March 18, 2008 – 6:50 p.m.
Justin: I'm back for good. When might you be free to meet for dinner?
March 22, 2008 – 10:52 p.m.
Mary: Well anytime. When are you free?
March 22, 2008 – 10:55 p.m.
Justin: Every night this week except Mon.
March 22, 2008 – 10:56 p.m.
Mary: Thursday. Just us?
March 22, 2008 – 11:04 p.m.
Justin: Deal.
March 23, 2008 – 12:17 a.m.
Mary: Horny?
March 23, 2008 – 12:19 a.m.
Justin: Yes.
March 23, 2008 – 12:27 a.m.
Justin: Want to come over?
March 23, 2008 – 12:29 a.m.
Mary: Out drinking.
March 23, 2008 – 12:31 a.m.
Justin: Well then, what do you have in mind?
March 23, 2008 – 12:53 a.m.
Mary: Threesome with Matty.
March 23, 2008 – 12:54 a.m.
Justin: A girl?
March 23, 2008 – 12:56 a.m.
Mary: No, he’s a really cute bartender
March 23, 2008 – 12:58 a.m.
Justin: No thanks. You know I only play with girls.
March 23, 2008 – 1:04 a.m.
Justin: Come over, Mary. I want you.
March 23, 2008 – 1:32 a.m.
Mary: On the rag.
March 23, 2008 – 1:39 a.m.
Justin: You're flaking out? Then why ask in the first place? I bailed on Lisa and my friends for you. Poor form, Mary. Poor form.
March 23, 2008 – 1:41 a.m.
Mary: Woah. I never said anything about tonight. Don't understand what you're upset about.
March 23, 2008 – 1:50 a.m.
Justin: When you ask me via text, "Horny?" at midnight, I take that as a booty call. I tell Lisa the news, even she agrees and drops me back at my place. And now you stand me up.
Still awaiting response . . .
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Uncles' Keeper
Kurt,
You know, I truly wish that we had more time to sit down and discuss this in person when I was visiting last week. Alas, we were both busy with our hectic schedules, and that didn't happen. I appreciate that you added at the end of your note that you weren't mad at me. It will allow me to respond to you in a less defensive tone; however, I do have quite a lot to say, and I would hope you take the extra time to read ALL of it. I'm not mad or pissed at you either, Kurt, but from what I've just read in your letter, you've been harboring a lot of assumptions about me that are incredibly inaccurate and, coming from you, especially hurtful. Frankly, that needs to stop, and it needs to stop NOW.
First off, I am fully aware of the trouble that Kris is facing both with his alcoholism as well as with his license/registration/insurance. I am fully aware that he WILL soon see the inside of a jail cell or drink himself to death. I've been aware of that ever since I've seen him shuffle off to bed with a handle of vodka at his old place in Reno. I was aware of it even before I went up to his cabin in Portola in December. When I sat down with you and Lisa the day before I went to find him, I had already gathered information from Andy and Ruby about how bad he was doing. Like I said when I asked you to come with me, I was NOT on a mission to hold an intervention for Kris. I've had plenty of experience with alcoholism throughout my life, Kurt. I even grew up around violent and manipulative drunks (see: Jon Bell), so I was NOT being naive about what I could (or could not) do for Kris when I decided to go see what he was up to.
At that point my main concern was ANDY. It had been obvious that Andy had been having an especially difficult time dealing with Kris. Unlike you or me, Andy does not have an extensive history with serious family drama, and all my cousin (and friend) wanted was another family member to check in on his dad. I have ALWAYS held Kris in high regard and actually wanted to see him -- not just check up on his well being -- so I volunteered to go. I asked you to come along just to show Kris that even if he chose not to join us for the usual family functions, we were still around and interested in seeing him. I thought of it like this: "It's one thing for Justin -- who only comes home to visit for two weeks at the end of the year -- to stop by and say hello. It's another thing for Justin, Kurt and whomever else to pop in and say, 'Hey, asshole, quit being such a hermit and come join your family for the holidays.'" Ruby had already told me that she and Kris's friends had tried to arrange a huge intervention for him -- had even offered to pay for his detox and counseling -- and Kris declined. Frankly, I wasn't expecting a miracle on my part either. And when you declined to come with me, I didn't take it personally. It was just an offer for you to join me. You were (understandably) busy with other things, and I was going to go with or without you. The End.
But things changed when I actually arrived there to find Kris huddled under four comforters in a cabin without power or heat. I had driven out there with the idea of finding him drunk and watching football in his underwear on the couch. Instead he was huddled and shivering in his bedroom. The house was a mess -- furniture knocked over, the toilet covered in vomit and shit, all the food rotting in his fridge. He had a black eye, a cut on the eyebrow and a huge bruise on his back. Best of all, he had been detoxing for three days without any food. HOWEVER, he was clear-headed and quick to answer my questions. I convinced him to come to Reno with me -- Andy had requested that I bring him back to his place -- and Kris got out of bed without any assistance. We searched for his glasses, gathered a basket of clothes and got in my car. At this time I told Kris that he really looked like shit and ASKED HIM IF HE WOULD LIKE TO GO SEE A DOCTOR. He declined and said all that he needed was some food and a hot shower. I considered it a victory to get him out of the cabin without a big argument, so I wasn't going to give him reason to leave by fighting and bickering with him about seeking medical help. (You yourself had even warned me about Kris and his temper the day before. I wasn't in the mood to see it flare up in his condition or with me behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.)
And then the real problems began. The moment my cell phone reception kicked in, I received a call from Ann. She pleaded -- PLEADED -- with me, Kurt, NOT to bring Kris to Andy's place. Her words: "Andy cannot deal with this right now. The last time Kris was this bad, he had a seizure in front of Andy and Andy flipped out. He had to see a counselor for a few weeks after that. Justin, you CANNOT do anything for Kris at this point, and you need to either take him back home or take him somewhere else. You're a good nephew for caring so much, but you cannot save him." That's the most fucked up part of ALL of this, Kurt: I WAS NEVER OUT TO "SAVE" KRIS! It's ridiculous that anyone would even think that! My simple goal was to get him cleaned up and try to help him figure out how to get his power and heat back on. Thing was, it was a Saturday, and nothing could be done about the utilities until after the weekend was over. And if I couldn't take him to Andy's, where in the fuck could I take him? I needed to think about this AND talk to Kris, but first he needed to eat. Thus, we picked up a pizza and stopped by your place.
Before I go further into this, let me state this loud and clear: I DID NOT BRING KRIS TO YOUR HOUSE TO GUILT-TRIP YOU OR GLOAT ABOUT BEING RIGHT ABOUT HIM BEING IN DIRE STRAITS. If I had the option, I would have taken him somewhere else to avoid you seeing him like you did. I had no interest in dropping off his problems on your doorstep, ESPECIALLY after the tense conversation we had the day before. That's why I told you, "I'm sorry, Kurt, but I couldn't take him to Andy's. We're just here to eat lunch while I make a few phone calls. Go about whatever it is you were doing." I wasn't trying to make you feel like shit or rub your brother's disrepair in your face, Kurt. I simply wanted to put him somewhere warm where he could eat, talk with me about what's next and possibly take a shower. After we ate and I counseled briefly with Andy, Ruby, Ann and Lon, Kris and I finally started a serious discussion.
Q: Ann told me that you've experienced seizures before. Are you feeling okay now?
A: Yeah, I feel fine. Better, actually, now that I ate.
Q: Do you feel any symptoms that usually preclude a seizure?
A: Nope.
Q: Lon told me that he has AA buddies who can come over and talk to you about going to a detox center. Would you be interested in that?
A: FUCK NO. I would rather go to JAIL before I go to a detox center.
I wasn't going to start arguing with Kris, especially in his state. I needed him to know that I was being supportive yet pragmatic. I told him that we needed to find a place for him to stay for the weekend so we could check out his finances on Monday. I told him that he COULD NOT stay with you -- you didn't have the room nor would it be fair to drop him off at your doorstep without warning (and don't you DARE think for a moment that I was going to do such a thing to you, Kurt; you know damn well that I respect you too much to pull a stunt like that) -- so we needed to think of somewhere else. He wasn't giving me any suggestions, so the initial plan was to take him to Leon and Joe's place and look after him there. Fortunately, my mom picked up when I called and told me to bring him over to her apartment.
It was never my intention to have my mother become Kris's keeper. Like I said, I just needed him to stay somewhere for the weekend. My mom said she could handle that, no problem. Well, the weekend turned into the week. Leon and I started running Kris around town in my car, and it seemed like he was getting back on his feet. Meanwhile, he was either camping out at my mom's apartment or Leon and Joe's house. Everything was getting back on track until he had his fucking seizure on New Year's Eve. And that's where all this came to a head. You see, Kurt, NO ONE HAD FUCKING TOLD ME THAT HIS SEIZURES COME 5-7 DAYS AFTER SERIOUS DETOXING. Not Ann, not Ruby, not Andy -- NOT EVEN FUCKING KRIS -- had the foresight to let me in on the key detail that the imbalance of electrolytes in the body caused by all the hard liquor causes serious damage days afterwards. It doesn't happen during detox or even just after -- it happens DAYS after. If I had known, you bet your ass I would've taken him to the hospital the same day that I found him in the cabin. Instead, I was left to coordinate with everyone from an Albertson's parking lot in Phoenix on New Year's Eve.
Meanwhile, you chose to call me at that exact moment to holler insults at me and offer up nothing but unkind words and unhelpful advice -- something that you've still yet to apologize for (and I doubt you ever will, so I'll simply write it off to you being upset about your brother's condition) -- but just remember this: I never ONCE dropped Kris at your doorstep with the expectation that you clean him up and take care of him; I never ONCE accused you of being a bad brother or uncle for not helping me find a solution for/with Kris; I never ONCE thought of you as a shirking your duties to your family. I WOULD NEVER THINK THAT. Like you've said time and again, Kris is a big boy who knows right from wrong. He is killing himself slowly and hurting his loved ones in the process AND THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN DO TO STOP HIM. I am FULLY aware of this, and if you don't think I am, then you are obviously not paying attention. Why do you think I retrieved his car in a fucking snowstorm the moment I returned to Reno, Kurt? I already KNEW beforehand that he's operating on a revoked license! But like Ann, Lon and Ruby told me, "You are not your uncle's keeper, so the only thing you can do is let himself go down the road to oblivion on his own volition." I don't like the idea of Kris driving around the city with a revoked license (let alone under the influence!), Kurt, but it is NOT our job to chauffeur him around or look after him 24/7. None of us have the time or money to babysit him! He's 52 years old! And if he wants to throw his life away, that's his call. I hate the idea just as much as you do, but this is the choice Kris will make for himself, regardless of how little or how much we lecture him about it. My mother has repeatedly given him the option of taking him to a detox center or her counseling sessions; he's declined every time. Not much she (or you or I) can do after that.
And that's where we come to the crux of the situation, Kurt. Just as you need to STOP ASSUMING that I think you or my mom will be the "heroes" who will save Kris, you also need to STOP BLAMING me for his condition. It is SO. FUCKING. EASY. to criticize me for bringing light to an ugly situation, but you MUST understand that I am and will continually be on your side. In simplest terms, WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER. WE ARE FAMILY. All I wanted for the holidays was to have my closest family members come together and share a meal; it's been such a long time since it's happened, but it didn't mean that it was impossible. (Example: Lisa and I convincing you to invite my mother over for the first time in three years!) It was never my intention to make you feel like you (or my mom) had to go about keeping a constant vigil over your brother. And just like you've had to kick others out of your house (i.e., my mom and Monty '04), you might have to bar Kris from coming in as well. I've told the EXACT SAME THING to my mother, too. I've said to her, "Jan Margaret, it is not your job to take care of Kris. You need to look after yourself first, so if it gets to a point where you can't handle it anymore, you send him on his way." Fuck, Kurt, I've said the same to Kris(!): "Kris, my mom and Kurt (or Leon and Joe) can't look after you all the time. If they ask you to leave, you better have a place to go, so get your shit together." Despite what you think, I haven't been running away from any responsibilities. I've kept in touch with everyone who can keep me informed, Kurt. And when Kris needs to talk to someone, he's never hesitated to call me. But just because I'm realistic about what's coming next and refuse to treat my uncle like a child -- You really think I myself haven't warned Kris about DUIs and jail time? Or the dangers of having another seizure? You really think he listens to anyone? -- doesn't mean I'm short-changing anyone. NOT YOU, NOT MY MOM, NOT KRIS -- NOT ANYONE.
As far as my mom goes, yes, I am thankful for her kindness, compassion and love for her family. But as far as your advice of "practicing what I preach" goes -- and please take the following statement with a grain of salt -- go fuck yourself, Kurt. If you had ever generated enough interest these past few years to actually sit down with me and ask about my issues with my mother, I would have happily told you why I had little interest in getting involved in her dramas. I would have told you that I have no interest in continuing to support her codependent lifestyle, that I had had my fill in life with the Jon Bells and Monty Fullers of the world and had no interest in dealing further with the likes of them. I had no interest in supporting her drinking, the suspending of her nursing license, the voluntary homelessness, the debts she racked up around town, the bouncing checks, the vitriol she spewed about her best friends and family who no longer supported her on her downward spiral and especially THE THEFT OF HER BROTHER'S TRUCK. In fact, the primary reason I stayed out of touch with her for the past three years was partially out of respect to you; her stealing your truck was the last straw for both of us, Kurt, so I would appreciate it if you would stop pointing a finger in my direction. (Seriously, if we're going to futilely lob stones at glass houses, wouldn't it be easy to remind you that you once said my mother was "dead to you" after stealing your truck? Shit, Kurt, even I've never said such a hateful thing!) I rarely if ever badmouthed my mother in front of you. But as far as I was concerned, I had NO mother to come home and visit for the longest time. My mother was a respectable woman who raised me to be upfront, honest and kind to those who gave me the same respect in turn. She stopped giving me that respect; thus, she lost mine. She changed for the worse a long time ago, and she's just now slowly working her way back from whatever dark corners she's been slumming around for the past decade. I am proud of the progress she's making. It is my sincere hope that she doesn't backslide.
And while we're addressing everything at once, please stop blaming me for Tammy's behavior, too. You made a cruel jab recently saying, "If you want to spend time patching up family issues, tell your cunt Aunt to quit suing me." Kurt, you know damn well that barb was simply uncalled for. Whether you like it or not, I come home once a year to see my family. Like it or not, Tammy has been in my family for 23 years (you can blame yourself for that). No, I do not support her recent behavior and have even promised you that I will not maintain contact with her until she decides to knock it off and leave you alone for good. (Trust me, Kurt, her actions are painting a very ugly picture of her, and I am already less inclined to keep in touch even after all this is over.) But you need to respect why I would keep in touch with her in the first place and then get the fuck off my back. It's simple: When I first moved to Chicago and came back home, I had nowhere to go. My mother was AWOL and I had no "home" to call my own. That's where you and Tammy came in. If you don't remember, you and I didn't even have much of a bond until that first time I came home. Same with Tammy. Both of you extended a kindness and support that I had never seen before, and I still appreciate that same kindness and support from both of you to this day. Yes, you are my blood and I would pick you in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but you can't expect me to spurn the woman just because she's always suing you. One of my biggest regrets in life has been losing touch with Ann. She was a wonderful aunt, and now the only time I get to talk with her is when we're chatting about the sorry state of Kris. In that respect, I don't want to permanently distance myself from Tammy. I have never gossiped with her about your life nor do I allow her to make snide comments about you either. One day this all will be over, she will finally retract those claws and then I will make my decision about keeping in touch with her. Rest assured, though, if I do keep in touch, IT WOULD NOT BE TO SPITE YOU. So, please, knock it off!
Finally, I want to say this again: WE ARE ON THE SAME SIDE. Bickering, finger-pointing and blind accusations will only destroy us. We can help Kris the best we can -- kind words, a pat on the back, a good meal -- but we must accept that he will live and die by his own choices AND we did nothing wrong in letting him do so. I do not have the time to take a sabbatical any more than you do, Kurt. I myself have $8000 in credit card debt and owe another $1000 to my friend for a loan after all my cash was stolen in Africa. No one will pay off my debts for me, and they need to be paid. That said, we all have our problems . . . but we are not alone in our worry and suffering. I have helped Kris every way I can at this time; I know you have done the same. I understand that you are angry, frustrated and worried about his predicament but lashing out at me will solve nothing. You, too, need to understand that you are NOT your brother's keeper. You are a WONDERFUL brother, and I am proud that you are my uncle. I love my family, Kurt. I love you. I respect and admire you. In many ways you are a hero, but I don't ever expect you to be invincible or omnipotent or have the solution to all life's (or Kris's) problems. I don't expect you to pick up your brother's pieces. Just be there when you can like you always have been and know that you did your best when the chips finally fall where they may.
No, Kurt, I truly don't look forward to that phone call in the near future, but I will pick it up when the time comes.
Sincerely,
JVH
03/15/2008
You know, I truly wish that we had more time to sit down and discuss this in person when I was visiting last week. Alas, we were both busy with our hectic schedules, and that didn't happen. I appreciate that you added at the end of your note that you weren't mad at me. It will allow me to respond to you in a less defensive tone; however, I do have quite a lot to say, and I would hope you take the extra time to read ALL of it. I'm not mad or pissed at you either, Kurt, but from what I've just read in your letter, you've been harboring a lot of assumptions about me that are incredibly inaccurate and, coming from you, especially hurtful. Frankly, that needs to stop, and it needs to stop NOW.
First off, I am fully aware of the trouble that Kris is facing both with his alcoholism as well as with his license/registration/insurance. I am fully aware that he WILL soon see the inside of a jail cell or drink himself to death. I've been aware of that ever since I've seen him shuffle off to bed with a handle of vodka at his old place in Reno. I was aware of it even before I went up to his cabin in Portola in December. When I sat down with you and Lisa the day before I went to find him, I had already gathered information from Andy and Ruby about how bad he was doing. Like I said when I asked you to come with me, I was NOT on a mission to hold an intervention for Kris. I've had plenty of experience with alcoholism throughout my life, Kurt. I even grew up around violent and manipulative drunks (see: Jon Bell), so I was NOT being naive about what I could (or could not) do for Kris when I decided to go see what he was up to.
At that point my main concern was ANDY. It had been obvious that Andy had been having an especially difficult time dealing with Kris. Unlike you or me, Andy does not have an extensive history with serious family drama, and all my cousin (and friend) wanted was another family member to check in on his dad. I have ALWAYS held Kris in high regard and actually wanted to see him -- not just check up on his well being -- so I volunteered to go. I asked you to come along just to show Kris that even if he chose not to join us for the usual family functions, we were still around and interested in seeing him. I thought of it like this: "It's one thing for Justin -- who only comes home to visit for two weeks at the end of the year -- to stop by and say hello. It's another thing for Justin, Kurt and whomever else to pop in and say, 'Hey, asshole, quit being such a hermit and come join your family for the holidays.'" Ruby had already told me that she and Kris's friends had tried to arrange a huge intervention for him -- had even offered to pay for his detox and counseling -- and Kris declined. Frankly, I wasn't expecting a miracle on my part either. And when you declined to come with me, I didn't take it personally. It was just an offer for you to join me. You were (understandably) busy with other things, and I was going to go with or without you. The End.
But things changed when I actually arrived there to find Kris huddled under four comforters in a cabin without power or heat. I had driven out there with the idea of finding him drunk and watching football in his underwear on the couch. Instead he was huddled and shivering in his bedroom. The house was a mess -- furniture knocked over, the toilet covered in vomit and shit, all the food rotting in his fridge. He had a black eye, a cut on the eyebrow and a huge bruise on his back. Best of all, he had been detoxing for three days without any food. HOWEVER, he was clear-headed and quick to answer my questions. I convinced him to come to Reno with me -- Andy had requested that I bring him back to his place -- and Kris got out of bed without any assistance. We searched for his glasses, gathered a basket of clothes and got in my car. At this time I told Kris that he really looked like shit and ASKED HIM IF HE WOULD LIKE TO GO SEE A DOCTOR. He declined and said all that he needed was some food and a hot shower. I considered it a victory to get him out of the cabin without a big argument, so I wasn't going to give him reason to leave by fighting and bickering with him about seeking medical help. (You yourself had even warned me about Kris and his temper the day before. I wasn't in the mood to see it flare up in his condition or with me behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.)
And then the real problems began. The moment my cell phone reception kicked in, I received a call from Ann. She pleaded -- PLEADED -- with me, Kurt, NOT to bring Kris to Andy's place. Her words: "Andy cannot deal with this right now. The last time Kris was this bad, he had a seizure in front of Andy and Andy flipped out. He had to see a counselor for a few weeks after that. Justin, you CANNOT do anything for Kris at this point, and you need to either take him back home or take him somewhere else. You're a good nephew for caring so much, but you cannot save him." That's the most fucked up part of ALL of this, Kurt: I WAS NEVER OUT TO "SAVE" KRIS! It's ridiculous that anyone would even think that! My simple goal was to get him cleaned up and try to help him figure out how to get his power and heat back on. Thing was, it was a Saturday, and nothing could be done about the utilities until after the weekend was over. And if I couldn't take him to Andy's, where in the fuck could I take him? I needed to think about this AND talk to Kris, but first he needed to eat. Thus, we picked up a pizza and stopped by your place.
Before I go further into this, let me state this loud and clear: I DID NOT BRING KRIS TO YOUR HOUSE TO GUILT-TRIP YOU OR GLOAT ABOUT BEING RIGHT ABOUT HIM BEING IN DIRE STRAITS. If I had the option, I would have taken him somewhere else to avoid you seeing him like you did. I had no interest in dropping off his problems on your doorstep, ESPECIALLY after the tense conversation we had the day before. That's why I told you, "I'm sorry, Kurt, but I couldn't take him to Andy's. We're just here to eat lunch while I make a few phone calls. Go about whatever it is you were doing." I wasn't trying to make you feel like shit or rub your brother's disrepair in your face, Kurt. I simply wanted to put him somewhere warm where he could eat, talk with me about what's next and possibly take a shower. After we ate and I counseled briefly with Andy, Ruby, Ann and Lon, Kris and I finally started a serious discussion.
Q: Ann told me that you've experienced seizures before. Are you feeling okay now?
A: Yeah, I feel fine. Better, actually, now that I ate.
Q: Do you feel any symptoms that usually preclude a seizure?
A: Nope.
Q: Lon told me that he has AA buddies who can come over and talk to you about going to a detox center. Would you be interested in that?
A: FUCK NO. I would rather go to JAIL before I go to a detox center.
I wasn't going to start arguing with Kris, especially in his state. I needed him to know that I was being supportive yet pragmatic. I told him that we needed to find a place for him to stay for the weekend so we could check out his finances on Monday. I told him that he COULD NOT stay with you -- you didn't have the room nor would it be fair to drop him off at your doorstep without warning (and don't you DARE think for a moment that I was going to do such a thing to you, Kurt; you know damn well that I respect you too much to pull a stunt like that) -- so we needed to think of somewhere else. He wasn't giving me any suggestions, so the initial plan was to take him to Leon and Joe's place and look after him there. Fortunately, my mom picked up when I called and told me to bring him over to her apartment.
It was never my intention to have my mother become Kris's keeper. Like I said, I just needed him to stay somewhere for the weekend. My mom said she could handle that, no problem. Well, the weekend turned into the week. Leon and I started running Kris around town in my car, and it seemed like he was getting back on his feet. Meanwhile, he was either camping out at my mom's apartment or Leon and Joe's house. Everything was getting back on track until he had his fucking seizure on New Year's Eve. And that's where all this came to a head. You see, Kurt, NO ONE HAD FUCKING TOLD ME THAT HIS SEIZURES COME 5-7 DAYS AFTER SERIOUS DETOXING. Not Ann, not Ruby, not Andy -- NOT EVEN FUCKING KRIS -- had the foresight to let me in on the key detail that the imbalance of electrolytes in the body caused by all the hard liquor causes serious damage days afterwards. It doesn't happen during detox or even just after -- it happens DAYS after. If I had known, you bet your ass I would've taken him to the hospital the same day that I found him in the cabin. Instead, I was left to coordinate with everyone from an Albertson's parking lot in Phoenix on New Year's Eve.
Meanwhile, you chose to call me at that exact moment to holler insults at me and offer up nothing but unkind words and unhelpful advice -- something that you've still yet to apologize for (and I doubt you ever will, so I'll simply write it off to you being upset about your brother's condition) -- but just remember this: I never ONCE dropped Kris at your doorstep with the expectation that you clean him up and take care of him; I never ONCE accused you of being a bad brother or uncle for not helping me find a solution for/with Kris; I never ONCE thought of you as a shirking your duties to your family. I WOULD NEVER THINK THAT. Like you've said time and again, Kris is a big boy who knows right from wrong. He is killing himself slowly and hurting his loved ones in the process AND THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN DO TO STOP HIM. I am FULLY aware of this, and if you don't think I am, then you are obviously not paying attention. Why do you think I retrieved his car in a fucking snowstorm the moment I returned to Reno, Kurt? I already KNEW beforehand that he's operating on a revoked license! But like Ann, Lon and Ruby told me, "You are not your uncle's keeper, so the only thing you can do is let himself go down the road to oblivion on his own volition." I don't like the idea of Kris driving around the city with a revoked license (let alone under the influence!), Kurt, but it is NOT our job to chauffeur him around or look after him 24/7. None of us have the time or money to babysit him! He's 52 years old! And if he wants to throw his life away, that's his call. I hate the idea just as much as you do, but this is the choice Kris will make for himself, regardless of how little or how much we lecture him about it. My mother has repeatedly given him the option of taking him to a detox center or her counseling sessions; he's declined every time. Not much she (or you or I) can do after that.
And that's where we come to the crux of the situation, Kurt. Just as you need to STOP ASSUMING that I think you or my mom will be the "heroes" who will save Kris, you also need to STOP BLAMING me for his condition. It is SO. FUCKING. EASY. to criticize me for bringing light to an ugly situation, but you MUST understand that I am and will continually be on your side. In simplest terms, WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER. WE ARE FAMILY. All I wanted for the holidays was to have my closest family members come together and share a meal; it's been such a long time since it's happened, but it didn't mean that it was impossible. (Example: Lisa and I convincing you to invite my mother over for the first time in three years!) It was never my intention to make you feel like you (or my mom) had to go about keeping a constant vigil over your brother. And just like you've had to kick others out of your house (i.e., my mom and Monty '04), you might have to bar Kris from coming in as well. I've told the EXACT SAME THING to my mother, too. I've said to her, "Jan Margaret, it is not your job to take care of Kris. You need to look after yourself first, so if it gets to a point where you can't handle it anymore, you send him on his way." Fuck, Kurt, I've said the same to Kris(!): "Kris, my mom and Kurt (or Leon and Joe) can't look after you all the time. If they ask you to leave, you better have a place to go, so get your shit together." Despite what you think, I haven't been running away from any responsibilities. I've kept in touch with everyone who can keep me informed, Kurt. And when Kris needs to talk to someone, he's never hesitated to call me. But just because I'm realistic about what's coming next and refuse to treat my uncle like a child -- You really think I myself haven't warned Kris about DUIs and jail time? Or the dangers of having another seizure? You really think he listens to anyone? -- doesn't mean I'm short-changing anyone. NOT YOU, NOT MY MOM, NOT KRIS -- NOT ANYONE.
As far as my mom goes, yes, I am thankful for her kindness, compassion and love for her family. But as far as your advice of "practicing what I preach" goes -- and please take the following statement with a grain of salt -- go fuck yourself, Kurt. If you had ever generated enough interest these past few years to actually sit down with me and ask about my issues with my mother, I would have happily told you why I had little interest in getting involved in her dramas. I would have told you that I have no interest in continuing to support her codependent lifestyle, that I had had my fill in life with the Jon Bells and Monty Fullers of the world and had no interest in dealing further with the likes of them. I had no interest in supporting her drinking, the suspending of her nursing license, the voluntary homelessness, the debts she racked up around town, the bouncing checks, the vitriol she spewed about her best friends and family who no longer supported her on her downward spiral and especially THE THEFT OF HER BROTHER'S TRUCK. In fact, the primary reason I stayed out of touch with her for the past three years was partially out of respect to you; her stealing your truck was the last straw for both of us, Kurt, so I would appreciate it if you would stop pointing a finger in my direction. (Seriously, if we're going to futilely lob stones at glass houses, wouldn't it be easy to remind you that you once said my mother was "dead to you" after stealing your truck? Shit, Kurt, even I've never said such a hateful thing!) I rarely if ever badmouthed my mother in front of you. But as far as I was concerned, I had NO mother to come home and visit for the longest time. My mother was a respectable woman who raised me to be upfront, honest and kind to those who gave me the same respect in turn. She stopped giving me that respect; thus, she lost mine. She changed for the worse a long time ago, and she's just now slowly working her way back from whatever dark corners she's been slumming around for the past decade. I am proud of the progress she's making. It is my sincere hope that she doesn't backslide.
And while we're addressing everything at once, please stop blaming me for Tammy's behavior, too. You made a cruel jab recently saying, "If you want to spend time patching up family issues, tell your cunt Aunt to quit suing me." Kurt, you know damn well that barb was simply uncalled for. Whether you like it or not, I come home once a year to see my family. Like it or not, Tammy has been in my family for 23 years (you can blame yourself for that). No, I do not support her recent behavior and have even promised you that I will not maintain contact with her until she decides to knock it off and leave you alone for good. (Trust me, Kurt, her actions are painting a very ugly picture of her, and I am already less inclined to keep in touch even after all this is over.) But you need to respect why I would keep in touch with her in the first place and then get the fuck off my back. It's simple: When I first moved to Chicago and came back home, I had nowhere to go. My mother was AWOL and I had no "home" to call my own. That's where you and Tammy came in. If you don't remember, you and I didn't even have much of a bond until that first time I came home. Same with Tammy. Both of you extended a kindness and support that I had never seen before, and I still appreciate that same kindness and support from both of you to this day. Yes, you are my blood and I would pick you in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but you can't expect me to spurn the woman just because she's always suing you. One of my biggest regrets in life has been losing touch with Ann. She was a wonderful aunt, and now the only time I get to talk with her is when we're chatting about the sorry state of Kris. In that respect, I don't want to permanently distance myself from Tammy. I have never gossiped with her about your life nor do I allow her to make snide comments about you either. One day this all will be over, she will finally retract those claws and then I will make my decision about keeping in touch with her. Rest assured, though, if I do keep in touch, IT WOULD NOT BE TO SPITE YOU. So, please, knock it off!
Finally, I want to say this again: WE ARE ON THE SAME SIDE. Bickering, finger-pointing and blind accusations will only destroy us. We can help Kris the best we can -- kind words, a pat on the back, a good meal -- but we must accept that he will live and die by his own choices AND we did nothing wrong in letting him do so. I do not have the time to take a sabbatical any more than you do, Kurt. I myself have $8000 in credit card debt and owe another $1000 to my friend for a loan after all my cash was stolen in Africa. No one will pay off my debts for me, and they need to be paid. That said, we all have our problems . . . but we are not alone in our worry and suffering. I have helped Kris every way I can at this time; I know you have done the same. I understand that you are angry, frustrated and worried about his predicament but lashing out at me will solve nothing. You, too, need to understand that you are NOT your brother's keeper. You are a WONDERFUL brother, and I am proud that you are my uncle. I love my family, Kurt. I love you. I respect and admire you. In many ways you are a hero, but I don't ever expect you to be invincible or omnipotent or have the solution to all life's (or Kris's) problems. I don't expect you to pick up your brother's pieces. Just be there when you can like you always have been and know that you did your best when the chips finally fall where they may.
No, Kurt, I truly don't look forward to that phone call in the near future, but I will pick it up when the time comes.
Sincerely,
JVH
03/15/2008
Velander's Epic Vacation 2008: A Summary
Velander's Epic Vacation 2008 (December 14, 2007 - March 16, 2008):
America:
8000 collective miles on interstates and highways.
1018 miles driven in one stretch (damn, I must be getting old 'cause that's just lazy).
120 mph on I-10E from LA to Phoenix.
29 tanks of gas.
11 couches/beds made up for me.
9 states traversed (IL, MO, AR, OK, TX, NM, AZ, NV, CA).
4 friends permanently jettisoned from my life.
3 incredibly vindictive, purposely ill-timed and completely unnecessary mind-games from ex-girlfriend. (So much for that clean break-up that I had in mind . . .)
2 new cars purchased (one in December for trip out West; one in March due to the fact that December car turned out to be money pit).
2 amazing in-studio band interviews.
2 rude and righteous e-mails from an uncle that essentially accused me of meddling too much with family affairs.
1 uncle -- not the author of the accusatory e-mails, the other one -- discovered in his cabin without power and heat detoxing for three days without food. (I dropped in to say hello and find out what the hell was so important that he couldn't make it to Christmas dinner -- part of my alleged "meddling," if you will.)
1 stressful New Year's Eve spent yelling at my mother over the phone to get to the hospital and find out alcoholic uncle's condition after he had a seizure and then going off to have a ridiculous fight with a romantic interest over the fact that there didn't seem to be much interest at all.
1 unnerving phone call from ex on New Year's Day informing me that she was now dating one of our mutual friends -- something she promised me that she had no interest in and would never do "in order to avoid further awkwardness anyway" -- and that there will likely be pics posted up of their fated New Year's kiss, so "I wanted to tell you before you stumbled upon them on your own" (Mind Game #1: "Operation: Adios, Amigos!"). (To be honest, this was the least bothersome mind game of the three. The next two were pure, premeditated evil. I'm still too incensed to appreciate the craft put into them.)
1 wonderful holiday party with friends before making my way out West. (Thanks, Dramafarie!)
1 immensely enjoyable season finale to Season 16 of BFN Networks.
1 incredible offer for what would've been a mind-blowing threesome that, sadly, got called off at the last minute. ("Argh!" indeed, Charlie Brown. "Argh!" indeed.)
1 unexpected rejection from a new flame.
1 completely unexpected, "one-night-only, get-it-now-before-I-come-to-my-senses" booty text message from an old acquaintance. (Alas, I wouldn't be back in Chicago until the next day, so I missed out! Fuck me! But what an ego boost!)
1 cherished farewell before Africa.
1 lackluster homecoming to Chicago.
1 best friend suffering a girlfriend who seriously considers me to be his baggage and a possible future liability. (Are you fucking kidding me?! At what point have I EVER been a goddamn liability?! Okay, now I'm offended!)
1 close friend considering moving halfway across the country again to be with the boy who already broke her heart twice.
1 close friend dealing with an unwanted pregnancy followed by an equally unwanted miscarriage.
1 fight with another best friend over replacing brake pads that nearly came to blows (seriously, what the fuck!).
1 late-night milkshake with an aspiring doctor in San Francisco.
1 movie night in Costa Mesa with an aspiring acrobat.
1 break from the road to celebrate St. Paddy Day's with three highly entertaining strangers in St. Louis.
1 best friend awaiting my final arrival so I could nurse her back to health (Vitamin C and fresh air do wonders, I tell ya! Squeak!)
1 fortuitous renewal of my contract with my my old job.
1 much-needed romantic fling with an intelligent, well-rounded, witty and absolutely gorgeous (and tall!) redhead with colorful knee-length socks. (Best. Christmas Gift. EVER.)
1 possible love interest on the horizon (not the redhead . . . actually, not sure where this is going just yet so don't get too excited, okay?).
West Africa:
3 countries explored (Senegal, Mali, The Gambia).
1 country denied entrance to due to "security issues" (aka terrorist activities) (Mauritania).
$2000US stolen by guide who then abandoned me on the beach on Day 10.
$1000US loaned by the Bank of Mouse on Day 15.
$850US pulled off credit card for emergency cash on Day 11.
$600US pulled off credit card for special purchase on Day 8.
942 photos taken (and 12 videos recorded).
100+ collective hours trapped in horrendous buses, bush taxis, vans and trucks that all should have been scrapped ten years ago.
35 postcards sent to friends and relatives all over the world.
26 collective hours on three international flights.
21 stamps in passport from twenty border checkpoints and the tourism board of Timbuktu.
11 nights sleeping on a mattress in the elevator maintenance room of a 15-story apartment building in downtown Dakar.
10 new foreign friends I would trust with my life (and possibly my wallet; verdict's still out on that).
8 notable arguments/shouting matches over money/schedule conflicts with guides/drivers.
7 professional paintings acquired from local artists.
6 weeks without sex. (Told you I could do it!)
6 kids likely traumatized by my aggressive responses to their unwarranted begging. (Hey, they asked for it!)
5 books read (Dance of Death, Foucault's Pendulum, Gates of Africa, The Memory Keeper's Daughter, Lonely Planet: West Africa).
3 much-appreciated double-feature movie nights at Kadjinol Station (Top picks: Dead Man, Chinatown, Training Day).
3 camel rides in Timbuktu.
3 beaches lounged upon (Cap Skirring, Kafountine, Kartong).
2 expensive paintings transported 208 km across two countries via four buses and one ferry all while suffering from a nasty head cold (now that was a fucking stressful day).
1 pricey but worthwhile day trip to Dogon Country.
1 particularly nightmarish bus ride from Bamako, Mali to Tambacounda, Senegal (trust me, it's a bad omen to see a goat flying off the roof of a speeding bus).
1 awesome car ride from Douentza to Timbuktu (Mali) in which I was able to plug my iPod into the radio and rock out to The Ghost Of You: The Best Songs of 2006 (Free Download!).
1 good to honest rumble in Serekunda, The Gambia. (No bullshit - I nearly incited a riot! Go me!)
1 incredibly sore ass. (Thanks to all those punishing bus/bush taxi rides, I could barely sit down by the end of my travels. The plane ride back home was excruciating!)
Countless amazing meals all throughout my trip!
This year I've gone from Chicago to San Francisco to Timbuktu and back. I've never been so happy to return to the Windy City.
America:
8000 collective miles on interstates and highways.
1018 miles driven in one stretch (damn, I must be getting old 'cause that's just lazy).
120 mph on I-10E from LA to Phoenix.
29 tanks of gas.
11 couches/beds made up for me.
9 states traversed (IL, MO, AR, OK, TX, NM, AZ, NV, CA).
4 friends permanently jettisoned from my life.
3 incredibly vindictive, purposely ill-timed and completely unnecessary mind-games from ex-girlfriend. (So much for that clean break-up that I had in mind . . .)
2 new cars purchased (one in December for trip out West; one in March due to the fact that December car turned out to be money pit).
2 amazing in-studio band interviews.
2 rude and righteous e-mails from an uncle that essentially accused me of meddling too much with family affairs.
1 uncle -- not the author of the accusatory e-mails, the other one -- discovered in his cabin without power and heat detoxing for three days without food. (I dropped in to say hello and find out what the hell was so important that he couldn't make it to Christmas dinner -- part of my alleged "meddling," if you will.)
1 stressful New Year's Eve spent yelling at my mother over the phone to get to the hospital and find out alcoholic uncle's condition after he had a seizure and then going off to have a ridiculous fight with a romantic interest over the fact that there didn't seem to be much interest at all.
1 unnerving phone call from ex on New Year's Day informing me that she was now dating one of our mutual friends -- something she promised me that she had no interest in and would never do "in order to avoid further awkwardness anyway" -- and that there will likely be pics posted up of their fated New Year's kiss, so "I wanted to tell you before you stumbled upon them on your own" (Mind Game #1: "Operation: Adios, Amigos!"). (To be honest, this was the least bothersome mind game of the three. The next two were pure, premeditated evil. I'm still too incensed to appreciate the craft put into them.)
1 wonderful holiday party with friends before making my way out West. (Thanks, Dramafarie!)
1 immensely enjoyable season finale to Season 16 of BFN Networks.
1 incredible offer for what would've been a mind-blowing threesome that, sadly, got called off at the last minute. ("Argh!" indeed, Charlie Brown. "Argh!" indeed.)
1 unexpected rejection from a new flame.
1 completely unexpected, "one-night-only, get-it-now-before-I-come-to-my-senses" booty text message from an old acquaintance. (Alas, I wouldn't be back in Chicago until the next day, so I missed out! Fuck me! But what an ego boost!)
1 cherished farewell before Africa.
1 lackluster homecoming to Chicago.
1 best friend suffering a girlfriend who seriously considers me to be his baggage and a possible future liability. (Are you fucking kidding me?! At what point have I EVER been a goddamn liability?! Okay, now I'm offended!)
1 close friend considering moving halfway across the country again to be with the boy who already broke her heart twice.
1 close friend dealing with an unwanted pregnancy followed by an equally unwanted miscarriage.
1 fight with another best friend over replacing brake pads that nearly came to blows (seriously, what the fuck!).
1 late-night milkshake with an aspiring doctor in San Francisco.
1 movie night in Costa Mesa with an aspiring acrobat.
1 break from the road to celebrate St. Paddy Day's with three highly entertaining strangers in St. Louis.
1 best friend awaiting my final arrival so I could nurse her back to health (Vitamin C and fresh air do wonders, I tell ya! Squeak!)
1 fortuitous renewal of my contract with my my old job.
1 much-needed romantic fling with an intelligent, well-rounded, witty and absolutely gorgeous (and tall!) redhead with colorful knee-length socks. (Best. Christmas Gift. EVER.)
1 possible love interest on the horizon (not the redhead . . . actually, not sure where this is going just yet so don't get too excited, okay?).
West Africa:
3 countries explored (Senegal, Mali, The Gambia).
1 country denied entrance to due to "security issues" (aka terrorist activities) (Mauritania).
$2000US stolen by guide who then abandoned me on the beach on Day 10.
$1000US loaned by the Bank of Mouse on Day 15.
$850US pulled off credit card for emergency cash on Day 11.
$600US pulled off credit card for special purchase on Day 8.
942 photos taken (and 12 videos recorded).
100+ collective hours trapped in horrendous buses, bush taxis, vans and trucks that all should have been scrapped ten years ago.
35 postcards sent to friends and relatives all over the world.
26 collective hours on three international flights.
21 stamps in passport from twenty border checkpoints and the tourism board of Timbuktu.
11 nights sleeping on a mattress in the elevator maintenance room of a 15-story apartment building in downtown Dakar.
10 new foreign friends I would trust with my life (and possibly my wallet; verdict's still out on that).
8 notable arguments/shouting matches over money/schedule conflicts with guides/drivers.
7 professional paintings acquired from local artists.
6 weeks without sex. (Told you I could do it!)
6 kids likely traumatized by my aggressive responses to their unwarranted begging. (Hey, they asked for it!)
5 books read (Dance of Death, Foucault's Pendulum, Gates of Africa, The Memory Keeper's Daughter, Lonely Planet: West Africa).
3 much-appreciated double-feature movie nights at Kadjinol Station (Top picks: Dead Man, Chinatown, Training Day).
3 camel rides in Timbuktu.
3 beaches lounged upon (Cap Skirring, Kafountine, Kartong).
2 expensive paintings transported 208 km across two countries via four buses and one ferry all while suffering from a nasty head cold (now that was a fucking stressful day).
1 pricey but worthwhile day trip to Dogon Country.
1 particularly nightmarish bus ride from Bamako, Mali to Tambacounda, Senegal (trust me, it's a bad omen to see a goat flying off the roof of a speeding bus).
1 awesome car ride from Douentza to Timbuktu (Mali) in which I was able to plug my iPod into the radio and rock out to The Ghost Of You: The Best Songs of 2006 (Free Download!).
1 good to honest rumble in Serekunda, The Gambia. (No bullshit - I nearly incited a riot! Go me!)
1 incredibly sore ass. (Thanks to all those punishing bus/bush taxi rides, I could barely sit down by the end of my travels. The plane ride back home was excruciating!)
Countless amazing meals all throughout my trip!
This year I've gone from Chicago to San Francisco to Timbuktu and back. I've never been so happy to return to the Windy City.
Timbuktu OR ELSE!
A note that I sent to my friend Lauren that I thought I would share with all of you:
Greetings from Bamako, Mali! I just got in this afternoon and was finally able to check my OKC mail. (For some reason I can't access my account from Senegal.) The last three weeks have consisted of AMAZING food; wonderful sunsets on white beaches; not understanding anyone (my French is appalling); long car rides on terrible roads in shitty "bush taxis" that should've been scrapped ten years ago; being turned away at the Mauritanian border because they're no longer allowing white people in due to Al-Qaeda (four Frenchman got their throats slit in the desert when passing through for the Dakar Rally); and my guide spending (or pocketing) all my money and abandoning me in Cap Skirring, the southernmost point in Senegal - and one of the most difficult places to be if you have to track a person back to Dakar with little cash. The police are now looking for him, but he has effectively derailed my vacation. After realizing how much of a nightmare this trip has been, I was ready to throw in the towel. But then I remembered that my room in Chicago is subleased until the end of the month AND I've already dumped a large stack of bills just get there, so I might as well stick it out.
And that's just what I'm going to do.
I've lost so much time on this trip - all thanks to this asshole who stole my money - so now I'm forced to make a mad dash for Timbuktu. It's going to be a grueling two-day bus ride to get there, but I'm hoping for the best. I came here to reach one of the most remote outposts in the world and ride a camel, damnit! Wish me luck!
I hope this e-mail finds you well. If I don't reply for a while, it's likely because I'm stranded in the middle of the Sahara.
JVH
02/06/2008
Greetings from Bamako, Mali! I just got in this afternoon and was finally able to check my OKC mail. (For some reason I can't access my account from Senegal.) The last three weeks have consisted of AMAZING food; wonderful sunsets on white beaches; not understanding anyone (my French is appalling); long car rides on terrible roads in shitty "bush taxis" that should've been scrapped ten years ago; being turned away at the Mauritanian border because they're no longer allowing white people in due to Al-Qaeda (four Frenchman got their throats slit in the desert when passing through for the Dakar Rally); and my guide spending (or pocketing) all my money and abandoning me in Cap Skirring, the southernmost point in Senegal - and one of the most difficult places to be if you have to track a person back to Dakar with little cash. The police are now looking for him, but he has effectively derailed my vacation. After realizing how much of a nightmare this trip has been, I was ready to throw in the towel. But then I remembered that my room in Chicago is subleased until the end of the month AND I've already dumped a large stack of bills just get there, so I might as well stick it out.
And that's just what I'm going to do.
I've lost so much time on this trip - all thanks to this asshole who stole my money - so now I'm forced to make a mad dash for Timbuktu. It's going to be a grueling two-day bus ride to get there, but I'm hoping for the best. I came here to reach one of the most remote outposts in the world and ride a camel, damnit! Wish me luck!
I hope this e-mail finds you well. If I don't reply for a while, it's likely because I'm stranded in the middle of the Sahara.
JVH
02/06/2008
The Cornwell Incident
“May I speak to Jen?”
“Hold on a second, I’ll get her.”
I’m in my bedroom, waiting for Jennifer Cornwell to answer the phone at work.
“Hi, this is Jen.”
“Hi, Jen. It’s Justin.”
There’s an awkward pause.
That’s not good.
“Oh . . . hey, Justin.”
“So, I was wondering what time you wanted me to pick you up after work. The movie starts at nine-fifteen, and we should leave early to get out there in time.”
I’m taking Jennifer Cornwell to a movie. We have to drive fifteen miles to Gardnerville because the film is a limited release that never made it to Carson City.
There’s another awkward pause.
That’s really not good.
“Um, Justin . . . the thing is that . . .” Cornwell fumbles.
She’s killing me here, so I urge her along.
“Yes?”
“I don’t think I should go to the movie with you,” she finishes.
“May I ask why?”
She pauses again. My stomach twists into knots.
This is a predicament.
“Justin, you shouldn’t have been at my house last night.”
“What?” I demand.
This is not happening.
“I saw you last night, Justin. I saw you drive by my house, and I’m worried.”
I’m too stunned to reply.
She’s right. I did drive by her house. But that’s it. Anything else here is simply bad timing and paranoia.
The truth is that Ben and I attended a midnight showing of a second-run indie movie in Reno last night. When I dropped him off at home afterwards, I was feeling quite restless despite the late hour, so I decided to cruise around my old neighborhood. I would roll by the house on Baker Street to see if the place looked any different eight months after our eviction. Then I figured I would kill even more time exploring the still-familiar residential grid and all its intersecting side streets surrounding Seeliger Elementary. It was freezing outside – so cold that my fingers ached from clutching the wheel – but I knew I could keep myself warm by singing along to the oldies on the local AM station.
“I can’t believe this,” I sigh into the phone.
Yes, Jennifer lived in that neighborhood. I turned onto her street and drove by her house. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t slow down. I certainly didn’t honk the horn. I had better stuff to do than ruin my chances with Jennifer Cornwell, so I fiddled with the heater, turned up the radio and kept on moving.
I did notice, however, that her truck wasn’t parked in the driveway.
“Justin, I think you’re a really nice guy,” Cornwell blurts out.
She’s trying to defuse what she perceives to be a volatile situation. She’s wasting her breath. I’m too unsettled to be hostile. To be honest, I had a nagging feeling that things would play out this way.
Because as my rotten luck would have it, we passed each other on the street two blocks away from her house. If I could easily recognize her black Dodge at three in the morning, she would no doubt notice my yellow Toyota. It also came to mind that this random encounter could potentially bite me in the ass. I did my best to shrug it off and not obsess over it, but after spending all of today counting down the hours until our date, it became increasingly difficult to push it to the back of my mind.
It seems my worries were legit after all.
“Jen?”
“You’re a really nice guy,” she says louder, more rushed. “I like you, and you’re a really nice guy, but –”
“Jen!” I interrupt.
I don’t want her flipping out at work.
Cornwell immediately stops talking. No joke, she’s terrified of me.
This is a dilemma.
“Jen, you have to calm down,” I tell her.
I speak softly so she has to focus to listen. She’s no longer panicky.
“Jen, can I explain myself?”
I’m careful not to get defensive. If I do, she’s really going to freak.
“Uh . . . yeah . . .” she replies.
“Okay, I saw a movie with my friend Ben last night. After I dropped him off, I felt like driving because it gives me time to think. I was near my old neighborhood, so I decided to drive around there. You live in that neighborhood, Jen. I turned on your street because I was wandering, that’s it.”
“Yeah, but, Justin, I’m really uncomfortable that you drove by my house that late.”
“Jen, I was just driving around! In fact, I was heading home at that time. It’s ridiculous to believe that I was doing anything wrong.”
“Well, Justin, I have my feelings, and I don’t think I’m ridiculous.”
“No, Jen, you’re not ridiculous! I didn’t say that you were. What I’m saying is that you’re jumping to conclusions. You’re not even giving me a chance to tell my side of the story.”
“Honestly, Justin, I don’t think it will help.”
Her words cut into me fast and smooth and catch me totally off guard. I’m afraid to even breathe let alone speak. I hear her on the other end. It sounds like she’s going to cry. I picture her standing behind the register at her work, a worried look on her face making her appear even more vapid, maybe a hand over her eyes for dramatic effect. I think part of her believes that she’s sealing her fate here, that this particular conversation will lead to her violent demise at the hands of a psycho suitor.
We’re both waiting for the other to speak. Finally, I interject, “All right, Jen, listen, I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re at work. I don’t want to get you in trouble over something we can discuss later. Would it be okay if I called you at home in thirty minutes?”
There’s another pause.
This is a goddamn crisis!
“Jen, I don’t want to have this discussion when you’re at work,” I repeat firmly. “Can I call you at home in thirty minutes?”
I hear her sigh.
“Okay, Justin. Call me later.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up the phone and sit at my desk in the glow of the computer screen. I don’t know what I’m trying to salvage here.
I’ve lost Jennifer Cornwell.
I’ve known her for years, but I only recently caught her attention when we started chatting during lunch. A tall blonde with milky-white skin, vibrant crystal blue eyes and an endearing smile (even with the braces), I’m attracted to her simply because she’s cute, kind and doesn’t expect too much from me. She’s a devout Mormon, so I’m not eligible for a long-term relationship. But because I am a nice guy, we can at least enjoy ourselves without getting too serious.
I think of her as someone who can help ease me into the dating game. I’m seventeen years old with twenty extra pounds, a dark sense of humor, a heart on my sleeve and no romantic prospects. I need help here! Finally, after much trial and error, I find a nice girl who thinks I’m charming, and I have to go and fuck that up by driving by her house.
I call her when she gets home. I know that all is lost, but I try to end this on friendly terms with the hope that the gossip at school won’t be too harsh.
“Are you feeling better now?” I ask.
“Yeah, I talked to my mother.”
“And?”
There’s another awkward pause.
This is a fucking nightmare.
“Look, Justin, I don’t know what there is to say.”
Neither do I.
What can I say to comfort someone who thinks I’m stalking them?
“All right then.”
“I’m sorry, Justin.”
“Yeah, Jen, I’m sure you are. Have a good night.”
I hang up the phone. My hand hovers over the receiver. I want to pick it back up, dial her again and beg her to give me a second chance. However, the thought of doing so makes me want to retch. But standing here with the last hour repeating over and over in my head makes me want to scream, too.
My hand drops away from the phone. I don’t want to think about this, but I’m stuck with myself for the night. No movies, no company, no lively conversation, no flirting, no hand-holding, no longing gazes, no kiss goodnight. Nothing here but a goddamn fool who wasted the entire day watching the clock in anticipation for a date that he ruined long before he could pick the girl up for it.
It’s seven o’clock on a Saturday night, but I’m no longer in the mood to go out. I’m not in the mood for anything. I have thirty-six hours until I have to go to school and truly face the consequences of this weekend. Jennifer Cornwell will avoid me, the gossip will spread and I’ll be further ostracized from my peers.
I let out a sigh and put my head down on my desk. My gaze settles on the alarm clock across the room. I keep my eyes fixed on the LED display, but time refuses to speed up. It looks like I’m going to have to wait this one out, only this time I’ll have dread to keep me company in lieu of anticipation. Right now I'm not sure what's worse.
Needless to say, this isn’t my life.
This is a complete and total disaster.
JVH
11/20/2007
“Hold on a second, I’ll get her.”
I’m in my bedroom, waiting for Jennifer Cornwell to answer the phone at work.
“Hi, this is Jen.”
“Hi, Jen. It’s Justin.”
There’s an awkward pause.
That’s not good.
“Oh . . . hey, Justin.”
“So, I was wondering what time you wanted me to pick you up after work. The movie starts at nine-fifteen, and we should leave early to get out there in time.”
I’m taking Jennifer Cornwell to a movie. We have to drive fifteen miles to Gardnerville because the film is a limited release that never made it to Carson City.
There’s another awkward pause.
That’s really not good.
“Um, Justin . . . the thing is that . . .” Cornwell fumbles.
She’s killing me here, so I urge her along.
“Yes?”
“I don’t think I should go to the movie with you,” she finishes.
“May I ask why?”
She pauses again. My stomach twists into knots.
This is a predicament.
“Justin, you shouldn’t have been at my house last night.”
“What?” I demand.
This is not happening.
“I saw you last night, Justin. I saw you drive by my house, and I’m worried.”
I’m too stunned to reply.
She’s right. I did drive by her house. But that’s it. Anything else here is simply bad timing and paranoia.
The truth is that Ben and I attended a midnight showing of a second-run indie movie in Reno last night. When I dropped him off at home afterwards, I was feeling quite restless despite the late hour, so I decided to cruise around my old neighborhood. I would roll by the house on Baker Street to see if the place looked any different eight months after our eviction. Then I figured I would kill even more time exploring the still-familiar residential grid and all its intersecting side streets surrounding Seeliger Elementary. It was freezing outside – so cold that my fingers ached from clutching the wheel – but I knew I could keep myself warm by singing along to the oldies on the local AM station.
“I can’t believe this,” I sigh into the phone.
Yes, Jennifer lived in that neighborhood. I turned onto her street and drove by her house. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t slow down. I certainly didn’t honk the horn. I had better stuff to do than ruin my chances with Jennifer Cornwell, so I fiddled with the heater, turned up the radio and kept on moving.
I did notice, however, that her truck wasn’t parked in the driveway.
“Justin, I think you’re a really nice guy,” Cornwell blurts out.
She’s trying to defuse what she perceives to be a volatile situation. She’s wasting her breath. I’m too unsettled to be hostile. To be honest, I had a nagging feeling that things would play out this way.
Because as my rotten luck would have it, we passed each other on the street two blocks away from her house. If I could easily recognize her black Dodge at three in the morning, she would no doubt notice my yellow Toyota. It also came to mind that this random encounter could potentially bite me in the ass. I did my best to shrug it off and not obsess over it, but after spending all of today counting down the hours until our date, it became increasingly difficult to push it to the back of my mind.
It seems my worries were legit after all.
“Jen?”
“You’re a really nice guy,” she says louder, more rushed. “I like you, and you’re a really nice guy, but –”
“Jen!” I interrupt.
I don’t want her flipping out at work.
Cornwell immediately stops talking. No joke, she’s terrified of me.
This is a dilemma.
“Jen, you have to calm down,” I tell her.
I speak softly so she has to focus to listen. She’s no longer panicky.
“Jen, can I explain myself?”
I’m careful not to get defensive. If I do, she’s really going to freak.
“Uh . . . yeah . . .” she replies.
“Okay, I saw a movie with my friend Ben last night. After I dropped him off, I felt like driving because it gives me time to think. I was near my old neighborhood, so I decided to drive around there. You live in that neighborhood, Jen. I turned on your street because I was wandering, that’s it.”
“Yeah, but, Justin, I’m really uncomfortable that you drove by my house that late.”
“Jen, I was just driving around! In fact, I was heading home at that time. It’s ridiculous to believe that I was doing anything wrong.”
“Well, Justin, I have my feelings, and I don’t think I’m ridiculous.”
“No, Jen, you’re not ridiculous! I didn’t say that you were. What I’m saying is that you’re jumping to conclusions. You’re not even giving me a chance to tell my side of the story.”
“Honestly, Justin, I don’t think it will help.”
Her words cut into me fast and smooth and catch me totally off guard. I’m afraid to even breathe let alone speak. I hear her on the other end. It sounds like she’s going to cry. I picture her standing behind the register at her work, a worried look on her face making her appear even more vapid, maybe a hand over her eyes for dramatic effect. I think part of her believes that she’s sealing her fate here, that this particular conversation will lead to her violent demise at the hands of a psycho suitor.
We’re both waiting for the other to speak. Finally, I interject, “All right, Jen, listen, I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re at work. I don’t want to get you in trouble over something we can discuss later. Would it be okay if I called you at home in thirty minutes?”
There’s another pause.
This is a goddamn crisis!
“Jen, I don’t want to have this discussion when you’re at work,” I repeat firmly. “Can I call you at home in thirty minutes?”
I hear her sigh.
“Okay, Justin. Call me later.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up the phone and sit at my desk in the glow of the computer screen. I don’t know what I’m trying to salvage here.
I’ve lost Jennifer Cornwell.
I’ve known her for years, but I only recently caught her attention when we started chatting during lunch. A tall blonde with milky-white skin, vibrant crystal blue eyes and an endearing smile (even with the braces), I’m attracted to her simply because she’s cute, kind and doesn’t expect too much from me. She’s a devout Mormon, so I’m not eligible for a long-term relationship. But because I am a nice guy, we can at least enjoy ourselves without getting too serious.
I think of her as someone who can help ease me into the dating game. I’m seventeen years old with twenty extra pounds, a dark sense of humor, a heart on my sleeve and no romantic prospects. I need help here! Finally, after much trial and error, I find a nice girl who thinks I’m charming, and I have to go and fuck that up by driving by her house.
I call her when she gets home. I know that all is lost, but I try to end this on friendly terms with the hope that the gossip at school won’t be too harsh.
“Are you feeling better now?” I ask.
“Yeah, I talked to my mother.”
“And?”
There’s another awkward pause.
This is a fucking nightmare.
“Look, Justin, I don’t know what there is to say.”
Neither do I.
What can I say to comfort someone who thinks I’m stalking them?
“All right then.”
“I’m sorry, Justin.”
“Yeah, Jen, I’m sure you are. Have a good night.”
I hang up the phone. My hand hovers over the receiver. I want to pick it back up, dial her again and beg her to give me a second chance. However, the thought of doing so makes me want to retch. But standing here with the last hour repeating over and over in my head makes me want to scream, too.
My hand drops away from the phone. I don’t want to think about this, but I’m stuck with myself for the night. No movies, no company, no lively conversation, no flirting, no hand-holding, no longing gazes, no kiss goodnight. Nothing here but a goddamn fool who wasted the entire day watching the clock in anticipation for a date that he ruined long before he could pick the girl up for it.
It’s seven o’clock on a Saturday night, but I’m no longer in the mood to go out. I’m not in the mood for anything. I have thirty-six hours until I have to go to school and truly face the consequences of this weekend. Jennifer Cornwell will avoid me, the gossip will spread and I’ll be further ostracized from my peers.
I let out a sigh and put my head down on my desk. My gaze settles on the alarm clock across the room. I keep my eyes fixed on the LED display, but time refuses to speed up. It looks like I’m going to have to wait this one out, only this time I’ll have dread to keep me company in lieu of anticipation. Right now I'm not sure what's worse.
Needless to say, this isn’t my life.
This is a complete and total disaster.
JVH
11/20/2007
Play It Again, Pat
Dagi,
I first heard Pat McCurdy sing this tune one week after I returned from my trip to Germany in 2004, and you immediately came to mind. I remember sitting in the audience, completely enthralled and all too certain that my heart was going to burst right then and there.
It took me three more years to get him into the studio for an interview. When the opportunity finally arrived last week, I made the request that he play this song. He was more than happy to oblige. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Pat McCurdy / You're Only An Ocean Away
Dagi, no matter where life takes either of us, don't forget that you're only an ocean away. That's not too far at all.
JVH
11/13/2007
I first heard Pat McCurdy sing this tune one week after I returned from my trip to Germany in 2004, and you immediately came to mind. I remember sitting in the audience, completely enthralled and all too certain that my heart was going to burst right then and there.
It took me three more years to get him into the studio for an interview. When the opportunity finally arrived last week, I made the request that he play this song. He was more than happy to oblige. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Pat McCurdy / You're Only An Ocean Away
Dagi, no matter where life takes either of us, don't forget that you're only an ocean away. That's not too far at all.
JVH
11/13/2007
Something Happened on the Way to Hamburg
The door closed and the flip handle hit my lip. You winced and touched your own lip as if to ask if I was okay.
I nodded and laid a palm flat on the glass. I could feel my eyes glassing over, my emotions inside surging forth too fast to temper them. That look of concern on your face made my heart ache even worse. I was leaving you all too soon, and the sound of the door closing shut was the final proof. We were separated, left with no choice but stare at each other and wait for the inevitable.
You began to speak, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. The train was too loud, the glass too thick. I tried to think of something I could say that you would understand even if you couldn’t hear it. Something simple yet all-encompassing. Something elegant, words that would keep me in your thoughts and maybe – just maybe – work their way into your heart.
I came up with this:
“Dagi, I’m crazy about you.
“I’m certain that I’m falling in love with you, and there’s nothing wrong with that. What I feel for you is so intense, so pure, that it shakes me to the core. And I will not waste a second denying myself such a splendid feeling, especially when it concerns you. I hope that one day you might feel the same about me.
“I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss you something fierce, and I can’t wait to see you again. Soon.
“Dagi, I’m crazy about you!”
The train started moving. It was the last thing I wanted, but I was helpless to stop it. I cursed your trip to Mexico. I cursed my late arrival and this terribly early departure. I cursed time for being so fleeting.
I cursed myself for holding back on kissing you. At a moment like this, good behavior never seemed so foolish or naïve. In my mind I kissed you a thousand times today. Every sideways glance, every longing look, every deep stare and secret-filled smile was followed by a kiss. I imagined your lips locking with mine and how my heart would well up and clench tight in my chest. How perfect that would be, an entire day of holding you close, kissing your mouth and face and ears and neck and shoulders and on and on over every inch of your body, always returning to your lips, your wonderful lips.
I didn’t know what you would think of that, but it’s what flashed through my mind as the train started moving.
I found everything that I was looking for during my time with you, Dagi. Of course, there was so much more I would have loved to discover, an infinite number of possibilities to explore, but I was still overjoyed with the brief amount of time I shared with you. We had just taken the next step in our strange and curious relationship, and nothing ever felt so right.
Except this. Leaving this soon didn’t feel right at all. Looking at you through the glass, the taste of blood from the cut on my lip keeping me grounded in reality, I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t ready to go.
You followed along as the train dragged me away under protest.
I suddenly envisioned every scenario that would allow me a little more time with you. I thought of doubling back after the first stop. I thought of lunch the next day. I thought of changing my flight. I thought of meeting you on the way to Celestun or picking you up in Chicago. I thought of waking up next to you on New Year’s or getting lost with you in the fog while trekking across Halemaumau at sunset. I imagined you on a white sand beach, the smell of sun on your skin. I thought of keeping your hands warm and that lovely smile on your face. I thought of taking a million pictures of you and still thinking that I didn’t have enough.
I thought of how special you truly are to me.
I yelled out once more, “CRAZY!”
Maybe you heard me that time.
JVH
09/15/2007
IC 2229: Hamburg, DE --> Dortmund, DE
I nodded and laid a palm flat on the glass. I could feel my eyes glassing over, my emotions inside surging forth too fast to temper them. That look of concern on your face made my heart ache even worse. I was leaving you all too soon, and the sound of the door closing shut was the final proof. We were separated, left with no choice but stare at each other and wait for the inevitable.
You began to speak, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. The train was too loud, the glass too thick. I tried to think of something I could say that you would understand even if you couldn’t hear it. Something simple yet all-encompassing. Something elegant, words that would keep me in your thoughts and maybe – just maybe – work their way into your heart.
I came up with this:
“Dagi, I’m crazy about you.
“I’m certain that I’m falling in love with you, and there’s nothing wrong with that. What I feel for you is so intense, so pure, that it shakes me to the core. And I will not waste a second denying myself such a splendid feeling, especially when it concerns you. I hope that one day you might feel the same about me.
“I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss you something fierce, and I can’t wait to see you again. Soon.
“Dagi, I’m crazy about you!”
The train started moving. It was the last thing I wanted, but I was helpless to stop it. I cursed your trip to Mexico. I cursed my late arrival and this terribly early departure. I cursed time for being so fleeting.
I cursed myself for holding back on kissing you. At a moment like this, good behavior never seemed so foolish or naïve. In my mind I kissed you a thousand times today. Every sideways glance, every longing look, every deep stare and secret-filled smile was followed by a kiss. I imagined your lips locking with mine and how my heart would well up and clench tight in my chest. How perfect that would be, an entire day of holding you close, kissing your mouth and face and ears and neck and shoulders and on and on over every inch of your body, always returning to your lips, your wonderful lips.
I didn’t know what you would think of that, but it’s what flashed through my mind as the train started moving.
I found everything that I was looking for during my time with you, Dagi. Of course, there was so much more I would have loved to discover, an infinite number of possibilities to explore, but I was still overjoyed with the brief amount of time I shared with you. We had just taken the next step in our strange and curious relationship, and nothing ever felt so right.
Except this. Leaving this soon didn’t feel right at all. Looking at you through the glass, the taste of blood from the cut on my lip keeping me grounded in reality, I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t ready to go.
You followed along as the train dragged me away under protest.
I suddenly envisioned every scenario that would allow me a little more time with you. I thought of doubling back after the first stop. I thought of lunch the next day. I thought of changing my flight. I thought of meeting you on the way to Celestun or picking you up in Chicago. I thought of waking up next to you on New Year’s or getting lost with you in the fog while trekking across Halemaumau at sunset. I imagined you on a white sand beach, the smell of sun on your skin. I thought of keeping your hands warm and that lovely smile on your face. I thought of taking a million pictures of you and still thinking that I didn’t have enough.
I thought of how special you truly are to me.
I yelled out once more, “CRAZY!”
Maybe you heard me that time.
JVH
09/15/2007
IC 2229: Hamburg, DE --> Dortmund, DE
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