the couple madly in love who wind up together for 70 years, it's about how brave one is about their situation. They can settle, be satisfied with their life, and just go on, being halfway miserable for the rest of their life. It's the easy play, ya know? It's the safe way out. I'm starting to think that may be the chicken-shit way to do things. The life that these people have, though it may not be complete happiness, it's at least a routine. It's comfort. For some people that's ok. Some people get so hurt that they give up. Maybe they wait for something to happen, and it never does, and they never have the life they want to have.
I think it's a brave thing to be one of the people in the above paragraph and do something about it. Now. Make a change. Do what you have to do to be happy. If it's not with the person you're currently with, fucking change it man....make the bold move. Do what you need to do to find complete happiness. Peace. You only have one life. Think about that for a minute....REALLY think about that....how many years do you want to be miserable when happiness is out there for you somewhere. Just have the balls to go get it. I know it's easier said than done, but like I said, you have one lifetime, don't waste years of it being unhappy.
Same thing with your job, or your friends, or your lifestyle in general. Have the intestinal fortitude to change the things you don't like in your life. There are better things out there for you. Better people. Just remember your family. They're the constant. Be good to your family. If you have a bad family situation, that's different...and I'm not talking about you and your brother had a scuffle on Thanksgiving 4 years ago, I mean things like abuse, etc. Clearly a different situation. For those lucky enough to be loved by your family, don't let that go for anything. If you have kids...be good to them. Even if you don't have the nuts to make changes to relationships or careers or friends, your kids will always be there for you if you show them the love that a parent should.
So what are you waiting for?
"Oh Love, Oh love
Won't you rain on me tonight
Oh life, Oh life
Please don't pass me by
Don't stop, Don't stop
Don't stop when the red lights flash
Oh ride
Free ride
Won't you take me close to you
Far away, far away
waste away tonight
I'm wearing my heart on a noose."
-Billy Jo Armstrong
Butternuts the Police Horse
Pepper spray tastes like shit....believe me. It hurts your eyes, nose, and throat too. If you really want to find this out for yourself, go up to a policeman who is either riding a bike or a horse and try to get anywhere near his modified crotch rocket. Me and B-Ride found this out the hard way many years ago. You're damn right I'm gonna tell you about it, relax, I know you're very excited....
You all remember the Complex in Providence, right? No?!?! Some of you are under 30? Oh, ok, well the Complex was the shit back in the late 90's and early 00's. I had my first legal drink at this particular facility. I got in fights, made out with chicks, pissed on bathroom walls, did drugs, sold drugs, and on one clear, cold night, got a pepper spray bomb right in my face. This was not my crew's first encounter with Providence's finest, but it was my first personal experience with their careless use of excessive force.
One time B-Ride got pummeled by about 5 bouncers in the Complex....and they're lucky there was 5 of them, cause B-Ride had about 4 of them smashed to pieces before he was finally overwhelmed. Merph and me were there and saw the whole thing, but we couldn't do shit, because I had a bottle of drugs in my pocket, and Merph was on probation for smashing a beer bottle over some dude's head a few months back.
Another time a buddy of mine had the audacity to walk out the door with a beer. This dude is intimidating in his shear size, and I don't even think the bouncers wanted to fuck with him. So there he was, in the middle of the sidewalk, bud light bottle in hand, while the Complex emptied into the street. A police officer asked my buddy to drop the drink, to which he completely ignored. The second time he asked, my friend tipped the bottle up, finished off the beer, and smashed it on the ground. He then did his best Rodney King impression and just got fucking PUMMELLED by at least 3 cops. I'm talking knees to the back of the head after they smashed his face in the pavement, kicks to the ribs. It was legit police brutality. C'mon guys....really? For breaking a glass bottle? Anyways, the cops took him, and the rest of my friends left him in Providence. What else could we have done? We finally got a call to go pick him up. The cops didn't bring him to the clink...they dropped him off in some shitty alley and told him "Good luck Fucko!" Less paperwork, I guess.
On to my personal experience. If you've never been outside of the Complex at closing time, than you probably can't picture it...but it's pretty shady. Everyone is drunk or fucked up. Most guys want to fight. Hell, most of the girls want to fight each other by this point. Me and B-Ride were in no such mood on this night. We WERE, however, in the mood to get friendly with a horse who carried one of the crowd-control sumbitches police officers. B-Ride and I started petting him and calling him Butternuts and Buttercup and all kinds of stupid shit that you probably shouldn't call a police horse, WHILE a human police officer is riding on said horse. The cop then actually threatened us and told us that we were "assaulting an officer." In our drunken state, nothing could have been funnier, so we laughed as hard as we could....until of course we couldn't breathe. The last thing I heard was B-Ride yell out, "What the FUCK!!" My eyes felt like they were bleeding, I couldn't breathe or talk. Snot ran out of my nose like a sieve. It only then dawned on me that the asshole pig threw a pepper bomb, MADE FOR DISPERSING CROWDS directly at our feet. We were virtually incapacitated...but we stayed out of the clink! Winning!
I had my fair share of good times and great memories with many friends at the now-defunct Complex, but clearly, there was a good share of disasters as well....the above is just one example of such. I'm kinda sad that I can't go back today for old time's sake...
You all remember the Complex in Providence, right? No?!?! Some of you are under 30? Oh, ok, well the Complex was the shit back in the late 90's and early 00's. I had my first legal drink at this particular facility. I got in fights, made out with chicks, pissed on bathroom walls, did drugs, sold drugs, and on one clear, cold night, got a pepper spray bomb right in my face. This was not my crew's first encounter with Providence's finest, but it was my first personal experience with their careless use of excessive force.
One time B-Ride got pummeled by about 5 bouncers in the Complex....and they're lucky there was 5 of them, cause B-Ride had about 4 of them smashed to pieces before he was finally overwhelmed. Merph and me were there and saw the whole thing, but we couldn't do shit, because I had a bottle of drugs in my pocket, and Merph was on probation for smashing a beer bottle over some dude's head a few months back.
Another time a buddy of mine had the audacity to walk out the door with a beer. This dude is intimidating in his shear size, and I don't even think the bouncers wanted to fuck with him. So there he was, in the middle of the sidewalk, bud light bottle in hand, while the Complex emptied into the street. A police officer asked my buddy to drop the drink, to which he completely ignored. The second time he asked, my friend tipped the bottle up, finished off the beer, and smashed it on the ground. He then did his best Rodney King impression and just got fucking PUMMELLED by at least 3 cops. I'm talking knees to the back of the head after they smashed his face in the pavement, kicks to the ribs. It was legit police brutality. C'mon guys....really? For breaking a glass bottle? Anyways, the cops took him, and the rest of my friends left him in Providence. What else could we have done? We finally got a call to go pick him up. The cops didn't bring him to the clink...they dropped him off in some shitty alley and told him "Good luck Fucko!" Less paperwork, I guess.
On to my personal experience. If you've never been outside of the Complex at closing time, than you probably can't picture it...but it's pretty shady. Everyone is drunk or fucked up. Most guys want to fight. Hell, most of the girls want to fight each other by this point. Me and B-Ride were in no such mood on this night. We WERE, however, in the mood to get friendly with a horse who carried one of the crowd-control sumbitches police officers. B-Ride and I started petting him and calling him Butternuts and Buttercup and all kinds of stupid shit that you probably shouldn't call a police horse, WHILE a human police officer is riding on said horse. The cop then actually threatened us and told us that we were "assaulting an officer." In our drunken state, nothing could have been funnier, so we laughed as hard as we could....until of course we couldn't breathe. The last thing I heard was B-Ride yell out, "What the FUCK!!" My eyes felt like they were bleeding, I couldn't breathe or talk. Snot ran out of my nose like a sieve. It only then dawned on me that the asshole pig threw a pepper bomb, MADE FOR DISPERSING CROWDS directly at our feet. We were virtually incapacitated...but we stayed out of the clink! Winning!
I had my fair share of good times and great memories with many friends at the now-defunct Complex, but clearly, there was a good share of disasters as well....the above is just one example of such. I'm kinda sad that I can't go back today for old time's sake...
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