The Day When Love Will Catch Your Fall....... College love....

As I hold my pen I struggle to find.... the reason you’re slowly taking over my mind.

As much as I fight and attempt to resist, I find the shackles on my ankles and the cuffs upon my wrists.

It’s impossible to fight it. It’s much too big for me, the strength of the feelings have brought me to my knee.

Here I must rest until I can begin anew, to fight this mighty beast which is the love I feel for you.

I’ve been fighting this battle for oh so very long, will the beast ever die or is that even wrong?

I sharpen my sword and prepare for a bloody fight, perhaps I’ll wave my white flag for just this lonely night.

But I fear the beast will sense this and he’ll move in for the kill, he’ll stab me in my heart then I’ll have to give to you my will.

The beast is closing in I hear the distant rattle..... so I cross my fingers and head back to the battle.

Although I’ve only known you for a time that was so brief, I understand your feelings and sympathize your grief.

All you’ve ever wanted was to give a little joy... but people don’t understand this and treat it like a toy.

I know its very scary to take away the wall, to scream so very loud and let someone hear your call.

So out the door you go for another night of play, to forget about your problems and brighten up your day.

I know it may be hard, to you an impossible feat, but one day you will open up your eyes and your true love you will meet.

And when this day does come you’ll stand so very tall, for this is the day when love will catch your fall.

Childhood memories.....

So my friend and I decided to walk to Gina’s house one Saturday night. It was about 10 P.M. She lived about 2 miles away. We didn’t really see the problem at the time. Oh, did I forget to mention we were 12 at the time?

So we take off and began one of our many adventures. We searched for secret treasures along the route. We pretended that we were in warzones and had to escape patrolling enemies. We also pretended that we were criminals; bank robbers to be specific and we hid from all approaching cars knowing that they were undercover police officers waiting to arrest us for our misdeeds.

After a long journey, we finally arrived at Gina’s house and our hearts began to race.

Oh yes… Gina. Gina being the pretty girl that all boys had a secret crush on in the 6th grade. Well, all boys that attended the lovely John Adams Elementary. More on that story later…

Gina was definitely in a class of her own. She was a pretty little Italian girl. Pretty, yet mellow and cool. She wasn’t stuck up like her friends. I always wondered why she hung out with them. Peer pressure was such a strong pressure in those days. Somehow I found a way to cut her slack.

I was new to John Adams Elementary in those days. It was tough being the new kid. I remember my first day walking to the Adams rec. center the summer before entering 5th grade. I had just moved to Normal Heights and I had decided to walk down Adam’s Avenue with my little sister to check out the local rec. center.

For the previous 4 years I had been living in Santee. I had been living a rural existence for the past few years of my short youth. I was accustomed to dirt roads. I remember walking down the roads in Santee and walking past horses, pigs, ducks and chickens to get to school.

Now here I was walking down a busy cement road. It was so strange to be in an actual city. I remember arriving at the rec. center with my sister. When we entered the rec. center everybody looked up at us like we were Martians. We felt so out of place. We decided to wait in a line to play foosball. After playing a few games of foosball we went outside to play basketball. My sister watched as I struggled to play basketball for about an hour.

As we were leaving, a big black guy named Jerome began to bug my little sister. He was making rude remarks and he was really pissing me off. I must have been in my chivalrous mode back in my youth because I remember that I would not let anybody get away with teasing my little sister.

One must remember that before this time, I had only seen one black guy in my life. At the time I remember my heart beating so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. I went up to him and in my deepest voice I said, “Shut the fuck up.” I was so scared. All of a sudden an even bigger black guy came up to me. He looked at me and looked at the other guy and said, “If you guys are going to fight, go ahead I will make sure nobody jumps in.” And this is how my first fight ever began.

The fight was pretty much a draw. Tyrone threw some punches, I threw some punches. I wrestled him to the ground and then it got broken up. After the fight I learned that the “even bigger black guy” was named James and he was the older brother of Tyrone. James would later save my life in high school. More on that story later.

I would later begin my elementary school career and almost from the first day I remember a smart, smug little blonde asshole named David. David somehow possessed a charisma back in those days that drew little boys to him. Although I respected David’s wit, I never felt the draw. David grew strength in belittling others and his friends all grew strength with each new ploy. Being the new guy, David needed to assert his power over me. Or at least try.

David began making fun of the fact that I always wore my USA wrestling jacket. “so, you are a wrestler?” “Wow, you must be a great wrestler”. He made numerous snide remarks but nothing that would ever lead to an all out fight. David was friends with Kenny. Kenny was a big guy. Basically, Kenny was David’s bodyguard and the big guy on campus. Funny that this was even a worry in Elementary School! I mean, really?

One day we were walking down a hallway at school and David had put Kenny up to making fun of me and my jacket. The one thing that David and Kenny did not know was that I actually had been a champion wrestler in the East County and I had travelled all over the United States wrestling in championships. I finally got so mad, listening to the teasing behind me that I turned around and grabbed Kenny and threw him in over my back in my best wrestling move. Kenny ended up in the dirt and I landed on top of him.

Needless to say, I had proved that I was not one to be messed with. From that day forward David never made another comment against me. We both knew that my anger had been directed at him and Kenny was just the receiver of that anger. Kenny would go on to be a good friend and a gentle person… David and I would actually mix it up once more in Junior High at a Palomar Campground retreat. I always will believe that David had internal struggles and could have been a great person if he ever would have come to terms with his inner self….

So here we are hiding in the bushes across the street from Gina’s house. Ah yes Gina. So, Gina was definitely the girl that all the boys were in love with in 5th and 6th grade. I remember all the boys telling me about Gina when I entered 5th grade. “Gina this and Gina that”.

I was confused from the beginning. Perhaps women have been confusing me ever since….

When I first saw the pretty blonde girl I knew immediately that this must be Gina. I passed most of my 5th grade year confusing Carla with Gina. Fortunately for me, Carla lived next door to my new friend. I remember playing games in the alley behind her apartment showing off in hopes she would look out her window. We would eventually connect and I would realize that she was actually Carla and not Gina. We began playing games way back then. We started drinking from her mom’s liquor cabinet. Oh where were the parents?

I remember one day my friend and I were playing in the back alley looking up to Carla’s window and waiting for her to look out. Suddenly, my friend said, “Hey look it’s Gina”. And that was the first time I saw her. I remember thinking, wow… pure beauty.

Being a new student from a different setting, I was too shy to actually talk to her! I remember thinking that all my previous impressions of her from my friends were true. I was now keenly aware of who all the boys had been talking about!

Now here were the following year across the street from her house. Unfortunately, our plans had only been drafted to arrive at her house. We really hadn’t thought past stage one! Now what? Should we knock on the door? The lights were on….

We decided to hide in the bushes across the street and do some surveillance first. We noticed the occasional car going by. We managed to get a good feel for the area. Hey, we were criminals after all….

After about 20 minutes of high tech surveillance we realized that neither of us really had the courage to actually knock on her door… so we made a joint decision to pack in the surveillance operation and we decided it was time to head home.

So we began walking down the street. At some point we came to a crossroad. My friend said that we needed to go right. I insisted he was wrong and that we must go left. I prevailed and we continued on our journey.

After about ½ hour and many blocks down the road, guess who happens to pull up next to us? Yes, a police car… our nemesis had finally caught up to us! He was at least nice enough not to put on the lights and sirens. Had we finally been caught for our bank robbing ways??? He stepped out of the police car and began to walk over to us.

My friend and I were so nervous standing there. Our hearts were really racing now… and we were far away from the comfort of our house! We knew at any moment we would be handcuffed and taken away to live out our youth behind prison doors. As Mr. Policeman was about to arrest us, the passenger door of the police car opens and a lady got out. She began to walk to us. As she got closer we became aware that we both recognized each other.

“Kevin?” she asked surprised.
”Ms. Kay?” I exclaimed even more surprised.
Turns out it was a teacher from our elementary school.
“Where are you going this late at night?” she said.
“Home.” my friend and I answered in uniform.
“And where do you live?” she asked.
“Felton and Monroe,” we stated.

“Well, you must be lying because you are walking in the opposite direction from your home.” She said. Ooops, I guess my friend was right! We had been walking in the opposite direction of his house for over ½ an hour.

Just then Mr. Policeman began to walk closer to us. As he approached, we were once again surprised. It turns out the 12 year old criminal posse had been pulled over by Officer Baker;

John Adams Elementary School’s police liaison.

As we stood there frozen, Officer Baker walked up to us and says, “Well get in!” as he opened up the police car door.

So we ended up getting a police escort back to my friend’s home. I was spending the night with him that night. When we arrived at the home, Officer Baker made us turn the porch light on and off as we entered the house to let him know that we were in safe. We were so nervous that he would want a parent to come out… because in actuality we were all alone! We were the babysitters!

Once we got inside… my friend and I began cracking up hysterically. Why after being driven home by law enforcement and a teacher from our school did we find so much humor in all that had transpired that night? Well, we finally realized that all the rumors were actually true!
Ms. Kay actually was getting it on with Officer Baker! Oh we had a great laugh that night… But we soon realized that it was time for SNL…. And we moved on to more important things.

Gina and many other girls would continue to be a mystery for us as the years progressed… those would continue to be stories that evolved as we grew older. However, from that day forward whenever we saw Ms. Kay or Officer Baker at our school…. we only had to look at each other and an enormous grin would cross our faces. We never did let our friends know about our little secret.

But, oh yes…. Deep down inside we were content in the knowledge that we really were criminals, if even for just a night!!!! Well perhaps not criminals in the actual sense but we were definitely unique.

Of course I learned a lot about being unique as my friendship grew with Trout. Yes, that was my friend’s name. Actually his full name is Justin Cody Trout Fishing in America Rogers. His mom was a hippie or ex hippie. Our youth was filled with unique experiences. We packed a lifetime of adventures into a short amount of time and we grew up fast in that small amount of time. We were free to roam and discover and we took full advantage of the situation. Our childhood adventures had just begun… and they would only get more interesting!

Life's Journey...

As I have journeyed through the realms of life, I have come across many experiences that have shed light on many answers. However the light that has been shed has made me realize that for each answer there are yet two more questions.

Thus I no longer strive to acquire the answers. Yet, only look and study the questions. For I have found that this is the quickest way to the truth. The truth... what may we say about the truth? I BELIEVE NOTHING.

As I search and strive to find truth, I find my endeavors moot, voiceless in a sea of ambivalence. For in this sea there are no ears to hear her beckoning call. As I cry out for help I slowly begin to understand what I perceive as the truth. The truth; the absolute, the answers.... are dangling in front of all who wish to grab it.

Yet, as of today, the truth still continues to avoid us. Why must we continually run in directions that foster the truth in the short run? If we are to succeed we must look farther and farther. We must strain our eyes until we can no longer see. For only there, in the darkness, in the farthest most reaches of our minds, lies the ultimate truth. So I implore each being to tear away the cobwebs and search the mind to reach the final plateau of happiness.

Through love and happiness within we will find the temple of holiness.

Driving to the beach....

We own a home in the northern mountain region of Esteli, Nicaragua close to the border of Honduras. This is a small farming town of about 3,000 residents. Coffee is the principal crop, although they also grow corn, tomatoes, cabbage, beans, green peppers, onions and beans. Most people walk or ride bicycles to get from place to place. Although others, ride horses and travel in carts pulled by giant oxen.

In order to get to the beach from here, you must engage in a long adventure. Driving in Nicaragua can be fun and strenuous. You start the adventure on the Pan American highway. Here you can reach speeds of 70 mph. However, you must constantly slow down each time you pass a small town. Why the freeway cuts right through these towns is beyond me. Next you have to worry about huge trucks up ahead barely going over 20 mph. All highways in Nicaragua are 2 way roads. Therefore, you must fly around the slow moving vehicle onto oncoming traffic in order to get ahead. The problem is that in some areas, this is illegal, and there is usually some cop dressed in blue standing on the side of the road who promptly signals for you to stop. I always try to argue the logic that he should really pull over the slow moving truck instead of me. That logic is usually lost on the 20 yr old policeman, so I go with the old “I’m a diplomat and any ticket must be sent to my embassy”. This line works about 80% of the time and the cops normally get frustrated and send me on my way. If all else fails, a crispy 50 Cordoba bill (donation) always does the trick and I am on my way once again. 50 Cordoba’s being the equivalent of $2.50.

After turning off the Pan American highway we are in for one of the worst roads in Nicaragua, a potholed broken asphalt mess. This road is about 70 miles yet takes about 2 and ½ hours to complete. At some points the road is so bad you actually get off the road and drive in the dirt next to the road just to avoid the agony of slamming into the potholes. This is the point on my journey where I begin inventing new swear words after tiring of using all the old faithful. Once you manage to get pass this hell road, you then have the pleasure of entering the huge city called Leon. The only way to the beach is to drive directly through the center of this crazy, bustling city. Here you must negotiate pedestrians and bicycles flooding the streets and taxi cabs flying past you on the left even though this is a 2 way street. I’m often amazed how my car does not get completely scraped up as it narrowly passes cars, motorcycles, bicycles and sidewalks. Many of the streets here are one way but you can’t find a single sign to apprise you of the fact to save your life. Eventually, you must pull over and ask directions to the beach. Inevitably, somebody will tell you go 5 blocks north 2 blocks south and at the statue take a right and go straight, no street names whatsoever!

Somehow I manage to maneuver my way through the city and get onto a new dirt road which lasts for about another 30 minutes. Although this is the worst road on the trip due to the fact that it is all dirt… It is also my favorite road. This is my favorite road because I know at the end lies the beach. At a certain peak on a hill you get your first view of the Pacific Ocean lying in wait in the near distance. Time to step on the gas….

So I arrive at the beach. AHHHH, so happy. The hotel I normally stay at is closed for the day. Closed? What the hell hotel closes? They say they are tired from all the partying from Semana Santa (Easter Week) and everybody went home to sleep. Huh? What the ???? O.K….

So I decide to stay at a little place down the beach. I get a cabin right on the ocean. My room looks out onto the sand and I am pretty happy. Guess how much per night? $25. You gotta love Nicaragua! The surf is strong and unorganized. The sun is bright and fierce. The water is warm and inviting… like bath water. I spend the day alternating from the water to the sand. The beach here is about 5 kilometers in length. However, there is one group of 4 German girls, the occasional Nicaraguan and myself on this entire stretch of beach. Nice!

Later that evening, I decide to walk down the beach to find a restaurant along the ocean to grab a late dinner. I am tired from being in the ocean all day, my muscles are sore and my face is a red from the strong sun. A Nice fish dinner seems in order. I’m relaxing having a beer in the small fishing town of Las Penitas waiting for my fish to arrive when the electricity goes out. You would think there would be some small panic in the air… but no, slowly the waitress gets out of her hammock and goes into the kitchen and other people start emerging from different locations with candles and flashlights. My waitress places a candle on my table and returns to her hammock. After another beer or so, a plate of beautiful fried fish and rice arrives and I dine with my feet in the sand, under the stars by candlelight. The food was good, the beers were cold. By the time I arrive back at my hotel after my long walk on the beach, I am sweating profusely. The ocean breeze has disappeared and the night is warm and sticky. I’m looking at a hot night in my room w no fan or A.C.! Not having electricity is no longer romantic! I keep the windows and doors facing the ocean wide open in hopes that the Pacific breeze will pick up during the evening…. It does not!

Thus, there exists the dichotomy which is Nicaragua; the positives and negatives. Nicaragua is basically the same country I lived in 10 years ago. Progress is slow. Politics move forward then backwards. The people are still the rich, giving, happy people I have grown to love and respect. Nicaragua is a tough country. It is not for the weak. The elements can be brutal. Nicaraguans embrace foreigners to their country. They always have open arms and hearts. Their history is full of examples of foreigners taking advantage of this attribute, from the Conquistadors down to the American government. Nicaraguans are minimalists and can survive on very little. They are also survivalists and they can weather most any storm or adversity.

Tomorrow I will pass the day in a hammock reading a book and taking siestas and playing in the ocean. Hopefully the ocean will calm her fury and the surf will be a little more manageable. Perhaps the electricity will return… perhaps…..

Back in Nicaragua...

So I have arrived in Nicaragua. The weather is warm; the days lazy and relaxing. Each day passes so slow. People travel up and down the street in front of our house. They are buying tortillas and vegetables, firewood and sodas. The goal for today is to eat, drink and be happy; such a simple and lovely life. There is no pressure, there is no race. The people hang out with their neighbors and chat about the latest gossip… the soap opera from the night before, the family, the gringo who is town. The cat crawls into a shady plant in a pot and escapes the fierce sun. There is a steady breeze that blows through town that keeps the heat manageable.

Tomorrow is Easter. Last night the local neighborhood put together a makeshift outdoor movie theatre. They were watching a religious movie under the stars. The neighborhood kids were perched on a nearby wall and others pulled out their chairs in front of the screen of white sheets. Religion (Catholicism) is very deep rooted in Nicaragua. Tomorrow there will be parades and mass and religious gatherings. There will be fireworks and celebrations throughout the day and night. Nicaragua actually celebrates Easter all week called Semana Santa or The Week of the Saints. Thousands will go to the beaches to escape the heat. Others build pools in the ground to use for just this one week of the year. Others will make specials meals and gather family and friends together to celebrate the life, death and rebirth of Christ.

Coming to Nicaragua during this time of year allows me to reflect on the true meaning of this special occasion. At times in the States, we get wrapped up in the commercial aspect of Easter and the holiday becomes a way to make the kids happy with egg hunts, gifts and chocolate while the underlying meaning gets clouded and mostly lost. Hopefully, I can find a way to bridge these two aspects of this holiday with my own children. I want them to understand why we really celebrate Easter. We’ll see. ..

A child sips soup from a bowl, banana trees flutter in the wind. A blackbird soars overhead, searching… A rooster crows in the distance as a goat slowly struts down the rocky dirt road to my left. A mango tree now follows the sway of the banana tree… soon the fruit will be ripe. No hurry. A cowboy trots down the dusty road, cigar in mouth.

A group of children pass holding hands. Ah the innocence of Nicaragua. No hurry, no destinations, no timetable. Only the passage of a day, a week a month….

Rainbow Forest

Purple Dandelions..... Majenta Moons
Marmalade Lakes.........Lavender Blooms

Violet Sunsets...... Torquois Seas
Snow white waterfalls..... Golden Pink Bees

I walk through the forest of colors.... I view the rainbows of life
Creeping to the edge of the forest... I see a world of strife....

Kaleidoscope images..... Images of fate...
Our world grasps the colors.... and molds them into hate....

Ozzy and my Youth....

So I am about 12 years old and my older sister buys me a 45 record for my birthday. Yes, remember those little records with one song on each side? Anyways, it was Ozzy, "Flying High Again"

Man, I played the shit out of that little record. Ozzy grew on me.... I loved the guitar and drums pulsating in my ears... I began to embrace the rebellious part of my soul that I had suppressed for a long time.

The following year I began Jr. High School and truly became a rebel. I let my hair grow long, started smoking pot and listening to Heavy Metal exclusively. One night Ozzy came to town. He was playing at the Sports Arena. My buddy and I purchased tickets and were determined to go! Of course our parents laughed when we said that we wanted to go...

So, we compromised with our parents and snuck out of our houses and walked down the storm drain to Mission Valley and then hiked another 5 miles to the Sports Arena on back roads. When we arrived at the Sports Arena, the parking lot was packed and the sweet smell of reefer permeated like a euphoric cloud over the large crowd of long haired, leather wearing head banger loyalists.

We were young but we fit right in. We got nice and high in that parking lot and strode into the concert.... We saw some of our friends from school with their older brothers or sisters. We were content in the fact that we were true hard core fans and had come on our own walking the whole way.

The concert started and we were transported into a new realm of happiness as our heads bounced back and forth to the steady bass of Ozzy and the heavy metal vibe around us. We were true head bangers now and we knew it. We looked at each other as we rocked our heads to the drums and we did not have to speak a word to know what we were thinking... just a smile was all we needed.

We rocked hard that night and we grew up even faster..... I'm not sure if my innocence had been lost before this point... but it definitely faded away after that night.

We had a long walk home that night after the concert. But... the walk home was like a dream....The moon was full and the sky was clear and perfect. We could have been flying for all we knew. Maybe the night was being true to Ozzy's words, "Flying High Again."

We had come and we had conquered...

Life is full of journeys. Perhaps my journeys started earlier than most people's....

I don't regret them. I embrace them. In fact, if my son or daughter ever comes to me one day and wants to see Ozzy, I will definitely say.............

OH HELL NO!!!!!!!!!!

Bailout Not Helping Small Business!!!

Obama states that "It’s not about helping banks – it’s about helping people." Supposedly, every dollar going to the banks and financial firms is not to help them but to help small business and individual Americans. That all sounds great, BUT..... it is not working and I personally am getting fed up!

Republicans supposedly had the trickle down theory. Money at the top will trickle down to the general public. Democrats took over as the supposed "grass roots" party that will help the average American at the bottom. However, in our first major crisis, the Democrats are taking the exact same approach as the Republicans and giving all the money to the top banks and financial companies and hoping it will trickle down to small business and average Americans.

Hello, McFly, it is not fucking working and I am getting fed up. Small business is getting crushed by the greed of Wall Street and all their Banking bed buddies. Now, because of their greed and ignorance.... fear is prevalent across the good ol U.S. of A and everybody is in panic mode! Now, nobody is spending and every bailout we give just exacerbates the situation and creates more fear. Pure B.S...

Banks are still NOT lending to small business! Interest rates on credit cards are still through the roof!!!!

Hey, with all this bailout money why can't they cap interest rates on credit cards at say 6%. Home and Business loans at 2%. Even at those rates, banks could still make a great profit. I think it is time to put some real strings attached to any money loaned to the banks. 20-30% interest on credit cards and 6-10% interest on home loans is usury and the American people should not be subject to these unsustainable restraints while we are bailing out Wall Street and the banks. Hopefully, the people, can really become one voice in the bigger picture of our economy and not just over some AIG bonuses that amount to a fraction of the amount we are really getting ripped off!!!!

As INXS once said, "Mystify Me"..... I am mystified that the Americans continue to allow this crap. How many times can we get pissed on until we realize that what's hitting our heads is not rain!!! It's time to band together and say, "No WAY!!" ...... NO WAY MAN.... NO MORE!!!!

Mixed Emotions!!!

So here I am.... words on page and mixed thoughts. I am nervous about my business. I have never seen such a crush before. We have seen steady growth for 10 years and now we are falling backwards. Not just sliding... falling. Is this God's plan? Should I now find a new direction? It is funny how life and the world seemed so fresh and attainable back in my Peace Corps days. I mean I had so much ideology and I felt I was towering above everybody with my beliefs and I would never go back to the capitalist bullshit in which I had left. I promised myself I would never return to that rut!

Now here I am 12 years later... back in the rat race. Only now, the whole world seems to be imploding. Man, how I would love to be back in my Peace Corps mentality where the world seemed so far removed. We had our little stipend that paid for all the basics that life really needs to survive. We were above the fray of the materialism that was "over there".

Wow how things change!!!!!!!!!! All I can say, if any current Peace Corps volunteers read this..... count your blessings. Life will eventually catch up with the majority of you... and let me tell you, it SUCKS!!!!

Can't wait to go back and get some new perspective! For sure...

My Nicaraguan travels...

So April 9, 2009 I will be heading down to Nicaragua for a 3 week vacation.... I will begin writing some general observations on my experiences and thoughts as I travel back to my old Peace Corps haunts....