Par 7 unedited

chapter

Joe farmer was one of the many Homosexuals in my dorm. He, like a lot of gay men, took an interest in me.  

I laughed it off, I developed a report with him, even hung out a couple of times when we were released. 

He was another crack addict. 

When he worked at a gas station that they trusted him with closing, he stole fifteen hundred dollars from the deposit bag for his habit, eventually fleeing to another state. 

He said all the right things and sounded sincere in his rehabilitation.

 After going back to the shelter to find that my belongings had been given or thrown away, and that I was not welcome to stay there, I had no place to go but the Safe Zone. 

I asked if I could entrust him with some writings that I had accumulated while serving the one year long sentence for the solicitation to sell cocaine charge- whatever that means.

Joe Farmer had an apartment that he was sharing with a family he became acquainted with. It seemed like I could count on him to keep my papers safe for the time being, so I left them with him, along with my food stamp card to let him get a few things he needed. 

He ended up getting thrown out for drugs a short time afterwards, taking my card and causing for my papers to be thrown out with the trash.

The time of day became late in my worry, and I found myself the farthest I could be from the Safe Zone. You have to check in by a certain time and the gate closes a little while after that, putting me on the streets for the night once again. Left to wander, I headed for Duval Street to find an opportunity.

What I found were these people who were palm weavers. They made hats, baskets and bowls. They fashioned roses and crucifixes also. All while sitting at the foot of the carnival style buildings that lined the street and sidewalks. It was a routine sight in the shopping and drinking streets, which was pretty much all of them.

The city has street vendor permits, of a certain number, that people can purchase for things particular to their “trade”. My questions began, asking each one of them if they needed help with anything, finally finding a couple guys who said I could help them sell their goods- roses made from Palm fronds. 

Soon, I discovered that this was a big joke because they would sell a couple roses and just go to the store for beers with what money they received. Then they would leave me to watch their spot and handle sales, barking at tourists as they walked by- same as the Carnival or County Fair.

Feeling and looking like a clown, I tried to play the part. It became obvious that these guys were addicts when they came back, talking strangely about where they stuck “the pipe” in the bushes and asking me if I “smoked”. The night proceeded while they squandered the money as it came in, spending it on drinking and drugs. I had accumulated only eight dollars because for every item I could sell they gave me a dollar bill.

It was turning into a far desperate situation than I could have imagined myself being a part of... I lost hope and turned to trying my hand at prostitution when three old ladies came along. 

What made it easy to think of was that I had been drinking and became hypnotized by the strong sexual overtone of the adult environment, like the festival that they call Fantasy Fest. 

The three of them were here on vacation though, and had just got off of a cruise ship to stay for a while and fly back home. One in particular was perky and upbeat, looking around sixty-five year old. 

Though a difficult decision to make, I put the bait out there and began flirting to let them know it could be had. All I could think was it could be worth a couple hundred bucks, and how I could be gone in the next day or two- finally escaping from the Keys.

 Things developed between us and it was a go, they were interested. Now all I had to do was stay drunk enough to actually go through with it. OH GOD! What have I done? Bring on the beer quick, before I change my mind!

Now, it’s been over a year since I arrived in the Keys. 

Fantasy Fest is in full swing and the crowd is freaking crazy. Everyone is doing private things in Public places. Many are naked but for body paint that looks like clothing. There are people having sex in many places out in the open. There are people everywhere drinking alcohol and smoking dope. There are people who have brought their children.

Amazed at what I am witnessing, I fight my way through the crowd to find a place to clean up. My eyes meet with the eyes with a man who has a jar in his hand. He quickly waves me closer and dumps some marijuana in my hand from the jar, telling me to enjoy it. The smell of blueberries perfumes the air from it. This pleases me because I needed to be intoxicated for what I was about to do, bumming a rolling paper along the way.

The little old ladies are meeting me at The Bull and Whistle Bar in a short while. The Garden of Eden is upstairs- a clothing optional place. When I get to the bar, I notice that the side entrance is dimly lit with a lot of shadows between it and the store next door. The bar bathroom made it easy to roll the joint and get cleaned up in because everyone was too interested in what was going on around them to take time to use it until they had to. Exiting the bathroom, I went to the shadows to smoke my weed.

As I finished smoking and pitched the roach, a cop car stopped at a gob of people about forty yards away. The officer got out of the car and looked around. He was looking for something, turning his head my way as I exhaled the last puff of smoke I held in my lungs. Then I turned to go back into The Bull and Whistle but he yelled for me to come his way.

 In the end he arrested me for possession of Marijuana, saying that he saw me blow out marijuana smoke from where he stood, and that he could smell it in the air. I had to laugh, like I was the one person who had smoked weed that night and he was out trying to sniff me out. There are sixty thousand people in Key West during this festival, very many smoking pot but I am the one he comes looking for.

Well, luckily for him, he had a roach he kept in his pocket for just such an occasion- evidence for whomever they want to take in. Moments later I found myself right back in the very same jail cell for the third time. It was just like everyone else that I saw get out and come right back within days. Catch and release, catch and release, catch… big money. It was purely madness.

Even my P.D. laughed when I explained the situation of the charge but it didn’t change the fact that I would be sitting in jail for another length of time. By now I am emotionally numb. Life has pretty much ended for me. I was happy if I woke up the next morning but for what, I don’t really know. Prosecuted on another charge got me forty-five more days, much to my dismay. But what I got out of that was more information.

Turns out that the girl that robbed me was busted in Marathon at a motel within a half day of the incident. The cops had kicked the door in on the motel, finding her and a drug dealer with guns and drugs, landing her a prison sentence. My bunkmate, Moses Torres, was at the location that night when I was robbed and arrested. He was smoking cocaine. He told me how he was there, saw my things in the mud, and was also arrested that night.  

My spades partner, Oneilio Garcia, was in for cocaine as well. He was actually a friend of Andy’s- more or less, supplying him with his cocaine. Oneilio explained how he had routinely delivered whores and rocks to Andy. It all became quite clear that I was set up from the beginning as I had suspected but now I had proof and witnesses.

Andy had planned on working at getting Julie to bend his way, painting me in a bad light, in order to get his equipment back, and suckering Julie out of all the money he could get, while knowing she was in control of her mother’s estate. That is, if she wasn’t conspiring with him all along. Knowing that didn’t do a whole lot for my situation except to reaffirm my awareness related to what my drinking had done in conjunction with my needs, like the need to be wanted or be part of something.

It was overwhelming, my wanting to file charges against him but I was not with any way to do it, so I thought about it all the time, remembering how Andy’s mother had told Julie about Andy doing a year or so in Florida Prison for being involved with a situation where they cut a guys stomach open to get the Heroine out that he was trafficking. It was odd that she would tell Julie this. Maybe she was involved in the scam too. Was that why she bought Andy the Jolly Roger flag for the boat? The whole thing was making me crazy.

Once again, I was released from jail. It was around noon when I left. It is easy to remember, only because I wanted to eat first and they wouldn’t serve me. My feet quickly took me to the area of activity where I thought I could find some assistance at. Lots of people had told me of a church that would give you a bus ticket to get home if you were stranded but this proved to be untrue.

At one point, during my hike, I met a group of hippie kids from upstate that were hanging out for whatever festival was going on at the time. They were down here selling pot and mushrooms, planning to leave in the morning. I was given a pair of shoes and some mushrooms. Seeing no point in not eating them, I did. We wandered around as a group and I felt safe. They took me to where they had been staying, which happened to be the rooftop of an abandoned building. There was a ladder to get up with that they pulled up onto the roof to conceal their whereabouts.

We hung out and talked about our travels that day and into the evening. We drank a little bit and smoked a lot. They invited me to leave with them in the morning and I gladly accepted. Then they gave me more mushrooms. As we wandered around, finding cell phones and money that had been lost by people, the drugs took affect and it became very difficult to manage. Feeling out of sorts, I had to get somewhere to rest out of sight. We headed back to their camp on the rooftop. Somewhere along the way I became separated from them.

When I was able to think, I found myself being walked back to the room where I had spent the majority of my time, in the Monroe County Jail. It had been all of fourteen hours.

When I woke up from my coma, I found myself in the same bunk I had been in for the past three arrests. Toilet paper was wrapped all around me like I had been mummified. Moses and the guys were laughing at me when I broke out of the bunk. It was funny to them, that I was wasted when I came back, and that I had been so adamant about leaving but repeatedly failed after they had told me it was near impossible to leave this place.

The officer’s had given me the charge sheet when I came in but I wasn’t able to read it. Now, I see that it says I have been charged with trespassing. When I finally speak with my Public Defender, I explain to him that I want a trial.

My chance to go back was gone, just like Gilligan’s Island. The kids, I would learn, had made their way up to Miami. 

They were staying in a hotel when they met up with a grave situation. The girl that was traveling with them, “Rose”, had been killed by the slitting of her throat, one of the guys was dead of an overdose of Heroine, and another guy was beaten badly and left for dead.

Prison sentences were handed out but probably not for the people who did the killing. Had I not become separated from them, I would have been right there with them- dead or going to prison that time. 

That’s where the kid they found in the room went
.

Was it that I was guided from that or was it just a coincidence? 

It sure wasn’t feeling like I was being guided.

People I had known on the streets were being found dead in many strange places. 

One man, who claimed to be a Veteran of the Marines named, Sonny, was found dead near mile marker fifteen. His throat was slashed. He was lying in the ditch on the side of the road when a motorist found him. Another man was killed while he slept on the beach by a hammer blow to the head. 

People were being killed by methadone overdoses. All of these people were homeless people. Of course, no charges were ever filed.

Within a week or two they sent a Psychiatrist in to evaluate me because no one goes to trial with a trespassing charge. He interviews me, tells me to “Keep fighting champ”, and then leaves. Several continuances later, they tell me that because I am unfit and incompetent, that there would be no trial. Forty-five days after they brought me in I am sent to court where they give me time served. I was released on Valentines Day.

Chapter; fourth release

That very night, I went to the Safe Zone. When I awoke the next morning, a truck had arrived that was driven by an elderly man looking for people who wanted to go to work. Wiping the grease from my face, and grabbing my belongings, I ran to the vehicle. It seemed only one other person was interested. It didn’t seem peculiar at the time; that no one was really interested. And I didn’t care about anything but the question of work. After I got in the truck and we headed for a marina, where a boat was being loaded with tools and supplies.

As we waited to leave, I was told that we were to be working on a home on Ballast Key, ten nautical miles west of Key West. Smiling and filled with a renewed hope for a change, I was able to finally enjoy the moments as we cruised out to Ballast Key.

On the way out, we were told that the job entailed storm damage to the home used by the servants and guests, one of two that were built on the island. The project was at the drywall repair stage since the work had already been done to the exterior.

The first night there, I slept under the stars in a hammock on the beach. It was beautiful to have the sounds of the surf, the warm air blowing, and the starlit sky for company. For some reason, I awoke from a dream at about two thirty in the morning. My eyes focused in on the stars, and I looked for meteors and shooters. 

That was when I saw the red streak shoot across the sky at a great distance. It went from south to north. As I attempted to understand what I had just seen, a blue streak shot across the sky from east to west, traveling from as far way as I could see to the farthest it could be seen traveling. This was perpendicular to the path of the red one. It was a very strange and confusing sight.

Later, I would inquire many places about it but received no comments of any sort. Why the coloration? Why did they intersect? Why did it seem like one was responding to the other? Was one or both meteor or comet? What was it that I saw? I want to know. 
 

We were going to be staying for several days, I found out, possibly a week or more. On the third day things got ugly. The guys I had come to work with turned into pirates, attacking me for my cigarette tobacco, taking my food, kicking me out of what they had going on and beating me up in the process. 

Now without food, I used the moon, lighting the waters up in the shallows, making it easy to find lobsters among the rocks for my supper. It seemed like a great idea to relocate my bedding area, moving to a new location to sleep at that night. It had to be somewhere they would not find me, for the fear that I would disappear.

That night, while the property owner slept in his home, they had looted the property, throwing the rifles into the oceans surf that they found in the home. They raided food stores that were hidden, as well as vandalized the entire home, starting by slinging cooking oil all over the walls that we had just repaired, demonized by the liquor they had stolen.

The next day I asked them what happened, thinking that refugees had come ashore. They said it was a “power play”. 

That was a curious thing to say, and I am not sure what they meant but it seems like they were trying to extort money from the owner, David Wolkowsky. That’s when the guy I joined them with decided it would be best if we stuck together. 

It didn’t matter by then because we were loaded onto the boat and taken back to Key West within the next few hours. It was a silent and uncomfortable ride with evil but for the sounds of the boat cruising on the ocean.

When we arrived back at the marina, they asked me to join up with them in going up the Keys to another location to work. As I took down their phone number, I thought “Yeah, right”, while gathering my things. In another ten seconds I hit the bricks running. They probably had plans for me due to the fact that I had witnessed what they had done. This I was certain of.

Back on “Coquina Rock”, I searched for a place to hide like an animal. Finding a marina on the north side of the island, I met some street people who also resided in the area. They tell me that if I take five dollars to Dante’s Inferno, I can hang out there by the pool all day without any hassles from the Key West Police Department. They explained that I would be a paying customer, giving me the right to be there, which turned out to be true but that only lasts for as long as you can come up with the daily five bucks.

After the money that I had was gone, I began hiding my clothing that I had acquired from the thrift shop, underneath a low hanging palm tree, so I wouldn’t be seen carrying a bag. It was one of my only defenses to blend in.

As for the thrift shop, even if you have no money, you can still get what you need to have. The Salvation Army will gladly outfit you with whatever your needs are, taking down your social security number to submit for the accounting. If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to go to the thrift shop for help. 

No matter what help you may need, they will get you on the right track. 

And the best thing for you to do, if you ever find yourself down and out, is to stay away from anyone else on the street accept for the one person in the crowd that you can grow to confide in. 

Usually it’s the old man in the wheel chair that will be the most instrumental in recovering. Everyone else will keep you down and out, and don’t you forget it. 

This could prove to be life saving information if you ever find yourself on the street. The most potentially deadly situations will be found while searching for change, booze or a little dope. Keep to yourself and go without anything you think you need. All you need is air to breath, warmth, and a place to sleep. Anything else could get you killed- instantly or slowly but certain and definite.

Very quickly, I became acquainted with an old man in an electric wheel chair who was a Musician. He had a place that he stayed at behind a building that was condemned. There was an awning on the backside of it that was helping keep it concealed very well, along with trees, bushes, and fencing from the surrounding backyards. The awning kept the weather off of us pretty good, and it had a safe feeling about it. He said that it was the safest hide-away on the streets. Adding that he has used this particular spot for several years.

The first night I slept there with him, I had a dream about this humanoid demon. His chest had a cage door and behind it were my children. Their screams for me to release them were ear piercing. The head of this creature was extremely large and made of, what seemed like, Paper Mache. The head grew in size as I fought with this monster. Hacking at the head with a knife, I tore a large hole in it from the right temple to the chin on the opposite side. It laughed and said that I couldn’t destroy him, and that he was one hundred and forty eight years old. Terrorized by this nightmare and vision, I awoke, only to lay there the rest of the night wishing I could sleep again without the visions.

During the days, I hiked the local harbor where I would check in with boat Captains for work. There was a public head with a shower facility for the people who lived in the harbor on their various types of boats. If I stayed by it, I could manage to get inside before the door closed all the way, since being a person renting a slip or mooring ball is the only way to get a key to use it.

One day I had managed to acquire some money and went to a Tiki bar to sit and get a drink, while watching them feed the Tarpon from the docks with chicken scraps. The Tarpon were huge. Marveling at the sight of these Tarpon, I sipped my drink. That’s when I noticed a woman with a baby carriage walking along the dock in front of the Tiki bar. She had a sun hat and large sunglasses on, the air blowing her sundress around at her knees. It was Yoa, Sean’s new girlfriend, and an Icelander.

Yoa was the woman Sean had been seeing when he was thrown out of the apartment. She was from Iceland, here on a Visa to work as an Actress. She had become pregnant, which concerned Sean. He would often ask me about the situation but I just told him that it could be the best thing to ever happen to him if he let it be.

Yoa, of course, wanted to marry, becoming a U.S. resident but he shared his fear with me that she may have been using him. They had the baby just months before this, and were living together somewhere on the island. Routinely, I had been checking in with him at The Island Dogs bar when I was not in jail, only hoping for some news I could use.

Speaking her name got her to look my way. She was quick to join me at the table, where we talked for a while. It wasn’t easy to explain to her that I needed a friend and some guidance at finding a way home. It felt as though she may get the wrong impression, so I was careful in explaining my situation and the circumstances surrounding it.

There happened to be a place that was having a Grand Opening that night. Yoa mentioned that it was a new bar/restaurant that was having an Open Mike and outdoor dinner and drink special. Fifteen dollars got you a plate of food and all the beer you could drink. They were going to be there that night. 

Happily, I agreed to meet them there, with hope of getting some help with my dire needs from Sean.

Sean and Yoa showed up after I had been there for a few minutes. We got a table and were served our food and first round of drinks. Yoa snapped a photo of me that evening, and they brought me back to their pad, where I stayed for about two weeks.

During the time that they let me stay at their apartment, I managed to get a call back home. Calling Bob, practically begging him to help me get home, was a bit humiliating but I got over it. He agreed to help me, purchasing a bus ticket on the next bus leaving Key West for Grand Rapids. With the help of the last couple hundred dollars Bob had to work with, I would be leaving Key West within the next few days.

Before I left, Sean got a job working as a home stereo salesman for a well-known department store- Sears. We would sit on his porch when he got home in the evening, smoking cigars and talking about things that were important in life. 

Yoa didn’t really like it that Sean would be gone all day, then come home and sit outside until they went to bed. There isn’t a woman alive that would appreciate that but I think he was afraid of the strange new environment of being a father. Feeling it was my job to put him at ease, I did what I could to reinforce him about the situation. He was doing the best he could at the time.

Andy happened to drive through one day, stopping when he saw that Sean’s car was home. Andy soon found out that I was there and quickly worked himself into a frenzy. It was hard to keep from getting into a brawl with him over all the wrong that I felt he had done to me but, because I was at someone else’s apartment, I kept from being moved to creating a disturbance in the community.

Andy persisted at telling me that I had to leave Key West. His fear that I was in the area only reinforced my understanding of his malice towards me. It made me feel a sense of satisfaction that he and Julie were together as a couple. The way I figured, they deserved each other.

When he finally left, Sean commended me for being a “class act”. All I really truly wanted to do was pummel Andy into a bloody, quivering heap, load him into a fishing boat and put him into a chum machine. That’s exactly how I felt. It was with a sense of gratitude to Sean, that I controlled myself. And I was just thankful that this didn’t happen to me. 

Finally. I was leaving.

Chapter; Going Home

It might have been a Friday when I boarded the bus. So many emotions were running through me; happiness, relief and nervousness, especially since it was March, cold up in the states. All I had to wear was a pair of sweat pants and some other scraps of northern clothing that I managed to find at the thrift store.

Settling into my seat, I wondered if the drama was over. It made sense to start seeking out, through the people around me, for a traveling partner- someone to bond with on some level. Feeling that I needed someone to be a second pair of eyes to sense danger before it happens, I did a quick profile of the people around me, examining the clothing that they were wearing, their shoes- anything that would tell me something about them.

Picking out a person, I introduced myself. We exchanged short versions of what we had been doing in Florida and where we were off to now. This person was going to Indiana. Perfect, I thought. Since I am going to Michigan, we will be traveling the distance together or at least as far as Indiana. He and I had much in common, making me feel at ease about the trip, for the most part.

It was pretty wild seeing the sights along the way. There were things like wild hogs along the highway, and various stretches of some of the most beautiful mountains I had seen.

Georgia was pretty scary when I got off to transfer. There were cops, DEA agents, and what seemed to be drug pushers. It seemed likely to think they were Narcotics agents who were posing as pushers.

Kentucky was pretty cool also, with the famous Kentucky Derby Horserace Track.

When my traveling partner got off in Indianapolis, there was some downtime before the next departure. He invited me to a sports bar for a drink. It was easy, at this point in my big adventure, to decide that it wasn’t a good idea. All I wanted to do was to get home. Enough had happened to me already, and I was so close that it didn’t make sense to chance another mishap. 

Amid the baggage and chaotic clusters of citizens, I stayed at the station, waiting patiently.

Chicago… when I got off at the Chicago stop, I wanted a drink. Of all the places to be alone, this was not the one to go exploring in but I decided to anyway. 

There wasn’t a place in sight that looked like a store or a bar, so I began walking to find one. It was a bad time to explore to, since I was under a time constraint. Feeling like I could manage, I set out to find a place to buy a drink.

After asking around, I found a place, buying myself a twenty-two-ounce bottle of beer. Walking back, I was asked for a cigarette. This person also asked me for a sip off of my drink. 

Handing him the bottle, while thinking that I couldn’t drink the whole thing without being busted anyway, he slammed down over half of it, asking me if I was from the country or something. It must be that only a fool would give out any handouts in Chicago. It’s a good thing I was there.

Boarding the bus bound for Grand Rapids, I felt a sense of closure on the detachment with my home. 

By the time I finally got off of the bus in Grand Rapids, it had been almost a full twenty-four hours and I hadn’t had much more than four hours of sleep. 

Bob picked me up at the station and drove us back to the house he had most recently built, anxious to hear the whole story and to put me to work completing the odds and ends that needed to be done before he and his family could legally take occupancy. I would be staying there for a period of time unknown.

Within the next four days, I had done many of the major tasks that only I could have done with an acceptable level of quality. I was thankful to be back performing my trade, and it showed. He took me to the shop that he had been spending much of his time at, to give me a shot at working there. It was more like dragging in fresh meat to abuse.

The company manufactured, and sold, high-end cabinetry. By the end of the day I had proven myself and was offered a job for very little pay for my skills but I was very pleased to have something to build on, and accepted. 

When I attempted to ask for a better wage, I was told that I would have a very hard time finding anything better. There was little I could do to argue since I felt an indebtedness to Bob for assisting me with my flee from Key West, and out of my gratitude for that help, I stayed. It didn’t make sense to complain any further. It didn’t matter much either way but I couldn’t just accept the pay without trying to get a better deal negotiated.

Everything was great at the job, especially since it was right on a stream that the salmon ran up to spawn. About a week into it, we were on our way to the “rat-factory”, as Bob called it, when we noticed a brand new Dodge Charger that the Michigan state police were driving on the expressway. It had passed us. 

My surprise at seeing the State Police using these Dodge Chargers caused me to make a comment to Bob about it, so he sped up a bit to get a better look at it.

The car was sweet. And then this sweet looking Michigan State Police cruiser slowed down and got behind us. 

His bubbles went up a minute later, while Bob was asking me if I had anything on me. The cop came to the window and told Bob that he was in violation with his window tinting, and that he had a tail light out. That’s when the officer asked me for my I.D. 

The officer went back to his car and ran our information, came back and handed Bob his license, telling us that he had to take me in on a child support warrant. 

Great. Here I was again- lucky enough to get back home in time to get a job somewhere. Now, I was probably going to lose it because I was going to jail for Child Support, AGAIN.

My court day rolled around the next day or so, where I told them that I had gone to Florida to work but failed, explaining how I was waiting for my disability insurance to go through. The judge said that when I got it, I should bring it in to them framed, as the prize that it would be. After proclaiming to them that I would, she handed down a sentence of ninety days. 

Bob had been in contact with the court to verify that I did, in fact, have a job, earning me the work release program. 

They moved me into the old Animal Control complex, once a residential mental hospital. How fitting. Within a day or so, I resumed working and saving my money up.

On the weekdays I worked at the rat-factory, and on the weekends, Bob sprang me out to work on his house in the cornfield. It worked out very well for me because all I had to do was sleep in the work-release program and bring them my rent, saving the rest of my money for something useful. That something ended up being a brand new laptop computer that I intended to use in order to fulfill my promise to publish the music that Danny and I had created.

Now, the problem I had was in the factory setting. 

Adam and Bob taunted each other with their seemingly friendly badgering of one another. It was part of the “fun” they had at work. Keeping as busy as I could, while refraining from being a part of it was nothing new to me, at all. Trying to ignore them, I couldn’t help but understand that Bob was finally getting a taste of his own medicine.

At some point in their head games, Adam must have said something along the lines of replacing Bob with me. Bob began trying me at my abilities to decipher how to use and understand machinery in the shop. He normally took it upon himself to belittle me by giving me extensive instructions, as if I was lacking experience with woodworking machinery. This also gave him an excuse to be doing very little.

Bob had tried to make me look incompetent by sending me to change shaper bits, set the machine’s equipment up to do the machining, and run the cabinetry parts on that piece of machinery- machinery that I had never, ever, seen before. It really displeased him that he didn’t have an example of incompetence to give to Adam.

Bob was becoming more nervous about me replacing him, and doing what was within his power at making things worse for me. Because Bob was my ride, I absorbed the impact on the ride home with the head games that would accumulate, having a destructive affect on my psyche. My stress level was going through the roof, triggering my Paranoia, which caused a lot of disturbance for me. 

Things compounded until I began to make a lot of mistakes on the job. My first instinct was to think that someone had moved my parts that were stacked in a certain way, in order to be cut or shaped properly. And maybe they had been.

On another occasion I was working materials through a machine fed overhead belt sander that always accumulated a large pile of sawdust beneath it despite the dust collection system. 

Deciding I had to sneak a cigarette, thinking that my nerves would calm down, I used the vacuum of the system to evacuate the cigarette smoke from the area. 

Since I was at the other end of the shop, they wouldn’t be able to see me smoking, and since they frowned on my taking a cigarette break I would be able to conceal it with the help of the vacuum.

Well, I had set the cigarette down and the cherry fell off into the pile of sawdust. The smoke started to come from underneath the unit, filling the area. They thought I had burned the belt but it was the sawdust pile smoldering. I panicked, trying to find the fire before they came over. It was now a glowing spot of ember about eight inches around. 

Luckily I managed to take care of it before it could be a serious problem but part of me thought it would really be something they deserved for the dangerous games they were playing with my head.

 It was well known by all involved, that I had been coping with psychological issues as a result of my automobile accident. Fortunately, my Social Security claim was finally granted to me- a full award of benefits.

A very short time after that, I quit and moved in with my sister, Amanda. The house was the one in Conklin, where I had been helping my mother before the Julie fiasco. 

It didn’t feel safe in Bob’s company any longer, and having my disability award gave me the independence needed to get away from him once again. Although we have had our many differences, I would continue to think of him and his wife. And although he may never know or accept it, I understand why he has issues enough to see past his Ego, and care for him as a friend, though scarred as we both are.   

Now that I had a job, and a goal, I decided to try, one last time, to find someone special to share my time with. Having heard the many commercials for eHarmony for a few years, along with many other dating sites, even though I scoffed at them, I decided to start looking into the idea.

EHarmony’s site was the most logical to me. I mean, if you’re going to try it, you need to be logical. 

Things began with trying the offers to check out these places for free, and then I figured that the eighty or ninety dollars it cost was a glass ceiling- a way of grading the prospects. If a person wasn’t concerned with the fee, they were probably worth my time, even if I wasn’t what they were generally looking for in life but then again, I was looking for a particular person myself. It was all fair play.

Never breathing a word to anyone about my plans, I set up a free account to browse with. Using the photo that Yoa had taken of me in Key West, I filled out my profile information, went through all of the protocol for getting my matches from the database, and started surfing for potential women to interact with.

When I knew I was onto something that looked meaningful I bought a money order, mailed it to them, and waited for the notification that I was able to start the process. That’s when I met Jenny.

Jennifer was not the first girl I tried to start interaction with. There were several women that I had screened, all rejecting me for something I had written in my profile. 

The question of what that was got me to wonder if I had said something wrong, so I inspected it, deciding that I had said nothing wrong at all. 

Something I said might have sounded strange to them but I wasn’t going to go in and change it to improve my chances. 

If they didn’t like what I stated in my profile, then it was only because they weren’t worth my time. It was only a matter of time before I would meet the person who could appreciate what was there to move on with, which is exactly what happened.   

Jennifer had posted a photo that was taken by Siena, her four year-old little girl. It wasn’t a flattering photo but I instantly knew when I saw it, that she had used it for a reason. 

The photo, for the sake of what she looked like was unimportant. It was what that photo said to me that was important, and it spoke volumes. 

We started out by picking the questions that were prewritten, the ones that help you get to know something more but providing a buffer from the rejection a person might feel if it goes wrong somehow. 

We read each others answers, continuing the process until she decided that she was interested in taking it to the next level, which was direct chat communication over the computer.

Our cerebral connection grew until we decided that it was time to meet and see if there was more, even though her friends told her that I was probably bald because of the hat I was wearing in my photo. That was in September of 2008.

My mother insisted on driving me to Jenny’s apartment instead of me taking the bus, so she could lay eyes on her, determining if she was a good idea for me to be dabbling with. Knowing my history with all the wrong women, it was possibly the most loving thing my mother could have offered me in our relationship at the time.

By November we knew we were compatible. She liked how I got along with her two children, and I liked being with them. By Christmas we were comparing notes to be certain that we had something that was real. Before the winter had begun, we knew that we wanted to end our search, and before winter was over we knew that we had finally found what we both searched for and wanted to keep.

This new birth between Jenny and I led me to move to Lansing with her. There were a few inconveniences with re-establishing my medical care but I didn’t care. Certainly, I am not about to say that life has been a bed of roses. Anyone who thinks it is, clearly, hasn’t actually had to do anything for their self, and will find that they are helpless when they are forced to have to carve an existence out of the Earth on their own.

Roses need tending to and only become as beautiful as you care for them to be. Ours are growing just wonderfully where we are in Boyne Falls, Michigan. She and I have never been happier in life despite the wolves that always seem to be at our door. Without those wolves, we wouldn’t be able to fully love and appreciate each other as much as we do, and can only hope for the rest of the world to one day have for their own. 

Not having found what you do not want in life, how will you know what you do want? Joy, Love and Pain go together. Life is Good when you let Love Win. Don’t go through life without feeling it.         

I hope you liked it.