July 4th: Storm Brewing at Brian’s

Brian and Joey immediately shuffled us off for dinner when we arrived back in Kalamazoo, and calm- exhaustion set in as I gorged myself at IHOP. I had been eating everything, at every opportunity, for the past week still freaked out by the weight loss I had experienced in June! The feeling of calm contentment I felt that Friday night was a nice, but short- lived reprieve. This was not going to be the relaxing weekend I had hoped.

By Saturday, I had begun to notice a pattern between 2008 and 2009. It was the 4th of July and as with last year, this was a transition point. I had gotten to the final tack on my mental- map. Last year it was Portland. This year, I had finished my tasks in Michigan. Also as with 2008, the road past July 4th was unclear, other than a general direction. I began to hope that “Phase II” would begin to show itself a bit more clearly, while at the same time I ineptly began the monumental task of trying to process and incorporate all the events of the past month. In retrospect, I needed time and perspective. I was about to get neither. It was obvious that Chris was at the end of his wits, and was not- so- subtly letting me know it. He told me once that he believes he has a way of "conveying impatience” without actually disclosing what it truly is. I will take this opportunity to counter that he may not the clever thespian he fancies himself! To be fair, on this weekend I doubt he cared what he was conveying.

As Saturday wore on, I was making little to no progress on anything. I had a conversation or two with Brian, but each time the chats became sidetracked in favor of discussions about movies, the Twilight Zone marathon, or anecdotal blather. I was desperately in need of something tangible; something other than Chris & Todd’s Story Time. However, Brian was enjoying his downtime, and I felt as though I had already traveled all the possible avenues with Chris. I sat on it, and let my frustrations simmer through Saturday, eventually falling asleep on the couch and forgetting to say Happy Birthday to Mother Amerika.

On top of all of this, by Sunday I felt the familiar feeling that something was still unfinished in Michigan. After the revelation around the campfire, then consequently meeting Mike the week before, I was NOT simply going to ignore it. Frustrations were building in both of us, and were in danger of exploding. I doubt anyone knew it was getting to that point, but then again, my thespian skills are lacking also! Chris was also getting more impatient by the hour. He was understandably ready to go, and was feeling a now obvious, borderline obsessive urge to get back to Denver. The idea of pulling myself away from Michigan to let Chris simply wander home further perturbed me because in Massachusetts I had bent over backwards NOT to pressure him to leave. “I had not tied him to my ankle!” I thought. “He has been free to go the whole fucking time!” At the same time, I was reluctant to say anything because I was sympathetic to his plight, having been there. On some level I was grateful for, and even impressed by, the fact he was sticking it out- which is not his nature. He could just do it no longer. It is fucking hard to be someone’s caboose for a month!

A much-needed dose of perspective finally came on Sunday from a yet- again unexpected source: Shalain. She was sensing my extreme annoyance, and when I told her that I had a dream where I punched Chris in the face and relieved him of some teeth; she implored me to “get the fuck away from him, NOW.” I had not told Chris about this, despite my recent experience with these sorts of dreams becoming reality, but this was a warning and she was right:

A) Chris needed to move on alone or
B) We needed to get the hell out of Michigan.

And now.

Despite this, both Chris and I continued tap-dancing toward the tipping point Monday. We had discussed a variety of options on how to get to, or thru, Chicago to at least Joliet, including rides to South Bend and the dreaded Greyhound. At that point, it made more sense to me simply to walk out of there along M-43 toward South Haven. Neither of these appealed to both of us, and Chris began bordering on confrontational when asking, almost on the hour, what I wanted to do. I finally decided to tell him, voice shaking out of anger (NOT a good sign), that he just needed to move on. I wasn’t sure what was happening, and had no clear vision of how to proceed. I felt it best to “Sit Down & Shut Up” and see what presented itself.

As was the case in Denton, this began the process of clearing the air. Neither of us was pissed off at each other, unbelievably. It was a matter of each being profoundly frustrated that we were off our own tracks simultaneously. Somewhere along the way, we had lost sight, again, of the fact that we were on SEPARATE paths that NEED to split periodically. I was not angry with Chris at all; just annoyed with the situation and perhaps subconsciously even my own shortsightedness.

Having freed up the mental energy, we began exploring Craigslist Rideshares. We had already had conversations with “Photo Guy” who was going from Toledo to Omaha on Friday, and he seemed promising despite the lack of communication. I also had begun to discuss riding from Des Moines all the way to Denver or even Colorado Springs with Eli, a friend from my Iowa radio days who lives in Marshalltown. He and his wife were taking a week- long vacation, and it seemed to me that with some patience we might be able to get all the way from anywhere along I-80 to Colorado by Saturday or Sunday. Nothing was concrete however, so in the end, we resolved to let things sit Monday night to see what developed. We would then decide Tuesday, one-way or another, what we were going to do. Chris would be on his way toward Denver on Tuesday, with or without me.

It is amazing what happens when you unload frustrations. Despite being up half the night writing, the events of Tuesday were quick and fluid. I had somehow concluded that it was indeed time to move on. As Rideshare after Rideshare continued to fall by the wayside, by early afternoon we began re-focusing on Joliet as a target. While Chris seemed to be happy with this, the idea of wandering around this industrial shithole at 11pm, looking for sleeping quarters, abhorred me. I would have much preferred a pig farm, so (not coincidentally) I decided to check on an idea I had come up with over the weekend: a Greyhound through Illinois to Davenport, and possibly close to the "Iowa 80: The World’s Largest Truck Stop!” This seemed like the perfect place to begin hitching west, and perhaps even a spot to make more trucker connections. A quick online check showed that not only did Greyhound get us close; it got us within three miles!

This was it, as was evidenced by the now telltale surge of energy and adrenaline. Chris loved the idea because it would also get me out of reach of anyone in Michigan, eliminating any possibility of returning! Why I did not check on this sooner I have no idea, but within an hour we had our tickets and were making preparations to finally get out of Michigan after 5+ weeks; on a 6:30 Greyhound to Walcott, Iowa. But, before we were freed from Michigan's grasp, there was just one more piece of drama to endure...

7/3: Meet Mike

Getting up at 10:00 after the late night was rough going, but once I was packed and had dropped off the extra stuff at my mother's, we were on our way to Coldwater... a good hour later than "planned." The idea was to meet up with Mike at the familiar Big Boy around two or three o'clock. This would provide us with a few hours to eat, drink coffee, and plot. We said our goodbyes to Bob in the parking lot, and as Chris put it, let him get back to his normal life. I had spent alot of time with him over the past month, and I remember thinking that it was nice to still have a friend or two like that! Thanks for everything, Bobby.

After we had stuffed ourselves on burgers and coffee, we moved outside and were talking about how neat it would be to hitch a plane ride, when I realized that I actually had a friend who owns a plane and reportedly likes taking people up for rides! I instantly envisioned an extravagant hop across Lake Michigan, or even a simpler one from Kalamazoo to South Bend. I was quickly on the phone to explore possibilities. Through these discussions it also became apparent that staying in Michigan may be preferable to northern Indiana, not wanting to deal with toll roads. I decided that if all went well, I'd ask Mike if we could ride with him back toward his home in Charlotte, since Battle Creek and I-94 were on his way back.

Mike arrived around 3:30 and snuck up on me! I had become rather oblivious to my surroundings by then and was looking for a different car than the one he had driven, so when I looked over and saw a silver sedan pull up I was a bit shocked when I recognized him. This took me back to meeting Shelly for the first time at the end of May. There's no protocol for these situations; no prescribed dose of pleasantries to administer when you meet a brother for the first time. I'm sure he was experiencing the same things as we shook hands, hugged, and looked each other in the eye for the first time.

Mike is shorter and a bit stockier than I, but then again so is the poster child for Feed The Children. He reminded me of myself when I was living in Denver... and eating. I had seen pictures and at various times had felt like I was looking at my younger self, when I wasn't shaving my head. He seemed to be a low key, honest, up- front person. I sensed no bullshit about him and, as we all know by now, I respect that. Standing in this parking lot were two brothers who, up until less than 48- hours ago, had been just abstract ideas to each other. We were now real. This was VERY cool! There was a good vibe and I was glad for it.

Mike had brought his 9- year old daughter, Ally, and her mother Bobbie with him too. Ally is a beautiful, blonde, bundle of energy! I knew to expect that she'd be quite shy at first, but that didn't last at all. Pretty soon she was resuming her task: relentlessly tormenting her mother. It was obvious from the start that Mike adores his little girl, and has no trouble showing it.

We spent an unexpectedly, almost inappropriately long time in the parking lot smoking, chatting, and recollecting before we finally went inside so they could eat. The story telling and questions continued as we learned more about each other and our pasts. Mike has a creative streak in him, just as Shelly does. He loves restoring cars and works at a body shop. I also was horrified to learn that he had nearly been killed not too long ago, barely getting out of the way yet having his right ankle essentially shattered by falling steel . I thought to myself, "What if that had happened? Why the hell are we in this situation again?"

The original "plan" (ha!) had been for Mike to drop us off in Angola, IN where he would pick up 4th of July fireworks for his family, then head home. I submitted my revised Battle Creek proposal after I figured out we were getting along well, and he agreed. So it was on from Coldwater to Angola for munition and cigarette shopping. The conversations continued as we made the 20- minute drive down I-69 and the longer we hung out, the more we seemed to have to say and were at ease. No pretension; no bullshit. "Why the hell are we in this situation again?"

Fireworks and cigarettes in- tow, it was time for the 40- minute drive back north, toward Battle Creek and the Te- khi truck stop on I-94. I wasn't exactly sure what our next move would be, but I had friends in the area and even if we were stuck, there were ample places to hitch and/ or camp. More importantly, it wasn't far out of Mike's way. He said repeatedly that he felt "weird" about just dropping us there. I did my best to reassure him, saying that this is "what we do", and not to worry, although I did appreciate the concern. What I envisioned as a quick drop off turned into yet another 30- 45 minute conversation, in yet another parking lot! I had to laugh at the mild, typical concerns that I'd had about not having anything to say to each other! This was great! After taking some pictures, shaking hands and hugging again, they were off. As I watched him drive away, the reality that we may not see each other for a while, or often enough, set in. We had obviously connected on some level, and I was actually sad to see him go. "Why the hell are we in this situation again?", I asked one last time.

Meeting Mike was the perfect, unexpected possible ending to the "Eastern Phase" of this little adventure. He was the one that I had, unfairly, held the least hope for based on "old intel," and I rightfully and religiously have been chastising myself for making any judgment at all. I should have permanently learned that lesson with Lynn. One thing I've had reinforced repeatedly over June, and now July, is that I need to get my own answers and draw my own conclusions. See the world unfiltered. I have written alot about that, but find myself failing at some important times. To do that, I need to eliminate preconceived notions, or at least suspend them. Thankfully, Mike decided to do that with me and I'm glad I chose to listen to Shelly when she encouraged me to try to contact him. They unknowingly threw me a rope and rescued me from my own shortsightedness. In the process they helped me to reinforce this lesson and shrink it down from an abstract "social" concept to a tangible, applicable "personal" tool. Maybe I've helped them in that respect too.

The smell of diesel exhaust triggered feelings of familiarity after Mike left. I felt oddly back in my comfort zone, and immediately called Shelly to let her know how things went. I then gave Joey a call in Kalamazoo to tell him what has been going on. He almost immediately offered to come and pick us up. Less than 2- hours after Mike dropped us off, we were back in Kalamazoo, where this eventful Michigan excursion had started a month before. Unfortunately, the plane- hitching idea fell through, but not for a shortage of interest! Adam's plane was in the shop, but otherwise said he would have loved to fly us out of Michigan! Maybe next time...

Being back at Brian & Joey's was a study in short- term contrasts. I began to compare where I was just four short weeks ago as opposed to now; only beginning to feel twinges of the effects of June. I was mentally exhausted, numb, and feeling an odd, nervous contentment. My only nagging concern was rather I was being just as shortsighted with Mike's sisters, Pam and Kim, as I had been with Mike. I had yet to see any indications otherwise and, quite honestly, I was too mentally cashed to go hunting again anyhow. That might have to wait...

6/2- 6/6: Evolving Friendships

I was absolutely right about Chris. He got along with Brian & Joey famously! Tuesday night was spent diving into our different philosophies and experiences as Brian took it all in and offered what was now clinical analysis. To my shock and amazement, however, I quickly discovered that I was having the same sense of difficulty talking with Brian as Chris had with Bill in DC! The days of free- flowing ideas had evolved to emulate Brians' now- extensive psychological training. Rather than engaging in the development of ideas, we were being psychologically evaluated. WE were being studied, rather than the ideas! None of this should have come as a shock. Brian has a brilliantly studious mind, and has absorbed everything he's learned. He is also beginning his internships and is counseling people nearly everyday. The fact that he would bring that into our odd situation made perfect sense.

While I was quite interested in his interpretations, it quickly became clear that he was drawing his conclusions a bit too quickly. We had not shared everything with him, by any means, and when I picked up on the diagnosis process and then heard what I identified as the Voice of the Institutional Filter, I began to get a bit defensive. I was struggling to find the "right" words to get my point across, and was reluctant to even broach some of the primary purposes behind this little adventure. Not something I had expected from this! While we were still close friends, it became obvious immediately that I needed to re- define this part of it. I was no longer comfortable walking in this field with Brian!

To be fair, my opinions of the psychological field have always been mixed. While there is indeed a need for some people to get treatment, from my own experience I believe that much of it is simply a method of social control. The practice of categorizing people so that they can be put into a box, then treated by textbook... with the ultimate goal of assimilation. I'm of the opinion that many people are experiencing mental turmoil as a result of an inability, or unwillingness, to listen to themselves and follow their own internal compass. One that cannot be "fixed" or reset. By another person, or ANYONE, regardless of the training or method.

I'm not just talking out of my ass; I've experienced this. I was forced to enter "therapy" a number of times as a "maladjusted youth", and later by the state as an "alcoholic." In all but one instance, they attempted to force me into a pre- approved template rather than encourage me to listen to and follow my own voice, thereby eliminating that dichotomy between what I wanted from life and what is "expected". This was the ultimate root of internal conflict creating the symptoms. They did more harm than good in each case, because the more I tried to "fit", the worse it got. Then the old adage became true: hear you're defective long enough, you'll start to believe it and can ultimately run the danger of giving up.

Until we're ready to accept responsibility for ourselves, then reach the point where we are willing to tell the Ministry of Standards & Practices (institutions, friends, family, media) with their definition of "defective" to go to hell, you're going to have a choice: Live life as the socially- engineered clone of your neighbor, or live in conflict with yourself. I've yet to see a therapist that can provide an accurate road map to get here. Then again, maybe that's best for them... if that secret got out, perhaps they'd go the way of the live DJ!

It's quite simple really, and is summed up nicely in the ancient cliche' "Answers lie within." It's impossible to get it from anything, or anyone else but ourselves. We alone are responsible for finding our own, individual path to happiness. That self- exploratory journey is, in my opinion, the essence of life. Both of these remembered- lessons were about to repeatedly beat me over the head over the next 2-weeks! I believe even Brian would agree with most of that!

The rest of the time at Brian & Joey's was uneventful, except for a VERY cool reunion of sorts with an old friend. This meeting came at the perfect time in retrospect, because it provided the personification of some things I just wrote, and also was a terrific exercise in "mirroring"; a concept we picked up from Brian. We had some nice chats through the week, but mostly it was spent on computers while they lived their busy lives, then watching TV at night. This time had shown that while we still had great love for each other, we had begun that old familiar process of change that alters friendships, sometimes for the better.

Saturday, I reconnected with my old radio- buddy Sean. He had offered to drive us to Hillsdale, and that simplified things greatly. We had a great time taking the 90- minute ride discussing politics, radio, and whatever else came up. When he dropped us at my friend Bob's place, I was primed to see what was waiting for me here in this place I had avoided like Herpes for 13- years...

6/2: Kalamazoo

Tuesday began as Monday had: Dropping Shelly at work, then hitting the road to Ann Arbor. We returned to her house so I could prepare Elmo for his demise; unpacking everything and repeatedly searching him to be sure I was returning only the pack! Not unlike leaving an apartment for the last time. During this process, I discovered that even if I had not found the new pack, I would have returned it because stitching had failed where a stabilizer strap meets the rubber fabric on the bottom. My good fortune was continuing.

We found "Sunshine" again working at REI, and a new day had done nothing for her demeanor. I just glared at her the entire time she struggled through the process of refunding my money. We normally will look around for a spell anytime we get to REI, but through all of this, we were ready to get to Bivouac. I figured the various other things I needed would be better purchased there. Plus we wanted to catch Pam before her shift ended at noon. We had a good time chatting with her and the other employees before heading to Whole Foods for mate' and Cliff Bars and returning to Ohio to prepare to meet my friends Brian & Joey in Coldwater that evening.

Once on the road back to Michigan, it was yet another trip down memory lane. Shelly took the Hillsdale County back roads thru Camden, Reading, and Allen before stopping at her mother's place on a lake in Quincy. I had heard alot about Charlotte over the years from my own mother. They had been friends despite the fact that she was my father's ex- wife and my mother had always recommended that I contact her to meet her kids and learn about my father. Being at her house was a bit strange, and the idea that I was going to meet her the following week with my new- nephews was even more bizarre. That all changed immediately when she unexpectedly passed us on the road just after we had left her house. Shelly turned around, and we were instantly making introductions. Charlotte gave me a hug, an intense look up and down presumably evaluating any resemblance to my father, and all was well in the world. Another one of these mythical, main characters from an previously abstract past brought to life.

The four of us piled in Shelly's car, and finished our trip into Coldwater, stopping at the Big Boy for food and coffee while Brian & Joey made their way from Kalamazoo. Once they arrived, they joined us for coffee while I found myself astounded by this gathering of people. My sister & her mother from one era of my life. Brian & Joey from my radio days. Chris representing my days in Denver and beyond. I have never allowed these epochs to clash, and it was a sign of things to come. The conversation was light, loud, and full of laughter as we sat at this dumpy little restaurant on US-12 in Coldwater.

I had lived in Kalamazoo for nearly 5- years before moving to Florida in 2004. Brian & Joey have been my best, longest lasting, perhaps my only remaining "real" friends from my Kalamazoo radio days. I met Brian when he was my Program Director at 107.7 WRKR. We had shared a common passion for radio, beyond "bottom line" and "product." We considered radio an art form, public service, and more than just a simple advertising venue. He is to- date the only PD who demanded creativity first, and avoided the "radio formula" like a plague. The ratings reflected this. Unfortunately, corporate powers disagreed and we eventually, after job changes for both of us, found ourselves continuously miserable and frustrated as we began to seek out other ways to live. After I left WRKR, I rented a room in their home for nearly a year. Brian and I would spend hours philosophizing about radio, life, politics... everything. I remember distinctly sitting at his dining room table when he made the decision to tell radio to go fuck itself and go back to school to get his psychology degree in 2003. He's now preparing for his doctorate and presumably moving to Denver for that in 2010.

I had seen Brian & Joey once or twice a year, whenever Shalain and I would return to Kalamazoo, and the familiarity was nice. As we rode back to Kalamazoo, the "plan" was to stay through Saturday, then meet up with Shelly after the BBQ at our father's house in Charlotte, MI that Sunday. The one I had once hoped to attend. That would give us 4- days in Kalamazoo, and I was eager to see how the conversations would go and what insights we'd leave with. I was also anxious to see if I was right in assuming that Chris would get along with these two brilliantly!