Nearly Nine Years Later

On September 11, 2001, I probably woke up at 5:45 AM CDT.  That would have been 4:45 AM EDT.  By 6:45, my time, I would have been either en route or arriving at Bartlett High School, in Bartlett, Illinois, just as Flight 11 was taking off from Boston.  The other doomed flights that day took off during the next 35 minutes.

My time was spent preparing for my chemistry classes that day, an early-semester introduction to atomic theory.  My first class started at 7:40.

By second period, students were coming in saying "Turn on the TV!  Something's going on in New York.  A plane crash."

In my naive wisdom of a second-year teacher, I turned on the news.  A plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.  Wow.  How does something like that happen?

Somehow I convinced them that atomic theory was much more interesting than whatever they could just catch on the news later on.  Class proceded as planned, but I relented and turned on the TV for the last 5 minutes of the period.  Before I could process what the screen said and what was being said, I saw more smoke than before billowing out of the WTC.  Both towers.  TWO plane crashes?  

OH. My. God.  It was intentional.

The kids had to get to their next class.  My next period was free.  

I called my wife at work.  She worked as a bank teller.  She said they had a TV going and no non-essential work was being done.  Their eyes were glued.  What she told me next was the first thing that day that truly made me feel panic.

Someone had just come in and withdrew as much cash as they were allowed to withdraw.  Thousands of dollars.

Throughout the day, we spoke several times.  Dozens more had come in to similarly remove cash.  It was a busy day at the bank.  My wife called the daycare center where our son spent every day in a room with 15 other kids.  Parents were coming in to take them home.

Working at a high school, I didn't have the option of leaving early.  Life went on.  But the principle of In Loco Parentis weighed heavily on me.  Some teachers abandoned their lesson plans and put the TV on.  I didn't.  Maybe it was the fact that Anthony was only 2, but as a parent, I felt the instinct to protect the kids.  I checked in with the news here and there, but really tried hard to not let any fear or worry affect the kids.  I didn't want them watching something so horrible under my watch.  I knew teenagers could handle it fine, but wanted to protect them nonetheless.

It's hard to comprehend now, but I don't think I heard the name "Osama bin Laden" until at least two or three days later.  The entire country was shocked, not just at what had happened, but from pure fear of the unknown.  Nobody could imagine who would do it.  America was not at war.  America felt like the safest place on Earth.  No war had affected our land directly since the Civil War, and that was us fighting ourselves!  Nobody was sure if we'd all wake up tomorrow to even more destruction from seemingly out of nowhere.  I remember lots of kids kept home on 9/12.

It was in this aura of fear, and paternal instincts of having to protect my family, that my wife and I (carpooling together) walked into our child's daycare center around 4:00 PM.  He was one of only about a half-dozen kids still there.  

As we approached the door to his room, we could see sweet, innocent little faces hovering around a TV cart.  The children were in a semi-circle, staring at an illuminated screen.  We couldn't see what they were watching.  

For about 2 seconds, my heart stopped.

It's silly to even imagine it now, but keep in mind, I had spent the better part of 7 hours sneaking peeks at what was on every channel that day.  I had spent time debating whether to show the news in class for fear of traumatizing my students.  I had the internal protectivism only a first-time parent feels.

My son isn't watching the news.  Is he?  Would they put that on for them here??

As a walked to a spot I could see the TV, the truth was revealed.  There, on a TV cart with a VCR typical of any school, a tape of a Walt Disney World parade was playing.  Mickey and Minnie were waving at the happiest crowd on Earth.

               It was beautiful.  

The sweet, pure innocence of childhood came washing over my brain, and for the first time all day I felt close to tears.

I've decided my big goal here now is to blog the epic story of my 13-year relationship, 11-year marriage, 6-month separation, and 3-year reunion with my wife.

I can blog from my Blackberry? This may become a habit. A habit full of numerous typos, no doubt.

This is my first post here in nearly 4 years. I may or may not touch on the events that got me from then to now. I only just now retrieved my access to this site. In case I never could, I started a blog at http://doc-moon-dog.blogspot.com/ . It's one very serene post that means nothing of importance. I may use it, I may not. I may post here, I may not. We'll see if I keep it up this time.

He who loves 50 people has 50 woes; he who loves no one has no woes. ~ Buddha

I am SO down tonight. My extremities are cold, I am full into my yearly seasonal bronchitis, I fell asleep for 2 hours and am now wide awake at 1:00 AM. Colleen was scheduled to be at work until 8, so I was looking forward to seeing her, but she's been out for coffee with friends all night.
I just paid the mortgage (too many weeks late), and now have no spare cash with over a week to go until payday. As always, it's a mixed blessing that I'll be delivering pizzas this weekend, since it'll put grocery money in my pocket, but on the other hand it means I get to spend a holiday weekend partially away from colleen and the kids. I wish every last one of them knew how much it fills me up inside just to be with them every day.

I have a horrible personality and I'm certain everyone around me has NO idea how much happiness they bring me. My true feeling are constantly filtered and mangled on their way out of my brain, due to all the SHIT fucking up my focus. I have absolutely had it with day-to-day bullshit and stupid fucking details that end up amounting to NOTHING important in the end, yet take up 100% of my brain power. I need to somehow rewrite my entire life to fit this one, basic, absolute truth: the only things in the WORLD that matter are Colleen, Anthony, Harrison, and Toby. The litmus test that should determine every last decision and priority from now until the end of time is whether or not things are best for them. That's it. I don't give a fuck about anyone of anything else, least of all me. My reasons for trying to keep myself happy, sane, or alive at all, are those four souls. It is terribly inadequate to say "they are the most important people in my life. More like: "Fuck the rest of the world and everything in it. Those four souls ARE my life."

But as ALWAYS, I'm torn between responsibilities. Let's see, how long can I make this list: family (keeping everyone happy safe clean and overall model citizens, including the dog), paying bills (house-mortgage, house-equity loan, car, electric, gas-heat, gas-car, phone, cable, 'net, maxed out credit, food), teaching (lesson plans, grading, and just goddam showing up with enough rest to be functional), marriage (schizophrenically flailing between cold comfort and hot panic mode), housekeeping (cleaning, laundry, dishes, garbage). Oh yes, and now the car (a horrible grinding noise from somewhere near the rear left wheel - how much will this cost? Who the fuck knows...) And guess what, shortcake? Christmas is here! Wheeeeee!

I once read that Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon was intended to be thematically about the things that drive people insane. Time, Money, Conflict ("Us and Them"), etc. Mr, Waters, I get it now. some of us don't need drugs to listen to DSOM. Life is surreal enough, thank you.

Anthony today informed today that he hates his school, and nobody in his class wants to be friends with him. My GOD, I understand. Second grade was one huge trauma for me, too. It kills me that he just might be having a childhood like mine, because mine sucked monkey balls (at least in terms of socializing with other 7-year-olds). I really think my life-long hangups that are fucking up this 34-year-old began with the stupid shithead dumbfuck asshole jagoffs I went to school with in 1979. and 1980. and 1981...well, you see what I'm saying. I didn't know how to deal with it then, and truthfully, I really don't know what to say to the kid now. Roughly 99% of the people you will ever meet are horrible. Too bad you need to encounter it so soon.

Shit, I'm getting depressed. I seriously need just one blowout night of partying. I have no idea if that would help, but at least it would all go away for a little while. You know, forget the blowout. I think i just need to find my headphones now and tune in to Pet Sounds or Van Morrison or something. I know some of the things I just typed are actually untrue, but it'll be some time until I sort out exactly which ones...

I just need to admit that I want sugar in my tea Hear me? Hear me? I want sugar in my tea!

It's been so long since I've had a blogging movement that I see no point in synopsizing the past months. Let's just start with the present.

Financially things are in chaos. I owe so many bills and debts right now it makes my head spin. The only thing I know for sure is that the mortgage will be back on track within a few weeks. The van payments? who knows. I keep checking out the window to make sure it hasn't been repo'd. Of course, keeping the house is pointless if the electric, gas, phone, cable, internet, groceries, etc aren't paid.

So I'm delivering pizzas part-time. Colleen is starting part-time hours at the same pizza hut. I hope sometime soon things will converge allowing us to actually work the same hours one day. It will, I'm sure, bring back weird deja vu memories of the old MotoPhoto job, where we met in 1997. Will any of these minimum wage adventures save our monetary woes? Hopefully so. All I know is it's a shame that in the 21st century a teacher's salary is so damn inadequate.

I spent a few months on depression medication. I think it helped my mood a little. But it costs 30$ a month, and I haven't refilled it since it ran out a few weeks ago. I guess this is now an experimental time. I don't know if I feel any worse. Although today I twice broke into tears: once after thinking of my mood on 9/11, and later after hearing the 1st verse of Everclear's "Wonderful". Regarding 9/11, maybe I'll explain some other time what happened to me that day that gets me weepy. Regarding the Everclear song, google the lyrics and read the first verse, and it'll be obvious why, as a father of 3 boys, that song rarely fails to get to me.

Lately I've been downloading talk radio podcasts for my 2 hour commute. I am addicted to the Penn Jillette show (as in "the talking guy from penn+teller"). Check it out sometime. Warning: dude's a VERY outspoken atheist.

BTW, HOLEE SH--! The democrats took back congress!!! WoOhOo! I think there's hope for the U.S. after all...

That's all for now. Expect more rambling messes some other time.

n.p.: "The Good Life", Weezer (hence the title of this post)

Adapt or die.

There are infinitesimally tiny points at which new universes are constantly being created and others destroyed. I find the better ones come about at times when the background music is a guiding force. Currently, Pink Floyd's "Animals" album is initiating some heavy changes. And no, despite your misguided stereotypes about the Floyd, marijuana is not (nor should it be) a factor in my current universe factory. THOSE universes, while typically interesting enough, tend to be governed by imprecise mathematical laws. I mean, pi doesn't HAVE to necessarily always be 3.1415, but whatever it may be, it shouldn't keep changing from moment to moment. It really ought to stay more or less constant. Strike that, it ought to stay EXACTLY constant. A halfway decent universe should at the very least obey its own rules. I mean, c'mon folks!

Chapter Zero

The first time I saw her, she was perched on a stool, filling out forms. Anyone else would have looked absolutely mundane, but mundane is a country in which Colleen would never set foot. Not for me, at least.
There are times I can recall forever. This was one of those times. I knew that one way or another, this moment would matter. Now matter is a word with multiple meanings. The physical definition of "matter" refers to the stuff which brings an entire universe into existence.

Wanna Be Sedated

I'm coming to find that there is little difference between my ups and downs. I'm rarely happy to the point of excitement, nor am I ever sad to the point of despair. Is this a good sign or a bad one? Bipolar folks are considered abnormal. Well, what about the complete opposite? Is this normal?

My fish sensing endorphine detection is waning. Waxing. Whatever. Nevermind.

Year of the gloop

I don't know if I'm really so uncreative, or just the bearer of a mind so unsettled as to never feel the need to verbalize my creativity, but blogging is something I haven't strived for much. It's fun, but who is this really for? Do I need it?

This has been one whirlygig year. I feel dizzi. Makes me wanna holler.

psychoaquadiscobetabioaquadoloop

doc.

'loha misamigos

Lollapalooza '05 was definitely a trip. Weezer, yeah! Primus, yeah! Killers, yeah! Pixies, yeahyeah! hell, even Blue Merle, yeah! Oh, and the biggest surprise by far...The Arcade Fire. A band I'd never even heard of before. They blew me away. Seriously. Planning on checking out their 1.5 albums, but I doubt they can match what they provided to a live audience.

Top ten summer bummers....

10) mosquitos
9) humidity
8) warm weather provides no natural defenses against Jehovah's Witnesses. (Witnessess's?)
7) electric bill
6) decaying flesh can be pungent for a miles-wide radius
5) sunburn
4) no "seasonal affective disorder" excuse for my frequent "episodes"
3) allergies
2) too hot to play outside, except when it's too rainy
1) just when i've got some meaningful free time to catch some TV....100% reality crap replacing the shows I wanted to actually watch all year in reruns.

Lollapalooza this weekend!

I was just now pondering how it's all going to go down this weekend. The missus and I are *nervous sigh* taking Anthony, who's only just turned six, to two whole days of Lollapalooza at Chicago's Grant Park. I hope it all goes well. I'd like to actually enjoy the experience. I hope all 3 of us do.
Can't wait to see Pixies, Killers, Weezer, Cake, Primus, and all the other bands, many of which I know nothing at all about. But it should be fun, and the website said there should be lots to keep kids entertained as well (plus under 10 gets in free!)
I'm trying to be more excited, actually, but it's hard during the week as my energy is constantly drained by conflicts with the kids. Especially trying my patience is Harry, our typical 3 year old boy. He's ultramoody and discontent with anything we try to get him to do (or, more often, not do!)
Just now, he was throwing a fit that we won't let him watch his Harry Potter movie since Anthony was enjoying some other show at the time. Harry's just lucky he so cute, even when he's tantrum-ing.
That's it for now...more later I'm sure.

Gospel revisited

This is: Left) AM#5 cover by Brian Bolland. Above) Sketch of Crafty done by Chas Truog at a Comic Convention. Cool.

The Coyote Gospel

A word about the title for my first-ever attempt at 'blogging':
Approximately 15 years ago, I encountered a remarkable story. It described a remarkably typical character named "Crafty Coyote". Crafty was quite entrenched in his place in the universe, living each day as he was meant to live it: continually experiencing one setback after another, very often the victim of a poorly executed bomb or anvil-dropping. He soon came to realize that maybe it didn't have to be that way. He and just about everyone else in his world semmed to be doomed to try and fail--time and time again. But why? So he marched up to the highest spot in the world and demanded of his creator that it should all end.
What happened next? Do youself a favor and track down DC comics' Animal Man #1-26. Read them all. Then reread them from #5 on. #5 is where I got this post's title from. I hope that by giving my random thought some forced order here, I might eventually find some answers about my universe, too. Or whatever.