Greyhound to Fresno

Exactly 45 years ago today I was on a Greyhound to Fresno. I had enjoyed a great 4th of July party where I was proud to tell anyone that would listen I was joining the navy in a couple of days.

It was a classic bbq. Burgers and hot dogs, corn on the cob, and watermelon as far as the eye could see. The Stars & Stripes were everywhere. Laughing kids chased each other with water balloons and squirt guns. Adults patted me on the back and said, “Good for you. See the world!”

There I was in the summer of 1981 riding a bus to the AFEE’s station in Fresno. Armed Forces something something. I may have missed an F. Anyway it was a shabby little office in central Fresno that I had been to previously getting my pre-enlistment physical. I had to get two waivers to join when I did.

One waiver was for my ankle. When I was a child I had climbed up a 4×4 that was leaning against the house. As I was trying to get up it, I got splinters in my hands. When I got scared walking around up there, I didn’t want to climb back down. So I jumped. I guess because I was a kid instead of breaking my ankles, I just sprained one terribly. From then on, if I just sat on my ankle wrong, it would dislocate and I would be unable to walk for days. When I got to be a teenager, my parents finally got tired of me doing it intentionally to get out of chores they had it surgically repaired.

For the US Navy, when they looked at the x-rays of my ankle, they said it was a compound fracture and medically disqualifying w/o a note from my doctor explaining that my ankle was now fully functional. Waiver approved.

The other waiver was for my age. I was only 17. I wouldn’t turn 18 for a couple of months so my parents had to sign paperwork. One was in Alaska and one in California. Not easy, but it got done. Waiver approved. I could join the navy now.

As I was processing through the AFEEs station, I saw the recruits from all of the branches of the services gathering in their groups. Most were like me, straight out of high school, although some were older. One of the older guys (mid-20s?) came up and started talking to me about why he was joining the navy. I remember he was a bouncer at a bar. I was only a month out of high school. He impressed me immediately as a guy who had been places and done things already.

We would have to stay overnight at a cheap motel and wait for our plane ride to boot camp in San Diego early the next morning. Being a grown ass man, he could and did, go to the store and buy beer. After having spent the last couple of years having my prematurely balding best friend buy beer with a fake ID, this was also impressive. As the night wore on and we got more and more drunk he gave me a life lesson. No, nothing bad if that’s what you were thinking.

It was a demonstration of willpower. If you are properly motivated, you can do things you wouldn’t have thought you could. As his example he held out the plastic rings that had formerly held one of the 6 packs together. He folded it up until it was a single ring. He handed me the ring and said, “Hold it with one finger hooked on each side and try to pull it apart.”

I gave it a mighty pull, but it was useless. I couldn’t do it. Then he said in my face at increased volume, “Now imagine someone is attacking your mom! If you can’t break this, you can’t help her!” Sure enough this time I split the rings easily. It was a silly demonstration and point, but for some reason it has stuck with me since.

The next morning we were awakened by the sound of the shuttle bus horn blaring, waiting to take us to the airport. Hungover we grabbed our bags and ran out to the bus. A couple of life lessons indeed. First, don’t try and keep up with a guy who weighs twice as much as you, (and an ex-bouncer to boot!) in drinking beers. Second, you can summon strength, courage, or whatever you need with the right inspiration. I think the faithful know this too. If you seek devoutly in a time of need, help can be found within us.

I have changed so much in the 45 years since getting on that Greyhound to Fresno, I can hardly remember being that naive kid. It was all so exciting and new. I hope you had a great 4th of July. I hope you feel proud of being a part of this great country. I know I do. And I’m a Democratic Socialist!

Good Morning

Tracy Chapman is “Talking ‘Bout a Revolution” as I stare out the window. It’s a little past 8:30 in the wilds of Wyoming. I’ve had my first coffee and my first vape. I’m staring at a world that is slowly waking up too. The chemicals of the world begin to mix. Gasoline and sin gets a Sunday morning going.

When you just let the world be out there it’s easier to just be yourself in here. Behind my window I don’t have to be polite. On this side of the glass there is peace and serenity. Except my coffee’s cold. Time to make another cup. Might as well enjoy another hit of the vape while I’m up. There’s no judgement on this side of the window. Just a Sunday morning coming into view.

The Beatles have taken over for Ms. Chapman. They’re getting high with a little help from their friends. I used to grow my own weed. You wouldn’t just pick it and smoke it, like you wouldn’t just pick and smoke tobacco. You have to harvest it and let it dry. The stickiness of freshly harvested weed and the smell of rows of drying buds is something I miss.

America would be much better off if we were all small farmers, handcrafters, artists, or shop keepers. Where the doctor would come to your house when you were sick. Where the baker provides fresh healthy breads, rolls, and sweets so the town can enjoy them. He makes a living, he participates in the economy, and the people eat good food. Small individual transactions and interactions. That’s a real community because everyone actually knows everyone else.

Sorry I’m stoned, so this is going to meander like my mind. I got to spend a couple of days with my daughter and her family. She had intentionally shut me out of her life about 5 years ago. I didn’t know why. Even after talking to her about it, I’m still not sure I know why. But I knew then that whatever she needed to do, it was necessary. I trusted her.

She is so smart. Like, genius smart. I always thought I was smart. Nope, I’m older now but I don’t think I was ever that smart. A brain that refuses to slow down. Thoughts relentlessly force themselves into her consciousness. When she’d share what was going on in her head it came out like a torrent from a fire hose. A powerful stream of logic and knowledge that would annihilate any rebuttal of her understanding. It was zero to a thousand and I was overwhelmed.

Your kids are supposed to surpass you. You put them on your shoulders so they can see farther. You support them when they’re young so they can step up when it’s their turn. You let go so they can become what they’ll be. I was the first in my family to get a college degree. My daughter is preparing to defend her doctoral thesis. She’s a former marine (once a marine always a marine Semper Fi), a gold star widow, a mother of a neurodivergent son, and survivor of SA. Fierce feminist. So self-aware of who she is and what she wants to do. She’s almost achieved her academic goals, then comes social change. She’s going to change the world.

So good morning! The world is spinning, time marches on, and we sit wondering what it’s all about. I get to hear from my sons how the Rush concert went last night. That they went together because they wanted to and not because their dad took them warms my heart. I did something right! We spend our Sunday mornings hanging out playing computer games or watching TV shows/movies together. They’re in California so it’s an hour earlier. I’m up before them and wait for them to get up. I was surprised they wanted to get together online after the concert last night. We’ll see when they actually get up. It’s always understood to be a flexible start time. Sunday mornings are precious.

I wake up on Sunday mornings looking forward to the time I’ll spend with my sons. I enjoy my solitary lifestyle, but I wouldn’t want to be completely cut off from socializing with my friends and family online. Like with my recent conversations with my daughter I can get overwhelmed with face to face interactions. I need to go sit by myself for awhile after a lot of talking with others. I used to hate going to parties. I enjoyed the parties up to a point. Then I had to leave. Like right now let’s go. I guess I’ve always been weird. No wonder I live alone.

So on this Sunday morning I leave you with my sincerest wish for someone I don’t know, that you have the greatest day you’ve had in months. I hope you have great weather and good conversations. I hope you find a reason to look someone in the eye and smile. Smile knowing that this is a great day. Smile knowing some days aren’t. Smile knowing you’re forgiven for what you’ve done. Smile knowing you’ve done the best you could.

Ancestry & Geology

The longer I stay in Wyoming, the more I find to love. I came to Wyoming last year looking for a place to live. Cheaply. There’s more than one reason Wyoming is the least populous state. But those reasons have resulted in some cheap rent, and I’m happy for that. But that’s not the only reason I’m here.

My great-grandfather was adopted by a man of Irish heritage named McLaughlin. Growing up I was proud of my Irish heritage. I loudly celebrated St. Patrick’s Day, cheered for Notre Dame, and made sure when giving my name it was, “Capital m, small c, capital L…” My mom had t-shirts made with the Mclaughlin family crest. Why?? We weren’t Irish!

Supposedly the child that was adopted Mr. McLaughlin was a Native American kid adopted from the Wind River reservation. So that made us part Shoshone! My grandad had very bushy eyebrows. That was supposedly because of his native heritage. My grandparents lived out there retirement years in Arizona. They adopted Native dress and jewelry. As if they were elder indians living on the reservation. We’d call that cultural appropriation today. I guess they thought it was just easier to pretend they were what they looked like, rather than be what they were. It sort of makes sense for my grandad, after all he was supposedly secretly native. But my Grammy?

I got a DNA test done. 0.0% Native American. There’s some hint of Irishness, but mostly my ancestry comes from England and Northern Europe with a trace of African ancestry. My suspicion is my biological great-grandfather was of mixed-race African ancestry and his dark complexion was attributed to Native instead of African for acceptability reasons in 1890s Wyoming.

The puzzle-solver in me wants to find out where my great-grandfather came from. But now I have to try and find the birth, baptism, or adoption records from 1890s Wyoming. It was just barely a state! I think he came from either Wind River or one of the Catholic missions/schools of the area. I don’t know if I have enough interest to maintain an investigation.

Especially when there’s so much to look at! If you like looking at geologic strata tilted at angles when you’re driving, Wyoming is the place for you! Just don’t bring a light trailer as it is likely to get blown over in the near-persistent 50mph winds the state is know for! But my goodness the views you’ll see out your window as you drive across the beautiful state!

Ok, just one example of how awesome this place is that I just discovered. In northern Wyoming there’s a beautiful majestic whit mountain called Heart Mountain. It’s like a huge white rock plunked down on a base of lesser rock. It turns out unlike most of the rest of the world, the older rock is ON TOP of the younger rock. Rocks are supposed to get older the deeper you dig. How’d this huge big old rock end up on top of the younger base? Millions of years ago a 40,000 square mile section of a mountain broke free and slid at about 50 mph for over 30 miles. Heart Mountain is just the tiny remainder of the result of the world’s greatest landslide!