May-June '12: Mich-again

Jennifer, Brian, Chad, & Diane

"Mich-Again": The Pilot Podcast!

7/3/09: Meet Mike

Getting up at 10:00 after the late night was rough, but once I was packed and had dropped off the extra stuff at my mother's, we were on our way to Coldwater...a good hour later than "planned." The idea was to meet up with Mike at the familiar Big Boy around two or three o'clock. This would provide us with a few hours to eat, drink coffee, and plot. We said our goodbyes to Bob in the parking lot, and as Chris put it, let him get back to his normal life. I had spent a lot of time with him over the past month, and I remember thinking that it was nice to still have a friend or two like that! Thanks for everything, Bobby.

After we had stuffed ourselves on burgers and coffee, we moved outside and were talking about how neat it would be to hitch a plane ride, when I realized that I actually had a friend who owns a plane and reportedly likes taking people up for rides! I instantly envisioned an extravagant hop across Lake Michigan, or even a simpler one from Kalamazoo to South Bend. I was quickly on the phone to explore possibilities. Through these discussions it also became apparent that staying in Michigan may be preferable to northern Indiana, not wanting to deal with toll roads. I decided that if all went well, I'd ask Mike if we could ride with him back toward his home in Charlotte, since Battle Creek and I-94 were on his way back.

Mike arrived around 3:30 and snuck up on me! I had become rather oblivious to my surroundings by then and was looking for a different car than the one he had driven, so when I looked over and saw a silver sedan pull up I was a bit shocked when I recognized him. This took me back to meeting Shelly for the first time at the end of May. There's no protocol for these situations; no prescribed dose of pleasantries to administer when you meet a brother for the first time. I'm sure he was experiencing the same things as we shook hands, hugged, and looked each other in the eye for the first time.

Mike is shorter and a bit stockier than I, but then again so is the poster child for Feed The Children. He reminded me of myself when I was living in Denver. And eating. I had seen pictures and at various times had felt like I was looking at my younger self, when I wasn't shaving my head. He seemed to be a low key, honest, up-front person. I sensed no bullshit about him and, as we all know by now, I respect that. Standing in this parking lot were two brothers who, up until less than 48-hours ago, had been just abstract ideas to each other. We were now real. This was VERY cool! There was a good vibe and I was glad for it.

Mike had brought his 9-year old daughter, Ally, and her mother Bobbie with him too. Ally is a beautiful, blonde, bundle of energy! I knew to expect that she'd be quite shy at first, but that didn't last at all. Pretty soon she was resuming her task: relentlessly tormenting her mother. It was obvious from the start that Mike adores his little girl, and has no trouble showing it.

We spent an unexpectedly, almost inappropriately long time in the parking lot smoking, chatting, and recollecting before we finally went inside so they could eat. The story telling and questions continued as we learned more about each other and our pasts. Mike has a creative streak in him, just as Shelly does. He loves restoring cars and works at a body shop. I also was horrified to learn that he had nearly been killed not too long ago, barely getting out of the way yet having his right ankle essentially shattered by falling steel . I thought to myself, "What if that had happened? Why the hell are we in this situation again?"

The original "plan" (ha!) had been for Mike to drop us off in Angola, IN where he would pick up 4th of July fireworks for his family, then head home. I submitted my revised Battle Creek proposal after I figured out we were getting along well, and he agreed. So it was on from Coldwater to Angola for munitions and cigarette shopping. The conversations continued as we made the 20-minute drive down I-69 and the longer we hung out, the more we seemed to have to say and were at ease. No pretension; no bullshit. "Why the hell are we in this situation again?"

Fireworks and cigarettes in tow, it was time for the 40-minute drive back north, toward Battle Creek and the Te-khi truck stop on I-94. I wasn't exactly sure what our next move would be, but I had friends in the area and even if we were stuck, there were ample places to hitch and/or camp. More importantly, it wasn't far out of Mike's way. He said repeatedly that he felt "weird" about just dropping us there. I did my best to reassure him, saying that this is "what we do", and not to worry, although I did appreciate the concern. What I envisioned as a quick drop off turned into yet another 30-45 minute conversation, in yet another parking lot! I had to laugh at the mild, typical concerns that I'd had about not having anything to say to each other! This was great! After taking some pictures, shaking hands and hugging again, they were off. As I watched him drive away, the reality that we may not see each other for a while, or often enough, set in. We had obviously connected on some level, and I was actually sad to see him go. "Why the hell are we in this situation again?", I asked one last time.

Meeting Mike was the perfect, unexpected possible ending to the "Eastern Phase" of this little adventure. He was the one that I had, unfairly, held the least hope for based on "old intel," and I rightfully and religiously have been chastising myself for making any judgment at all. I should have permanently learned that lesson with Lynn. One thing I've had reinforced repeatedly over June, and now July, is that I need to get my own answers and draw my own conclusions. See the world unfiltered. I have written a lot about that, but find myself failing at some important times. To do that, I need to eliminate preconceived notions, or at least suspend them. Thankfully, Mike decided to do that with me and I'm glad I chose to listen to Shelly when she encouraged me to try to contact him. They unknowingly threw me a rope and rescued me from my own shortsightedness. In the process they helped me to reinforce this lesson and shrink it down from an abstract "social" concept to a tangible, applicable "personal" tool. Maybe I've helped them in that respect too.

The smell of diesel exhaust triggered feelings of familiarity after Mike left. I felt oddly back in my comfort zone, and immediately called Shelly to let her know how things went. I then gave Joey a call in Kalamazoo to tell him what has been going on. He almost immediately offered to come and pick us up. Less than 2-hours after Mike dropped us off, we were back in Kalamazoo, where this eventful Michigan excursion had started a month before. Unfortunately, the plane-hitching idea fell through, but not for a shortage of interest! Adam's plane was in the shop, but otherwise said he would have loved to fly us out of Michigan! Maybe next time...

Being back at Brian & Joey's was a study in short-term contrasts. I began to compare where I was just four short weeks ago as opposed to now; only beginning to feel twinges of the effects of June. I was mentally exhausted, numb, and feeling an odd, nervous contentment. My only nagging concern was rather I was being just as shortsighted with Mike's sisters, Pam and Kim, as I had been with Mike. I had yet to see any indications otherwise and, quite honestly, I was too mentally cashed to go hunting again anyhow. That might have to wait...

6/29-7/2/09: Sit Down & Shut Up

Sunday night around the fire was profound. Chris and I had discussed several times how difficult it is to grasp the concept that we as individuals are NOT the center of the entire universe, despite the fact that our eyes make it seem we are! When serendipity or "fate" is discussed, it's often from the perspective that these events only involve or happen to us, or because of us. That's the ego at work, and oftentimes we forget the obvious fact that others also make decisions and live their lives, thereby affecting the paths presented to us. Their application of freewill sometimes requires us to simply sit still until they play things out. With my ever evolving mastery if the English language, I describe it as being put in a state of limbo and told to "Sit the fuck down, and shut the fuck up!" Ever the wordsmith, I.

If you're unable to let go of the ego's need for control, this limbo it will feel like confusion; you'll be unclear about which path to take. There's a simple explanation for that: It hasn't been decided yet, or you're waiting for someone else on the path to come to you. There have been several examples of this, both this year and last, with the most dramatic this year being with the Church Lady the day Chris's mom decided not to pick us up in New Jersey. Last year's preeminent examples were in McCammon, ID and Randleman, NC. Chris and I have talked at length about it, but it has been one of the most difficult lessons because it requires continuous neutering of the pesky ego: a practice in patience. Sunday, we remembered it and decided to put it to the test. We resolved to sit still and let things happen, while eagerly anticipating Wednesday to see if some dramatic event would unfold. That's exactly what we did.

Monday was spent playing softball one last time, and again sitting around a small campfire chatting. Tuesday was even less eventful, except for yet another campfire. The conversations on these days, however, were quite enlightening. This was a time for us to both reflect back on the past 3-months, and begin to finally grasp exactly what we had experienced as a whole, AND to apply some lessons and ideas as we move forward. Ideas about the next phase became a bit more clear as we chatted about Denver, Santa Fe, Boise, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, England, and even Mexico. Most significantly, we decided to tell someone about this revelation on Sunday. We told Bob we were going to sit tight until Wednesday, thinking something significant was going to happen. If nothing happened Wednesday, Bob would drop us off in Indiana either Wednesday night or Thursday morning. All that was left was to see if it did...

Did it ever.

My brother Mike responded to that 10-day old Facebook request. I immediately sent him an email telling him that I was planning on leaving VERY soon, but that if he was interested I'd love to meet him and would arrange my "schedule" around it. Shit, that's WHY I'm here, after all! He replied that night and said he was definitely interested in getting together before we left, but needed to find out if he was getting a three day weekend for July 4th. If so, we could get together Friday. He wouldn't know until the next day, but after chatting for an hour or so on Yahoo, it was clear that I was going nowhere just yet-even if I needed to wait thru the weekend.

I really liked Mike. Through our little online chat, he and I traded a few stories as we began the now-familiar process of comparing notes, and hitting it off quite well. His reminded me of the response I had gotten from my cousin, Dewey, when he first found out I was related to him. This was NOT the Mike I expected, although to be fair, he's also easily the sibling I knew the LEAST about. I got his number, and made arrangements to call him Thursday night to see about Friday. I immediately called Shelly to let her know what had happened, and of course she was thrilled.

Thursday was understandably a bit restless. I devised a scheme where we could possibly meet Mike in Coldwater rather than Hillsdale on Friday, and would ask if he could drop us off in Angola, IN where I-80/90 comes through. If Mike couldn't make it, perhaps Bob would get us there instead. Either way, we could get on the road Friday.

I finally drafted the email to my father, which I had mysteriously been putting off four four days. I laid out the time line of events, and exactly who I had been in contact with and for how long. In it, I could now also tell him that Mike and I were in touch, and possibly getting together. I hoped that this email didn't reverberate too much, but at least it was the truth. At least now people may be able to speak freely, if they choose to. That can't be a bad thing, and neither can the man knowing who stands where. I sent copies to Shelly and Lynn, and decided to let Mike know when he called. After this, all there was to do was prepare to leave and wait for 7pm to roll around.

Mike did indeed get the day off. Friday was a go. I was stoked. I've never had a brother and I was about to meet one...and apparently a very cool one at that. We had a nice chat on the phone, and he liked the Coldwater/Angola idea. He asked if he could bring his daughter, Ally, and her mother with him so that they could all go fireworks shopping, since they were going to be in Angola. Another niece? Hell, yeah!

Thursday night was a going away party of sorts. We had another fire in Bob's yard, and drank a whole lotta beer. Ian and Travis hung out for a bit, as did Bob's neighbors. No phones were sacrificed, so it was a good night, yet it was obvious that I was ready to go. Somewhere around midnight I mentally checked out of Hillsdale. Unfortunately, I didn't check into bed until 4:30!

6/22- 6/27/09: Relaxation & Regression

This week was as close to a time machine as I'll see in my lifetime. Chris had stayed in Ohio to frolic solo, so I was back in Hillsdale alone staying with Bobby with no real ties to my current life, except for my backpack. It was funny to see my old habits take over as I essentially let go and re-immersed in the enigma that is Hillsdale. It was out of the question to stay with my mother after the week before, so the time warp was completed by staying at Bobby's house, playing softball, and drinking beer. A lot of beer.

One troubling aspect of this month was the frequency in which I was drinking. Another was the amount of money I was spending. The two were closely linked. The drinking was all in good fun, but there were indications that it was also in small part due to the fact that I was having trouble coping with the intensity of all the events of the month. My entire concept of who I was and where I had come from was steadily changing, and integrating all of this was understandably difficult, but it bothered me that I chose alcohol as a means to cope. Never a good sign. On the bright side, there was no drama, nor were there any Random Acts of Stupidity! Just good times reminiscing with friends, smoking cigarettes and suffering hangovers.

Summer finally arrived in full force with temps in the mid-90's and Monday and Tuesday were spent playing softball. After three games in two days, I realized just how young I wasn't anymore. I was fine while playing, but as it was with baseball, my recovery time was pathetic! Thank God for ibuprofen and beer. It felt good to be playing ball again, and I ran into many people I hadn't seen in years. Softball it seems has replaced the bars as the social mechanism of the area. The softball fields are now where you go to see people, and there are many to choose from. I finally got to spend a little time with my cousin, Dewey, who along with his father was the first person from my father's side of the family to actually embrace me as "family." They did this way back in 1996, and for that simple fact I will always respect the hell out of them. Several of my old teammates now have wives and children, and a few have aged drastically! It was at times a sad, sobering reminder of just how much time has passed.

I had also quit eating... again. I've been battling weight loss the since leaving New Mexico at 165#. Toward Wednesday, I was noticing an extreme lack of energy, headaches, and dizziness. Obvious symptoms of malnutrition, but I had simply forgotten about food!! How the hell does that happen? By Wednesday, I was getting ridiculously close to 150# (153#), looked like a corpse, and had had enough of this folly. I began eating everything I could get my hands on! My weight fluctuates wildly at times, and by Saturday had "ballooned" to 157#...still too fucking scrawny for me. Hard to believe I was 200# in 2006.

Thursday night was spent around another bonfire. I was paid a visit by another blast from the past in the form of Ian. We had a nice chat and it was fun, except for the fact that after Ian had left, I was thrown in Bob's son's wading pool. With the heat and humidity I probably would have enjoyed it, except for the fact that my cell phone was in my pocket. I initially thought I had just soaked it, but when it dried out the next day, I discovered that I had also shattered the LCD screen. Not only could I not use my phone, but I had also lost all of my contacts! This...was not good. Luckily, Bob had a spare Sprint phone lying around, so after a quick trip to the local Sprint store I had a phone again. The other phone works fine now, I just cant navigate it except to play mp3's. Hopefully the contacts can be retrieved Monday.

Friday night I spent with Dave & Bonnie eating pizza at Baw Beese Lake, traipsing thru my mother's abandoned house, and chatting up folks at the bowling alley. Through Dave, I learned some of the methods that people are using to cope in the economic cataclysm that is Michigan. Many people are telling the system to go fuck itself. They're trading labor while working for straight cash for friends; friends that wont outsource their jobs to Mexico. I had also heard about a state "re-education" program for "displaced" manufacturing workers. The problem is that they only "re-educate" people in what they deem to be "approved vocations." These "approved vocations" are, to a great extent, service industry fields and when I heard "approved vocations" I immediately thought of the old Soviet Union. That was a nice visit, and I'm glad I got to spend a decent amount of time with them. Again, too much time had passed.

This was a nice, relatively calm week that served as a place holder for bigger events to come, and reminded me a bit too much of the good ol' days! By the time Saturday rolled around, I was mentally preparing to head west after the meeting with my father. I have been here throughout the month of June, and had a great time. I even toyed with the idea of sticking around until my class reunion on 7/18 and trying to use some contacts to find temporary cash work, but in the end decided against it. It's time to refocus and get back to the task at hand...whatever that may be.

6/11/09: Three New Nephews

Shelly had not seen my mother since she was a little girl, and I was maybe a year old. Our mother's had remained friends and had brought her, Lynn, and Skip to our house periodically after my mother and our father had parted company. There was never any indication given that I was anymore than "their mother's friend's kid" throughout their childhood. Shelly finally was let in on the fact when she graduated and my mother sent her a card with a "Santa Picture" of me. My mother had tried to get me to go to the ceremony, but at 10 there was no way I could. I'm not sure why to this day.

The plan for Thursday was to surprise Mom by having Shelly come up to say hi. It wasn't completely out of surprise nostalgia. I've cut ties with one of the sisters I was raised with and, since she lives in the area and my mother likes to subversively plan "coincidental visits", I wanted to be sure that there were no unexpected knocks while we were there. Despite the fact that I had made it quite clear I didn't want to see this other sister, I was not all that sure it would not happen anyhow, especially if she was planning on Shelly to be there. It was quite a nice little reunion. As I've mentioned, my mother has fond memories of Shelly and it appeared that they had quite a bit to talk about, although I am sure it was a bit odd for both! Chris and I ducked out for coffee to give them a few minutes to chat, and before long we were snapping pictures and heading toward Mosherville to do The Family Tour.

My grandmother was essentially the matriarch of this tiny hamlet north of Jonesville. Mary had been the post master, apparently owned a lot of property, and ran the general store. It was neat hearing Shelly reminisce, adding to the fragmented information on her family's past that I had been given through the years. Our grandmother had known exactly who I was growing up, and we would cross paths occasionally, albeit rarely. The only significant memory I have of her is an event at the fairgrounds when I was 14 or so. She simply sat there, staring what seemed like daggers the entire time. Not my mother. At me. What stuck with me was that it wasn't as much disdain in her eyes as it was shock and perhaps realization. Judging by my resemblance to her son, there was probably no further doubt in her "old school" mind that, yes, I was her grandson. At least in the DNA sphere of things! I'm quite certain of this but, despite the obvious, we never had a single, solitary conversation before she died in 2001 or 2002.

Ben, 16, and Brad, 14, are Lynn's kids who were coincidentally visiting from Idaho and staying at their Grandmother Charlotte's house south of Quincy. They had only found out that they had another uncle the week before and, from what I heard, asked Lynn, "How can you have a brother that you've never met?" I thought that was a great, brilliantly simple question and apparently so did Lynn's husband. Dave suggested that they "ask their grandfather" when they got here! Although Lynn did not encourage such shenanigans, and I know next to nothing about Dave, I immediately began to like him! Shelly had made arrangements to meet the boys at Charlotte's house, then grab some food and make a trip to Angola, Indiana to meet her 24-year old son, Travis, at his place. Three new nephews in about 3-hours.

Ben and Brad have had some upbringing. As we walked into the living room, Ben stood up to greet me and shake hands. I was surprised and impressed by this considering the fact that he's just 16. Brad seemed a bit taken aback, and I felt a bit sorry for him. It had been quite a week for them considering they had also been reunited with "new" cousins and their Uncle Skip who had not been a part of their lives. I could genuinely empathize with him. These two had a different aire about them. They put off a completely different vibe. It's a vibe that I can't quite explain other than to say it lacked the "implied, silent negativity" that I'd grown accustomed to over 15 years of on and-off dealings with Pam & Kim.

As we slowly became acquainted, the conversation turned to their airline experience. Ben is old enough to fly by himself, but Brad isn't. This meant that Lynn had to pay an extra $100 to have them chaperoned airline-style. This equates to be shoved in a little room between flights with a cooler full of Apple Juice, and the Disney Channel on a TV. Chris and I encouraged them to milk it for everything they could to get their $100 worth, including demanding a full tour of the airports, depriving the airline of ALL their Apple Juice, and getting some pictures of the cockpit. I suggested that Ben ask the pilot if he "liked movies about Gladiators" or if he had "been in a Turkish prison." The references went over their heads, but Chris and I got a nice laugh out of it! Charlotte seemed unamused. Hopefully, she's seen the movie because that could have sounded a bit odd, but something tells me I would enjoy toying with Charlotte a bit anyhow!!

Angola is a quick 20-30 minute drive from Coldwater, and we were to Travis' house by early evening with subs in hand. I had hoped we'd be able to connect while I was here. Travis is doing quite well for himself working as a FedEx driver, and has bought a house with his girlfriend in a little subdivision out in the Indiana countryside. They have a huge yard, and got it dirt cheap because of foreclosure. Travis is a big, quiet guy, but has a good sense of humor and a calm almost gentle demeanor about him. Also joining the party was Kirsten, Shelly's step daughter from a previous marriage. Kirsten is a short (fun- sized according to her!), pretty, bundle of energy! Very outgoing and easy to chat with. I was glad that she took the time to come out there; I'm not sure the next time we'd all be in the same place!

All told, this was quite an experience. For the most part, I just quietly sat there watching taking in the scene, trying to appreciate the moment. It was interesting to think back just six months and realize just how much has changed! I have added two sisters, three nephews, and in addition Shelly had been busy trying to contact my older brother, Skip, to see if he wanted to meet up Saturday. Shelly doesn't mess around!

The ride back to Delta was intermittently quiet, then chatty. I had begun to get a bit overwhelmed, especially during the "down times" when my brain goes guano. It was beginning to show. The mental fallout of the past 11-days had been staved by activity, but as this weekend in Delta would show, that was about to abruptly end.

6/6-6/10/09: Home Again

"Avoiding Hillsdale like Herpes" was an understatement. I had tried several times with limited success to "escape" in the years after high school, only to inevitably find myself right back where I started with just a few new anecdotes. I knew I would have to get out eventually, naturally assuming that it was Hillsdale that made me miserable. Typical victimist thinking, but it served the purpose of motivating me to get a bit creative with my "escape" methods and helped me to stumble on a vocation: radio. In 1994 I went off to broadcasting school in Detroit, and after yet another return, found myself 'freed' for good in early 1997 after my radio career finally got going. Since then, the visits have been rare with the exception of 2000, when among other things I decided to try playing softball with old friends-until getting my night show ended that.

Returning has always been like watching the videotape of a night of heavy drinking: cringing repeatedly! Everywhere I turned, it seemed that there were reminders of the levels of douchebaggery I had reached while there. I still had a few friends around, but as we steadily lost contact, I tried to resign myself to the notion that I would ultimately be one of those who just vanished, except for the few people who knew the station I was on and the stage name I used. My mother had never left so I would make a few trips every year, but it was more like a tactical strike with a specific target. I was always mindful not to stray "off course" and of getting out as quickly as I could! This has been the case for the past nine years, and the visits had dwindled to maybe once a year since I moved out of Michigan in 2004.

Another particularly interesting side note, and one that I'm reluctant to mention, is that I have had recurring dreams about Hillsdale, involving friends, forgotten acquaintances, my house, softball, and odd, seemingly random places for years. Places that had made no sense, like an unfamiliar bar on a lake somewhere down US-12 toward US-127. And, these dreams were so common, like 4-6 times a week at times, that they became downright annoying. "Why the hell am I always dreaming about that place!!" I mentioned it to my girlfriend a couple years ago, but none of it made any sense. I had never considered returning to the area for any real period of time until I connected with Shelly in February of this year. That too had some odd, weird circumstances. More on that at another time, but as Chris and I entered Michigan for the first time, the first of these little premonitions, or deja vu, began making themselves apparent.

Following the week with Brian, I tried to keep low expectations for this visit. I had been in touch with my friend Bob for about a week, and while he seemed just as I remembered, I was wondering how we'd interact these days. And, I was curious to get Chris' take on all of this. He had very little background on where I had come from, and it wasn't lost on me that there may be a vast, unexplained gap between the person he knows, and the guy that my old friends remember. I too was quite interested in gaining an outsider perspective and especially to see my own reaction to the new, familiar atmosphere. My emotional reactions are always a fucking case study in the unexpected!

Sean dropped us off, snapped some pictures, and as soon as Bob & I said hi it was clear that little had changed with him. Bob's like an old pair of comfortable boots, for lack of a more flattering description! He's a bighearted, generous, friendly, loyal guy. Perhaps one of the two most loyal friends I have. I was quite grateful to be there after having to navigate the odd dynamics of the previous week. There was no analysis going on. No judgment. No diagnosis. I was Todd. He was Bob. That was Chris. We were friends. End of story. I laughed as we instantly resumed the long-dormant roles of tormenting each other. After ten minutes, it was like I had never left. I remember thinking, "Friends like this goofy fucker are a rarity." This was a good omen to what was about to become an almost unbearably intense few weeks.

These omens stuck around for all of Saturday night as Bob, Chris and I decided to try to find a bar where I could freak some people out. The problem was, that while there were several when I had lived here, there were now next to NONE anywhere within a safe driving distance, let alone walking. We decided on the near-empty bowling alley in Hillsdale to watch the Red Wings, then Bob suggested a bar in Somerset; a 30- minute drive away. This turned out to be the bar by the lake that I had repeatedly dreamed of! I about shit as he turned in, as you can imagine. At least there were people here, although none that I recognized. As we sat there drinking beer, it slowly began to sink in that I was indeed seeing my old hometown from the position of the familiar outsider.

I had also been quickly discovering how things have changed over the last 12+ years. This "crisis" they like to talk about now has been gutting rural Michigan's manufacturing base for years. It's this base that supports most of the people I knew, and I was shocked to discover that Bob was one of the rare people that still HAD a job, and wasn't either laid off or let go. They can quote unemployment figures all day long, but my unofficial unemployment "research" would come back with numbers a hell of a lot higher than "12 -15%" or whatever the latest "figures" are. To me it seems closer to 50%, and higher if you consider "underemployed." I suspect that many have said to hell with filing unemployment, and taken work under the table. One of the first things I noticed about Hillsdale itself is how quiet, and empty it is. Especially the main road thru town. I remember it being a whole lot busier.

People here are tough, blue collar types who won't whine, and don't want you to whine for them. They generally work hard, they play hard, and they live their lives raising their kids the best they can. The only thing they generally want is a fair opportunity to do just that, and to offer their kids a better future. Like people anywhere I suppose, except that this "opportunity" has been pulled from their still warm hands. I wont bother with the politics, because the politics just don't fucking matter. It was no better under Bush than it is now. If you think this "crisis" is something new, come pay a visit. It's only "new" and publicized because it's hit the economic elites, and the suburbs a bit. I only offer this brief commentary out of a realization (get used to that term now!) that I respect these people. I seek authenticity. This is raw and authentic. I was astounded to find myself thinking that! It occurred after some thought that in order to appreciate fully the blunt reality, perhaps you need to run in the circles of mentally masturbating "intellectuals" who fail to leave the circles of their safe, cushy, modern day salons.

The reminder of the week was crystallizing, and far from a new one. The idea of true wisdom as opposed to its illusion. Education without practical and visceral experience is as useless as being a trivia expert, unless of course your goal is making money and collecting shit. Hell, poker players do that! There needs to be personal context in which to frame and apply that million dollar degree, or we're nothing more than tools, or worse yet parrots squawking someone else's dictation. The ability to recite isolated facts does not make one wise. The ability to apply someone else's formula doesn't make one wise. Wisdom is turning data to knowledge then applying unique experience to that knowledge. No wonder so few people are truly wise. They seem to think they've gotten there early through hubris and buying the illusion that disconnected facts and formulae mean something significant. I'll save the rest of that rant for later, but this was the essence of my first four days in Hillsdale. Making friends with my roots, and perhaps the roads I've needed to travel to come to that realization.

Sunday was spent having a quick visit with an old classmate, Steve, who had driven down from Detroit to see Bob, Chris and I. He had sent me the brass alcohol stove and turned me on to Eckart Tolle last fall. We had spent hours philosophizing online over the winter, and I was looking forward to the sure mental- fireworks if Steve, Chris, and I got together. Unfortunately, he had little time to stay, but he had crafted an idea for us to ride with him to Minneapolis when he went on business later in the month. We figured 12-hours in a rental car would get us down the road AND provide lots of time to chat. It was a great idea, but the suits didn't like the math, insisting he fly instead. The following weekend I received another two packages from him, INCLUDING a collapsible fishing pole! I wish we would have been better friends earlier.

Another interesting revelation was that Hillsdale of all places was the friendliest town we had encountered to-date. As we were often sitting outside the gas station with our backpacks drinking coffee, or waiting for a ride, people would oftentimes stop by to say hello. One young man even handed us $10 when he left. Michigan people are NOT known for their outgoing, friendly nature, but Hillsdale is doing its part to counteract that. Go figure!

I went to see my mother of course, and went to Bob's softball game on Tuesday the 9th, where I had arranged to meet two more of my best friends from back in the day, Dave and Eddie. I hadn't seen Dave since 2000, Ed since 2004. These are two friendships that go way back, and have many cementing experiences binding them. Some involving bail, bloody frying pans, and damaged public parks. Ed has ultimately proven to be another friend, like Bob, who is always there, as-is, regardless of where you've been or what you've done. He's gone through a lot of changes over the years, and Chris and I both noted that he and I may have more in common now than before. It was also a smack in the face to see his kids! I hadn't seen them since the mid- 90's, and they're all grown now. My friends and I, including Dave, used to throw his oldest boy Denton around on his bed when he was a baby. I bought him a beer. I almost cried about the fact that I could. Dave and his wife Bonnie offered us their floor Tuesday night, and it was nice chatting with them after so many years and marveling at how their kids have grown. Their kids aren't much younger than Bonnie was when we first met her. There were other familiar faces around, and I thoroughly enjoyed the reunion atmosphere!

Bob picked us up again Wednesday morning, this time to try our hand at fishing. We caught nothing. We didn't even see a fish in the St. Joe. The afternoon was spent lounging beneath a tree at the bowling alley before meeting up with Ed for a nice chat then engaging one of the owners I had known for decades in an unexpected political/social conversation.

We had decided to camp on my mother's property right up the road Wednesday night, and on the way, Chris and I began discussing the changing ideas on our method and mindset. We had essentially been stationary for a month and a half since arriving at his mother's in New York City May 1, and it had become clear that there was nothing wrong with that. Ideas began to develop about possibly returning to Denver or Santa Fe to begin exploring other venues for our photographs then heading toward Idaho to meet my other sister, Lynn.

When Bob picked us up after dropping his son off at school Thursday morning, it was time to switch gears and prepare to meet Lynette's kids, Ben and Brad, at their grandmother's house. I was really looking forward to this, and wondered how many people had met their nephews--before meeting their sister! Good stuff!

6/2-6/6/09: Kalamazoo, MI-Evolving Friendships

I was absolutely right about Chris. He got along with Brian & Joey famously! Tuesday night was spent diving into our different philosophies and experiences as Brian took it all in and offered what was now clinical analysis. To my shock and amazement, however, I quickly discovered that I was having the same sense of difficulty talking with Brian as Chris had with Bill in DC! The days of free-flowing ideas had evolved to emulate Brians' now extensive psychological training. Rather than engaging in the development of ideas, we were being psychologically evaluated. WE were being studied, rather than the ideas! None of this should have come as a shock. Brian has a brilliantly studious mind, and has absorbed everything he's learned. He is also beginning his internships and is counseling people nearly everyday. The fact that he would bring that into our odd situation made perfect sense.

While I was quite interested in his interpretations, it quickly became clear that he was drawing his conclusions a bit too quickly. We had not shared everything with him, by any means, and when I picked up on the diagnosis process and then heard what I identified as the Voice of the Institutional Filter, I began to get a bit defensive. I was struggling to find the "right" words to get my point across, and was reluctant to even broach some of the primary purposes behind this little adventure. Not something I had expected from this! While we were still close friends, it became obvious immediately that I needed to re-define this part of it. I was no longer comfortable walking in this field with Brian!

To be fair, my opinions of the psychological field have always been mixed. While there is indeed a need for some people to get treatment, from my own experience I believe that much of it is simply a method of social control. The practice of categorizing people so that they can be put into a box, then treated by textbook...with the ultimate goal of assimilation. I'm of the opinion that many people are experiencing mental turmoil as a result of an inability, or unwillingness, to listen to themselves and follow their own internal compass. One that cannot be "fixed" or reset. By another person, or ANYONE, regardless of the training or method.

I'm not just talking out of my ass; I've experienced this. I was forced to enter "therapy" a number of times as a "maladjusted youth", and later by the state as an "alcoholic." In all but one instance, they attempted to force me into a pre-approved template rather than encourage me to listen to and follow my own voice, thereby eliminating that dichotomy between what I wanted from life and what is "expected". This was the ultimate root of internal conflict creating the symptoms. They did more harm than good in each case, because the more I tried to "fit", the worse it got. Then the old adage became true: hear you're defective long enough, you'll start to believe it and can ultimately run the danger of giving up.

Until we're ready to accept responsibility for ourselves, then reach the point where we are willing to tell the Ministry of Standards & Practices (institutions, friends, family, media) with their definition of "defective" to go to hell, you're going to have a choice: Live life as the socially engineered clone of your neighbor, or live in conflict with yourself. I've yet to see a therapist that can provide an accurate road map to get here. Then again, maybe that's best for them...if that secret got out, perhaps they'd go the way of the live DJ!

It's quite simple really, and is summed up nicely in the ancient cliche' "Answers lie within." It's impossible to get it from anything, or anyone else but ourselves. We alone are responsible for finding our own, individual path to happiness. That self-exploratory journey is, in my opinion, the essence of life. Both of these remembered lessons were about to repeatedly beat me over the head over the next 2-weeks! I believe even Brian would agree with most of that!

The rest of the time at Brian & Joey's was uneventful, except for a VERY cool reunion of sorts with an old friend. This meeting came at the perfect time in retrospect, because it provided the personification of some things I just wrote, and also was a terrific exercise in "mirroring"; a concept we picked up from Brian. We had some nice chats through the week, but mostly it was spent on computers while they lived their busy lives, then watching TV at night. This time had shown that while we still had great love for each other, we had begun that old familiar process of change that alters friendships, sometimes for the better.

Saturday, I reconnected with my old radio buddy, Sean. He had offered to drive us to Hillsdale, and that simplified things greatly. We had a great time taking the 90-minute ride discussing politics, radio, and whatever else came up. When he dropped us at my friend Bob's place, I was primed to see what was waiting for me here in this place I had avoided like Herpes for 13-years...