Excavation

I’d usually separate trips like these into days and what those themes were. This was a trip that’s better categorized with one theme. Excavation. I came here to try and figure out what’s going on with me. Mentally and spiritually. I’ve gone dark for some time now and this is my attempt to swing for the fences in desperation. As I sit on this plane and reflect on the last four days, I’ve come to a common theme...survival. What does it take to survive a life that has been filled with a lot of bad things? How do I move on from the past and learn from it without being shackled to it? I came here to see my brother. I came here to see myself again. 

I flew into Vegas and got into a truck, made a quick stop for supplies from Andy’s, and hopped back into the truck headed for Utah, one of the most haunting places on earth. The past few weeks have been a journey to mine out those things I’ve pushed so far down and finally deal with them. Allow myself to feel them. 

We got to the cabin and began by talking about some very personal and difficult things. Andy and I have never allowed each other the comfort of avoidance. We dive in. I came here for this. 

…

The mountains in Utah are haunted. I watched a thing on television about the spirits that haunt people and places there. I’m not a believer in that stuff for the most part. However, by the end of this trip, I could see why they may tell stories. I left with my own. The air is thin and fresh. Despite being one of the worst years for my asthma, I was relatively clear. 

The people are amazing here. They treat you like your presence matters to them. This is an important thing. It’s something we really all could learn from. Doesn’t matter what your theological lean tends to be, the Mormons are all good to me. 

While hiking, we kept it light-hearted and just enjoyed the things we both got to witness for the first time together. We went to a place in a canyon that was etched in pictures meant to tell the story of the ancient antives thousands of years ago. We also saw vandalism dating back to the 1800’s. The theme of this for me was that we all tend to want to tell our stories. We want people who come behind us to know our existence and accomplishments. Whether the originator of these beautiful rock drawings, or one who vandalizes them with your own inscriptions. Although, if you do this, you’re a dick. I learned that the past doesn’t change and it is pointless to stay there.

We went on a hike to this place that was supposed to have dinosaur tracks in the rocks. We went in there and went up a mountain. We looked at every rock looking for tiny tracks that may look like little dinosaur feet. We couldn’t find anything definitive. We found a bunch of things we would glare at and speculate about, but nothing to be sure of. “This place must be a sham,” we thought. Until we went back down. We missed the markers entirely. We saw one and went over to it and saw a dinosaur print bigger than our torsos. We were looking for these tiny things and missing the enormous things that once lived in the past. Almost, but not forgotten. The theme for us was that all things make a print on something. If a step a dinosaur took before anything was ever touched by humans here can be seen, our actions can affect the future of the world. We aren’t forgotten entirely. 

We went to a place that was considered a “Local secret.” We hiked for a few miles of boring, easy terrain. We thought it was wack. Then…. We came upon the part that the trail makers wanted you to find, but didn’t mark. We had to climb some rocks and boulders. We had to jump over some water and get a little tired to find it. Once we scaled the largest rock, it came into view. This beautiful waterfall that had almost entirely frozen. There were a group of ice climbers there packing up their things after they scaled it. I asked them if they wanted to see me climb it without the sharp ice tools and knife boots. They said yes. But then offered me their gear. I didn’t try it because I promised my family I would be careful. 

So of course, that’s gonna be a hard no. Not looking to die that way. I was bent on being careful. This was the day Kobe and his kid had died with 7 other people doing something that was risky despite feeling comfortable with it. We talked to the guys for a while and they took off back. Andy and I explored a bit and really appreciated what we were looking at. We acknowledged it together and started heading back. 

This was the moment that we could have gone home and called it a great final day. But instead we came upon a road that was closed that we had passed on the day before. We were in a side by side buggy and had confidence/arrogance that we could handle whatever was on that road up that mountain. For miles and miles we rode it up. We saw all of these beautiful things in the light of the sun. Things that only God creates. The snow became more dense, but we pushed on, without supplies.

We crossed a place that the snow was pretty deep and questioned whether we should continue or not. There was a meadow that was supposed to be so beautiful ahead. So we pushed on. A quarter mile later, we were buried in the snow. We spent two hours and the remaining daylight trying to get unburied. We broke the four wheel drive trying and it became clear as the sun dropped below the mountain tops, that we were not going to be able to get it out. We would have to hike all of these miles in the dark, haunted mountains. 

Here is a list of things that looked bad for us, followed by a list of things that saved our lives. 

• It’s winter in the mountains, which means it’s really cold at elevation. 
• There are thousands of mountain lions present and their tracks were everywhere. Those fears came equipped with recent stories of eaten human remains found there.
• There are also bears
• Also Elk that shouldn’t be threatened
• It was wet and we had soaked ourselves completely, trying to get the buggy out.
• We had 1 bottle of water and six cookies. Andy was cramping up and my feet were water logged because I chose to wear my comfortable trail running shoes instead of my terribly uncomfortable waterproof boots.
• The hike, we estimated was between 10 and 16 miles. Then a road that was mostly deserted would give us another eight miles or so.
• We had no cell service. In fact, Andy got a tiny blip once and we dialed 911 and were so happy to hear the phone ring. Three times and no answer. Then the mountains took that tiny bit of service back and the call dropped. We felt the haunted mountain laughing. 
• We were both scared and anxious that we wouldn’t make it out for a ton of reasons. We were exhausted. 
• At one point we both thought that this may be fatal. So we made a video to tell loved ones what happened and I planned on changing my security settings to no password or face id. 

The good things

• While it was cold, about 25 degrees, it was unseasonably warm for this time of year. The previous night was 8 degrees at low elevation. Probably about 0 up there.
• There was a road. We were not lost. This was huge because at least we knew we were always headed in the right direction. 
• We had a flashlight.
• It was downhill. If it was uphill, we wouldn’t have made it out for certain. Then our focus would have been about warmth and survival. 
• We were together. We have been through so much together. It seems things like these happen so often together. We know how each other cope and work with each other.

We got to the road. We celebrated for a moment when we saw the trail entrance. But there was still this eight mile walk into town. One car passed our distress calls. The second passed. No one's gonna pick up two big guys looking filthy on a utility road in the mountains at nighttime. But then. The third car came. She pulled over. She cracked her window as we gave her our story. We asked for a ride into town or if she had service to call the police to come get us.

She looked at us very cautiously and asked us if we intended to kill her. Then asked a few more times. We did our best to disarm her and it must have worked because she told us to get in. 

She was dressed in early century Mormon garb, which I thought was some sort of jumpsuit until Andy explained it. She was alone and 18 or so years old driving this utility road after cleaning houses all day. And stumbled upon us. She was from a polygomous family that had moved around all over the place. She was given strict orders to not pick up anyone ever. And here she was, doing something I would scream at my daughters for doing. She didn’t take us to town, she took us the entire 12 or 13 miles to Andy’s cabin, straight up a mountain and drove us through the gates to his front door. Alone. On a mountain top. With two guys she didn’t know. This is an impossible situation she was in and she chose kindness the entire time at her own risk.

I gave her all the money I had, and we could not thank her enough, because being finally home was the best feeling and I can’t even describe it well. It was the feeling you get when you think you may actually die, but a savior comes through. We were both shook up for a few hours and spent that time reflecting and warming up in front of the fire. Also drinking. Had to do that after such a night. The theme of the night was that we survived,

The theme to this trip is that we survive. Bad things happen to people we really don’t want them to happen to. We can’t live in the past. We can’t live as tributes of mourning to those we have lost. We can’t let troubling things from behind us keep us from putting one foot in front of the other and making it out of these dark canyons. We are alive right now. This is our time. Extended sorrow is waste. We made bad decisions in that mountain and it cost us time and pain and exhaustion. But we survived. In life, we make bad decisions and they cost the same. But every moment that we survive them, is a chance to turn everything around. And it helps to get a lot of kindness along the way.

I’ve left a little bit of myself that I don’t need anymore in those mountains. And I took a little of them with me.

Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Terrible Herbst Sboon

        When Will died, I spent so much time hiding in my basement, writing things here: songs, poetry, anything that would offload some of the things that were too overwhelming to me. I took a lot of walks and drank too much in silence...in the night. I disappeared. I shut people out of what was going on with me because I wanted to punish myself and didn't want to hear good advice or any logic that may stop me from hurting myself. It got to be too much and I needed a break. I knew I needed to get out immediately. Out of my head, out of this city of monuments to our memories together, and out of this house that was filled with his ghost.

        My wife and I flew to Vegas to see Andy. Andy is sometimes called Vern here, and although he has different parents, we once sliced our hands wide open so that we could share our blood. We wanted to be real brothers more than anything. Andy knows absolutely everything about me. He's one of the people that I never share casual conversation with. What a blessing that is!

        My flight landed and my wife and I got a week to escape every terrible thing that was waiting for our return. We saw the Grand Canyon, which is the most overwhelming place I've ever been. We saw the Hoover Dam under construction, mountain goats that run fast and climb well, a little old lady named Rosie that hand rolls chocolate raisins on the roadside. We saw grey steak and a friend of ours actually eat it. We saw the world's coldest smoothie that you can set in the sun for hours without melting. We saw this guy flash his headlights at us to warn us that a cop was a half mile behind him. We saw mountains, native American things, turquoise necklaces, men catcalling us at a gay karaoke bar, and the most terrible Herbst that has ever existed.

        As we put our luggage on the rack and turned to say goodbye and return to the misery that would be only partly temporary, me and Andy caught each other in the eyes. People that love each other can see everything in the other's eyes. I think we both almost broke down. I hugged him and I left. I'm not really sure what was hurting me more: leaving my brother when I needed him the most, or returning the the siege that would be my life for the next several years. I don't think that matters much I guess. Because I'm here, and I'm through it, and I'm happy.

       I think it's really important to keep those close to you as close to you as you can. The world isn't going to give you any breaks and it doesn't care about whether you are gonna be ok or not. These are the people that sit with you while your head is in your hands. They will lift you out of it. Laura,  Andy, and Josh were the only people that knew me enough to know I was in trouble, and I am so grateful that God put them in my life.


        I've had some really tough years. I've been so angry and so sad. I've pushed people out and painted the clown mask for everyone else. I didn't think I'd find a way out of it, but God has carried me, through the people that love me most. They've felt the fire carrying me out. I want to thank them now that I'm on the other side of the worst of it. I've written so much about the rock that my wife was when I needed her to be. This one is for Andy. I hope to write about the rest of them soon







Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

By Birthday- In Closing

        I've now been alive for 40 years. That's 21 years longer than my expected expiration date. I think some people would have made it shorter. To them, I say, "I see your point, but here I stand." I was always a fighter, even when I didn't think so. When thrown under water, infants instinctively hold their breath and survive. But today isn't about all of that and anything that happened then.

Today is about now.

        I think I've seen both sides of the mountain. At least the heights and depths God has allowed me. I stand. I stand both proud to a fault, and broken to extreme. But I stand here, not surviving, but thriving. I am full and happy and excited to start that climb over the next 40 years. I'm excited about my wife. I'm excited about my kids. I'm excited about my family: both blood and chosen. I'm excited about my friends. I think the rest are just details of life.... a means to an end of something else.

        I think the excitement of all of those people that matter are a reflection of a very present and able God. Those who are here, are because He put them here for a reason, and vice versa.

        The wife threw me a birthday party last week. A surprise. And what a surprise it was. I walked into a room expecting to see people that were there to celebrate a dear friend's birthday, but instead, I walked into bewilderment. Everyone shouted surprise and I didn't get it right away. I looked around the room and saw people that I love from all over. People from every corner and history of my life. People from church. People from my childhood. People from right now. People that have always been with me.

        We spent the night singing songs and talking and laughing and I wanted to cry the entire time. My heart was spilling over. Sometimes you forget how much you love people and how much they love you, until you see them show up for you with their arms open. I hugged my wife for what she had done. What she had done to so important to me, and she knew it...that's why she did it.

        I've been in darkness for a bit, sorting it all out. Making baby steps both backward and forward. I think I forgot that I am someone that still means something to someone. I thank my wife and the rest of you for the reminder that I am more than what I have thought of myself for the last several years.

But again, they always come back. My brothers gone.

        I think they always will and don't ever want them not to. Every happiness is a little bit empty. Nearing the end of the night, I hugged my sister as she was leaving for home hundreds of miles away. She started crying for the same void I was trying to hold at bay. There were two people that didn't show up. Two that didn't think ahead before they made decisions that there would be emptiness without them. We hugged tightly, then parted. I told myself as she walked away to keep it together. This isn't about who or what used to be. This is about now. And right now, most of my favorite living people were in one room to celebrate with me.

       My wife softened the blow of turning 30. She softened the harder blow of 40. So much in fact, that I got sick of it being my birthday week and wanted to hear nothing more of it.  She is perfect to me. I think that it should be a reminder that I am perfect to God.

       




Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

Those Christmas Lights

        They don't see what's broken inside of you because your broken parts are part of your perfection to them. They are family, and to them, you cannot be replaced in a world where everything is replaced.

        I've always said that you can choose your family. This isn't popular with people who have great families and I get that. Laura has a great family, and they are always there for each other. Others who's families could fit into a small room may see it differently. I had two blood relatives at my wedding. My mom, whom I love, and my brother, whom I love. I think that family organically happens with life. You meet these people that you like for one reason or another, and they end up being uncles or aunts to your children. Laura has friends that are family to us and so do I. I think it's beautiful. I think the world is disconnected and separated into terrible categories and labels. It's a really nice feeling to know that someone in this world loves you no matter what. That they are gonna take your side in this world, and kick your ass in private.

        I got to do something really fun and cool today. I got to take the ice where the Red Wings play. I got to play hockey with my friends. We were excited and came out to the ice early to look around and take pictures. As I looked into the huge arena, I got to see all of the families of my friends that came to celebrate a really good day with their dad, or brother, sister, friend, or child. Watching them all take pictures with their family put things into persepective for me. I've been in a bit of gloom this year as I usually am this time of year, but watching these people love each other deeply is a reminder that this life is so great. It's great that I see these terrible things at work, which I've desensitized myself to, then come home to a little boy and two girls that don't see my faults, or forget them quickly. And a 19 year old girl who will drop whatever she is doing to see me. I'ts a warm place. Today felt like Christmas. Any day that feels like Christmas is a good day.

        It is way too easy to focus on the negative. Laura and I find ourselves thinking this way so much and we often remind each other that although the negative is destructive, the positive is a really good reason to keep smiling...to keep forging ahead...to keep reaching our hands out to other people. I'm so thankful for the people in my life that have reached out their hands to me when I needed help to get up. You all know who you are. I hope I've told you how great you are. If not, I will.

        I went to lunch with Will and Joe's mom and dad last week. I struggle when seeing them during the holidays because I don't know what to say to them. I think about my own kids and what it would be like to lose them and I cannot figure out a way to reconcile the fact that those two are still standing...and smiling. As my brother's mother was taking me home, I got this overwhelming sadness all of the sudden that she was going to drop me off and that would be that for Christmas. I had this feeling of dread that I had wasted the time I got to spend with them feeling uneasy. It was at this moment that I remembered that I slept under their roof probably a thousand times. I ate at their table. Their dad took me to canoing trips with them.

        In the car, and all at once, I remembered that they are my family and they chose me as much as I chose them. I felt gratitude. I felt love. I felt sadness, but also togethernes in that sadness. I felt so thankful, because at some point in our history, they stopped seeing me as this loud and often annoying kid and they started seeing me as family.

I can't wait to see the rest of my family this Christmas.

     







Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

The Ghosts of Christmas' Past

        Nothing really has changed about Christmas. Every year, I get excited to put the lights up on the tree and string them across the front of my home. There is something so gratifying about putting lights on my home for me. It's mine. What lives in it is mine, and I am theirs. I work all week and enjoy listening to the same Christmas music on my way that I listened to last year and the years before. They all take me back to the reasons I have always loved Christmas. No matter how bad things had been for me in my life, there was always a savior for me on Christmas.

        I was such a lonely kid. But when I think about Christmas now and remember, everything was so beautiful and perfect. I'd sleep under the Christmas tree, or alternate between the tree and the floor heat register and watch the lights promise me something that no human could ever fulfill in me. I can't think of a single Christmas growing up that was ruined by anything. I'm sure my mom had a few, but she was strong enough to not let me see that. She was always really good at redirection with those kinds of things.

        I moved out and experienced Christmas on my own. This was in a really bad time in my life...the worst actually. Christmas became a thing of sadness for me for reasons I could not even describe at the time. I'd think about all of these great Christmases and get really sad and feel more lonely. So I'd walk around the neighborhood and look into people's front windows to see them be families. Super Creepy, I know.

        I married this woman this one day, and got what I was promised under that tree. I made it my mission to string up the lights on Thanksgiving or a day or two after. Took them down in March, but who's counting. I got to be the family in that front window. My kids came into the world and the only thing I wanted to do was what my mom did for me. I wanted them to believe something very special about Christmas. Something very comforting about a savior being born that would make it all better. Even if everything seemed hopeless.

        The last bit of Christmases have been marred with some pretty terrible stuff. It makes it difficult because I have become at odds with my favorite time of the year. The feeling now makes me so happy and so profoundly sad. My favorite thing is when I get to see Andy and when I get to see Jeff and his family. These are people that are family to me and I don't get to see them much. Then, that reminds me that two of the most influential people in my life aren't here anymore, and that is my worst thing.

                                     I guess the word I would use to descibe it is: Disappointment.

        They were supposed to always be here, with me and for me. But they aren't anywhere I can see them. Me and Will used to cut class and sit on top of his car in the park to kill time. We weren't killing time. We were making the very best of it. We would talk about our future and we were both present in each other's. Me and Joe use to used to carve our names on everything because we wanted to come back decades later and remember what we were when we were kids. So I guess the Ghosts of Christmas' past come to haunt me now.

                                                                          The good news.

        God is still good. Jesus is still our savior. I am still the guy I wanted to be in that front window, albeit a bit more broken. I string up the lights and love watching my kids play in the snow that is now blanketing Michigan, giving millions of kids a day off of school tomorrow. I shield my kids from the things they don't have to see. I think of times with my brothers who were everything but blood to me, and smile. I don't get lonely at Christmas anymore. I am full. I am what little kids under trees want when they are praying hopefully and lonely to an invisible God.

God is good.
God is with us.
God saved me.
Even when it hurts everything inside me to admit.




Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Pink Cadillac

     

     

        Me and my little brother Andy (Who is everything but blood to me) ran away from home once. I was about 10 or so, he was about 7. We had pitched a tent, or Andy's dad did and let us think we were big helpers. Andy's dad always called me One Adam 12, from the television show "Chips." It has always been my favorite nickname and only he calls me that. We pitched the tent in the backyard and accepted the tuck in from Andy's parents. As soon as their bedroom light went out, we left. I can't remember the reason we left, but I remember it was a specific attempt to become circus clowns or vagrants or something. We were going to stay gone. We were escaping the things we were taking for granted.

        When I look back at it now, the woods, the darkness, the swaying trees that seemed to pick up more wind as we walked deeper into them, and the shaking of our voices getting shakier and shakier, those are my most dominating memories of the night. We walked right in as we did so many times during the day light. We must have walked 25 miles in kids-in-the-dark miles before we reached the pink Cadillac. In the woods by his house, there was a pink Cadillac totally wrapped around a tree. No bones or teeth laying around, just this rusted pink pile of car rubbish. But the car had blood all over it.

        As we approached the car, black lights seemed to have been summoned from Elvis' grave or something and the blood lit up. The Cadillac was dark as everything else, but all of the sudden in the minds of two terrified kids, the scene came alive and every sound pierced us. We ran back out...all 100 kid-miles until we reached the tent. We jumped in, positioning ourselves in the true center of the tent to keep what lurked in the woods from grabbing us at the edges of the tent. No one came for us until Andy's dad woke us after we had finally fallen asleep the next morning. 1 Adam 12....Run....Bo-HeeHee....Hurry....Run. This is how this terrific man speaks. Handrewwwwwww.....Get up! I think we both were so glad to see him that it seemed very strange that we had tried to run away.

        Nothing is easy. Nothing is perfect. I think it takes some people to see how scary and terrible it is in darkness to remember that it's not so bad right where you are. In the Bible, there is this story of Paul the Apostle. In one of these stories, Paul laments being shipwrecked and fearing for his life. He talks of being falsely imprisoned and beaten mercilessly. But he says this, "I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am." He is living the life he believes in and is paying the price that some of us all have to pay to follow who we are, and for me, to follow God.

        We were just kids, but I can't remember a time that I wanted to be home more than when I was in the dark. I've been in the dark since a couple times, and it got even darker then. I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am in. This is something that takes daily practice.


PS. Don't be content with being abused by anyone that is supposed to love you. Forgive them because it hurts you not to forgive. But leave all that is dark behind you.









Sing.
Migrate.


Thanks for reading...Z

The Pact (A Short Story)

        

        In order from left to right, Danny, Tom, Jim, and Carey; the four adopted sons of Sam and Edith Cone, sat around the table on the first Sunday of May. The agreement they had made to Edith was that they would come eat dinner together on the first Sunday of each month. The agreement was made individually with each child on the day they were adopted.

        Danny was the oldest; adopted from an orphanage just outside of Baltimore. He was found living on the streets before being arrested for loitering and taken into custody. The Cones had gone to visit him three times before having the courage to adopt him. Edith couldn't have children of her own, so it was her decision to adopt only children that were considered too old or too troubled to be adopted. She told Sam that it was such a waste to adopt a new baby, when there were all of these older kids running out of time. She sat down with Danny on the playground slide and made him the deal. "Once you are old enough to leave my home, you must come back every Sunday to eat with us. That's what real families do, and we would really like to you to be a part of our real family." He agreed and the papers were signed that day. Danny struggled to find his way for a while, but as he grew closer to Edith and Sam, he started to see himself inside instead of outside.

        Tom was adopted from Fort Lauder-dale, Florida. Tom was in and out of foster care homes as fast as they could place him. Tom really, really liked to burn things down. He was smart about it and methodical. He would never leave any evidence that the fires were started on purpose or by him at all. At first Tom was polite and quite with the Cones. He ate properly, got good grades, and kept up after himself. About 5 months into his residence with the Cones, their garage went up in flames, burning down all of their photos and keepsakes that were put in there to make room for his bedroom. Sam awoke early the next morning and got Tom out of bed and took him to the pier. They sat down on the edge of the pier, kicking their legs over the side for a couple of hours until the sun came up. Sam didn't mention the fire to Tom and Tom didn't speak at all. The next week, when all of the debris was cleared, Sam built a large fire pit in it's place. He handed Tom a box of wooden matches and told him that if he felt the need to light fires, this pit was the place; not their dinner table.

        Jim was adopted straight from an emergency shelter that was housed inside of a juvenile correctional facility in Cleveland, Ohio. He had been severely beaten by his father and had been hospitalized. Jim didn't speak much at all; only offering direct and short answers to specific questions. Despite his dismal non-verbal communication tactics, he excelled in communicating with his fists to anyone who would listen. This behavior got him bounced from school to school and kicked out of church forever. Jim would often be taken home by the police and handed over to a very weary Edith and Sam. Jim raised his fists to everyone but those living in Edith and Sam's home. They were family.


        Carey was adopted from a juvenile correctional facility he had earned residence with a year prior for spray painting penises all over the interior walls of his school. Carey was the jokester. He had a way of making Edith laugh at inappropriate times, such as church and ceremonies. Of the three other brothers in the Cone house, Carey was the easiest to get along with. To him, everything was a joke and he seemed to never get angry. He was the smallest and youngest of the kids, and relied on his three older brothers to keep the bullies at bay. He made a lot of enemies with his mouth and they, (mostly Jim) had to back him up.

...


         The four were all adopted within 5 years of each other and did not become instant friends. They did gradually become brothers, sharing in the hobbies and talents of each other. Danny would help them with mathematics and wanted to become an engineer. Tom was the best basketball player they had ever seen and eventually got a scholarship to a small university. Jim played hockey throughout high school and would eventually become a brawler in the boxing ring for small change. Carey always said he wanted to own and run a rubber chicken factory. They would all laugh, but they had all seen him staring at the stars and reading books about other planets and constellations.        



...


        When Sam had died, they no sooner got his funeral arrangements settled when Edith passed too. The four boys buried their parents next to each other in a cemetery just two blocks from where they lived. They made a new pact: They would walk here to see their parents after they had eaten together on the first Sunday of every month.

        The pact held up and they broke bread together and visited their beloved parents at their grave every month until the first Sunday of April that year when Carey didn't show up. They would find him dead at his home after having succumbed to the side effects of using too much heroine. A side effect of being a clown to people who don't know better. He hadn't fooled them though. He was cremated and his ashes given to his brothers to decide what to do with. It didn't take long before they figured out what to do with them.

...


        "Hey Tommy, you gotta light?" said Jim. "Ha! Funny Jimmy, you got any teeth left? I got an extra apple right here..." Tom replied while pulling out a middle finger from his pocket. Jim reached across the aisle of the plane and punched him in the arm. Jim continued, "Hey Danny, what do orphans get at Christmas?" Danny sighed, "what do they get Jimmy?" "Lonely," Jim replied. Tommy sat silently shaking his head, then spit out some of his drink trying not to let Jim notice he was laughing. "Still not sure why we have to do this on Christmas. We are leaving the snow in Boston on Christmas for the desert? I like the sun, but not on Christmas," said Danny. Tommy replied, "Like you got anyone but us to celebrate with anyway Danny. Might as well do it where things are easier to burn."

 ...

Danny: Well, here we are. How do we do this?
Jim: You didn't forget Carey's rocket did you? If you did, you're going over this cliff with him.
Tommy: I got it in my bag. Should we say something?
Danny: No Tommy, we are just gonna chuck him off the Grand Canyon and walk away.
Tommy: Come on man.
Jim: I'll start. You guys shut up. Alright, what's got 5 arms, 3 legs, and two feet? The finish line at the Boston marathon.
Danny: (Holds his hands over his face, feeling terrible that he is laughing). Carey would have liked that one. Ok, my turn: A man is talking with his wife the other day and he asks her to tell him something that will make him happy and piss him off at the same time. His wife thinks for a moment then replies...Your penis is bigger than your brother's.
Jim: Funny because it's true isn't it Tommy.
Tommy: Wait, you slept with my wife?
Jim: Size don't matter.
Tommy: Alright idiots, my turn. In kindergarten class, the teacher tells the kids to come up and write something exciting that happened this morning. Little boy Johnnie walks up to the front of the class and grabs a piece of chalk and writes the word "Period" on the blackboard, then sat back down. The teacher looked in bewilderment for moment, then needled Johnnie for an explanation. "What's that mean Johnnie?" He says, "I don't know, but this morning my sister said she missed one. Then daddy had a heart attack, mommy fainted, and Uncle Bob shit is pants.

        Danny and Jim stood silently shaking their heads at Tommy. Jim cracked a grin, then reached into Tommy's backpack and pulled out a small model rocket. He sat it down on the red rocks that overlooked a vast hole in the earth, too large and deep to fathom it's origins. Danny said, "I did the honors of putting Carey in it at the hotel, so we don't have to taste him in this wind. You're welcome." The three brothers sat down on the rock and waited for the sun to finish it's descent below the horizon exposing the innumerable amount of stars in the galaxy. "I can kinda see what he saw in looking at this," Jim said. "Yeah, me too," Tom replied then continued, "Let's send him off, I'll take care of the pyrotechnics." Danny hands him a lighter while grinning. Tom puts the fire to the wick and sends the homemade rocket into the Christmas night sky. They watch it flash, burn, fade, then go dark as it soared into what looked like space to them.


        Jim asked, "You guys ever wonder where we would have been with ma and dad?" They all look at each other and nod. He continued, "Me either." Jim pointed out into the sky. Danny put his hand on Jim's shoulder and watched his tears fall to the dirt. Tommy, picked up his bag from the ground and said, "Goodbye you little bastard, may God kick you out of Heaven for that mouth." Danny said, "Merry Christmas my brothers.


     
     





Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

Thank You

   

      It's Thanksgiving! At least it was Thanksgiving. I've always said that a great day ends only when you fall asleep and let it go. Today, I am thankful for everything. I'm not going to make a list this time, but there are so many people in my life that make me who I am. The ones that love me, show it. The ones that don't have served to make me a better person. Both teach me to seek the best in myself...and to see the best in everyone else.

     I think that if you were to closely look back at your life, you will find God's provisions everywhere. At every wonderful turn, you will find one of His own smiling. At every terrible fall, you will find one of His weeping with you. I like that about God. He answers tough questions. People always ask where God was when these terrible things happen. The answer is simple. He was the person closest to you, holding your head to their shoulder.

     Christmas is hard for me. I feel it coming in...this sadness and loneliness. It starts with a fleeting feeling that they are gone. It comes back with this desire to crush me. It won't.

     I look back at the things that have almost killed me. I look around and there they are. On the train tracks, it was Joe. When Will died, it was Laura and Andy. When Joe died, it was Laura and Jeff. There was always a person who loved me deeply to pick up the pieces.

     I look back at those terrible times and see them picking me off of the pavement for months. I'm so thankful for God and the people He has put into my life to save me continually.

     Christmas time at "In Search of Whales" has been pretty bleak for the last several years. Understandably. But this year, I want to write about the one holiday that I think is truly beautiful. The day that God cared so much that He put Himself, His Son, His Spirit, into a world that would kill him violently...because He loved us. He saw me. He saw you.

     While I haven't represented a person who loves God very much lately, I do concede that He is active in my life. I see Him everywhere and that reminds me that He loves me.

     Christmas may be hard, and I may write about it's difficulties, but I'd really like to write about the joy that Christmas has always brought me. When I was a kid, I was really sad. But there was something about Christmas that was magical. I bet you can relate. This Christmas, I'm going to write some Christmas stories. Stories that remind me that this day is all about Jesus. I am reminded that, as a teenager I wanted to go to sleep forever. I tried to make that happen and He stopped me. I lost hope in myself and everyone around me. He sent the right people to heal me. I gave up and I gave up. I wanted rest, but He was always there to save me. All because of a baby being born a refugee in a foreign country.


Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

Happiness

   
     I started working out again this week. I have always continued running some, but something inside of me has made me too lazy to lift weights up and down. I guess it didn't seem to matter. This week was a reminder that it matters because it's something I used to love to do. I picked up the weight and got mad and wanted to lift it further. I wanted to release something.

     Maybe that's what all of this nonsense in my life it about...releasing something...letting go. I'm gonna go ahead and do that. I have been avoiding the topic. I've been coasting. I've been trying not to feel much or share much. I went back last night and looked at my posts from when Will died and I realized that I had shared so much more than I do now. I'm not sure why exactly, but my bet is that so many things and feelings about them were the same that I didn't feel the need to share them. Maybe it's because it hurts some people to read my thoughts about them because their thoughts equal mine. It may be because I'm tired of being some kind of person that people say they will "pray for."

     I'm not proud, but I'm no victim. I war everyday. Most days I win. Some days I lose. The losing has always looked worse than the winning. No one weeps about winning. Books and poems are seldom written about winning.  Songs are hardly written about perfection. I'm broken like always. Nothing has changed. I win a few and lose a few, but nothing can replace the huge wins I have had. I could lose everything and it wouldn't erase the joy God has given me in my life.

     I have this wife that endures my every struggle. These kids that weep at the feeling of my distress. My family that sits and waits for me to ask for help. My hybrid brother Andy who continues to bleed with me through all things. These amazing friends, old and new, that keep me laughing. I am blessed. I have a loving God. We all have a loving God. We are not alone in anything. We only sometimes feel that way.

    Somewhere along the line, I stopped fighting. I stopped  doing the things I loved to do. Enough is enough. I'm going to try and change some things. It hurts so much to let go. It doesn't happen all at once. It starts happening and continues until you are almost lost. I usually give up when I feel lost. Maybe just letting go is the answer. Loving God. Loving the people God has given you. Loving people more destitute than you think you are.

     Maybe this is happiness from now on.



Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

Love and sometimes...Ping Pong

   

     Growing up is hard sometimes, but in the end the getting there is so beautiful. Hard times lead to growth and good times lead to shared laughter. I've had the joy of growing up with my best friends. Two of them aren't walking the same earth as I am anymore, and that sucks. I get sad thinking about not being old with them one day going on one last adventure before we give up and die. But this blog isn't about that. This blog is about enjoying what is in front of you. A month ago, I got to travel with my family to the west coast to see my little brother. The mountains were awesome..and the sunset so beautiful from just below the clouds. But the best moments of that trip were spent in a basement buried in a mountain playing ping pong with my little brother and oldest friend Andy.

     It doesn't matter the time or distance between us. When we are in the same room, nothing has ever changed. There is a beautiful feeling that comes with nothing changing. We played ping pong all night. I lost every single game to a kid I used to exert big brother strength to growing up. For a few days, I forgot what I was missing. I've been trying to figure out a way to thank him for being a great host and a great friend, but most importantly a great brother. He may not be blood, but I'd bleed for him as if he were. Sometimes God chooses your family. We sang stupid songs in strange English dialects. We drove for hours. We smacked a little white ball back and forth until the wee hours of the morning. I wouldn't trade that week for anything.

     We have many more adventures ahead of us. But one day, we are going to be old and senile and we are going to be smacking a ball back and forth at some old man's home. We will look at each other and remember every adventure we have had together and laugh...because life was love and sometimes....ping pong.





Sing.
Migrate.

Thanks for reading...Z

Overgrown

     At some point, your kids stop being little kids and become different kids. At some point, you stopped being a little kid and became a different kid. The things that were so dear to you just fade away. My kids used to play all day on this swing-set. Now it sits behind our garage to make room for the trampoline, which will make room someday for more overgrown grass. I don't like it at all...this kinetic transition from the beauty of childhood to the beauty of being an adult.

     Me and Andy used to make these carnival rides in my back yard out of the swing-set and the "Old Blue Elephant" slide. We would charge people because we were opportunists, but we also profoundly loved laughter. We wanted to create something that made other kids laugh. At the time, neither of us were laughing much.

     I write a lot about the passing of time. I've written several short stories about the experience of Earth without people, after everyone is dead. The topic is interesting to me because we have all felt the feeling of taking things for granted. "You don't know what you've got til it's gone," is a central theme of every tragedy. I think this fascination of mine has to do with the transition of time and the speed in which it goes. It's too fast.

     When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to be in fifth grade so I could be a safety. When I was in seventh grade, I couldn't wait to be in high school. When I was in high school, I couldn't wait to get my driver's license. When I became an adult, I couldn't wait to get it all back.

    It's hard to grow up. Things get better and worse. I've got a wonderful wife and beautiful children, but lost much of my childhood and adult life to death. You succeed, but regress. Life is cruel, but life is beautiful.

     Every moment I get to spend with my family is perfect. Watching my kids grow is both the most rewarding and the hardest thing to watch. Sometimes I look at them and the love I feel actually hurts me. I don't want them to hurt so much. Then something breaks them down and I mourn with them because I don't want them to hurt so much. The world is full of hurting so much.

     But...

     The world is also full of some of the most beautiful people and things ever imagined. There are people that feed people for no reason. People that abandon rules to stand up for what is right. People who fight for those that can't or won't fight for themselves. People that give without expectation of receiving. These people are the hope of the world. A hope I want to be a part of.

     So as I watch my kids abandon the swing-set for bigger things, I'll take hope that Laura and I have done a good job, and that our children will see the hurt in the world and will desire to become the answer.




Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

Memory

     There was this symbolic thing I picked up from the movie "With Honors" somewhere in the 90's. When something that means something happens, you pick up a rock from the ground below you...or the nearest rock to you. This will be a stone memory of the event. I liked it in the movie. I now have a collection of rocks in a shoe box. I remember every one of them.

     I grabbed a little green stone pendant from the Meijer grocery store vending machine when we bought the pregnancy test that confirmed that I was going to be a father for the first time. I picked up a rock the first time I stepped foot in the Scottish Highlands, the place I ultimately came from, and a place I had wanted to go my entire life. I picked up a pebble that was next to my shoe when I kissed my wife for the first time. I knew we would be married.

     I know why collectors collect things. These are things that mean something to them. Ebay is still in business because of our nostalgia. We want what we used to have and lost. Somewhere we or our parents threw those things away without us knowing how much they would meant to us. The collected is the last bridge to our youth. I have a house full of relics. You have a house full of relics. When grandma dies, you ask for that one piece of her belongings that equate you to her and you hold then tight to your heart.

     I have a clown that Will's mom gave to me that means more than most non-living things to me. It means so much to me because it not only connects me to Will, but because it connects me to her. I have sweaters and hats and photographs. They all mean the same thing. I have a connection to what is lost to me that I can still touch.

     I think a lot of art is made out of this feeling of connection to the past. It's sad really. We...I long for what I can't get back. I want to see my brothers again. I want to just watch us make all of those dreadful mistakes again. I want to build the world largest penis on a snowman the world has ever seen again. I want to fish in the night while all of you are sleeping again. I'll be sure to put our catch into the video store drop box again.

But I can't.

     It is because of the "can't" that we try so hard to relive or redeem the past. For some, the reason we do this is to remember. For others, it's to forever punish ourselves for letting go of such beautiful things. Both are true for me. I would never want to go back and stay there. I wasn't really happy then. I only see it as happy now that it's gone in some ways. This is an illusion...a trick our minds play on us. I would want to go back for a few hours and just watch because it would hurt me so badly to do so. Doing what makes it hurt worse makes it feel better, but eventually makes it worse. Really, the only truly happy moments I had then were spent with Will, Joe, Andy, and Jeff. Half of those people left my sight. So I cling to the last two. I cling to the past. Some of those times were beautiful and some were the heartache of being a foolish teenager.

     It is very easy to idolize moments in your life and people because of your emotional attachment to them. We tend to put blinders on the things we idolize. I think the best me hasn't happened yet. I think we are constantly improving...even if that means we have to be purged from the ass of the devil to get there. My Creator isn't done with me yet. He isn't done with you either. Isn't ever great story of redemption built from the foulest manure? It's all about hope.



Sing.
Migrate.




Thanks for reading...Z

A.V.H

   

     I was unsure of myself at that age. I hadn't learned my worth or the value of real friendship from them. They (my future classmates) could never be Andy...my very best friend. I showed up in new clothes. A pair of Toughskins jeans with patches on the knees, because somehow they knew. I probably wore a vertically striped velour polo. My hair was probably combed to the side, just like it is now. It was my first day of school and I was nervous but so excited.

     I won't forget the moment I stepped through those doors. The smell of sawdust and graphite pencils. The way it sounded when a teacher's hosiery shredded together and alerted us to be quiet before she got to the door. Elementary school was the best time of any kid's life. We get to see our friends and make new ones everyday and the teachers rarely cared about what we are doing. In fact, one day I asked to use the bathroom. Mike asked 2 minutes later, then Jason. The three of us eventually ended up smoking weed for my first time in that bathroom. I felt nothing because I was too scared to inhale. I was in 4th grade and my mom had taught me that these drugs could and probably would kill me instantly. I wasn't going to take the chance, but I wanted to test it.

     I remember a few years later and a different school that had this talent show. At the show, some fifth graders did a California Raisins bit which brought the house down. During this bit, I would think of the greatest anti-drug commercial ever for only Nancy Reagan to see. The problem now is that I can't remember the jingle. I just remember it being perfect. It's so close to my tongue that I promise to update you when I think of it again.

     I moved forward until we moved again. We moved every couple of years, so I made a lot of friends but never knew them very well. I made a good friend (Mike) at this time, but lost connection to him when I moved again. For years, we would be inseparable. Somewhere that would fade and I wouldn't see him again, except for the one day I cut school and went to see him at home. He was a year older than me, so he had graduated high school. I went and played basketball with him in the street like we always used to. It was as if we had been playing for years. We played the game and I left...again not seeing him.

     I think the link between people comes when you experience things together. I think the day that me and Andy became brothers is when we were almost abducted together as little kids. Maybe that's dramatic and maybe not. We were at a video store and Andy's mom was renting us Wrestlemania I. A guy came to the passenger door and put his hand in to unlock it. I jumped across the seats and rolled up the power windows until he had to remove his hand an run away. For years after, I told Andy I was the one that defeated and killed Bruce Lee and that I had special powers. He believed me, probably because I rolled up that window. I was always the strong one until he saw me broken for the first time when Will died. I think this broke his heart. I was nothing but exaggeration and lies and that came to finality when I couldn't keep my knees from the floor.

     The great thing is that whenever I walk into my kid's schools, I still smell that graphite pencil smell and it reminds me that home is wherever you are. Home isn't a building or a house. Home is that feeling you get when everything halts your senses to remind you of a particular feeling. That feeling is home. Maybe home isn't where you live, but the feeling you have while living there.



Sing.
Migrate.






Thanks for reading...Z

Songs of a Little Sociopath

(Warning; This blog contains pseudo bad words partially censored with symbols and suggestive and sometimes blatant adult themes coming from the mind of a child. Please prepare yourself to be maybe offended.)


"I get laid, and my songs get played. Laying on a bit%$ my bed is made. I got songs. My comedy is at large..." Adam Coffman- 9 years old (First Deathstone song, and I can't remember the rest of the words.)

     I'm gonna come clean with some terrible things I did as a kid. Most were directly influencing my much more innocent little blood brother Andy, 6 or 7 years old at the time of the above band quote. Andy was my lead and only guitarist. In fact, my hair metal band had only one musician. Every day, Andy would bring over his little white guitar and a small amplifier that would clip to his Bugle Boy jeans. When it was time to rock, I would turn up the bill of my Vision Streetwear skater hat and Andy would hold his hand onto the heart of his Hypercolor t-shirt until the chemical reaction was complete. He would switch on his amp and Satanic and perverse things would come from my mouth. Things that would make anyone's mother slap me. (Unrelated, but once I was on vacation with a friend and his mother actually did slap me after commenting on her neglect of her bikini line when we were about to go swimming.)

     Andy and I would spend every weekend together when school was in session, and every day together during the summer. The summer was really when I blossomed as a psychopath. Below, I'm just going to list some things I did and get them out of the way for the sake of keeping a timeline for this blog and to prevent jumping around.

• I started an actual fight club in my backyard, using my mother's daycare kids as the warriors. every nap time would garner the blood of a small child or many children. 
• We would make forts, then charge other kids hairs from their heads to come in. We saved all of those hairs in a container of broken dreams and hurt feelings.
• We would go to Chucky Cheese and start fights in the ball pit. We would grab a kid and hold him under the balls until his mom would hear him shouting for help. Then we would run. 
• I warned another 9 year old who was picking on Andy in his neighborhood to stop or I'd break his arm. He didn't stop, so I went over to Andy's that weekend, grabbed his arm, and twisted it until it snapped. I think the bullying stopped...at least on Andy.
• I would go around with a tape recorder and tell little kids to say terribly violent swears and record them secretly. I would then show the tape to their moms, who would then chop off their tongues or whatever. 
• With Will and Joe, I used to throw grilled hot dogs at the mentally handicapped kids living at the group home in the back yard. We once started their yard on fire with a huge "Crow" symbol just after that movie was released. 
• I struck a middle schooler in the head with a baseball bat after he hurt my brother Jason with a skateboard. I was in elementary school at the time. I cut school, walked to the middle school, and hit the kid and ran. He lived. No harm, no foul.
• I got a great idea to paint the bottoms of Andy's little sister and her friend's feet and faces red with model paint, then wake them up so they would get scared looking at each other. I did not foresee them running with red tracks all over the carpet or ruining the wall paper of their newly remodeled bathroom.

     I'm going to stop there to prevent my mother and my friend's mothers and your mother from having a heart attack. Whew, I feel better now that you know all of that. I wasn't really a bad kid. I just had a very intense way of getting revenge and dictating justice to all of those around me. For the most part, I've outgrown or been punished enough to take more intelligent and palatable methods of venting. Although, I do still get these knee jerk reactions to decimate my foes every so often. Once my mother made me go to a family reunion dinner at a fish and chips restaurant. I didn't want to go. I was 18 and didn't have much of a taste for some of the characters infamous in my family. I took revenge. As the entire family was at the table, I announced the future arrival of my first child, to be born just after I graduated. I literally saw the blood leave her face, only to return when she saw everyone looking at her. She said, "Are your serious?" "Yup," I said and sat down. In hindsight, that was probably a bit harsh of a penalty for making me eat cod with family. Nine months later Olivia was born. 

     I'll save the rest of my high school years for other times. It just occurred to me today that I was probably the most dangerous kid another kid could be around. 

     




Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

There Go My Heroes

Aging may be the most cruel part of the curse of mankind. As you get older, you get more wise and are actually better suited to handle the things that you messed up in your youth. But now you are too old to try again. It's a cruel joke that the things that wreck you make you better. It's seems like there should be a better way to grow up.

No one gets out of this without scars. No one.

It's sad because I don't think that was God's intention for us. I think He wanted beauty and joy and all of the wonderful things we want for our own children. Yet we messed up. It's a hard thing to explain without making people angry, but yes, two people did mess everything up for the rest of us.

But it was bound to happen. If not them...me.

For instance, tonight I watched my senior homecoming basketball game with my son, who is really starting to love basketball. I wanted him to see his dad doing something he was really good at. I rewound the tape...yes tape, and hit play. Immediately, I saw myself on the screen and so young. It was hard to watch at times. I was cocky on the court because I was really good. My son watched the game and the way I carried myself and told me "you were cocky." A twelve year old told me that. I was chirping at the other team and show boating. I haven't touched a basketball in at least 8 years and while I watched that game with my son, all I saw was what I should have done if I were smart at the time.

The video was bitter sweet nostalgia for me because I got to see both Will and Joe play on the court with me...so totally alive and young. Faces without fault. Bodies uncrushed.

Everyone has a hay day. These are the times that you relive to your kids for the rest of their lives. This was mine. I had most of my brothers and my friends right there on the same wooden floor. We laughed and had fun and had no idea that 18 years later, half of us would be dead.

I watched Joe, who got to play because he had convinced the principle to allow him to if he gave his jersey to a kid who forgot his own. He wrote a new number on his shirt made with tape and played the greatest game of his life. In the video, you could hear me shouting for Joe every time he scored or stole the ball. 18 years later and he is gone.

I watched Will block at least 10 shots and grab a dozen rebounds in that game. As he left the court while time was running down, I slapped him on the ass and laughed with him. 13 years later, I would look at him in his eyes, knowing something was wrong and let him go. I wouldn't see him alive again.

Life is cruel. Sometimes it seems that the sun shines so bright on us that we actually get bored with doing well. Other times, we are faced with the shadow of death. Both are extreme moments we all have. Most times we are just moving on without being noticed.

But when you lose a body part, you notice really quickly what that means...you are now crippled.

I would have never labeled us the Dead End Kids if I hadn't already realized that there was something wrong with all of us. We embraced the label because we knew we were born to live or die right here together. We had bad things happen to us and didn't have a lot of friends, but what we had in each other was enough. We wanted to break things. We wanted to make people really mad. We wanted to howl and shout and wail at he moon and stars without any answer. We just wanted to live fully and honestly. We lied to people about who we were because we were not impressive. We fished in the middle of the night when everyone was sleeping. We all dumped girls because they didn't like our brothers.

Tonight is bitter sweet. On my chest lay two small vials of both of their ashes and two enormous holes in my life that won't be filled because I won't allow it. Yet I got to see Joe last night in my dreams doing ridiculous things as always. Two nights in a row and I've got to spend my sleeping hours with him. This means a lot because I haven't seen him awake or asleep in 3 months. When Will died, I saw him every time I went to sleep. The dreams were weird and cruel, but I got to speak to him. Joe died and nothing has happened. It may seem small, but for me it's kind of everything. The last two nights have been spent watching him screw up. Two nights ago, he was pouring kerosine into the hot tub we both were sitting in. Last night he was trying to get his fog machine to work so he could give it to me. Underneath, I knew he was trying so hard because we both knew he wasn't going to need a fog machine anymore.

There go my heroes.

What I have left is enough. I have my wife and beautiful children. I have my brother Andy and my dear friend and brother Jeff. We have all battled together in the trenches in one way or another and have held each other up when the other was too weak.






Sing.
Migrate.


Thanks for reading...Z

Silence (A short story)

Jake rubs his eyes as the light shines in sharp beams through the cracks in the blinds. The room is white, made whiter by the light. It is morning and Jake comes alive to the weeping of his alarm clock. It is Saturday, but Jake has resigned to getting up early and going somewhere he can't remember right now. Sarah walks in from the bathroom in a towel. She has always been a morning person. Down the hall, he hears kids shouting and giggling, much like the sounds he would hear from his desk chair in his classroom during his student's recess.

For no describable reason, Jake feels different today, better than before. He gets up and takes a shower, spending a little less time under the water than usual so he can grab his kids. He dries off and dresses, then heads to the kitchen where Sarah is cooking eggs. Amy jumps from the counter as he passes on to his shoulders and he almost loses her as he tries to regain his balance. She is giggling. He tells her, "Amy, don't do that, you could have fallen." Jake grabs her and squeezes her as hard as he can remember doing so. Johnny comes running from the living room and says, "I'll be your Huckleberry" and slams his fists into Jakes testicles and sends him and Amy both to the ground.

"Johnny! Why?"

Jake writhes on the ground, half laughing and half crying. He remembers why. It was Jake that watched "Tombstone" with the kids. They knew it was his favorite part of the movie. "I'll be your Huckleberry." Perfect. The kids piled on top of him as Sarah watched from the stove smiling. She didn't approve of him letting them watch that movie in the first place. "They are 4 and 3", she told him.

Jake regains himself and hugs on the kids on the floor for a while, then gets up to reach for his wife. She smells like flowers today. Her face is pale but glowing. Her eyes are blue and reflect their color onto the counter. She is beautiful. He wraps his arms around her and she turns inside of his squeeze to face him. She places her hands on his face that needs a shave and stares at him. She looks right inside of him as if he were something other than human. She sags her eyes a bit as if there were a sudden tragedy. She continues to stare. He doesn't have any words to say. He keeps trying to speak, but he is finding no words coming out as hard as he tries to force them...only air. She opens her mouth and says...

Wake up sweetheart. Wake up.

She walks from him and he feels his grasp release without him knowing. She walks down the hallway toward the bedroom and disappears from his eyes. Jake tries to follow her, but can't seem to move his legs at all. She moves with such grace, yet he is working so hard to move 12 inches.

Amy runs over to him and grabs on to his legs and squeezes. "I love you daddy," she says. "Take me to the carnival?" She reaches her arms upward to his face. Jake reaches down and lifts her to his shoulders. He has never said no to her. She hugs him and whispers something into his ear.

"Wake up daddy."

Johnny watches all of this from the corner of the room. What he is seeing isn't pleasant for him. He gets angry when anyone tells dad to wake up. His dad should sleep. When Amy speaks to Jake, Johnny darts off into the hallway in a fury shouting "Stay asleep!"

The room goes dark and Amy tears herself from his arms and disappears. Someone is screaming in the background faintly. The noise comes to the forefront once Jake loses sight of Amy. The screaming gets louder and louder until the darkness is broken for a split second by blinding light. Darkness then light. Darkness then light. Then light.

The shades are swaying in the wind next to the open window. Next to him is another pillow and cold mattress. Down the hall is silence and he remembers again. The silence always reminds him of emptiness and emptiness reminds him that he is alone. Jake sits up for a while and showers. He dries off and goes into the kitchen and cooks some eggs. He puts on his shoes and drives to the event he set his alarm clock for.

She looked paler than usual, but beautiful as always. She looked calm and hopeful. He looks to Amy in the box next to her. She looked like she was smiling a little. Then he looked to Johnny, who didn't look to be at peace. He never did. He was always angry for no reason. Jake used to sit with him in the corner when being chastised and just look at him in the eyes. After a while of staring, Johnny would smile and so then would Jake.

People kept hugging Jake to try to console him, but his face was blank. He didn't need consoling; he didn't need a hug. He needed them to leave him. The day was long and exhausting. Jake felt really bad for Sarah''s mom and dad and her family. He felt bad for his mom and dad.

When the funeral was over, he spent the night with his brother, who was his very best friend. They drank until they couldn't speak. Jake left the next morning and went home.

The problem with home is that a house doesn't equal home. He knew the dreams wouldn't stop. He knew he couldn't keep trying to sleep here. He worked at breathing for the next two weeks, then hopped on a plane and flew out to California to see his brother for a while.

While he was there, they spent the days doing wonderful things. Jake had ideas of what to do and his brother followed the lead. Jake's brother saw him as happy as he had ever seen him. They gambled and laughed and drank and cried. They spoke about old times when they were mischievous kids. Jake gave his brother his wedding ring one night when drunk on the beach. His brother refused it.

Two weeks later, Jake hugged his little brother at the airline terminal as tight as he could remember hugging anyone. Both looked at each other as if something weren't right, but they both knew that nothing was really right. Jake marched off into the tunnel and his brother to his car with tears in his eyes.

After a few minutes, Jake reversed his steps and headed back to the lobby area. He headed down the halls to the car rental company and rented a small sedan. He put his bags in the trunk and drove off.

He made it a road trip. He stopped at road side stands and bought chocolate raisins and cherries. He stopped at cavernous areas to shout into the air. He stopped at the Mining and Mineral Museum just before heading to the Grand Canyon. Jake played a disc of his favorite songs on his MP3 player and sat on his hood in front of the most vast and beautiful expanse of nothingness he had ever witnessed so close. Jake took out his keys and dropped them onto the front seat next to a letter addressed to his brother.

Jake looked in every direction as if he were taking a photograph. He smiled and breathed in the biggest breath he had ever taken and pushed off of the lip of the canyon shouting into the sky for the last time. He shouted until sound could no longer be heard.

His brother wakes at that very moment in the night as if someone had shouted his name. He looks around breathing intensely and his eyes reach the answer. On the nightstand was Jake's wedding ring.



(Don't read anything into this story. It was a dream I had last night and it stuck with me. Sometimes dreams leave you exhausted as if you didn't sleep at all.)











Sing.
Migrate.


Thanks for reading...Z