Thursday, March 31
He ain't heavy he's my brother...
GRACE.
The name of a '72 27' Overlander Airstream... (We'll get to "why"... have patience...)
I half imagine to my-self what was going through Derrick's mind when he and Michelle had a chance to talk with that very same social-worker on a different occasion from the one I mentioned in the previous post.
You see, I was having the last slew of tests to find out if those polyps where malignant or not, and upon my return from those tests, I see the social-worker sitting there with Derrick and Michelle and wasn't quite sure what was or wasn't said, or how it played out between Derrick and Michelle to have had made a decision that I thought of at the time, was a bit risky and incredibly uncomfortable for all present.
I could see it in Derrick's eye's... and Michelle's where especially big, too... The social-workers, also... (as I still don't think he'd yet fully gotten over his first experience with my theory into reality Mr.E speech... or the ensuing parade of so many incredibly awesome people that flowed before his very eyes... he looked mystified, or at least, that's how I imagine it...)
So, Derrick's eye's... they get big as saucers, and his brows go way up like they do when he's in a situation that is a bit uncomfortable.
You see, I've seen this on him at the Corner and it's always around something he knows is gonna be difficult and potentially explosive... He knows things...
I tense up... he tenses further... Michelle's eyes are getting bigger and he says, "Dude, I know how ya are all proud and shit... but you can stay with us. Right Michelle?" She says, "Er... ah... Yeah! Right! You can stay with us!" (Her voice goes way up when she's nervous...)
The social-worker about jumps out of his skin and interjects, "That's awesome!"
I'm blown away, just got out of a series of tests... and am not sure what to think or do and don't want anyone to know I'm scared out of my mind and that a million scenarios are playing in my head as to how this unbelievably awesome gesture is gonna fuck up big-time!
I like this guy! I hardly know this young woman, and both he and Michelle hardly know me! She, even less so than he!... (Social-worker is long absent from my mind by now...) And Derrick has seen me in some of my more, shall we say, less-than-flattering drunken, stubborn-headed, depressed, angry miserable-fuck-the-world moods to boot! That "light-cranial-contact" moment comes to mind... "No Way!" I'm thinking.
Why the hell would he offer this? Why would she agree?!
I mean, wait... sure they've been here from the moment they could all the way through it till now, and the moral support thing and all is generous beyond words, sure. But this?! Whoa...
OK.
Hmm...
I can do this I'm thinking. But, I am gonna have to pull what I call "pause" outta my ass like never before and be as humble and gracious for this, far beyond anything I have ever done before... my pride can go fuck itself... cause this is a once in a life, second chance opportunity that I dare not mess-up. My life depends on it! And besides, this same Samoan monster-of-a-man has literally picked me up and threw me to the ground like a rag-doll for slappin one of his freshly inked tatt's, AFTER he specifically told me NOT too!
And... I don't have any other options...
And... I like this guy!
And and and... Apparently...
In short, I'm blown away.
So, after the check-out process: I, this sick, little kid-like old man, twenty years the senior of these two awesome human beings is hobblin my rickety-ass out to their car and flops dead into the middle of their lives for the next four months! Seriously.
There are a slew of particulars that I'll spare ya here, but suffice it to say, they brought me into their home! A modest one bedroom basement flat. A kitchen neatly tucked between a bathroom and a living room on one side, with the bedroom and office area on the other. It's kinda like this here Airstream, in fact... It's cozy, sure. But it's clean and it's warm and it's charming.
I'm shittin bricks... this has gotta be a test!The universe it testing all of us here! This could get whacked super-fast!
Poor Michelle has no place to hide, nor does Derrick, nor do I.
Patience and pause... I'm ready. Braced, and ready. Bring it on!
Than, for all intents and purposes, I pass-out for the fist month. Getting up to eat and tied to the toilet when I'm not doing that or sleeping. Time passes lightning fast... Second month, I'm journaling like a mad-man! Then passing out for 14 plus hours at a time. Third month, I'm starting to show signs of life and Derrick puts me to some small tasks, and I start to feel as though I have some use. Michelle and I are getting familiar with each other and we're having some of the best conversations I've ever had! (Hope she feels the same.)
And quite frankly, there isn't one little burp in all of it!
No problems whatsoever between any of us! None!
NONE!
It gives me new pause. A new sense of pause...
And I go out to get some groceries one day, and as I'm coming back... I notice I'm on Central. Then I make a right turn off of Central on to Grace and than around, to the front of the house and park.
And I sit there.
Had to be a good twenty minutes or so, because I'm sitting there weeping like a fool again. This time, it cause I realize that Grace is Central to a good home. And this is that home.
And these two have shared with me something so beyond words, so awesomely amazingly loving, caring, and the kindest, most giving, positive, practical, caring people I have ever met in my life. How does one even begin to express one's appreciation and my most fortunate pleasure of being fully embraced by them? Their concern for my well-being... excessive generosity... nothing short of miraculous... unconditional love... it overwhelm's me...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFUI452XXrM
Oh no ya don't...
Wipe those eyes! We've still got some ground to cover before we get to the GOOD-STUFF! I am dead serious. It Gets Better!
Till next post, Cheers
The name of a '72 27' Overlander Airstream... (We'll get to "why"... have patience...)
I half imagine to my-self what was going through Derrick's mind when he and Michelle had a chance to talk with that very same social-worker on a different occasion from the one I mentioned in the previous post.
You see, I was having the last slew of tests to find out if those polyps where malignant or not, and upon my return from those tests, I see the social-worker sitting there with Derrick and Michelle and wasn't quite sure what was or wasn't said, or how it played out between Derrick and Michelle to have had made a decision that I thought of at the time, was a bit risky and incredibly uncomfortable for all present.
I could see it in Derrick's eye's... and Michelle's where especially big, too... The social-workers, also... (as I still don't think he'd yet fully gotten over his first experience with my theory into reality Mr.E speech... or the ensuing parade of so many incredibly awesome people that flowed before his very eyes... he looked mystified, or at least, that's how I imagine it...)
So, Derrick's eye's... they get big as saucers, and his brows go way up like they do when he's in a situation that is a bit uncomfortable.
You see, I've seen this on him at the Corner and it's always around something he knows is gonna be difficult and potentially explosive... He knows things...
I tense up... he tenses further... Michelle's eyes are getting bigger and he says, "Dude, I know how ya are all proud and shit... but you can stay with us. Right Michelle?" She says, "Er... ah... Yeah! Right! You can stay with us!" (Her voice goes way up when she's nervous...)
The social-worker about jumps out of his skin and interjects, "That's awesome!"
I'm blown away, just got out of a series of tests... and am not sure what to think or do and don't want anyone to know I'm scared out of my mind and that a million scenarios are playing in my head as to how this unbelievably awesome gesture is gonna fuck up big-time!
I like this guy! I hardly know this young woman, and both he and Michelle hardly know me! She, even less so than he!... (Social-worker is long absent from my mind by now...) And Derrick has seen me in some of my more, shall we say, less-than-flattering drunken, stubborn-headed, depressed, angry miserable-fuck-the-world moods to boot! That "light-cranial-contact" moment comes to mind... "No Way!" I'm thinking.
Why the hell would he offer this? Why would she agree?!
I mean, wait... sure they've been here from the moment they could all the way through it till now, and the moral support thing and all is generous beyond words, sure. But this?! Whoa...
OK.
Hmm...
I can do this I'm thinking. But, I am gonna have to pull what I call "pause" outta my ass like never before and be as humble and gracious for this, far beyond anything I have ever done before... my pride can go fuck itself... cause this is a once in a life, second chance opportunity that I dare not mess-up. My life depends on it! And besides, this same Samoan monster-of-a-man has literally picked me up and threw me to the ground like a rag-doll for slappin one of his freshly inked tatt's, AFTER he specifically told me NOT too!
And... I don't have any other options...
And... I like this guy!
And and and... Apparently...
In short, I'm blown away.
So, after the check-out process: I, this sick, little kid-like old man, twenty years the senior of these two awesome human beings is hobblin my rickety-ass out to their car and flops dead into the middle of their lives for the next four months! Seriously.
There are a slew of particulars that I'll spare ya here, but suffice it to say, they brought me into their home! A modest one bedroom basement flat. A kitchen neatly tucked between a bathroom and a living room on one side, with the bedroom and office area on the other. It's kinda like this here Airstream, in fact... It's cozy, sure. But it's clean and it's warm and it's charming.
I'm shittin bricks... this has gotta be a test!The universe it testing all of us here! This could get whacked super-fast!
Poor Michelle has no place to hide, nor does Derrick, nor do I.
Patience and pause... I'm ready. Braced, and ready. Bring it on!
Than, for all intents and purposes, I pass-out for the fist month. Getting up to eat and tied to the toilet when I'm not doing that or sleeping. Time passes lightning fast... Second month, I'm journaling like a mad-man! Then passing out for 14 plus hours at a time. Third month, I'm starting to show signs of life and Derrick puts me to some small tasks, and I start to feel as though I have some use. Michelle and I are getting familiar with each other and we're having some of the best conversations I've ever had! (Hope she feels the same.)
And quite frankly, there isn't one little burp in all of it!
No problems whatsoever between any of us! None!
NONE!
It gives me new pause. A new sense of pause...
And I go out to get some groceries one day, and as I'm coming back... I notice I'm on Central. Then I make a right turn off of Central on to Grace and than around, to the front of the house and park.
And I sit there.
Had to be a good twenty minutes or so, because I'm sitting there weeping like a fool again. This time, it cause I realize that Grace is Central to a good home. And this is that home.
And these two have shared with me something so beyond words, so awesomely amazingly loving, caring, and the kindest, most giving, positive, practical, caring people I have ever met in my life. How does one even begin to express one's appreciation and my most fortunate pleasure of being fully embraced by them? Their concern for my well-being... excessive generosity... nothing short of miraculous... unconditional love... it overwhelm's me...
To be embraced with such a warm cocoon of love... wrapped in silken threads of countless deeds, actions & words with the only expectation that I turn into the butterfly they see hidden in a worm...
Gratitude isn't enough!
Their grace, saving my life, gentile encouragement in countless ways, selfless sharing, a rock, a root, a pillar, patience, reasoned calm, balanced perspective... shit!
"Grace is central to a happy home"... A home I am now in...
And as I'm sitting in the car crying all over the food, what comes on the radio?!
"He ain't heavy... He's my brother" [Bob Russell, 1969 done by the Hollies c. 1972]
"The road is long, with many a winding turn, that leads to who knows where... But I'm strong, strong enoough to carry him;... His welfair is my concern... for I know he would not encumber me;... If I'm laden at all, I'm laden with sadness that every one's heart isn't filled with the gladness of love for one another. It's a long, long road, from which there is no return. While we're on our way to there, why not share? And the load doesn't weigh me down at all; He ain't heavy..."
This big Samoan mutha-fucka and his little itty-bitty rock-star of a woman rock my world... and the serendipitous serendips again! They are BOTH my brother...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFUI452XXrM
Oh no ya don't...
Wipe those eyes! We've still got some ground to cover before we get to the GOOD-STUFF! I am dead serious. It Gets Better!
Till next post, Cheers
Wednesday, March 30
The Healing Process...
Posted 03-27-2011 at 11:06 AM by Mr.E
Tags 1972 27' overlander, alumadillo, grace
As you read in the previous post, Derrick, my bar-keep from The Corner steps up! Actually, let me back up a bit...
This social-worker comes into my room about a day after I get out of the ER and introduces himself. It's basically a question and answer session... him getting to know my situation and see how he can help to get me back on my feet and into rehab. Now before I go on, you need to have a picture of the University of Chicago mind-set.
You see, the UofC is considered to be the best-of-the-best in many fields, medical in particular, (at least for my purposes of explaining things here). And in being the best-of-the-best, you can imagine that there is an air of privilegedness. For, in order to 'BE' at the UofC, you have to be top of your class, you have to have access to funds, and you have to be a ninja! Because they're going to put you through the ringer and if you ain't got it, you ain't gonna make it. It's the best-of -the-best! Period. And that also means that you most likely live in the land-of-cerebral-masturbation known as theory. Academia or as I call it Academentia, as the longer you stay in Hyde Park, the more isolated you become, the more removed from the realities of the outside you become. It's a bubble.
And it's not to say that they are not so proud as to be insensitive to the larger world in-which they live, no far from it. In fact they are all fascinated with the outside world, its peoples and its happenings. They seek to understand.
And it is this curiosity that has won me many many quality relationships with UofC Alums over the years, and my having had these wonderful experiences is what I think got me admitted in the first place. They understand that genius is not tied to access and they know that they are privileged in having that access, and humble in that knowledge and use of it. They are gracious.
Now, with that picture in your mind, you should see there is a chance that my situation could be lost in translation from the Actual into the Theoretical. Or into their language.
So, back to the social-worker. In the in-depth Q&A process... I didn't fall into any of their academically astute, thoroughly complete set of variables. I have no mailing address. I workamp across America, I am medically uninsured, I have next to zero contact with my family, I am poor, and there is no place for me to go. All of what I called 'friends' then, before what actually happened, are all too self-involved in their lives, their families, their careers. And who could blame them? They have no responsibility for me anyway. That's my job, so tough-beans. I am on my own. The social-worker is taken aback and visibly concerned. What is he going to do with me? Why am I even here? How is it that this is really the case?... etc... must have all been spinning in his head.
We go back and forth on options he suggests... things like 'if' i could get a room someplace... 'if' I would get back into society... 'if' I would take a more stable job... and 'if', 'if', 'if'...
I explain some realities he hadn't considered offering... and if he would entertain the theoretical idea that I am a Mr.E... where all is right as rain, that I am, and being that I am, it is ok for me to be me. Mr.E. That's who I am, Mr. Evan A. Ellefsen, a mystery not only to myself, but to so many others as well. A mystery, a Mr.E, and all I am is my ministry. For those who know me on a personal level, you have heard first hand some of my rambling babbles, my ministry if you will. And for some of you, I am quite entertaining, and for others, it can get a bit heavy at times.
Now, there are those that presuppose, that they know me. That somehow, they know what I have and have not processed repeatedly, over and over in my mind, and the situation in which I find myself is the situation in which I find myself. These they's know it so well in fact, that they have tons of useless sh*t advice to offer on what I should, could, ought or might do to get back in the game. They say, "you're good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn-it, people like you", and as all fine and good as that is, it is the one and only thing I posses. It is to this point exactlly... What "I SHOULD DO..."
Before that cool breeze of realization hit me, I was at a place that held no direction, just a repeating loop of bullsh*t and only I could break the cycle that it represented, I had to stop procrastinating and act. I had to be me, do me and learn that the me that is, is a verb. An action. A process of taking the abstract into reality, the theoretical into action. I can not martyr my self for some idealized concept of the paradigm and how it aught to exist, because it can only exist as I think it aught to, only in my mind, my world. All these others have their own paths they must follow, and those intersecting moments along the journey are happenstance, coincidences, luck, fate or fancy. Take and give freely from each of these experiences, and hopefully, learn something in the process. Either way, in the Buddhist conception of self, there is no self, hence no me. Only attachments to desires exist. There is no permanence. I will get old, I will get sick and I will die. So will you. So will everything. And... all those material attachments you have to 'stuff', will be taken from you by moths, rust and thieves. So, enjoy that short term lease when it's your turn to play with your borrowed 'stuff', remember, you can't take any of it with you. For me, that means my camp gear and all of its paraphernalia...
And that is when the Universe speaks and a flood of affection and concern for my well-being opens up and people start flooding my room.
As you can imagine my surprise, you can't even imagine the look on this fellows face! It just put his theoretical mind into an actual, reality based reality...that he may never recover from.
To me, it is the serendipitous serendipiting!
Why?
I don't know, but I hope you read it back a few posts... cause it says it better than this attempt.
Call it the Divine.
Call it what ever you want.
It just is.
And I am truly blessed.
(We'll get to my bar-keep next post...)
"Hey Bar-Keep! Can ya refresh my ice-cubes!" as per some other patron... See: http://www.youtube.com/wat
Cause hey man, ya know I luv ya brother... It applies here, too... So THANKS, more!
Thyroid!!!... continued...
So, finishing-up on this... Mariana gets me to UofC Hospital, the absolute best of the best, into the ER and I'm a bit out of it all, but I do remember telling them some of the basics, like my open heart surgery back in 1969/70 for an Atrial Septal Defect that I was born with and how I was the 7th person to ever survive the heart-lung machine.
Mariana takes over, I'm admitted, Mariana looks terrified, we exchange glances that all is good... and off she goes to park the car.
They whisk me off and for the next few days at least, I'm all a blur... But I remember a stream of physicians and their gaggle of student doctors in tow. Test upon test, meds, exams, needles... a whole in-depth routine and though I couldn't tell you much of who said what about what, but I can tell you that I fully understood the import of each conversation with all, and I kid you not, 70 plus medical professionals.
Somewhere in all of this is when I learned that it was my thyroid! "My what?" I'm thinking... 'cause from what I know about the thyroid is it's something very heavy women have to deal with, and I'm neither... We'll I come to learn that the thyroid controls everything! Your heart, liver, etc.. Meds will regulate it... Heart is fine, (odd as that is...) and the liver will heal itself with a little help from some additional meds. The bloating is reducing fast. I'm peeing like a racehorse... and it starts to become apparent that I'm emaciated... so orders, between tests, when permitted, is to EAT! Drink these supplements and EAT! Take these vitamins and EAT, more! In the process of the tests, they discover polyps on my lungs... and I'm uninsured, and for all intents and purposes, homeless, and I am going to need a considerable amount of recovery time so they can't release me, and they really shouldn't keep me... The sad reality is, no insurance, than 'nothing more than the absolute minimum'. But again, the UofC is THE best. There are ways... and I may have TB!
At which point, I'm whisked away out of ER into isolation.
Some room way in the corner of the fifth floor. And there is no place better in the world for me than to be in the corner! YES, The Corner of the corner in the hospital!
This is home ground to me! I know the corner routine well... and just like with The Corner Bar you read about, I become that dynamic guy in the corner room on the fifth floor that NO ONE knows about.
The staff, nurses and aides, food service and cleaning... people coming to get me for additional tests... social workers...(tell ya 'bout that in the next post or so), physical therapists... visitors... and even Doctors are all having a hard time finding me.
The Corner.
Yes.
And would you believe, practically the entire 'CORNER' shows up to visit! Some 40 people from the bar and all walks of life come streaming in. Young-uns to Olders... (Joe in particular, and sadly, he passed about three weeks or so after I got out of the hospital...) Rich and poor, black, white, native, Asian, Arabic... and even a Zombian! Everyone! And calls from even more!
WOW!
I am overwhelmed and incredibly emotional on all of this... I am Amazed! I am Honored. I am grateful. I am still in tears, and it gets better! More emotional!!!
Anyway...Now, I'm not going to go into much detail here, but 1 week in ER and another 3 in this "Corner" gets me to the point where I've got to go... not 'cause I want to, not cause I'm healthy again, far from it... but the UofC has done their job, (and MUCH MUCH more...) and I have to go, but they can't send me out on the street. They can't let me go back to my tent.
They are confused as to what to do.
And then another Angel steps up. Two actually. My bar-tender Derrick and his girl Michelle. They will take me in. They will help me heal. They will keep an eye on me. They will feed me back to health. They will... and they do! They save me. They feed me. They ROCK! I can't even express how much these two ROCK! How awesome and patient and caring they are. How encouraging and loving! MY bar-keeper is "my brothers keeper" as the saying goes and what heart! What grace! What awesome humanness! Awesome. Just outright gosh-darn awesome!!!
So, I'll give a very shortened version of our experiences together in another post... but, I hope that everyone that ever reads this, reads on. Because what this couple did for me, I would have, up until now, done this for few, let alone someone I only socially knew... And I'm pretty darn sure the majority of readers wouldn't take on such a responsibility with such grace and generosity for someone they only knew socially, and not always shiningly... anyway... I can't find the right words right now... see the future posts... cause we've still got a long way to go before the Airstream becomes a reality beyond my deposit...
Cheers
Thyroid!!!
Posted 03-16-2011 at 06:13 AM by Mr.E
Updated 03-16-2011 at 07:15 AM by Mr.E (correct tense, complete the thought)
Updated 03-16-2011 at 07:15 AM by Mr.E (correct tense, complete the thought)
So, a little more than a year ago, I'm feeling a bit bloated, a bit bored and a bit trapped.
I'm hanging out in Bucktown, (in Chi-Town), at a place called The Corner. (Been doing that for a few years in fact. It was "Rich's, First One of the Day" then.)
I'm the guy at "The Corner". My seat is in the corner of "The Corner". Obviously, it's on the corner, and everyone know me as the good-time guy from "The Corner". And 9 times out of ten, I was more than part of the Party...
Problem was, I was in a CORNER, stuck in a corner and I just had to get out. Had to do something!
Just so happens, this Corner Bar is comprised of folks from every walk of life, and I am graced with a gift. I can talk to just about anyone, on just about anything. (It stems from my DJ days... My Trade-show days... My Sales & Marketing days... Oh, those happy days... Which, by the way, is the corporate name of "The Corner" A.K.A. Happy Daze, Inc.)
Now the guy who bought "The Corner", prior to doing so, sat next to me just like David from the previous story.
He turn's to me and says "I'm gonna buy this place" and I say "sure... every s.o.b. that comes in this place is gonna 'Buy' the Place..." he smiles. And he does.
On similar occasion, he says "what do you think about a name for this place?" It goes back and forth... and we start to talk about community.
I explain that I personally, am sick of the sprawling and malling-mauling of America and that neighborhood pubs such as this, must be kept alive. It's the America I grew-up with! It's how the Marine Corp started, in fact... To kill it would be a shame. Something would be lost.
He says "How's 'The Corner' sound to you?" And I tell him it sucks... He laughs... and names it "The Corner". I say "you mean the Coroner..." he stomps out. We talk less.
Anyway, time passes and I become an institution at "The Corner", prayin' not to meet that coroner anytime soon.
More time passes.
One day, a good friend that frequents the Corner is leaving the Consulate and moving to Denver, but he's got a guy that's got a business that he thinks I'd be perfect for, he;ll let me know, if I'm interested. Heck yes! I've been out of work for some-time now and things are far beyond tight.
Few months pass, he calls, we meet and I am Re-juvenated!
And this gig is like a tornado! Tools to de-Pollute dead cars! Suck out the gas! Suck out the oil! Suck out the Antifreeze! It's big in the EU! They've got reg's in-place and they're comin here he tells me...
I do my re-search... and sure enough, I'm hooked.
It's name?
"Vortex".
Perfect!
Here's why: "We are frustrated, even overcome at times, by our physical , finite nature and by failings and inadequacies specific to us as individuals. It is in just these experiences that we meet god. It is there—the godless vortex—that god is most often revealed to us, and that we feel known and seen by god."
[Transforming Shame: A Pastoral Response—Jill L. McNish M.Div. PhD.]
I'm hanging out in Bucktown, (in Chi-Town), at a place called The Corner. (Been doing that for a few years in fact. It was "Rich's, First One of the Day" then.)
I'm the guy at "The Corner". My seat is in the corner of "The Corner". Obviously, it's on the corner, and everyone know me as the good-time guy from "The Corner". And 9 times out of ten, I was more than part of the Party...
Problem was, I was in a CORNER, stuck in a corner and I just had to get out. Had to do something!
Just so happens, this Corner Bar is comprised of folks from every walk of life, and I am graced with a gift. I can talk to just about anyone, on just about anything. (It stems from my DJ days... My Trade-show days... My Sales & Marketing days... Oh, those happy days... Which, by the way, is the corporate name of "The Corner" A.K.A. Happy Daze, Inc.)
Now the guy who bought "The Corner", prior to doing so, sat next to me just like David from the previous story.
He turn's to me and says "I'm gonna buy this place" and I say "sure... every s.o.b. that comes in this place is gonna 'Buy' the Place..." he smiles. And he does.
On similar occasion, he says "what do you think about a name for this place?" It goes back and forth... and we start to talk about community.
I explain that I personally, am sick of the sprawling and malling-mauling of America and that neighborhood pubs such as this, must be kept alive. It's the America I grew-up with! It's how the Marine Corp started, in fact... To kill it would be a shame. Something would be lost.
He says "How's 'The Corner' sound to you?" And I tell him it sucks... He laughs... and names it "The Corner". I say "you mean the Coroner..." he stomps out. We talk less.
Anyway, time passes and I become an institution at "The Corner", prayin' not to meet that coroner anytime soon.
More time passes.
One day, a good friend that frequents the Corner is leaving the Consulate and moving to Denver, but he's got a guy that's got a business that he thinks I'd be perfect for, he;ll let me know, if I'm interested. Heck yes! I've been out of work for some-time now and things are far beyond tight.
Few months pass, he calls, we meet and I am Re-juvenated!
And this gig is like a tornado! Tools to de-Pollute dead cars! Suck out the gas! Suck out the oil! Suck out the Antifreeze! It's big in the EU! They've got reg's in-place and they're comin here he tells me...
I do my re-search... and sure enough, I'm hooked.
It's name?
"Vortex".
Perfect!
Here's why: "We are frustrated, even overcome at times, by our physical , finite nature and by failings and inadequacies specific to us as individuals. It is in just these experiences that we meet god. It is there—the godless vortex—that god is most often revealed to us, and that we feel known and seen by god."
[Transforming Shame: A Pastoral Response—Jill L. McNish M.Div. PhD.]
So, I hit the road in an attempt to get myself back in the game, and sell my new wares to junkyards all across the US... Camping as I went... as minimalist as I could... trade-show to trade-show, junkyard to junkyard... A scrap-book of scrap-yards, if you will...
Installing and selling... getting out there, face-to-face, place-to-place...
And I Dis-Cover a wonderful world hidden in Army Corp (ACE) campgrounds...
I met folks beyond all beyonds of my understanding on levels beyond levels of anything I've encountered and found AWESOMEness every place I stopped.
Every place I went!
From bikers to bling-blingers, the richest with the most-est to the poorest with the least-est... and a peck of peaches or a jar of homemade jam gave me to access to a community SO gosh-darn wonder-Full, that I had to pinch myself just to see if I was actually A-wake!
Such sharing of knowledge and stories... to my a-Mazement, always at hand!
I am pumped!
And, I'm bloated.
My feet are swollen. My belly's getting bigger... I'm thinking beer! Too much beer! This'll be good for me! I'll work it off!
The feet turns to ankles, to calf's, knees, thighs, etc... all the way to the hips... belly getting bigger... and I don't stop. Things are starting to roll... this is my Chance! I've gotta keep going!
And I do.
Now, I happen across an '83 Excella II for sale in a campground just outside of Chicago, in Crete. Practically on the Indiana border... Emerald Trails Campground.
Sanda gets to know me, Jimmy gets the wood and keeps the place running for her and the folks are wonderful. And Sanda turns me onto the deal... "$5,000 the lady take" she says in her wonderful broken-English... "I want you to take" she says, "good deal."
So I put down $1,000, and hand write a receipt. I hit the road again, got some sales to close, some installs to do, be back in a month.
Month comes, another $1,000 down... one of my deals fell through... back on the road.
Big install in Louisville that about kills me... a trip down to Florida for a trade-show, work the yards back up to KY, finish the install and back to settle the deal with Sanda.
BUT! The Universe ain't being kind to me... as monies get held-up on one gig, the terms on another are 90-days out... and I can't get a hold of the last guy that owes us on another system. Scrap prices are fallin... no onne is buyin and I'm out of cash... beggin Sanda for an extension.
By this time I am sicker than an Asian Carp in the sun and as bloated as road-kill.
I pass out. Sanda calls the ambulance... they take me to Dyer, IN!
Things are dire indeed! The doctors are dismiss'n me as another liver-failure. I'm half-aware. Days pass and I get a call out to a friend that it's "Dire" and I'm in "Dyer" and if you don't get me the hell out of here, I'm gonna die here!
Mariana, comes to my rescue. (An Angel I met at the Corner.)
She calls Derrick, a bar-tender at the Corner (who's on vacation), to contact some of my "friends" to get me some of my "things".
She gets me out of Dyer and to the University of Chicago hospital.
She saves my life!
(And you should hear her version of this experience!)
I was in a very, very bad way! And still did't even know what it was!!!
To be expounded upon further... my carpel is a tunneling.
Why...
cont... "Why"...
Posted 03-15-2011 at 10:46 PM by Mr.E
Now, I hope I didn't loose you there. The above sets that stage... AND WE WILL get to the Airstream, to the Restoration... I just have to draw the picture... Let you get to know me, see the transformation... to embrace the story if you will.
So, time passes.
Things get way out of wack.
And having gone deep into an abyss... loss of jobs, relationships, direction, housing, etc... I held on.
I'm going to skip all of that for now, and tell you those bits when they're needed.
Suffice it to say, a lot has happened until I got sick!
(Now, pay attention. This is where the Airstream comes into view, but before it does, you need to know what brought it into reality... so, yes... you're gonna have to read all about the sickness... the near death experience... and a second, second chance. And no, this is not Ira Glass' This American Life's "Second Chance" story... THAT was gory, very gory. ref. to NPR/Cable TV spot... And I have something on that, too!)
Anyway.
Thyroid story... to follow... (Who knew? No one ever asks you, "So, how's your thyroid..." Prostate, sure! But never the thyroid...)
Where it all begins...
Streamin'
03/14/11
At times, things come into focus with startling clarity. Memories spark the oddest things. For example, I remember back some time reading “The River Why?” by David James Duncan when I was in my fly-fishing days... and feeling a bond with the story I couldn't quite explain. (The Universe was talking to me, again...) And then, oddly enough, I actually meet David in Seattle! I was at a conference, went to the hotel bar, and this fellow sits down next to me. We get to talking, and somehow, books come up. I suggest "The River Why?" he looks at me and in not so polite terms says I must be kidding him! We go back and forth... He finally believes me... and we chat further. We find that both of our Fathers are in Estacada... and that there is a bit of tension to those respective relationships... Short story, we exchange emails... time passes... and I am completely amazed. We never connect. We never fish. And then then I stop fishing...
Streams, Estacada, Fathers and some not so light banter... How fly-fishing brought me to a new understanding of my place in the Universe, how life seemed to make sense... How I felt, like now, on top of the world, and how then, I knew nothing. I was innocent, ignorant and out of control.
And I sit here now, looking back, and Re-Membering things that come full circle... BizEthics... a class on said topic dropped, a book in the airstream I just acquired ON BizEthics, post 'Operation Airstream', post Pete Pallash, post Amelia... post postings posted... postponed... past cable... past senseless dronings of other "others"... past reading... past meaning...and now, pre-sent-ly Re-Membering.
Dizzy.
In vertigo, trapped in a vortex, working for Vortex, BizEthics in streamz, the whole stream thing.
Trying to find a name for her, (Grace), trying to thank those that made it possible... the grace... the aging process... the lessoning of eye-sight... loss of memories... the 'The'... the effort needed to recall... to explain... and the wish that I'd have done a better job of it all at the time it was salient. My personal irritation at not having done as good of a job as is needed to be able to recall it all...
That serendipitous why... that river why... nagging... again... barely perceptible...
What I wrote at that time when I thought I could go no further... Could go no lower... Could lose no more... how silly I was... how...
Anyway.
See Attached if so inclined. Then, on to the next POST! Why...
03/14/11
At times, things come into focus with startling clarity. Memories spark the oddest things. For example, I remember back some time reading “The River Why?” by David James Duncan when I was in my fly-fishing days... and feeling a bond with the story I couldn't quite explain. (The Universe was talking to me, again...) And then, oddly enough, I actually meet David in Seattle! I was at a conference, went to the hotel bar, and this fellow sits down next to me. We get to talking, and somehow, books come up. I suggest "The River Why?" he looks at me and in not so polite terms says I must be kidding him! We go back and forth... He finally believes me... and we chat further. We find that both of our Fathers are in Estacada... and that there is a bit of tension to those respective relationships... Short story, we exchange emails... time passes... and I am completely amazed. We never connect. We never fish. And then then I stop fishing...
Streams, Estacada, Fathers and some not so light banter... How fly-fishing brought me to a new understanding of my place in the Universe, how life seemed to make sense... How I felt, like now, on top of the world, and how then, I knew nothing. I was innocent, ignorant and out of control.
And I sit here now, looking back, and Re-Membering things that come full circle... BizEthics... a class on said topic dropped, a book in the airstream I just acquired ON BizEthics, post 'Operation Airstream', post Pete Pallash, post Amelia... post postings posted... postponed... past cable... past senseless dronings of other "others"... past reading... past meaning...and now, pre-sent-ly Re-Membering.
Dizzy.
In vertigo, trapped in a vortex, working for Vortex, BizEthics in streamz, the whole stream thing.
Trying to find a name for her, (Grace), trying to thank those that made it possible... the grace... the aging process... the lessoning of eye-sight... loss of memories... the 'The'... the effort needed to recall... to explain... and the wish that I'd have done a better job of it all at the time it was salient. My personal irritation at not having done as good of a job as is needed to be able to recall it all...
That serendipitous why... that river why... nagging... again... barely perceptible...
What I wrote at that time when I thought I could go no further... Could go no lower... Could lose no more... how silly I was... how...
Anyway.
See Attached if so inclined. Then, on to the next POST! Why...
Monday, March 28
Does anyone know how to use this?
I am desperately trying to find a look and feel that will best convey a sense of warmth and comfort. It needs to be easy to navigate. It needs to be INTERESTING! (Just as interesting and captivating as the story itself...)
Anyone that has expertise in this area, (and would be willing to help), would be most appreciated.
(You'd probably have it done in seconds, with a few clicks and done...
where I'm just gonna irritate the f*ck outta everyone trying to figure it all out.)
Cheers
Anyone that has expertise in this area, (and would be willing to help), would be most appreciated.
(You'd probably have it done in seconds, with a few clicks and done...
where I'm just gonna irritate the f*ck outta everyone trying to figure it all out.)
Cheers
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