A Fixation: My Love For Wrestling - Volume I

Let's Try Wrestling

While I did have some older relatives that wrestled, wrestling was not a big thing in my family. My Dad did wrestle in 7th & 8th grades, but his loves in life were baseball & motorcross. My great Uncle Greg wrestled throughout most of high school, but I didn't even become aware of it until many years later. Same with my Uncle Larry. The real reason I got started in the sport was because I was getting bullied & my Dad was looking for a way to toughen me up. 

I was a goofy, weird & awkward little boy.  My parents had decided to start me in Kindergarten at age 6 & as a result I was bigger & heavier, than most of the boys in my class.  I was also super sensitive. I cried easily & as a result I made a good target for bullies. Three in particular.  Ian Popejoy, Dru Glandon & Greg Allison. All three two years ahead of me in school.  

Truth to be known, Dru didn't scare me. I wasn't afraid of him. Ian on the other hand I was. Ian was big, he was mean & he was tough. Later in life he boxed, and was semi-successful at it. To this day, I wouldn't want to meet Ian Popejoy in a dark alley. Greg Allison? Rabid wolverine. Pure honey badger. He wasn't very big, but he is honestly one of the toughest kids I've ever known. While you were afraid of what you thought Ian could do to you, you at least thought you'd come out of it alive.  With Greg you didn't know. The dude was nuts. 

The three of them liked to mess with me at recess, but I had some protection there as my 1st grade teacher Mrs. Fritchen wouldn't put up with their shit. The walk home from school was a different story.  While Dru would occasionally shove me, push me or poke me, Ian & Greg never actually touched me. They were pure intimidation. It was the fear of what they could do, that had me often in tears and shaking in my shoes.  

One day, just outside of Suzi Fowler's house right across the street from the school, the three of them surrounded me. Greg threw a punch right past the side of my head.  The wind blew back my hair.  It scared the Hell out of me, and I froze right there on the sidewalk.  

"If I had hit him," Greg laughed. "He'd have brain damage." 

"Probably have to put him in special ed," Ian laughed. 

"Isn't he already in special ed?" Dru asked. 

With tears running down my cheeks, I was to too scared to move.  Then I heard a voice come from behind us. 

"Yo!!" It was a dark booming voice. "That's enough of that."

It was Nathan Cobble.  He was a tall, big kid.  Three grades ahead of me & a grade ahead my three bullies.  He challenged them and wanted to know if any of the three of them felt like calling him a retard or trying to make him cry.  None of them were interested.  As the three of them walked off, Nathan told me that from now on I was going to wait for him after school & he was going to walk with me. It was one of the first times I ever heard someone other than my Dad use the F word. 

"They won't F with me," Nathan said. 

Ian, Dru & Greg gave me shit at school that I was a wimp because I needed Nathan Cobble's protection. Even a few other kids gave me crap about it, so I acted like I was a bit embarrassed by it, but truthfully, I was very thankful for it. 

When Nathan Cobble moved away, that's when the whole fiasco started up again.   It got even worse & more intimidating. I wished that Nathan was still around, but he wasn't.  In fact, I wouldn't see Nathan again for close to 30 years. Took me a long time to track him down, but I finally did, drove a couple of hours to meet up with him & thank him for sticking up for me all those years earlier. 

While my Dad hated Ian, Dru & Greg bullying me, I think he hated how much of a wimp I was even more. He couldn't stand that I'd just stand there and take it.  That I'd cry so easily.  I remember him pacing back and forth in the kitchen asking himself, "What do I have to do to toughen this boy up?" 

Our first idea was Taekwondo.  The Nelsons, a family from Alaska had moved into town and they had turned our old movie theater into a dojo.  My mom drove me up there one day & began to sign me up for Taekwondo lessons.  As she was talking to the woman who ran the joint, I went into the room where the lessons took place to look around.  That's when I spotted a pair of Sai.  Now like many kids in the early 1990's, I was a TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES fanatic. Raphael, who happened to use the Sai, was my favorite ninja turtle.  I went up, grabbed the Sai off the wall & began to dance around like I was Raphael beating up the evil foot soldiers. 

That's when my Mom & the woman walked into the room. The woman was furious.  She yelled at me and then yelled at my mom. I handed her back the Sai & she royally chewed me a new one.  Then she turned her attention to my mom and whatever ass my mom had gained from having two children, she chewed off right then and right there. That was my first & last day of Taekwondo. 

During this time, things were really bad between my mother and my father.  I don't know when they were officially divorced but dad was out of the house by November of that year.  I remember that very well because I can remember getting really angry at my mom's side of the family Thanksgiving, listening to people speak ill of my father.  I also remember having two separate Christmas's, one with Mom & one with Dad. My Dad during this time lived with my Grandpa Harry. 

One day at school, during P.E. class our teacher Mr. Mateer had all of the boys line up as he passed out LITTLE SAVAGE WRESTLING flyers.  We were told to put these into our bookbags and give them to our parents when we got home.  I didn't think much of it at the time, but  I do remember what Mr. Mateer said to me when he handed me the flyer. 

"This is REAL wrestling Steve!!" He shouted at me. "Not the WWF"

At the time along with TMNT, another love of mine was WWF (WWE).  I was obsessed with both WWE & WCW.  The shows, the magazines, the action figures, the video games, you name it.  It got to be problem when we'd go to rent a video from the video store, cause I always wanted a WWE video. 

When I went over to my Dad's the night and showed him the flyer, I have to say it is the first time I can ever remember my Dad getting excited about something that involved me. He thought it was great and he really wanted me to be a part of LITTLE SAVAGE WRESTLING.  I didn't care one way or the other. 

Weeks went by and honestly, I forgot about LITTLE SAVAGE WRESTLING. My Dad worked for Kinder Morgan, a large natural gas pipeline & he had gone to Texas for a few weeks to help build a new line down by Houston.  When he came back, he had gifts for my sister Sara & I. 

I unwrapped my present to see an action figure of Scott Steiner. I couldn't read real well yet, so my Dad turned it over and read the packaging to me. 

"Before becoming one half of WCW's hottest tag teams, Scott Steiner was a standout amateur at the University of Michigan where he earned All-American honors." 

Amateur was a word I never heard before, so I asked my Dad what it meant. He told me that amateur wrestling was what LITTLE SAVAGE WRESTLING was & that all of the best pros, like Scott Steiner did amateur wrestling before getting into WCW. If I wanted to be like Scott Steiner, I needed to do amateur wrestling. Good enough for me, I was sold. 

My Dad was very excited about the first practice coming up.  He told my Uncle Jim that I was going to try wrestling & Jim, who had not wrestled, but played football for Wapello high school thought it was a good idea. Wanting to encourage my interest in wrestling, Jim took me to my first High School dual. 

I had never seen high school wrestling before. I had no idea what was going on.  I remember Jim buying me a Mountain Dew & we shared a bag of popcorn together.  I'd occasionally hear Jim shout encouragement to one of the Sigourney wrestlers, and I'd watch him clap his hands. I clapped when he clapped.  

It wasn't until the last match of the night when I found myself really having fun and enjoying the matches.  Our HWT, Derrick Miller was in action.  Miller who would go on to great success both on the gridiron & on the mat was very exciting to watch.  Watching him was as close to WWE as it was going to get.  He picked his opponent up into the air and threw him across the mat.  That looked like fun.  I wanted to do what Derrick Miller was doing. 

My First Practice 

It seemed to take forever but the night of the first LITTLE SAVAGE WRESTLING practice finally came.  I was over at my mom's waiting on my Dad to come pick me up.  For some reason I thought it'd be a good idea to get into my mom's makeup drawer and paint my face up like the Ultimate Warrior.  When my Dad came to get me, he was not amused. We went back to my Grandpa Harry's place & he washed the makeup off of my face.  Then we got on the living room floor & he showed me a few moves he remembered from junior high. One of which was the half nelson, but he called it a chicken wing. 

Going to the High School at the time was a really neat thing for me.  It's funny to think, but when I was little I thought of the High School as this huge, extremely important building. I remember walking into the wrestling room & meeting the coach, Larry Bird for the first time. I liked Larry from the second I met him. He reached out shook my hand, & told me he was happy to have me there.  

I don't remember a whole lot about that first practice.  I do remember the Black (as in their last name) kids were there, Ross & Kolby.  I also remember Trevor & Tyler Rash being there too.  

I know that night it was all about stance and position. Larry showing us how a wrestler stood & how a wrestler moved. Why you stood the way you did, why you moved the way you did.  Then he taught us about the referee's positions of up and down.  How that was to be conducted. 

After about 40 minutes, the high school wrestling coach, Tong Uk Yi came into the room.  For those of you that are familiar with STAR WARS his entry was similar to that of Darth Vader.  Coach Bird told us that Coach Yi was now going to demonstrate some techniques. We sat in silence as Coach Yi walked into the room. 

He told us he wanted to see how much we learned tonight.  He started asking us questions about stance. 

"Do I want my hands and elbows in or do I want them out?" 

"IN!!!!" 

"Why?" 

Kids shouted out answers left and right.  I had been too nervous and intimidated to say anything, but I wanted to show Coach Yi that I knew things too.  

Coach Yi put a half nelson on a volunteer and asked what the move was. 

"Chicken wing!!" I yelled it so loud that everyone in the room could hear me. 

Unfortunately, I was wrong.  It was actually a half nelson, but I do think Coach Yi appreciated my enthusiasm. 

I went to wrestling practices the next two weeks.  My main practice partner was Darren Miller, Derrick Miller's little brother. To say that I was mainly Darren's practice dummy is a pretty fair estimation. Years ago I found a journal that Mrs. Fritchen had us keep during that time of my life.  I had written about wrestling practice with Darren Miller. 

I went to Savig restlan. Larhe Bard is my cooch. I prktys with Droon Miller.  Droon is very storoong

Droon Miller was very storoong.  He was very storoong in high school & I'd imagine he's still extremely storoong today. 

My First Tournament 

After two weeks of wrestling practice it was finally time for my first competition.  Uncle Jim road with us over to Montezuma to participate in the Litte Braves wrestling tournament.  My Uncle Chris had wrestled for Montezuma & he had been a very small wrestler. So, believe it or not, the shoes he wore in high school fit me as a first grader. I don't remember where we had gotten it from, but my Dad had an old red singlet that I wore as well. I'd like to tell you that I was somewhat confident, but truth was, I was 100% scared. 

"Two rules," My Dad said to me. "Sportsmanship.  You will show good sportsmanship. No matter what.  Rule two, you will give your absolute best." 

I trembled as I went out onto the mat to wrestle my first opponent. Brian Flynn of South Tama County.  We shook hands and before I knew it Brian had me up in the air & on my back before I could blink.  I had never been manhandled like that in my life. Breath knocked out of me, I laid there for a second, frozen in fear.  Then suddenly I heard the voices of my Dad & My Uncle Jim. 

They were right next to the mat & I mean right next to the mat.  

"Don't give up!" My Dad screamed at me. 

"Bridge, Stephen!" Uncle Jim shouted. "Bridge!!" 

I remembered how Coach Bird had showed us how to bridge off our our backs. How to use your head & your neck muscles to get your shoulders off the mat.  I immediately began to try and bridge. 

I kept trying to get off my back. I kept fighting.  I had never been that tired in my entire life.  My lungs burned, my entire body ached.  I wanted it to be over, but my Dad and Jim kept yelling at me to fight.  

Towards the end of the third period, I was completely spent.  I didn't think I had anything left.  As my Uncle Jim lay on the mat a few feet from me, I thought I might die right then and right there.  I went limp and just lay there. 

"No! No! No!" The referee yelled at me. "You've gone this long, you ain't giving up yet. Not now, not when you've fought this long.  Not yet." 

"Yeah," Brian said as he held me on my back. "Keep bridging! Keep trying!" 

It's funny to think about now, and even back then I found that so peculiar.  Here was this kid that had thrown me to my back multiple times, and yet even he was sincerely & genuinely encouraging me to keep trying. 

I thought that whistle would never blow, but finally it did.  I got up and blood began to run down my nose.  The referee gave me a nose plug & Brian gave me a hug.  I walked off the mat and both my Dad & Uncle Jim said they were very proud of me.  I found that to be rather weird, as I had lost 13-0. 

Even stranger to me, as I sat with my Dad & Uncle Jim in the stands awaiting my next match, Brian came up to me & wanted to know if I wanted to see his toy car collection.  Next thing I knew, I was down on the floor playing cars with Brian, the same kid who had just kicked the shit out of me about 10 minutes prior. 

My next two matches, the referees I had weren't near as generous as that first one had been. A black eye and pinned him about 15 seconds sums up match #2.  Another bloody nose & stuck in adequate time describes match #3. 

A ribbon that read, "every wrestler is a winner" is what I received for finishing 4th out of 4 that day. 

I looked in the mirror on the way home.  Black eye, scratches on my face.  I looked like I had called Mike Tyson a sissy.  

"What did you think of today?" My Dad asked me. 

I thought it sucked.  I liked making a new friend in Brian Flynn, but other than that I hated it.  I could hardly move. I hurt all over.  

"I'm done wrestling," I said to him. "I don't want to do this anymore." 

"One of My Favorites"

I knew it bothered my Dad that I didn't want to do wrestling anymore. Yet to his credit, he never pressured me and he never brought it up again.  For two weeks I did not attend practices.  At school both the Blacks (again last name) and the Rash's questioned why I wasn't at wrestling practice anymore. I didn't see what the big deal was.  People tried things all the time, and quit if isn't wasn't right for them. 

Then one night I was at the grocery store with my mother.  Coach Bird was there with his wife Mary.  As we went through the aisles getting stuff, Larry came up to me and asked why I hadn't been at wrestling practice the last couple of weeks.  I told him that I wasn't going to do wrestling anymore. 

"Oh," He said as he looked me in the eye. "I hate to hear that. You were one of my favorites." 

Now whether he actually meant that or he was just saying that, I do not know. What I do know is what it meant to me to hear him say that. I had never had a non-family adult tell me that I was a favorite before. I figured to myself if I was on of Coach Bird's favorites, then I had to go back.  I remember going home and asking my Dad if I could give wrestling one more try.  We were back at wrestling practice the next night.  

34 years later, here sits JT1Wrestle. 

The End of Bullying

Can't say wrestling went all that great in my first year.  I somehow managed to win one match, as I went 1-13 that season.  If I remember right, I think the kid I beat was just as scared of me as I was of him & after scrambling around a bit, I somehow ended up on top of him getting a pin.  

As to my bullies, it was wrestling that finally put an end to their torment.  At wrestling practice Coach Bird had told us that if we were ever in trouble & needed to defend ourselves, that we could use wrestling as self-defense. I trusted everything Coach Bird said like it was gold, so when the time came, I used it. 

Ian, Dru and Greg had cornered me on the playground.  They were once again intimidating me and trying to make me cry.  Dru had this thing he would do where he would shove his thumb as hard as he could down in between your collar bone & your neck.  It hurt, but it was more annoying than it was painful.  I let him do it once but when he went to do it again, something snapped inside of me.  Coach Bird had taught us the double leg takedown & when Dru reached out to shove his thumb on my collar bone I was in on his legs.  I picked him straight up into the air & dropped him right on the blacktop.  He lay there, stunned and out of breath.  

I got up off of him, fearing the worst.  I knew Ian & Greg were going to immediately start beating the ever lovin' Hell right out of me.  Much to my surprise, Ian laughed at Dru, making fun of him for getting his ass kicked.  Greg slapped me on the shoulder and gave me a nod of approval.  Not at all what I thought would happen. 

Dru never bothered me again & Ian left me alone. Ironically enough one day after school, we were having a boy scouts meeting.  I saw Greg getting chewed out by a teacher.  When the teacher left, he round house kicked a locker leaving a huge dent in it.  Don't ask me why I did this, because it could have ended in disaster, but I walked up to him. 

"Hey Greg," I said to him. 

"What do you want?" He said to me. 

"You want to come over and have some snacks with us?" I said to him. "We have soda and candy bars." 

Trying to make peace among enemies hasn't always worked for me, but it did that day.  

Greg took me under his wing that day. For the rest of the school year he was always wanting to show me different fighting moves. He was very knowledgeable about how to defeat someone in a fight.  Far more knowledgeable than a kid his age should have been. To have been honest, the dude would've made a great wrestler. 

One day he brought me home with him. He lived in low rent apartment housing.  The entire building was run down & dirty.  Reeked of cigarette smoke.  He didn't have a Dad.  Didn't even know who his Dad was.  His mom wasn't home.  He wasn't sure when she'd be home, or if she'd be home.  I remember that night he really wanted to give me a knife.  I knew better than to take it.  I knew my Mom would throw a fit & my Dad would raise Hell if they caught me with a knife.  Nonetheless Greg wanted me to have it and was very disappointed when I wouldn't take it. 

He disappeared a short time after that.  I've wondered now for three decades whatever happened to him.  As rough of a life as he had, I can't help but fear that things probably didn't go good for him. Drugs, prison, he might not even be alive anymore.  He had a mean streak in him, that was obvious as he started off my bully. Yet I think that was more of a defense mechanism that it was anything else. I think he learned at a very young age not to trust anyone. That everyone was a snake, ready to bite you.  It was only when he knew for sure that you were a friend that he'd let his guard down & show you the good side of Greg Allison.  Some say that Life treats us all the same, just with different chapters. I don't know if I buy that. I think Greg Allison was dealt a shit hand in life, and while it goes against logic, I'd love to learn that his life did turn out good. That he did turn out ok. 


8 months into 2026 & here you have my first year of wrestling, some 34 years ago. 

Complete The Story: 27 of 200

 I awoke to sights I had never seen, sounds I had never heard, and smells I had never smelled.  I laid in a hospital bed, as the temperature kept adjusting until it felt a perfection of warmth.  The bed softened and the pillow firmed, to a bliss of comfort, I can only describe as heavenly.  A man stood in front of me.  As my eyes adjusted to the light, he began to speak. At first, a heavy accent, in Spanish.

"Doc-tor. Hofteizer?" He said to me. 

"Yes," I answered him. 

"My name is Dr. Sergio Oviedo," he said. His accent had disappeared, as he spoke perfect English.  "I'm a descendant of Dr. Javier Oviedo. You are at the University of Boubin, in the hospital wing." 

I went to take the covers off of my body, so I could sit up. They were surprisingly heavy.  Not from a weakness of injury or illness. Not from a weakness of being elderly and frail. It was weakness of strength not yet developed.  Dr. Oviedo reached over and helped me remove the covers. I was horrified at what I saw. 

My arms and hands were tiny. My legs and feet equally as small.  I stared at my hands, feeling one with the other. Smooth, soft and unwrinkled. I took a deep breath, the most oxygen I had gotten in years. No deviated septum. No phlegm or mucus blocking my air ways. 

"Feel new?" Dr. Oviedo smiled at me as he held out his hand. "Come, it'll soon all make sense." 

The floor was only about two foot down, but considering I was three foot tall at the most, I appreciated Dr. Oviedo's help getting off the bed. 

We began walking down the hall.  I noticed my reflection in the mirror.  Mentally and emotionally, I was a grown man.  A 68-year-old scientist named Justin Hofteizer.  Physically I looked like a toddler. 

We came to a room, as Dr. Oviedo hoisted me up and sat me on a chair, in front of a monitor screen.  He sat in a chair beside me and began to explain my situation. 

"How do I go about this?" He said with a laugh. "Where to begin?" 

"What year is it?" I figured we'd start there. 

"The year is 162,026," Dr. Oviedo answered. 

He had to be lying.  There's no way that could be possible. I had gotten sick in 2026. There's no way I was 160,000 years into the future. 

"Technically you're 160,068 years old," He laughed again. "You have the 68-year-old mind you died with 2026, and physically you're around three years old." 

I lifted my tiny hands to my tiny head and rubbed my eyes.  I had to be dreaming.  None of this added up. None of it made sense. 

"Please," Dr. Oviedo said. "Watch the screen visuals. They will help you to understand." 

I sat and watched the screen, as Dr. Oviedo narrated. 

"Interstellar travel," He began. "We knew it was something that we'd never be able to do for a variety of reasons.  It was too far; it took too long.  We'd never be able to get from point A to point B within our lifetime.  Even has we discovered ways to travel faster and faster, closer and closer to the speed of light, we still had to deal with relativity.  We figured out a way to reach Alpha Centauri in 4 and half years, but the problem was, over 80,000 years would pass on Earth." 

The visuals were the best I'd ever seen.  Almost as if they were specifically designed for me.  Explained in a way that best suited for how I learned best. 

"At first we worked on the aging gene," Dr. Oviedo continued. "We tried to see how long we could make the human body last. We worked and worked, even getting a few up to 225 years old. The average age 150.  I mean people born in 2025, living to see their great grandchildren's, great grandchildren." 

"Remarkable," I said with great interest. 

"Yes," Dr. Oviedo continued. "But not anywhere near enough for the greatest minds to be able to travel throughout space and answer the questions that mystified humanity for 1,000's of years. We had to do something else."

"What?" My curiosity was at its peak. 

"At first we tried to slumber the body," Dr. Oviedo answered. "We induced comas. The more we discovered, the longer we could keep people alive.  This worked to a degree.  Better than where we had got with the aging gene. We brought people back up to 2,000 years after they had been placed in a coma. It's all the longer we could though.  Remarkable for many reasons, but still not what we needed." 

Dr. Oviedo took a breath and then turned to look me in the eye. 

"We call it the soulit," He said as he turned his attention back to the screen. "It was discovered shortly after you died.  It's an area of the brain where everything about you, that makes you, you is stored.  Dr. Ruth Cynthia discovered it, claiming it was our soul. Dr. Tohtu Bigbear figured out how to extract it. He called it a spirit.  Hence, why it was named the soulit. That's why you're here, Dr. Hofteizer." 


"Abortion was a huge political issue back in your day, wasn't it?" Dr. Oviedo asked. "University of Kentucky professor Don Marquis argued that what made abortion immoral, was that you were robbing someone of their potential. Someone that would otherwise get to exist & experience, as we exist & experience.  Abortion is no longer an issue. It hasn't been for well over 100,000 years." 

I was beginning to understand but I wasn't quite there yet.  I continued to listen to Dr. Oviedo. 

"The moral issue of our time are the left over soulits," Dr. Oviedo explained. "A woman doesn't want a baby? We now can extract it from her body and grow it in our labs.  Once it is large enough, we remove its soulit and replace it with a soulit that society has deemed worthy.  Scientists, physicists, astrophysicists, geologists, chemists...I mean you name it; we have kept some of the most profound and remarkable thinkers of our time alive for over 100,000 years." 

I sat and wrestled with the moral dilemma that was now going to battle in my head.  Dr. Oviedo continued with the positives of this research, as the thought of "left over soulits" kept repeating itself in my brain. 

"Think," Dr. Oviedo said, "What if we had been able to keep Newton alive.  What if Albert Einstein could've kept coming back? As far as we are, imagine if those two minds were still around, how far we'd be." 

"The left over soulits?" I asked him. 

"Yes," He frowned. "They're stored. We keep them in a large collection.  That's the only down fall of this project."

"The only way to be able to put my soulit," I said. "Or anyone else's for that matter alive, and beneficial to society, is by removing someone else's and taking over their body?" 

"We've experimented putting them into other animals," Dr. Oviedo explained. "That's been interesting.  Chimps, bonobos, gorillas. At first the general public believed that these animals were simply getting smarter.  That their ability to read and write, type, all sorts of things was simply a matter of advancements in technology.  Then they discovered that the soulit of the animal had actually been removed and been replaced by what was originally supposed to be the soulit of a human being. Boy, did that open up a can of worms that the politicians ran with.  People protesting about soulits being removed from the body that was supposed to belong to them.  People protesting about the Apes and what became of their soulits. The whole things been going on for centuries upon centuries." 

"So, your body isn't your own then, I take it?" I asked. 

"No," He answered. "Neither is your's.  I haven't been in my original body for well over 1,000 years.  This is my 7th body overall, including my original." 

"Have I been through this before?" I ask. "Do I simply not remember it?"

"No," Dr. Oviedo answers. "Your brain was kept preserved post your death for 750 years.  When the soulit was discovered, we extracted it.  It was then stolen and we had thought that it was lost forever." 

"And nearly 100,000 years later," I laughed. "You discover it?" 

"We still have many questions left unanswered," Dr. Oviedo said. "Perhaps we always will, I'm a believer that there is no question without an answer.  There has to be an answer. I believe you can help us." 

Help with what? This was a society 100,000 years beyond anything I had ever known in 2026. 100,000 years more advanced than any technology that I had ever worked with.  As the day progressed, I came to find out that Dr. Oviedo had been speaking Spanish to me the entire time.  All human beings were now programmed with a device that allowed them to automatically translate anything someone said.  When I said, "Hello, my name is Jason Hofteizer," Dr. Oviedo heard, "Hola, mi nombre Jason Hofteizer." 

Pain was a thing of the past, unless you cared to experience it.  Humans were now programed with an ability to stop pain.  Pain from an accident. Pain from an illness. You got bit by a venomous snake, the anti-venom was already stored and being put to use the second the venom entered the bloodstream. 

"Real" sports and "real" movies still existed.  Yet if you wanted to watch the Chicago Cubs hammer the St. Louis Cardinals in a ball game 10-0, you could program to see such a game.  You could program it down to every last play.  

You could go into a movie theatre. Submit a treatment, name actors to roles, answer a series of questions and then watch the film unfold before your eyes on the big screen. 

For those that wanted the "real", to experience life as it "was meant to be" the option still existed in many ways.  Yet for the majority of people, artificial intelligence, pretty made all of life artificial, or so it seemed to me the more I got to know of this new world I was in. 

We discovered life on Proxima Centauri B.  Way primitive to the life we had here on earth.  Scientists were calling their stage of life similar to the Mesozoic era here on Earth.  

Dr. Oviedo gave me some time to adjust to life. To have the body of a 3-year-old and the mind of a 68 year old. Then he came to me one day with what it was they were hoping I could figure out. 

"We're essentially wanting you to play God," Dr. Oviedo said.

While people were alive, we could program messages, images and information into their brains. Make them not only have the perfect dream, but make them believe they were actually there, experiencing what was going on.  I suppose similar to TOTAL RECALL.   Yet not everyone wanted to live on Earth forever.  Not everyone was allowed to either.  Some wanted to die.  To experience death. They had no desire to keep coming back again and again in new bodies.  Then there was also the issue of the soulits that had been removed, so that scientist like Dr. Oviedo and myself could take over their bodies. 

They wanted me to figure out a way to give these soulits their Heaven, there paradise if you will. Create a utopia of bliss, happiness and reward.  Once I figured out how this could be done, if it could be done, it'd be easier for those that had been around.  If Fred Jones had lived for 136 years, loved his wife, loved to fish, then it'd be easy.  I'd put him in a gorgeous home by a lake, give him a boat and have him spending eternity fishing in the sun.  For the soulits that were extracted, like the one that had been extracted from the body I currently occupied? Well, that would be a tougher challenge. These people never got to exist, so coming up with their Heaven would have to be a guess. 

Why I Stopped Talking To My Dad

 I graduated college and moved out on my own in August of 2009. I lived in Tiffin for three weeks, and then I lived in Iowa City for about a year. I moved to Coralville for 11 months & then spent my the remaining amount of time back in Iowa City.  Collectively between living with Dennis, then Dennis & Ratko, then with Carl, then owning my own place, I was in the Iowa City area from August of 2009, until May of 2013.  

During this not quite four year stretch, my Dad visited me exactly one time. We went to the Western Wrestling Conference championships in Cedar Falls. He picked me up at my trailer, letting me know that he wasn't happy about the way I was dressed.  My blue jeans were worn & faded.  I needed a haircut & he wasn't too impressed with owning a trailer.  I told him that I didn't have a lot of $$ to go out buying new clothes all the time.  I was putting about $500 a month towards student loans & $400 a month towards my trailer.  Bills & food, I didn't have much $$ for anything else. 

In four different areas that I lived in, he only saw one. It was the only time he came up to see me.  My sister lived about a 10 minute drive from the trailer I owned.  He was up to see her about 12 times per year. 

How often did I see him when I came back to Sigourney?  Every single time.  He wasn't always home, but if he was I'd stop to see him.  Most of our visits were very negative.  I had a college degree, why wasn't I making $70K a year or more.  He always had plenty to say, he never had much time to listen. 

I once brought my friend Chief over to meet my Dad.  After a 20 minute conversation, Chief looked over at me when we got into the car. 

"Jesus Christ," He said to me. "He does NOT like you, does he?" 

I moved to Des Moines in May of 2013. I lived their until April of 2020.  The entire time I was there, my Dad visited me once. He never saw the home I owned. He only came up once to help me shop for a new car. 

My Grandpa said it all had to do with how big Des Moines was.  It was too big of a city & it was further away than Iowa City.  He said that's why my Dad always turned down offers to come see me.  I find that difficult to believe for many reasons. 

1 - I don't think living in Des Moines had anything to do with it.  Des Moines is an hour & a half, Vs Iowa City an hour from Sigourney.  I lived in Iowa City area for nearly 4 years, he never came to see me then either 

2 - size? My Dad goes to Omaha, Minneapolis & Kansas City quite frequently. All three are way larger & more difficult to drive in than is Des Moines 

3 - Every Thanksgiving my Dad would drive to Jefferson for family get togethers at his girlfriend's family.  I know the exact route.  They came within 7.2 miles of my home.  7 in a row, I asked my Dad to stop by for a minute, either on his way there or on his way back, he turned me down each time.  A 300 mile round trip, and an extra 15 miles in total was just too much wear and tear to add to his vehicle. 

During that 7+ years, I still stopped and saw him every time I came back to Sigourney. Always to be met with negativity. 

I remember introducing him to Ashley the first time. I remember the drive home afterwards.

"He doesn't have anything good to say about you, does he?" She asked me. 

Well kinda...

According to my cousin Stacey, he has a lot of good things to say about me in certain pretences. 

Nearly anything positive my Dad has to say about me involves the words would, could & should. 

He loves the idea of who he thinks I could've been 

He loves the idea of who he thinks I should've been 

He does like a lot of versions of me.  The only version he dislikes with great passion is the actual me. 

My Dad built a new home, right around the time I was planning a move to Florida. 

He called me up one day and let me know that he was going to be moving soon. If I wanted my stuff that he had of mine, I needed to come get it.  It wasn't much stuff.  Just enough to fill half of a small closet.  I found it peculiar that he was building a much larger home, but he'd have no room for that stuff. 

His house was finished and moved in to about a week before I was to take off for Florida. I stopped by for what would ultimately be my first and last time in that house. 

When I arrived, I asked him if I could take a tour of the house. He told me he didn't give a shit what I did.  Starting in the garage, I walked every inch of that house, twice.  The walls were full of pictures of my sister and her family.  Pictures of my Dad's girlfriend and of her family were everywhere. Not a single photo of me or anything of me to be found anywhere. 

"Good luck," He said to me. "You're gonna need it." 

And with those words I walked out of that house knowing I'd never go back again. If he's that ashamed of me and sees me as that much of a disappointment, then I came to the conclusion I needed to accept that. 

A short time later Ashley & I were watching a documentary on serial killer Jeffery Dahmer. His father, Lionel Dahmer was being interviewed at his home.  As he answered questions regarding Jeffery, a portrait of Jeffery next to some other family photographs stood out on the wall.  It occured to me that Lionel Dahmer, thought more of his son Jeffery, a mass murderer, than Randy Stonebraker thought of Stephen Stonebraker. 

He has certain expectations for me post getting a college degree. I didn't live up to those expectations.  I've heard the "yeah buts" and I've contemplated them a long time.  I know the $24,000 my Dad feels he was cheated out on sending me to college. My mom & Barry lost out on $24,000 too. I lost out on a lot. I spent 11 years of my life paying back $48,000 of my share for that college education that has brought me very, very little good, and brought me a whole lot of grief.  He knows what it cost him. He never stops to think what it cost me. 

It's not about anger. I can get over being angry. It's not about forgiveness, at least not on my end.  I don't think he'll ever forgive me for not becoming the success that he wanted me to become after graduating college.  

Some have said that it's not so much a matter of him not liking me as much as it is him not understanding me.  I don't buy that either.  He knows me. If anyone knew my hopes, my dreams, my goals and my desires, it was my father.  I think he understands me fine. What he doesn't do is accept me. 

I can't give him what he needs from me. There was a time when I thought maybe one day I would, but that isn't going to happen. 

The job I'm at now will be the same job I'm at in 25 years.  I like it.  It pays well in my estimation, has good benefits & good retirement plan.  But in the realm of comparison it is right dab in the middle of the road. Mediocre. A C+ or so on the grading scale. Far from the B+ to A- range my Dad expected out of a college degree. 

I drive a used car, probably always will from here on out. I don't have the brand new Lexus that a college grad should be driving. 

I live in a very modest home. Aunt Peg ain't bragging to nobody about the size of my house, the huge pool in the back yard or the uppity scale of the neighborhood. It's nice and it suites me just fine, but it ain't the $500,000 piece of property that a college grad should own. 

I'm an agnostic.  Thoughts crossed my mind to pretend I believe otherwise. To put my theatre skills to use and become a charlatan trying to fool everyone.  if my Dad really knew his Bible, then he would know that is the greatest offense one can take against Yahweh. As damned as I might be for admitting my agnosticism, a fate far worse awaits a false prophet. 

What it really comes down to is that I don't want anymore bad memories.  

When I sit and think of my Dad, I have a lot of positive, good memories of him.  From the time I was real little, up through 8th grade are the best memories.  I still have good memories of my Dad from 8th grade up through my early 20s, but it was in 8th grade his strong dislike for me began. 

From my early 20s through 35, a period of about 13 years, my memories of him are mostly negative.  A few good ones here and there, but very few.  

My Dad was a very powerful influencer. When he wanted to, he could make you believe you could do anything.  I think back on the most successful and rewarding moments of my life.  They were often because I had him in my corner, believing in me and motivating me. 

My Dad could also do the exact opposite. He could make you feel like you weren't capable of anything. As if you were the worst of the worst and it couldn't get any worse than you. I think back at some of the most disappointing moments of my life. Him breaking me down, always a huge part. 

I'll never understand that about my Dad. I'll never get that. Why if he had the power to build me up and motivate me, why he so often chose to do the exact opposite instead. 

This life is challenging enough as it is. When I'm going about it & doing my best, I don't need someone constantly reminding me that I suck at it and that I'm not good. 

I love my Dad and I know that he loves me.  He doesn't like me though, and I came to peace with that 5 years ago. 

Not a good of explanation for you? Good, I'm quite used to being not good enough for someone.  I've had plenty of experience. 

You're going to be an uncle!

 Christmas break 1999.  I was in the 8th grade and enjoying my break from school. After spending some time at a friend's, I walked into my Dad's house and took my shoes off at the door. Hearing my arrival, my Dad popped his head out of the living room and said, "get in here." 

By the tone of his voice, I knew this meant get in here as quickly as possible. I walked into the living room confused and scared. He was obviously angry about something.  I started thinking about what it could possibly be. I had been doing well in school. I hadn't done anything that I thought would constitute such a reaction. 

"Sit down!"

Now I was really worried.  I watched him pace back and forth on the living room floor.  One end of the room to the other. When he did that, you knew you had really messed up. You were about to get it.  I still had no idea what I had done, but I knew even without knowing what it was, I already regretted it. 

"I'm going to ask you a question, and you better not lie to me," he said. 

"Ok," I responded. 

"You better not lie to me when I ask you this question," he repeated. "I'm telling you right now, Jack, you do NOT want to lie to me about this." 

If Dad was calling you Jack, you knew he meant business. It was his way of letting you know that on a scale of 1-10 on how much trouble you were in, you were sitting at a 15. What could this possibly be about? What was this horrible thing that I had done? 

"Did you know your sister was pregnant?" 

That was not the question I was expecting from him. 

"No," I answered. 

"You better pray that you didn't know anything about it." 

He sat down in his blue recliner and began rocking back in forth. I didn't know anything about it. My sister had graduated high school early and moved out of the house. The first time I heard anything about her being pregnant was my Dad asking me about it. I wasn't even sure if my mom and my stepdad were aware of it. 

He continued rocking back and forth for a while.  He'd shake his head, mumble something to himself and smirk. That was the pouring of the gasoline. The collecting of the grenades.  It was only a matter of time before the match was lit and the pens were pulled. 

"I found out from guys at work," He said. "Can you believe that? My coworkers knew before I did." 

His fist came down fast and hard on the night stand next to his chair. He stood up and as I froze in fear, inches from my face he began screaming at me at the top of his lungs. 

"I told you!" He screamed. "I told you!  I f'n told you, Jack!" 

He grabbed some magazines that sat on a coffee table, ripped them in half and then threw them against the wall. 

"I told you!!" His voice was at a shriek by this point. "I told you that your sister would end up dead, in jail or pregnant! I told you! Didn't I tell you!" 

At this point you never knew what your best response was going to be.  Sometimes responding to him pissed him off. He saw it as a sign of disrespect, as if you were mouthing off to him. Yet sometimes being silent pissed him off even more. He sat back down in his chair, taking a quick breather from his rant.  

All I could think of was how thankful I was that my sister was pregnant, all things considered. If the only other two options were either death or prison, it was the best of the three. As much as I hated sitting on that couch getting screamed at by my father, for my sister's actions, it sure beat the Hell out of the alternatives. 

The next three hours I got hear all about an assortment of fun topics. How this all came about as a result of my mom and stepdad's shitty parenting. How if I had any brains in my head and if I didn't want to end up like my sister, I'd move in with him and have nothing to do with them. My sister had it made and now her life was going to be nothing but challenge and struggle till the day she died. This was going to prevent her from getting a four-year college degree, and without that, your life has no choice but to amount to didly shit. I better not F up. If my Dad knew anything, his daughter f'd up and his son wasn't going to. 

9 months later, one of the greatest things to ever happen in my family's life took place on August 12th, 2000.  My nephew Garrett Steven Rosenow was born. (For clarification his middle name has nothing to do with me. His Dad's middle name is Steven.)  His birth truly was a blessing in so many ways.  While my sister will always remain bitter and jealous over not getting to chase her dreams of becoming a fashion designer, Garrett truly is the best thing that ever happened in her life. She was an outstanding mother (as she also is to her two daughters) to him and raised him to become an outstanding person, that I couldn't be more proud of.  My mom was still sore from having lost my other sister 2 and a half years earlier, and Garrett coming into her life was a windfall.  Before Garrett was born, my Grandpa had talked about getting a dog to cope with loneliness. Instead, he got a great grandson, and if anything kept him happy, healthy and young, that was it.  Garrett's Dad hadn't spoken to his Dad in many years, and Garrett was the one that reconstructed what seemed to be an unrepairable bridge.  I don't know if Garrett is aware of it or not, but he was the why of many good things happening in the lives of those around him. Including me. 

It wasn't long after Garrett's birth that my first year of high school was about to begin. My friend Clint had his mom drive him into town so we could walk to the first football game of the season together.  We'd drive him home after the game.  As Clint and I prepared to walk to the game, my Dad came up to us and asked Clint if he'd wait outside for me for a minute. 

"Sit down," he said to me. 

I sat. 

"You're a freshman in high school now," he said. "You're going to have a lot of temptations." 

He paused a moment and smiled. 

"You know," he began again. "I'm not even sure if I really need to say this to you or not, but I'm going to. You're gonna be tempted. Girls...all sorts of stuff." 

For a moment I thought the birds and the bees talk, which I'd already been through with my mom and stepdad was coming on. Instead, we were going to have a very clear understanding. 

"Hear me now," He said to me. "If I ever catch you drinking...If I ever catch you at a party...If I ever catch you doing anything sexual with a girl... That's it.  You'll never step on to a wrestling mat again.  You'll never step onto a stage again.  Wrestling, theatre, done.  You understand me?" 

I nodded. At that time in my life wrestling and theatre were the two most important things in the world to me. I wasn't going to get caught up in alcohol.  All the goals I had as a wrestler, I wasn't going to risk that.  As awkward and goofy looking as I was, I couldn't even remotely fathom any girls letting me within 5 feet of them. So, I wasn't too worried about that.  Besides after going through what I went through after my Dad found out my sister was pregnant, I didn't want to even imagine what it would've been like had it ever been me. I loved being an uncle to Garrett, but I was in no hurry to become a dad. 

I wonder sometimes if I had knocked up a girl while in high school if my Dad would've sat and screamed at my sister for hours about it.  I doubt it. I don't think he ever took out his anger over my actions on her.  He rarely ever took out his anger of her actions on her.  That was all saved for me.  Lucky me. 

No Tell, No Yell

 I was sleeping sound in my bed, when I heard the slam of our heavy wooden front door.  The slurred whispers of my sister and the neighbor girl, as they drunkenly stumbled through our front room.  I got out of bed, threw on a t-shirt and went downstairs to see what was happening. 

By the time I arrived, my mother and Stepfather were already up. Before I could be briefed on the situation, my mom looked at me and ordered me back upstairs.  To her, none of this was any of my concern and I could go back to bed. 

I took a good look at my sister and her friend before begrudgingly going back up the stairs. They both had cuts on their faces and arms. Bruises on the bodies. I listened as best I could to my mom scold my sister on how lucky she was that her injuries weren't worse. How she or her friend could've been killed. How she was lucky this happened so close to home and how the authorities would not be notified. 

Then I heard the tractor start up. We lived on about 7 acres, right on the edge of town.  My stepdad would often bring a tractor into town and hookup a huge lawnmower to it.  Luckily for my sister, the tractor was at our house that day. 

Here it was about 3 in the morning and my stepdad was taking the tractor down the road to pull our now totaled Chevy Celebrity out of the ditch.  One of the many times in our lives he saved us from further consequence or humiliation. 

I continued to listen to my mother scold my sister, even angrier that she now had to take the two girls over to the neighbors house and explain to her parents all that had transpired. 

I went back to bed having a hell of a time trying to get back to sleep.  This was the second time my sister had been in a drunk driving incident and I was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last either.  The first one had happened out in the middle of nowhere where on a gravel road.  There were no real consequences for that one either.  

By the time I finally did fall asleep my mom was in my room waking me up. 

"There's no need to go and tell your father about this," She said to me. "That'll just make things worse. Your sister is going through a lot right now, she doesn't need to deal with your Dad on top of it." 

I wasn't 100% sure why my sister was doing the things she was doing. According to her, it was because unlike her weird younger brother, she actually cared about being well liked and popular among her classmates. Partying and getting hammered was how you fit in. A loser like me wouldn't know anything about it. 

My mom's explanation for it contradicted what my sister said. My mom thought her rebellious nature was a combination of two things. For one, my sister's class was very clicky. When my sister was younger, up through JR High, she had always been among the female jocks.  She did dance, softball, volleyball and track. Then a series of injuries, kept her from those activities when she got older. She first had to have a giant cyst cut out of her hand. This meant no hitting a volleyball and no catching a softball. She even had to give up playing the trumpet in the band. As a result, many of those friends stopped including her in activities. Their get togethers excluded my sister. Soon thereafter she began to hang with a more rebellious crowd. I'm not convinced that she wouldn't have still turned to drinking and partying. Plenty of jocks still did plenty of both. 

As to the other reason? Mom thought it was also a result on how hard and critical my Dad was of my sister. At that time in our lives, I was doing very well in both wrestling and baseball. It'd be a while before I broke my back and all of those hopes died their slow, torturous death. At the time I was projected to have a very solid and respectable high school Wrestling career. 

My Dad was always bragging about me and talking me up to others. Not my sister, not at that time. If he wasn't ragging on her for her mediocre grades, then he was hounding her for something else. 

Were those the answers? I don't know. Looking back now, I wonder if my other sister's death had something to do with it. When my other sister died, it severely effected me. I mean it completely changed who I was and how I looked at life.  I went from a carefree little boy, into a take everything way to serious teenager overnight.  My sister on the surface seemed to only grieve as you would a normal death. You cry, you bury, and then you move on with life.  Looking back now, I wonder if a part of her turning to drinking, getting behind the wheel of a car drunk, as if she had no concern at all of the "what ifs". I wonder if it might have been her way of dealing with our other sister's death. 

I didn't end up telling my Dad about the incident and it wasn't to protect my sister. It was to protect me. At the time I was in a Oskaloosa Community Play and I was having the time of my life. It was such a fun and rewarding experience.  I knew that if my Dad found out about my sister's drunk driving incident, that it would put him in a sour mood. She wouldn't be around for him to yell and scream at, but I would be.  Even though a part of me wanted to see my sister come to terms with actions having consequences, I knew the real sufferer would end up being me if I talked. I kept my mouth shut and the play turned out to be a memory nearly 27 years later I still cherish. 

I don't miss being put in these types of predicaments. They weren't everyday occurrences, but they weren't exactly rarities either. They happened more often than I would've liked them to have.  I enjoy being an adult more than I did being a kid. Paying taxes is a drag, as are some of the other responsibilities.  That's a fact. No longer getting yelled and screamed at for someone else's mess ups? That's a fact too. 

CENTRAL EMPIRE WRESTLING NEWSLETTER

 

Central Empire Wrestling is about to embark on it's 19th Anniversary show!  Starting off small in a pole barn out in the middle nowhere in between Keota & Wellman, Iowa, Austin Bayliss had a dream.  A vision of one day running a successful independent professional wrestling organization.  Here he is nearly two decades later, that dream now a reality. 

A lot of talent comes and goes in twenty years.  New stars emerge, while old stars seem to fade into wind. Today we take a look at 9 former CEW superstars and what they are up to today. 

CEW MOURNS THE LOSS OF "THE UNDERDOGG"

MAJOR PAYNE MAKES MAJOR BUCKS SELLING BEAUTY PRODUCTS! 

CHIEF HONORS HIMSELF WITH WRESTLER OF THE YEAR AWARD

ACE IS WILD IN VEGAS

GET OUT OF SHAPE WITH SAM MOON!

FORMER TAG TEAM CHAMPS OPEN ANIMAL RESCUE

THE KING FINALLY FINDS HIS QUEEN

JT1Wrestle's Final ACC Predictions

 NCAA DI QUALIFIER 

125
1. Eddie Ventresca Virginia Tech
2. Vince Robinson North Carolina State
3. Nico Provo Stanford
4. Kysen Terukina North Carolina
5. Tyler Chappell Pittsburgh
6. Keyveon Roller Virginia 

133
1. Aaron Seidel Virginia Tech
2. Tyler Knox Stanford
3. Ethan Oakley North Carolina
4. Zach Redding North Carolina State 

141
1. Ryan Jack North Carolina State
2. Jack Consiglio Stanford
3. Tom Crook Virginia Tech
4. Luke Simcox North Carolina
5. Briar Priest Pittsburgh
6. Gable Porter Virginia 

149
1. Collin Gaj Virginia Tech
2. Koy Buesgens North Carolina State
3. Anthony Valencia Stanford
4. Kade Brown Pittsburgh
5. Wynton Denkins Virginia 

157
1. Daniel Cardenas Stanford
2. Ethen Miller Virginia Tech
3. Dylan Evans Pittsburgh
4. Laird Root North Carolina 
5. Colton Washleski Virginia 

165
1. Bryce Hepner North Carolina
2. E.J. Parco Stanford
3. Will Denny North Carolina State
4. Mac Church Virginia Tech
5. Jared Keslar Pittsburgh

174
1. Luca Augustine Pittsburgh
2. Matty Singleton North Carolina State
3. Aidan Wallace Duke
4. Sergio DeSiante Virginia Tech
5. Nick Hamilton Virginia 

184
1. Jaden Bullock Virginia Tech
2. Chase Kranitz Pittsburgh
3. Abraham Wojcikiewicz Stanford
4. Jake Dailey North Carolina 
5. Don Cates North Carolina State 

197
1. Mac Stout Pittsburgh
2. Angelo Posada Stanford
3. Sammy Sasso Virginia Tech
4. Patrick Brophy North Carolina State 

HWT
1. Isaac Trumble North Carolina State
2. Dayton Pitzer Pittsburgh
3. Jimmy Mullen Virginia Tech
4. Connor Barket Duke
5. Brenan Morgan Virginia