Wooly Bully

 Life puts you in compromising positions sometimes. The line between right & wrong can often be difficult to distinguish. The blacks & whites become shades of grey, and what to do or what not to do becomes more a reflection of perspective & philosophy than it does anything else. I try and live my life in a just and fair manner. I want to be kind, considerate & friendly, but not at the cost of justice.  I feel life at times can be vicarious, putting us not in win/lose situations, but instead in lose/lose situations where we have to make the most of two evils. 

Now in my life, I have been an outright bully at times. I can think of times as a kid when without merit, I unsubstantially bullied someone. There weren't many times, as for the most part I was a good kid, but there were a handful of times.  There were times when there was no question, I was a little jackass and I own those particular times. 

In my adult life though, I have tried hard to never come across as a bully. However there have been a few times where I was put into a position where I felt & for that matter still feel that threatening someone was the best of the options I had put in front of me. 

This was one of those times....


Professional wrestling was a world unto itself. I've met a lot of strange & interesting characters in my life, but abnormal was the normal in pro wrestling. One of the guys I befriended for a while during my six years in the whacky business was a guy named Kevin. Kevin despite his flaws, had a good heart & would often do anything for anyone.  One of his good friends, also a pro wrestler was a guy named Alan. 

I never knew whether Alan was just plain stupid or if he was malicious. It was hard to tell with him if he honestly didn't realize how shitty of a person he could be at times or if he was aware of it. His inconsideration for others & his ungratefulness did more than annoy me. It outright angered me. What angered me even more was Kevin allowing him to do this to him. Kevin constantly making excuses for him and justifying his actions.  I let it go most of the time, but there was once when I couldn't let it go. 

We were on our way back to Des Moines from a wrestling show.  Kevin was driving, I was in the backseat and Alan was riding shotgun.  A police officer got behind us and put on his lights. Kevin pulled over.  We were all really curious about why we were being pulled over.  Kevin never sped & as far as we knew all of the lights on the vehicle were working properly.

Much to our surprise, the officer wasn't interested in Kevin. He wanted Alan to get out of the car.  I had never seen anything like this. I asked Kevin what in the Hell was going on. He didn't know anything more than I did.  Next thing we know, Alan is being handcuffed & put into the back of the squad car.  The officer comes back up to Kevin's car & informs us that we are allowed to leave. 

Kevin couldn't have been more polite asking the officer to explain what was going on, but the officer's only response was that it was not of our concern and we were free to go. 

Kevin was an outright mess. Hyperventilating and crying, he was in no shape to drive. I got into the driver's seat as we still had a good 70 miles or so to go before we reached our destination. 

I tried to tell Kevin not to worry about it. I said that Alan had probably done something stupid & got himself into trouble. I said he'd be fine. 

"Stephen I'm worried about him!  I don't know what's going happen to him!" 

I had to listen to Kevin's concerns for the next hour or so.  

When we got back, Kevin shared the news with a few others as we tried to get to the bottom of what exactly was going on. If you know the pro wrestling community, it's not really much on sympathy. Instead they wanted to see if they could rile Kevin up more by suggesting to him that Alan might get beat up or have certain things happen to him in the shower.  This made it even worse. 

There was no Kevin going up to his room and me crashing on his couch.  Instead we had to call around until we found out the real story. 

Alan had apparently gotten into a physical domestic dispute with his wife Heather. As a result he was told that he couldn't leave Polk County.  He left Polk County anyway, thinking he wouldn't get caught. Someone told the authorities where he was, who he was with and gave them the make, model & license plate of Kevin's vehicle.  Now he was being held at the Polk County Jail. 

It was like 2 a.m. or so when Kevin & I drove down to the jail.  I waited in the car while Kevin went in.  He came back out a few minutes later. 

I don't remember the exact number but it was a fairly high bail.  $300+ if memory serves me correct but shy of $400.  I'm almost certain of that.  It was not money that Kevin had to spend. 

I tried talking him out of it. I told him that Alan put himself in this position & a day or two, or whatever it was gonna be would do the guy some good.  Kevin refused to let it happen.  He went to the ATM & took out the money.  He bailed Alan out of jail that night. 

Alan's words said he was grateful, but I knew his actions would prove soon enough that he wasn't. 

It wasn't too long after that  when the bank foreclosed on Kevin's house.  He hadn't been able to keep up with his mortgage payments & as a result, the bank took his home.  He had something like 72 hours or something to get all of his stuff out. 

He found an apartment & he called up as many people as he knew to come help him move.  Most everyone he called was from Des Moines or from the Des Moines area.  The only guy who wasn't, was me.  He wanted us all to meet up at his place at 2 p.m. to help him move.  

I made the 90+ mile drive to Des Moines from Sigourney to help him move.  Arriving at about 1:50 p.m. I waited with Kevin until 2:00 p.m. for the others to show up.  No one was there at 2:00.  No one was there at 2:15 either. By 2:30 I realized that this moving job was gonna be me and Kevin. 

"Did you ask Alan to help?" I questioned Kevin. 

He had, but Alan had informed him that he had something very important going on today & he couldn't help.  Kevin wanted me to drive the Uhaul he had rented.  I told him before we did anything else, we were going to go over to Alan's. 

"I don't know why you insist on going over to Alan's," Kevin kept saying to me. "I already told you, he said he had something really important going on. I doubt he's even home." 

Much to Kevin's objections, I made him give me directions & when I parked the Uhaul next to Alan's house, I told Kevin to wait in the vehicle.  

I walked right up to Alan's front door.  It was open with only the screen door.  I could look right into his living room. There he was sitting comfortably on his couch playing video games. This was the "more important" thing he had to do instead of helping Kevin. 

I didn't knock. I didn't ask if I could come in. I opened up that door walked right into his living room and sat down right beside him on the couch. 

He was very surprised to see me and I think he could tell I wasn't happy. 

We made small talk for a while.  I asked him about the game he was playing. He told me all about it.  I then stood up from the couch & put it to him very simply. 

"I gotta take a leak," I said to him as I eyed where the bathroom was. "When I come out, you're gonna be one of two places. You're gonna be outside in the Uhaul truck with Kevin, ready to help us move him or you're gonna still be sitting here on the couch playing this game.  You don't wanna be on the couch." 

He could've called the Police
He might have had a weapon to defend himself

Yeah, yeah, yeah...I didn't care.  Kevin had bailed him out of jail.  Using money that he didn't have. Lawd knows how many times Kevin had spent money helping him out. Money that he could have used to pay his bills.  Money that might have kept him from losing his house. Kevin did all this for Alan and he couldn't take a few hours to help him move a few things from his house to his apartment? 

It wasn't an issue because when I came out of the bathroom, pumped and ready for a fight, Alan was no longer on the couch.  I prepared for a sneak attack, but when I looked outside, Alan was sitting right beside Kevin in the Uhaul.  The rest of the day went great & to Alan's credit he was very helpful in lifting things & carrying them. We got along fine & Kevin treated us both to a Chinese buffet.  

Did Alan come to his senses & realize that he owed this to Kevin? Or did he only do what he did because he knew that if he didn't, I was gonna beat his ass?  I don't know.  I think sometimes the mistake we make with people in life, is that we assume everyone has a conscious. That everyone will feel a sense of guilt. That isn't true for sociopaths. The only way to get them to understand something is fear. 

Now was I a bully?  Yeah, maybe I was, but I don't regret it.  I'd handle this situation the same way.  There's nothing about it I would change.  I'm glad that I didn't have to do anything, but I would have.  Alan needed to help Kevin or he needed to have a consequence for not helping Kevin.  If someone else thinks the right thing would have been for me to have let it go, I don't agree.  I did what I felt was right & if this marks a time in my life where I was a bully, then good. In this particular instance I wear the badge with honor. 

Dirty Laundry

 The other day my sister Sara called me up on the phone accusing me of harassing her ex-husband & supposedly trying to pry into her life.  That's not at all what happened, but I knew better than to try and explain it to her. She had her mind made up, so I just let her say what she had to say & then used some colorful language of my own & hung up the phone on her before she could say anymore. 

At this point in my life, I don't care anymore if I'm made out to be the bad guy in our situation. 

Here's what actually did happen...

Back in May of 2018, I attended my nephews graduation party. His father, Sara's ex-husband Eric was there. I always liked Eric. If you're curious to know, I've always liked Steve too. Like I said to Eric not too long ago, I don't like Sara, but I've always thought she had good taste in men.  I told Eric at the graduation party I was glad to see him & that I always thought a lot of him.  He gave me his phone number & then added me to facebook.  We talked about getting together sometime. 

Over the past few years, I've always meant to go down to Moline & have a beer with Eric.  Just because he divorced my sister didn't mean that I had to dislike him.  That's one thing I really wanted him to know.  So many in my family are so critical & judgmental.  I'm not sure what he thought everyone else felt about him, but I wanted to let him know that he didn't need to feel any animosity from me. 

I messaged him a couple of months ago, just to see how he was doing. It took him quite a while to get back to me, but when he did, he said that he still saw a lot of Garrett & that he talked to Sara quite a bit too.  I didn't quite know how to take that.  It really surprised me.  He said that he had a near death experience, had to be air lifted & have a blood transfusion.  I told him that I was really sorry to hear all of that & then he told me that Sara had come to visit him during this tough time in his life.  That really shocked me.  Of all things Eric could have told me, I don't know if there's anything else he could have said that would have thrown me more off guard.   Then he told me that my sister was the best thing that ever happened to him & that his biggest regret in life was letting that marriage fall apart. 

See I never knew why Sara & Eric got divorced. All I knew is that I sorta started to notice that Eric wasn't around at family get togethers & when we'd visit Sara, Eric never seemed to be there anymore. They had already been divorced for quite sometime when Grandpa Harry informed me that they were no longer together. 

With Eric now opening up to me about all of this, I couldn't help but wonder if pressure from my mother might have lead to their divorce. My mom never liked Eric.  She always thought Sara could do better than Eric & that Sara deserved better than Eric. It's not all that much different than my relationship with Ashley. My mom does nice things for Ashley & she would tell you that I'm wrong, but my mom has never liked Ashley.  My mom thinks I can do better than Ashley & that I deserve better than Ashley.  She's been very persuasive & manipulative in trying at different times to get me to breakup with Ashley. 

So my curiosity got the best of me & I asked Eric if my mom had anything to do with their divorce. 

I guess Eric must have taken it as me having some sort of an agenda or something. Like I was trying to get information out of him to use against Sara. That wasn't at all what I was doing.  I was just wanting to see if my mom had anything to do with their splitting apart, because if it did, I wanted to console in someone who had gone through the same something difficult that I was going through right now. 

Eric told Sara all of this & that's when she called me. 

My anger over the situation is more geared at Eric than it is anyone. I was so pissed off at him that I felt like driving down to Moline & beating his scrawny ass.  Here I was trying to be a friend to him, and he was taking it as me trying to pry information out of him for some sort of a agenda.  It's everyday, nothing new news with my sister, but I wasn't expecting that from him.  I sent him a message saying that if he didn't want to talk to me, then he shouldn't have.  If he would have asked me to not bother him, I wouldn't have bothered him.  "F you" "F you" it isn't complicated. I gave him my word I'd never bother him again & I won't. 

This is always how it is with Sara though. I'd be lying if I said it's been that way our entire lives, because we've had a few good times, but not many.  Throughout most of our lives we haven't liked one another. 

I think it all started with our parents. Especially my Dad. He made the two of us so competitive with one another. I can't remember a time when he ever liked both of us at the same time.  I can remember times when he didn't like either one of us. I can remember a lot of times when he liked me & he didn't like Sara. I can remember times when he liked Sara & he didn't like me.  But a time when he liked both of us?  Maybe when we were really, really little but that'd be it. 

Notice how I was specific to use the word like & not love. I hate it when I tell someone that my Dad doesn't like me & they fire back, "your dad loves you very much."  I didn't say a gawd damn word about love. I said like. I know my father loves me. I've never doubted that in my entire life.  I also know he doesn't like me. 

When we were in junior high & high school I was the one Dad liked & Sara was the one Dad disliked.  I was the B honor roll, liked well by my teachers, three time hardest worker of the year Captain of the wrestling team. It's not to say that my Dad wasn't exceptionally hard on me & still rather critical, but at least at the time he liked me. I was the one that was gonna go off to college & become a somebody in life.  He would brag about me all the time. Even to the point to where other people didn't like me & thought of me as being arrogant and cocky, because of how much my Dad would talk me up. 

His feelings on Sara at the time were completely different. Sara was a wild child. From his view, a fuck up.  I know & I'll say it because I was there. I had to listen to it every night.  Sara partied, Sara drank, she hung out with hoodlums. "You just watch. Sara will end up dead, on dope, in jail or pregnant. You just watch."  I can still hear him talking about it now. 

Considering Sara got in three drunk driving accidents, I feel fortunate that dead wasn't what we ended up with. I don't like my sister. I want nothing to do with her & I want her out of my life the rest of my life.  That doesn't mean I wanted anything bad to happen to her though.  I am glad that with the options my Dad laid out in front of me that pregnant is what she ended up.  It's the best of all the options. 

He was pissed about it though, and I mean PISSED. Sara wasn't around for him to yell out when he found out, but I was. He sat and shook in his chair & screamed at me all night until his voice finally gave out.  "She ruined her life!"  "She won't amount to jack shit!"  

I remember my wrestling coach telling us that whatever was going on in our lives outside of wrestling practice & competing, we had to leave outside of wrestling practice & competing. There were so many nights like this when I'd be kept up till 1 a.m. listening to my father's anger & then be expected to not have it effect me at all when I had to step out on the mat the next day for a dual or a tournament. Just another failure of the long list of failures I have in my life, cause I wasn't able to do that. 

I guess this is where a lot of Sara & I's inability to get along stems from. 

In reality, Sara had to completely change her path in life. The dreams she had, were now replaced with being a mom & taking care of a son. And I have to commend her on it. She did a great job with raising Garret & she's done a great job with Addison & Norah too.  I'll always say that Sara is an excellent mother, because she is. 

Our lives turned out the complete opposite of what my Dad thought they would.  Sara was the one that ended up the major bread winner. The one with the brand new vehicles & the one that ended up with the $500,000 house.  I've been the one who has lived in cheap apartments, done jobs my Dad doesn't respect & the one that has struggled. 

And again that's where Sara & I have an inability to get along. 

In Sara's estimation we both my mistakes & we both suffered for those mistakes. I don't see it that way.  Yes, choosing to go to Northwestern College was one of the worst decisions I've ever made in my life, but I didn't know that going in. There's no way I could have known going in the horrific experience it was going to be for me. There's no way I could have known that I was gonna have a girl cheat on me & then when people made her feel bad about it she was going to make up a story that I had been beating her.  You can't equate that with getting plastered drunk & getting into three drinking and driving accidents.  You know that when you are inebriated that you shouldn't operate a vehicle. You know going into it that it's the wrong thing to do & that it will most likely result in dire consequences. You know this.  So no, the mistakes Sara made in High School were a lot different than the ones I made in college.  They were a Hell of a lot different.  For Sara and my Dad to not grasp that, is frankly bullshit in my opinion.  Absolute bullshit. 

Sara likes to talk all the time about how she went out and got a real job, while I did the kind of jobs I did while still chasing a dream.  Yeah, when you do something practical, something safe & concrete, you're gonna get somewhere a lot faster.  Chasing you dreams is a risky proposition. I can admit that. It's why they call it, "struggling".  Struggling writer, struggling pro wrestler, struggling actor, struggling.  

You see when Sara was younger she wanted to be a fashion designer. How good was she? How realistic was this dream? I don't know. I saw some of Sara's designs for clothing & I always felt she had talent. I always felt that her ideas were as good as Ralph Lauren or Tommy Hilfiger. It wouldn't have surprised me any if Sara had gotten on somewhere as a fashion designer & helped design clothes for a major designing company.  

That was the plan. She wanted to attend Black Hawk community college to get a degree in fashion design.  That was her dream & getting knocked up in December of 1999 but an end to all of that.  

Sara never got to chase her dream & she has held a vendetta against me ever since because I've gotten to chase mine.  

When I was going after my dream of one day going out to Hollywood & really trying to make a go for it as a screenplay writer/actor, she would get infuriated.  I'd talk about learning the craft of screenplay writing to one of my relatives & she'd respond with something nasty like, "sure wish I could waste my time taking courses like that instead of having to actually work for a living." 

I'm supposed to feel bad for Sara & have empathy for her that her choices to screw around in high school, barely get by with C's & go out getting hammered every weekend, led to her not being able to go after being a fashion designer.  I'm supposed to be understanding and sympathetic to that. But when it comes to me not being able to make a real go at Hollywood, because my student loans financially crippled me, the response is, "Hey buddy, you made poor choices." 

It was even worse when I was trying to make it as a pro wrestler.  The six years I traveled all around Iowa & other parts of the Midwest performing as a pro wrestler, Sara hated it with a passion. Watching me chase this dream was absolute torture for her. Absolute torture. 

It's not any different with my goal of being a writer. It's worse. She hates that I'm still trying to make as a writer & it bugs her even more because writing doesn't have a window.  The window of time to make it as a pro wrestler is very, very small.  You have a a few short years while you're in your twenties, maybe your early thirties and then it's over. Hollywood ain't a whole heck of a lot different. I think the window is a tad bit bigger for an actor than it is for a pro wrestler, but the fact of the matter is the ship sails fast & once it's sailed, that's it. It's done. It's over. 

I'm never going to perform in a WWE or AEW ring. I'll never have a run in New Japan.  I'm never going to head out to L.A.   My dreams of being a big time pro wrestler are over. My dreams of trying to make it in some capacity in Hollywood, are dead.  This makes Sara happy & she wishes it were like this for my writing too. 

For those that side with Sara, I'm supposed to see where she's coming from.  I gotta understand that she didn't have a choice. She had a baby when she was young. She wasn't able to be exploratory. She didn't even get to try at her dreams. 

Look, I wish Sara had gotten a real shot to make it as a fashion designer. I wish things had been different for her, but here's where & why those that side with Sara on this can kiss my ass. 

There's nothing more that Sara would rather see for me than to either fail or give up on my dream as a writer & if there shoe were on the other foot, I wouldn't be that way.  I wouldn't be jealous, envious or angry. I might be bitter about my situation, but my attitude wouldn't be, "I didn't get to chase my dream, so she shouldn't be able to chase her's either."

Let's put the shoe on the other foot.  If I had fucked around in high school, been a screw off, & spent all my time partying & drinking, while she studied hard, got good grades & worked her ass off at sports/theatre/ect, I think I'd be upright about it. I know I would be because fairness is more important to me than anything.  

If I had knocked up a girl & suddenly there wasn't going to be pro wrestling, or acting, or writing, I'd accept my fate because I would feel that I deserved it. I didn't do that though & I don't feel that I've done anything in my life to where I should feel a need to where I should have to give up on myself as a writer.  If I had knocked up a girl when I was 17 & Sara had been the one to go off to college & she was out there trying to make it as a fashion designed, I guarantee you that I wouldn't be wanting her to fail or give up.  I'd be happy for her.  I'd want her to succeed. 

And that's what it comes down to for me.  We don't get along anyway & we have a million other things we can't stand about one another but that's the number one thing for me. That's why I won't talk to Sara anymore. It's why I want nothing to do with her.  Being a a writer and making it as a writer is a very important thing to me.  She made it clear as day to me on April 4th, 2020 that she didn't want me to succeed. That's all I'll ever need to know about Sara again.  

There are those of you that don't believe that, & think I'm full of shit. I know Sara would roll her eyes and try and convince you she doesn't feel that way either. Try and gaslight me as if I'm crazy.  I'm not.  I've been dealing with this for nearly 20 years.  If Sara were to find out that I closed my microsoft word & I threw away my notebooks, it'd make her happy.  While when in a state of depression my first hope is that no one I care about ever feels the pain I do, Sara wallows in her misery wanting the rest of the world to feel as shitty as she does. 

This hasn't been going on for a few months, or even a few years. That's why when people say to me, "have you tried talking to her about this?"  or "have you tried to fix it?"  I just can't help but grit my teeth and laugh.  Of course I've tried to fix this. I can't tell you the number of times I've tried to fix this. It's the same with my Dad too. I don't like not liking my sister. I wish we could get along. I can't tell you how many times since I was in the 7th grade I've tried to make peace with her.  I'm 38 years old. Damn near 40.  I've been at this for a long time.  Way to damn long & I don't owe it to anyone to keep trying. 

Sara and my Dad are exactly the same in this aspect. They only give you one of two options. 

A - They will sit there and tell you everything wrong with you and your life. How much of a fuck up you are. All the things you did wrong in your life. All of the things you're currently doing wrong in you life. How much you suck at life. How much you'll continue to suck at life. How much of a loser you are.  Just putdown after putdown after putdown. Nothing but negativity and you just sit there and you take it. 

Well I'm not going to just sit there and take it. This life is challenging enough as it is.  I don't need someone telling me how shitty of a job I'm doing or trying to convince me how terrible of a person I am.  

One of the last things Sara ever said to me was, "you sure do think a lot of yourself."   And that's when it dawned on me. That was the real issue that both her and my Dad had with me. They thought so lowly of me. So negatively of me and that was their problem with me.  They wanted me to feel the same way they did. To see me in the same light that they see me.  I don't.  There's a lot about me to improve. A lot about me I want to fix & make better. But I like me. Me's ok. 

The other option with my Dad and my sister is...

B - you dish it right back to them. I opened up about some of my sister's mishaps in life, but honestly I really don't like doing this.  I have to admit sometimes when my Dad or my sister is laying into me, doing all they can to make me feel like shit, it does feel kinda go to fire back at them. I have plenty of ammunition to where I could literally tear either one of them apart. But I don't wanna do that. I don't wanna make them feel like shit. This isn't a life I wanna lead. 

So I can't do A & I can't do B.  So what am I left with?

Well in the minds of those who don't know the situation & don't know the longevity of how long it has lasted, I guess there's an imaginary C.   The C that I've tried so many times to find, that just plain and simple doesn't exist.  The whole, "how bout you all get along & no body bashes anybody."  

There is No C    I wish there was.  The 17 year old me wished there was. The 18 year old me wished there was.  I looked for it, worked for it, pleaded for it, begged for it, I an agnostic even prayed for it up until I was 35 years old.  There is no C.

So what does that leave me with? 

D as in DON'T talk to them. DON'T have anything to do with them. 

Guilt trips. Trying to make me feel like I'm a bad son.  Like I don't appreciate anything & everything my Dad did for me when I was younger.  I appreciate all that, but I don't owe it to him to think so lowly of me anymore. I don't owe it to him for him to have such a negative image of me anymore. 

He found a way to forgive Sara for everything she did, but not me.  I went to college, I got a degree & I didn't become a huge success afterwards. He'll never forgive me for that. Ever.  

I was watching a documentary on Jeff Dahmer a few years back. It dawned on me that Lionel Dahmer thought more of his son than my Dad thought of me. Lionel Dahmer, the Dad of a serial killer, liked his son more than my Dad like me. 

I've had various friends over the years that I've introduced my Dad to. Girlfriends. They all get the same impression. I remember the first time I took Ashley over to meet my Dad. We sat and talked for about 20 minutes and the first thing Ashley said to me when we got into the car.... "Sheesh, he doesn't like you does he?" 

I love the guilt trips people try and lay on me.  I wanna say that my Dad began to dislike me when I broke my back in 8th grade & it led to my athletic career going down the drain. I'd say that's where it all started, but I know my Dad hasn't liked me since 2007.  

He'd criticize me and degrade me every time I came to visit him. Yet every time I came back to Sigourney, I'd stop over at his house anyway.  It was always how I didn't have a good job, I wasn't driving a new enough car, I didn't have a house.  Every time I'd visit him, I'd drive away feeling like shit. Yet, I'd go back anyway. Every time. 

I did this from April of 2007 until March of 2020.  I think that's long enough. 

When I moved out of my mom's house & began life on my own in August of 2009.  Between Iowa City & Des Moines I lived in 7 different places until March of 2020.  You know how many times my Dad visited me?  Twice.   Two times in 11 years.  You wanna know how many times I visited him? Every time I went back to Sigourney.  Every single time.  How many times has he visited Sara over the years?  I don't know. I guarantee you it's been a Hell of a lot more than two times in 11 years though. 


Sometime in late 2019 or early 2020 my Dad called me up on the phone and told me that he was selling his house, building a new house and that if I wanted my stuff to come and get it.  "Hey, I'm getting a bigger place, with plenty of room to store the small closet full of belongings that have a lot of meaning to you, but if you don't want me to pitch it, come over and get your shit."  No, my Dad didn't say it this harshly, but it sure did feel like that's what he was saying. 

After his house was complete I went over to see it & to let him know that I was leaving to head to Florida.  Wanting to see his new place, I walked all through it.  The entire thing. Every room. Twice. You know what I saw all over the walls? Pictures of my Sister & her family.  Photos of my Dad's girlfriends kids & their significant others.  There wasn't one picture of me anywhere in that house. Not a single one. 

"Good luck, you'll need it." A tone that said you'll most likely fail. You don't have what it takes to make it down in Florida.  These were the final words my Dad spoke to me. 

And this is really where I get bitter. Where I get angry.  Where I wanna go toe to toe with someone. Let's knock out some teeth. Let's lose an eye. Let's see some blood.  I didn't deserve to go through what Jason did to me. My Dad, my sister, anyone can believe what they want to believe. Believe that it served me right. That I deserved to go through What Jason Janes did to me. That there's a price for chasing a dream.  

My Dad has the satisfaction of knowing it all blew up in my face just the way he thought it would. My sister does too.  But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let them rub it in my face.  This isn't experimenting with drugs. This isn't getting plastered every weekend. This isn't driving while severely intoxicated. This was knowing a guy, trusting a guy, thinking of this guy a a good friend, as a brother for 10 years & having the guy turn out to be a con artist. I can't stop you from thinking what you think anymore than I can stop my Dad or my Sister. I can choose to ignore though. 

2007....2007....2020. 

It's never gonna end. It's never going to be different.  My sister will only be happy with me if I fail or give up on my writing & figure out a way to be as negative, bitter and unhappy as she is.  My Dad? I honestly don't know what the Hell he wants, and I'm finally done trying to figure it out. From the time I was real little all the way through my mid 30's, the only time he ever seemed to be happy with me was when I was doing well as wrestling or bringing home really good grades. Other than that, nothing I did was ever good enough for him. I could never please him.  Sara never tried.  She never worried about pleasing him.  If she knew what would upset him and piss him off, that's what she did. 

It's like he and those who look at it strictly from his vantage point always want to point out all of the sacrifices he made for me & all he did for me while I was growing up.  They want me to only look at the positives he did for me.  

Nobody ever wants to stop and think of the sacrifices I made for him. How hard I tried to satisfy him and be what he wanted me to be. 

My senior year there was this girl I liked named Kelly. I asked her out. She said yes.  A friend of mine told his Dad about it & his Dad told my Dad.  How did my Dad respond? He responded by yelling at me about it. He said some pretty choice words about Kelly, letting me know he didn't think to much of her and her reputation for being "friendly."  Just sat and bashed her.  What did I do?  I worried about upsetting my Dad.  So I completely ignored Kelly, made an ass of myself & when I tried to talk to her about it later, she did what she should have done.  

Faggot, queer, gay, I got called a lot of these names. I heard the rumors.  When someone like Ben Hammes calls you a faggot, you don't think much of it. He didn't like me. He never liked me. So obviously him calling me a fag was simply him expressing that he didn't like me. No big deal.  But it was different when people who didn't have anything against me wondered if I was gay.  My Dad never stops to think about this or how much it hurt me during high school.  I wanted to please him. Make him happy.  I knew that getting sexually involved with a girl, even simple kissing would upset him, so I didn't do it.  I had one girlfriend during high school & we made out one night in my car. The windows fogged up.  Was my Dad pissed about that.  It reminded him of Sara getting pregnant two years prior & I got to hear another 3 hour lecture till midnight.  I broke up with Shelly a short time after that & that's all fine and dandy.  I just wish my Dad would realize I made a few sacrifices too.  Shelly wasn't the only attractive girl who liked me.  I could've gotten lucky a time or two.  I didn't though because I wanted to please him.  Probably sucks a lot more to spend a small fortune sending you kid to college only to see him not amount to jack shit.  Right? No use seeing or thinking of anything else other than that, even if it did suck to not be homosexual, but have others, even some of your friends wonder if you were. 


It's 2:30 a.m.   I started working on this about 10 till midnight.  There's so much more I could say and so much more I could elaborate on, but is it really worth it?  This wasn't rhetoric.  You went into this the exact way you're gonna come out.  Perhaps you've gained a little perspective & perhaps it has enhanced or lightened it one way or the other but it hasn't changed it.  If you came into this understanding & respecting my decision, you left understanding and respecting my decision.  If you came into this not understanding and thinking I'm wrong  & that I should continue to have my sister & Dad in my life, then you still think that.  If you went into this indifferent, you came out of it indifferent. 

To Those who get it, no explanation is necessary. To those who don't, no explanation will do.

I could have just said that too, but anyway...

Finish the Story: 24 of 200

 
"Ha ha ha!" Mason laughed. "Is that really your Dad?" 

"Ha!" Jordan laughed. "Yeah, it is!"

"Holy cow! He was skinny!" 

"What are you boys looking at?" Scott asked as he walked into the garage. 

"We found your old yearbook," Mason answered. "You used to be thin!"

"Thanks," Scott smirked. "Where did you find that old thing?"

"It was wedged behind some old newspapers & magazines on the shelf." Jordan answered. 

"Hand it over to me," Scott said.  He took it in his hands as he held it. Jackson High School, home of the Beavers. Class of 1999.  It had been at least twenty years since he had looked through his senior year book. 

"You boys continue working on cleaning this garage," He said to the boys. "I'm gonna go take a look at this thing."

Scott walked back into the house & sat down on the sofa. He began to thumb through the pages. Memories flooded his mind as he found himself overcome with emotion. Pretty girls he had forgotten he had once had crushes on. Friends he thought were lifelong that he hadn't spoke to in over a decade. The class jerks he was glad he'd never see again. He laughed hard when he saw a photo of the class skit they had done for homecoming. He gleamed with pride when he saw the track photo of him and the other three members of the conference and district 4x4 relay team that took second in the state of Alabama. It felt good to look through the yearbook, until he came to page 37. 

Suddenly a sense of guilt and remorse hit him like a solid right hook to the body as if it were delivered by Marvelous Marvin Hagler. He choked for air as his eyes swelled up & a pain tingled throughout his whole body. Page 37 was the school staff and there the picture stood out as clear as day.  Mr. Lanny Stockart, Chemistry.

42 year old Scott Wulff was suddenly 18 again.

Scott had never been that good at Chemistry.  He appreciated science and found it interesting, but it might as well have been a foreign language once math was added to it. He needed the class to graduate and he needed to pass in order to be eligible for the track team. Track was his life at the time. Nothing deemed more important. 

Upon his first test, he slumped in his chair starring at the 27% F that seemed to only grow a brighter shade of red the more he looked at it.  Mr. Stockart, who walked with a limp and had a difficult time turning around tapped on the chalk board to get everyone's attention. 

"I realize some of you may not be happy with your test results," He said. "Realize this is only the first test. We'll have other test, as well as projects and assignments to get your grade up." 

Scott got up to leave for his next class as he noticed Mr. Stockart looking at him.  Not casually glancing at him but starring at him as if he were the only kid in the Chemistry room. 

"Mr. Wulff," He said to Scott. 

"Mr. Stockart," Scott said in return. 

"Got your first big race on Friday night at Allman?" Mr. Stockart took off his glasses that seemed to have lenses that were two inches thick.  He cleaned them with a tissue. 

"Yeah, if I can even run," Scott answered. "I cannot believe how poorly I did on this test." 

"What's the issue?" Mr. Stockart asked. 

"I don't know." Scott answered. "I swear to you I'm paying attention. I'm taking notes. I'm reading the material. I'm studying it. I'm not bullshi....crapping you Mr. Stockart." 

"I know you aren't," Mr. Stockart continued cleaning his glasses. 

"I just don't get it. I don't know if I can get it. This is material that is above my head." 

"Nonsense," Mr. Stockart put his glasses on. "You are correct that there is a problem. Where you fail, is to see that there is a solution." 

"What is the solution?" Scott asked. 

"Tell me something Mr. Wulff. Do you only go to track practice and call it good?" 

"You mean like going to practice and giving it my all rather than just showing up?" 

"Yes, but I also mean that you do much more to be good at track than just work hard at practice. I see you in the weight room lifting weights. I see you running out on your own time.  You know it takes more to be good at track. Chemistry is no different." 

"What do you suggest?"

"I can get here an hour earlier in the morning if you can.  That way you don't have to miss track practice and we can get it done and over with so you can concentrate on other things.  Deal?"

"Deal." 

For the next three weeks Scott met with Mr. Stockart every morning in the Chemistry room. They would go over concepts and equations again and again. Scott wasn't sure if he understood Chemistry any better than he had, but what he did know is that he was putting in the effort. 

Come the next test, Scott waited anxiously as Mr. Stockart handed them back to see how everyone did.  As he waddled up to Scott's desk he gave Scott a stern look. Scott held his breath as Mr. Stockart laid it down on his desk.  79% C+.  Scott held the paper in his hand. Mr. Stockart winked. 

"I told you when there's a problem, there's a solution." Mr. Stockart smiled. "I think you're better than a C+ too." 

The conference track meet was that weekend, held at Jackson High. The 4x4 Relay team that consisted of Scott, Chase Adams, Noah Wehr & Luke Knowler not only won the event but did so in record time. Among the Beaver fans who cheered from the stands, hunched over leaning up against the chain link fence was Mr. Stockart.  As skinny as he was and as off balance as he always seemed to be, Scott thought the wind might pick him up and carry him away. He stood firm though, clapping as he watched the team celebrate their victory. 

The next Chemistry test came back and this time it was a 85%, a B. A grade Scott never thought that he'd see on anything that had anything to do with Chemistry.  Things were going great for him. He was doing well in school. Track couldn't be going any better than what it was and both Auburn and Troy State had already sent scouts wanting to talk to him about running in college. Life was good for Scott Wulff. 

That all changed on a Monday afternoon. 

Both the boy's and the girl's track team had missed Chemistry on Friday, because they had to leave school early for the district meet that was held in Montgomery two hours away. In order to make up what they had missed on Friday, Mr. Stockart had them watch a video in the back of the classroom, while the other kids who had not missed class worked on a lab. 

With Mr. Stockart distracted up at the front of the room, Luke Knowler pulled out a video from under his shirt. 

"What is that?" Chase asked him. 

"Just shut up," Luke snapped at him. He then took out the video they were supposed to be watching and put in his video. 

When he pushed play, it was obviously the kind of video it was. A pornographic film. 

"Dude, turn that shit off," Scott snapped his fingers at Luke. 

"Will you relax?" Luke fired back. "Stockart can't hear it all the way up there. He's so damn slow he couldn't make it back here in time anyway." 

"Probably the first time Scott's ever seen a pair of those anyway," Michelle Banks laughed. 

Luke laughed as the others laughed along with him. 

"Better not make him mad or he might go and tell on us." Chase put his arm around Scott. It wasn't meant as an insult but simply a gesture to suggest that Scott take it easy and not get so wound up. 

"Ok, Ok." Scott said. "I'm sorry. All right." 

Scott knew that what he was doing was wrong but the peer pressure was too much for him to resist. These were his track teammates. The ones that he had worked so hard with day in and day out to win both the conference and district team titles. Michelle Banks was the most popular and the best looking girl in his class. These weren't people he wanted to upset. These weren't people he wanted to look weak in front of. 

The fun lasted for two more days. Luke kept bringing the video to school and they kept finding reasons to go to the back of the room to watch it.  With the TV turned away from Mr. Stockart, there was no way he was going to see it. 

"Oh! Oh!" Suddenly the screams of a woman claim blaring from the T.V. 

"Chase you idiot!" Luke yelled. 

While messing around with the remote control trying to rewind a part that he had wanted to see again, Chase had accidently turned the volume up as high as it would go. 

"What's going on back there?" Mr. Stockart asked. 

"Sorry Mr. Stockart, " Luke said. "I just got mad at Chase. That's all." 

"What was that screaming noise?" Mr. Stockart asked. 

"Oh that was me, " Michelle answered. 

"It didn't sound like you at all." 

"It was," Michelle continued to lie. "I hit my knee on the table." 

Mr. Stockart had been a high school chemistry teacher for 10 years. He had a degree from the University of Alabama. There's no way that a pretty little face from Jackson High was going to fool him with what anyone could tell was pure manure. 

It took him a good two minutes, but he waddled back to where a good third of his students were. He studied the area around him. Scott prayed that he would not go towards the TV that thankfully Chase had managed to shut off.  Mr. Stockart looked about the room, trying to figure out the actuality of the situation. It seemed as if he wasn't going to find out and as if he were going to give up. That's when he noticed the chemistry video tape, the one that was supposed to be in the VCR lying on the the counter. 

That's when Scott knew the gig was up. He knew what Mr. Stockart was going to do. He was going to walk over to the TV, push the eject button on the VCR and discover the porno. All Scott could do was picture how much trouble he was going to get it. How disappointed his parents would be in him. How this might cost them the opportunity to compete at the state championships in two weeks.  What other consequences could await? All Scott could do was wait. 

Mr. Stockart held the video tape in his hand. He held it like it were a dead puppy or a dead kitten. Scott hated seeing the look of anguish and disappointment on Mr. Stockart's face. Knowing that a man who had done so much for him, he had let down. 

"Anyone who was a part of this," Mr. Stockart said as he squeezed the VHS in his hands, "Stay after class.  I'll write you a pass to your next class." 

The bell rang as Scott, Luke, Chase, Noah and Michelle sat quietly at their desk, while the rest of the class got up and left. 

"This type of behavior is an automatic suspension from school and an F for the course," Mr. Stockart said. 

"You can't do that to us!" Luke yelled. "We have state coming up!"

"Yeah," Michelle shrieked. "If I fail Chemistry, I won't graduate. None of us will. We'll have to all take summer school or repeat the semester next year." 

"It's not my personal decision," Mr. Stockart said. "It's school policy. Written clearly in your student handbook. If I report this to the principal these will be the actions took." 

They all sat in their desk, as if prisoners awaiting execution. A silence so loud that they could hear their own hearts beat. 

"Wait...wait...wait..." Chase held up his hand. "You said 'if' you tell the principal. 'If'....does this mean you might not?" 

"I don't know what I'm going to do yet," Mr. Stockart answered. "You guys put me in a horrible situation. You should be ashamed of yourselves. You are better than this." 

Scott knew Mr. Stockart was addressing all of them, but he couldn't help but feel singled out. As if Mr. Stockart were talking to him and only him. 

They knew that there was no trying to persuade Mr. Stockart into his decision. He was going to do what he was going to do and that was it. All they could do was sit it out until he had.  They got up out of their desk and headed to their next class. 

"Mr. Wulff..." Scott heard the faint sound of Mr. Stockart's voice. He turned around. 

"Yeah?" Scott responded. 

"Did you know about this?" He asked. 

"It wasn't mine," Scott answered. "I didn't bring it in."

"I already know that," Mr. Stockart answered. "but you watched it the past couple of days and you were a part of it." 

"Yes sir," Scott said. "Yes, I was." 

Nothing more was said as Scott went to class. That night track practice was a blur. It went by quickly and he soon found himself at home. Luckily both his mom and dad had to work late that night, so he didn't even have to see them before he went to bed.  That night he dreamed of Mr. Stockart and the other kids. The dream had nothing to do with track. It had nothing to do with chemistry and it sure didn't have anything to do with the stupid porno film that they had watched. Instead it was Mr. Stockart moving about as freely as were the rest of them. Him running and jumping. No hump in his back, no slouch. He didn't limp or waddle. He didn't have to lean up against anything for support. He was like the rest of them, not one physical ailment. 

The next day in Chemistry, Mr. Stockart stood in front of the entire class holding the video in his hands. It wasn't labeled, so only those who knew what it was, had any idea that it was a porno.  To the rest of the kids in the class, it was just a black video tape. They had no idea what was on it. 

Mr. Stockart laid the video down on the table and then put on a pair of thick rubber gloves as he put on a pair of goggles. Already in a protective jacket, he reached down on the floor and picked up a container of liquid. He put the container on the table. 

"This is dichloromethane," He said as he picked up the VHS tape. "Also known as methylene chloride. It can dissolve many types of plastics. Like the plastics that make up this video tape." 

He put the VHS tape into the solution as they all watched it eat away at that tape. 

"Dichloromethane is a very powerful substance, " Mr. Stockart said. "You don't want to breathe it in or get it in your eyes or on your skin. As you can tell by looking at what used to be a VHS tape, it makes short work out of what it touches." 

He destroyed the tape. That was a good thing. After all he hadn't told the principal yet. He couldn't have. There's no way that this much time would have gone by without them getting in trouble if the principal had known. If Mr. Stockart had decided to tell the principal, why would he have destroyed the evidence? He wouldn't have. It was clear to Scott that Mr. Stockart wasn't going to turn them in. 

"Thank you, " Chase spoke for all of them as they had another quick meeting before their next class. They were all indebted to Mr. Stockart. 

"Your thank you means nothing to me," Mr. Stockart spoke slowly and deliberately. "What I want from you is to realize you were given a second chance.  To make the most out of this second chance and to do good with your lives. Make better decisions." 

They all agreed to Mr. Stockart's deal, but Scott felt that he might be the only one who actually meant it. 

What a relief it was. They were going to get to compete in the state championships, they were all going to graduation and they were all going to go on to college. Mr. Stockart was right. This could have all ended horribly for them and they would have had no one to blame but themselves. Instead he gave them a second shot and who was he but to do anything with that second shot other than what Mr. Stockart had asked of him? 

They ran at the state meet and being handed a huge silver trophy that read Alabama High School State championships, state runner-ups was the greatest feeling Scott had ever felt in his life. A feeling so great that he knew as he felt it, he might never feel a feeling as good ever again.  Mr. Stockart could have taken that feeling away from him. Could have robbed him of what was up to that point the greatest moment of his life.  Instead he decided not to. He decided to let Scott and the other guys have their moment of glory. 

The weeks went by and soon it was time to graduate.  Scott had taken his final Chemistry test and some how or another managed an A. A grade of B overall.  A 3.2 GPA, headed to Troy State on a partial track scholarship.  His senior year was almost over, only three days left of what had turned out to be a near perfect year. 

"Attention students," the announcements came over the loudspeaker as they sat eating lunch in the cafeteria. "Would Luke Knowler, Chase Adams, Michelle Banks, Noah Wehr, Scott Wulff & Mr. Stockart please come to the principal's office." 

They never did find out who ratted them out. It had to be someone in the Chemistry class room or maybe it had been one of the custodians. Scott didn't know.  He didn't think Luke had left the video in the room, but maybe he had.  They had thought they were going to get away with this, in fact, they thought they already had.  Now the five of them, along with Mr. Stockart sat in the Principal's room. 

Not much was said to the students. Most of what the principal had to say was directed at Mr. Stockart. Scott wondered what all he was feeling.  Perhaps ashamed? He never hung his head. Perhaps regret? Maybe anger towards them?  He didn't glare.  He just sat there looking the principal in the eye as he was chastised and ridiculed for his decisions. 

"Please," Mr. Stockart said once the principal had finished. "They all graduate in two days. Let them have their diplomas. One mistake shouldn't cost them so much." 

The principal folded his arms and took a deep breath. 

"All five of you are very lucky." He said. "I should take that state trophy and throw it in the trash. That's what I should do. I should make all of you go to summer school or redo the semester. I won't though. Get out of my sight now. I don't care to look at any of you." 

Once again they all thought it was over as they left the office. It was close to over, there was only one more part to be played. 

The next morning there was an assembly held. The entire school gathered in the gym as the Principal made his way up to the podium. 

"We have gathered here because we have some recent happenings we want all of you to be aware of." 

Scott sat in the bleachers wondering if he and the other students would be ousted for watching the porno film. Be humiliated in front of the whole school. 

Instead Mr. Stockart came walking from a dark hallway out into the light. As he walked towards the podium he seemed weaker. More fragile. Brittle and frail.  He trembled as he put the microphone closer to his face. 

"Students of Jackson High," A man who had always spoken with such diction, struggled to get the words out. "I have been teaching here for over a decade. I want you all to know how much I have enjoyed educating you. Teaching you. That you too have educated and taught me. I value all of you. With that said, I also want you to know that I recently made a decision that was not in your best interest. I owe you all an apology. As a result I have decided to resign from my position as a Chemistry teacher. I wish nothing but the very best life has to offer." 

He walked back to the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness.  Maybe the wind really did come along and carry him away. That's all Scott could figure. No one ever knew what happened to him. All they knew was that he had packed up and left town. His house was put up for sale and not even the realtor working it had any idea where he had went.  The summer came and gone and they were all at different colleges continuing the courses of their lives. 

Scott tried to look Mr. Stockart multiple times throughout his college years. Internet searches, he couldn't find anything under Lanny Stockart. He asked around, discovering he was originally from Mississippi. A three hour drive one day, people in the small little community of Dry Water remembered him, but hadn't seen him in many years.  Scott was always hoping that he'd pop up again someday. Somehow even though Scott knew it wasn't possible under the circumstances, as a teacher somewhere. 

Upon graduating and life hitting him with 1,000,000 other things, Mr. Stockart got placed in the area of Scott's brain that collected other forgotten thoughts.  It wasn't until he saw Mr. Stockart's photo on page 37 of the yearbook that he remembered everything that had happened.  How he wished somehow he could find Mr. Stockart. How he wished there was a way to locate him.  Was he even still alive? He would have been in his 50's back then, so he'd be at least 70 something now if not close to 80. 

Scott had never gotten the chance to tell Mr. Stockart how sorry he was for what had happened. That if he could go back in time, he would have turned himself in right away. How he would have sacrificed one of his most glorifying moments, if he knew it meant Mr. Stockart would have gotten to have kept his job. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted the opportunity to thank Mr. Stockart.  There's so much he wanted to say to the man, but the man was no where to be found.  Scott knew that as he sat down at the computer, but he searched the internet for hours anyway. 

Mr. Stockart had said that all problems have solutions. That was something he instilled into Scott's mind and even though he didn't always remember where it had originated from, it was a philosophy he lived be. A problem would come up and even if it looked like there was no way of dealing with it, Scott knew it had a solution. 

Yet what was the solution here? Scott hadn't seen Mr. Stockart in 25 years. All attempts to try and find him during his college years turned up nothing. The attempts to try and find him now, same result.  God if there were a solution, what was it? What was it Mr. Stockart? What was it?  

Thank You Elton John

 

You know I try not to let rather trivial matters bother me much, but in this particular instance I can't help it. Elton John is my all time favorite singer & I regret that I never got around to seeing him perform before he retired. I also regret that my Dad gave up what could have been a very memorable & special night for him, as he once turned down an Elton John concert on my behalf. 

It was all the way back in 1996. My Dad had taken my sister & I out to New Jersey to visit his Aunt Verna & all of his cousins. His cousin Jeff had gotten Elton John/Billy Joel concert tickets for a show in Philadelphia & invited my Dad to go. Dad told Jeff that he wouldn't go without me. It meant a lot to me that my Dad wanted seeing Elton John to be a special moment to share with me. It still does. However, looking back, I do wish he would have taken Jeff up on his offer. You don't realize it when you're young, but as you get older it dawns on you that our special times with our cousins are so few and far between. Especially when they live so far apart. I really wish that my Dad would've taken Jeff up on that offer. Not only for what would have been my Dad's only time of seeing his favorite singer, but also because it would have been a special moment between him and his cousin Jeff. 

Elton John was such a fixture in my life growing up. Do I know every single one of his songs? No, I don't. But the songs of his that I do know, I cherish each one of them. Mentally, emotionally & dare I say as an agnostic spiritually, Elton John was there for me so many different times in my life. His music spoke to me. It moved me. It challenged me and it changed me.  So yeah, is it petty & juvenile to be genuinely upset, angry & a bit depressed that I never got around to seeing him live? I can't deny that it isn't. Yet as I've often come to find with many issues, feelings don't always coincide with thoughts. There are far more important issues in the world than Stephen Stonebraker never getting around to see Elton John in concert. I'm well aware of that, but nevertheless, I'm still upset about it. 

When I say each one of his songs that I knew was a staple in my life, I mean that. I will go through each one to explain. 

Tiny Dancer 

This one brings me way back.  My mom & Dad got divorced in November of 1991.  Dad moved out of the house shortly before Thanksgiving & that year I had two separate Christmases.  One at my mom's house & one at my Grandpa Harry's house where my Dad lived until he got a place of his own. This was also the year I began wrestling. It's funny to many how I can have such fond & happy memories of a sport that in all sense of reality, I was never good at. What does all of this have to do with TINY DANCER by Elton John? Dad & I drove all over the state of Iowa participating in wrestling tournaments. To & from, TINY DANCER is a song that we listened to multiple times every trip.  Every time I hear this song, I'm 7 years old again, headed to a wrestling tournament. 

Your Song

YOUR SONG reminds me of my formative years in college, when I began to really take hold of who I was civilly and socially. College was a tough & challenging time for me. I had thought I made the right choice by choosing Northwestern College, but I found out soon enough that I had not. Looking back, I wonder if a part of it was because I didn't know myself as well as I thought I did. Or maybe it was that I was to go through a dramatic change that I wasn't prepared for. I'm not sure. What I am sure of, is that YOUR SONG helped me to make a stand one day for something that I strongly believed in.  Northwestern College during the time I attended was a deeply religiously conservative institution. Homosexuality was frowned upon & homosexual were not well received. A lot of hateful language spewed.  There was a girl in particularly who had a lot of negative opinions about homosexuals & she was very keen on making her position known. "Hell fire and brimstone for the gays!"  In America we have the first amendment, which grants each one of us the right to express ourselves through the freedom of speech. However, as I told her, who ironically enough with a very gifted singing voice enjoyed belting out, YOUR SONG, why would you want such a horrendous fate for someone who had co-written a song your obviously a big fan of? I found it obtuse that someone who had such disdain for homosexuals would show off her immense skill of singing, with a song by a homosexual. I'm not sure what effect I had on her by pointing this out to her, other than pissing her off in the moment. Maybe that's all it did for her. For me though, it had a more monumental effect. It made me realize that I care more about being fair & just to the character of people, than I do using scripture to justify harsh criticism, judgement & action against them for their sexuality. If there be a God & he has that much of a problem with it, then it's his business to deal with, not mine. If he has a problem with me defending homosexuals, befriending them & being an ally of them, I'm ok with that.  Be there a God, I'd rather stand in front of him with him pissed off at me that I was a friend, than I would stand before him knowing I had been an asshole.  "You weren't as much of a prick to gays as you should have been!" I know many who do believe this, but to me it is just asinine.  If God is real, I can't see him holding this position.  But for those of you that think he does.... May he kick me hard in the ass on my way down to Hell yelling those very words. 

Benny & The Jets

Personally I like this song, but it always brings up a funny memory for me.  My Dad, being the biggest Elton John fan I know, for some reason hated this song. He loved damn near everything Elton John, but not BENNY & THE JETS.  I can remember sitting at his house & he'd have 4 Elton John CD's playing on his master stereo system.  He'd be in the kitchen cooking supper, or he'd be on the couch taking a nap, or maybe he'd be downstairs doing a load of laundry.  Didn't matter what he was doing, once BENNY & THE JETS came on, he'd jog to the stereo & immediately skip it to the next song.  I remember once flipping through the channels one night after school.  Elton John was on Oprah.  Dad came in the room and started watching it with me.  After asking him some questions, Oprah asked him to play a song. What did he pick? BENNY & THE JETS.  Dad snatched the remote out of my hand, changed the channel & waited about 3 minutes. Once he thought the song was over, he turned it back. 

The Bitch Is Back 

I'm no Weird Al Yankovich, but I have always enjoyed writing parodies of songs. The Bitch is Back was one of the first ones I ever wrote. We had a kid in our class named Mitchell Hammes, who during Health Class one day expressed to us that he wished he was black. He was convinced that if he were black, all of the girls at school that he was interested in would want him.  I found this to be rather comical, so I took THE BITCH IS BACK & I made a parody of it. Don't remember all of it, but I can still recite one of the lines. 

"Oh Mitch, Oh Mitch, Oh Mitchell wanna be black. Masta P or Tupac as a matter of fact." 

Can You Feel The Love Tonight

There have been times when my Dad has liked me, but he didn't like my sister Sara. Then there have been times when my Dad liked Sara, but he didn't like me.  Times when Sara & I liked each other, but we didn't like my Dad.  Times when Dad didn't like either one of us. Times when I liked my Dad, but I didn't like Sara. Times when Sara liked me, but didn't like my Dad. Times when Sara liked Dad, but didn't like me.  Pretty much every combination you can think of. The one that has had the least amount of times in our lives? The time when between my Dad, my sister & I we all like each other. It's been such a rarity, that if it wasn't for CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT, I probably wouldn't remember.  

The song was very popular when it first came out.  Seems like it was played on the radio all the time. One night my sister & I were listening to it.  We had never heard the term vagabond before. We had no idea what it meant. So we called my Dad up on the phone. He explained what a vagabond was to us & I remember being so impressed that he knew. My Dad at least back in those days, always devalued his intelligence because he didn't have a college degree. Yet despite his lack of a college education, my dad in many ways was a very smart man. 

Candle In The Wind

CANDLE IN THE WIND was always the song that humanized Elton John to me. The song that reminded me that he was once Reggie Dwight, a young kid who had his heroes he looked up to, the same way I looked up to him.  "From a young man in the 22nd row, who saw you as something more than sexual. More than just our Marilyn Monroe."   I've always loved that line.  It speaks volumes of how what a person is, may very be why we know them, but it is WHO a person is, that often leads to why we love them. 

Crocodile Rock

CROCODILE ROCK has much the same sentiment that TINY DANCER does. It was one of those songs that whether we were traveling to/from a wrestling practice, a wrestling tournament or a theatre practice or a theatre performance, it was one we always listened to. I'm a very nostalgic person. One who tries to hold on to the good parts of life as long as I can & often looks back on them with fond memories once they're over.  It's a bittersweet song about longing for the past, which is something I often do. 

Circle Of Life

Depression has been a big part of my life. Happy to say we don't spend as much time together as we used to. There was a time in my life when we were joined at the hip. As Chucky would say, "we were f'n inseparable."  I'd like to believe a day might come when depression is nothing more for me than a memory. Something I haven't seen in a long time & never will again. I don't think that will ever happen. I think despondency will always a find a way to dance its way into my life. Music can often help get through these troublesome times. I've always found CIRCLE OF LIFE to be a song of hope. A song of inspiration. One that I've often turned to in times of despair. 

Daniel 

I've always loved this song.  I've loved it for well over 30 years. Yet it's within the last 15 years that the song has taken on new meaning for me. As I said earlier in this post, my time at Northwestern College was a very challenging time in my life. One that would have been so much more difficult had it not been for a select few people. One of those people was my best friend during my college years, Cheung Yeung "Dan" Kim. When I hear DANIEL, I immediately think of him.  I've never known anyone in my life that was more like me than Dan. I don't think I ever will either. I haven't heard from him in over 15 years now. I have no idea what happened to him. Not sure if I'll ever find out, but I miss him. He had a real impact on my life. 

Don't Go Breaking My Heart 

I try and remember back as far as I can sometimes.  What are my first memories of life?  The first things I saw? The first things I heard? DON'T GO BREAKING MY HEART brings these thoughts, visions, sounds and smells back to me. I'm not even sure why, but when the song comes on the radio, I'm three years old again. 

Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me

On a very serious note, this song speaks to the depths of my inner being. You hear lyrics sometimes, and even though you've never met the person & they know nothing about you, you can't help but think they were writing about your life.  I'm growing tired and time stands still before me is a line that describes how I've felt most of my adult life.  I can't tell you how many times in my life, when it comes to my goals & my dreams, I've felt that the sun was specifically going down on me.  

On a more humorous note, the song involved a mondegreen for my father when it first came out back in 1974. He was a freshman in high school, already a huge Elton John fan.  The actual lyrics were, don't discard me. Yet my Dad couldn't make out what Elton was saying. He swore he was saying, don't fart on me. He knew good & well that couldn't have been the actual line, but he wondered for years what was really being sang. We didn't have the handy dandy internet nearly 50 years ago, so it wasn't until he got a cassette with lyrics written in the paper that he finally learned what was actually being said. 

Elderberry Wine

Now we'll talk about one of my mondegreens, even though I think it was more me being biased than anything else.  For years I always would sing along with this song saying, "Echelberry" wine.  Echelberry was my Great Grandma Alta Stonebraker's last name before she got married. 

Empty Garden 

Five years before I came into this world, John Lennon was shot & killed by Mark David Chapman. An incident that had a monumental effect as well as an aftermath that lingers to this very day. Elton has done such a good job of keeping the memory of those he cared about alive through his music. Marilyn Monroe, Princess Diana & here John Lennon.  Through poetic metaphor the song speaks of how Chapman's assassination of Lennon, did more than kill Lennon. It effected how all celebrities interact with their fanbase. We started seeing a lot more bodyguards & protection. We started seeing celebrities interact with their fans less and less. Chapman created a stigma of fear. Elton captures all of this so eloquently in this beautiful song. 

Funeral For a Friend 

My Dad whether he would ever be open & honest about it or not, has also suffered from depression. Not sure if it's still something that he deals with now or not. What I do know is that he dealt with it a lot while I was growing up. He responded to it much differently than I did. During my high school years was when it seemed the worst. Many nights were full of him yelling and screaming about how much he hated life. About how unfair it was to him. I'd often get in trouble at school for letting shits, hells, damns, ect slip in my everyday speech. It was hard not to when you'd hear your Dad scream, "mother f'er" 100 times a night. It was emotionally draining & often times my only escape from it was music.  Dad loved FUNERAL FOR  FRIEND. It was one of those songs I could blare on the stereo on repeat to drown out his nightly rants. 

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

I'll forever cement this song in my memory as the first vacation that my sister Sara & I took with my Dad after my parents' divorce. In the same trip where my Dad turned down the Elton John concert, on the flight from Chicago to Philadelphia, they had headphones so you could listen to music. I swear Goodbye Yellow Brick Road must have played at least a dozen times.  

Honky Cat

For the younger generation, the cassette tape & how they worked might not be something they grasp or fully understand. In "newer" cars there was a button you could push that would stop a song at the start, should you rewind or fast forward. With older cars, you kinda had to guess.  On a particular cassette of my Dad's, HONKY CAT came right before one of the songs my Dad liked more.  I always heard the tail end of HONKY CAT, asking if we could listen to the whole thing. It was years and years before I heard the song in its entirety. 

I Guess That's Why The Call It The Blues 

I can't tell you how many times during a challenging time in my life, I went out got into my car & drove around jamming out to this classic. 

Sad Songs (Say So Much)

This song holds a very special place in my heart, because it reminds me of the importance of writing about and sharing about the negatives in our lives. I'm often told & I often hear other people talk about always trying to be positive & always writing about positive things. I think it's good be positive & it's good to keep an optimistic attitude.  But it's also foolish, dishonest & irresponsible to ignore the pain, the misery and the suffering. These are all a part of life. We all feel these things & go through these emotions. A part of what makes them tolerable is knowing we're not alone in feeling them.  I've already written about a few painful memories in this dedication to Elton. Some might have the attitude that I should have kept those out. No I shouldn't have. They were a very real part of my life & Elton John, through his music helped me to get through them.  That's a very real thing & SAD SONGS is a reminder of that. 

I'm Still Standing 

I can't tell you the number of times in my life I've had people come into my life, knock me down & hope that I never get up. I think one of the reasons I have such large, well defined triceps is because of all the times I've had to push myself up off the ground. Life's knock me on my ass so many times, but at the end of the day I'M STILL STANDING. 

Rocket Man 

I've wanted to be successful & famous my entire life. As you get older, people want you to not only keep such a dream to yourself, but it's almost as if they insist that you become as bitter & dismissive as they are. I've felt drained myself many times over the years, but never enough to try and suck the life out of others. That's a human trait that I'm glad to say I'm missing.  From wrestling, to pro wrestling, to acting, to writing, I've always wanted my talents & my work to shine. I've spent so much time thinking about the pros & the positives of finally making.  Finally getting to that point in life I've longed for, that I haven't taken much, if any time at all to consider the cons and the negatives.  ROCKET MAN helped me to do that. To take into consideration the lows & the prices paid for such a life, should it ever happen. The pressures & the responsibilities.  

On a more humorous note, I have a funny story concerning ROCKET MAN. Even though I can't sing & have absolutely no musical talent at all, I can often my caught off in my own world singing to myself. One day during my freshman year of college I was standing in line at the Cafeteria. I was singing ROCKET MAN.  Suddenly a student from Kenya named Franklin Yarty turned around and looked at me. 

"Shut up. You are horrible. Nobody want to listen to you." 

That's been almost 20 years ago & it still brings a huge smile to my face. 

Levon 

And here we have my all time favorite Elton John song. I don't know if I can think of an opening that I love more than the beginning piano.  There are so many reasons I love this song. I'm not even sure if I know them. For one, I love the creativity & imagination of this song. It's all made up. Levon comes from one of Elton's favorites of all time Levon Helm of The Band. Which ironically enough, is also a favorite of mine. To further the coincidence, David Perner who wrote my all time favorite song RUNAWAY TRAIN list Elton John as one of his favorites.  I suppose it does make sense, but I didn't know any of this for years.  It's simply that RUNWAY TRAIN, LEVON & THE WEIGHT were three of my all time favorite songs & years later I learned that Elton was a fan of Levon & David was a fan of Elton's.  I guess when I hear the song, I think of people & how we all have our stories. Levon, Alvin & Jesus Tostig may not be real people, but nevertheless their story resonates because it is so relatable.