The Top 12 Songs of My Life

 The past nearly year and a half of my life, nearly 100% of the writing that I have been doing has been for a novel that I'm co-writing with an accomplice or something for my amateur wrestling website Johnnythompsonnum1. I'm burnt out for the time being and right now I need a break.  Of course being me, the strange, weird anomaly that I am, I will take a break from writing by writing.  In the awkwardness of it all, it is oddly enough quite normal.   

With the recent death of Ronnie Spector, I heard a radio discussion this morning that really interested me. A man said that growing up he was a huge Eddie Money fan and that the song, Take Me Home Tonight that Money did with Spector was a song that always spoke to him. It reminded him of being young. Of being wild and having those crazy nights of going out and looking for women. Of how he was once young, full of spunk and energy and how that song always brought him back to that period of his life whenever he heard it.  As his muscles ached, as his hair greyed and as his eyes told him as he looked in the mirror, time had gotten the best of him, but his ears, as they listened to Money and Spector blurt out, "Be my little baby" allowed him to be young again, if only for a moment. 

It made me wonder, what are the songs of my life? What songs represent me, who I am and who I want to be? What I've gone through and what I have yet to experience.  These are NOT a list of my all time favorite songs. That list would be similar yet different. While I love these songs and they would make a favorite list, these songs are more along the lines of what would play in the background if there were ever a biopic of me. 

Allow me to take a chapter from Doug Walker's (The Nostalgia Critic) book and give you the top 12 (because I like to go TWO steps beyond) songs of my life. 

12
Comfortably Numb
Pink Floyd 

Life has changed exponentially for me over the years. I'm not the same person I was 10 years ago. I'm not even the same person I was nearly two years ago.  When I was young I used to be full of so much energy and spirit. I had such lofty goals and I was going to achieve them all. I had a work ethic second to no one, and I lived, ate, slept and shit my dreams. Yet so much has happened since then. My life has been a series of disappointments, tragedies, letdowns, and heartache.  Salty, bitter, I certainly try not to be but I'm also not a liar or a denier either. I refuse to live a life of falseness within sugar coated bullshit, because uninformed ignorant judgers want to label me pessimistic. I'm not pessimistic. I haven't given up.  I still have the same goals I've always had, but things have changed. 

I still want what I wanted 18 years ago.  I just want it for different reasons than what I did then.  Before it was all about being a somebody, proving to myself that I have purpose and that I'm a somebody.  I'd be lying to you if I said I've completely lost that desire. I still have it. It still dwells within me, but it is no longer my driving force. Today, the fire the lights within my soul is one of peace. Peace is really where I want to be. Freedom to read and write when I want to read and write. Freedom to walk my dog, and play with her and my cat whenever I feel like it.  That's what I want. 

And where does Comfortably Numb fit into all of this?  I don't take loss as hard as I once did. Years ago whenever I'd face a major setback or a huge disappointment I used to take it so hard.  If Jason had done to me what he did to me in April of 2020, 10 years prior, I don't know if I would have survived it. It very well could have killed me. Do I still get angry? Do I still have moments where I break down and just let the tears flow? Oh yeah, you bet.  BUT, they're not a major part of my life like they once were. I don't fear disappointments, hardships and tragedies anymore.  That's the "numb" and the "comfortableness" I have within it. 

11
I Won't Back Down
Tom Petty 

If I can be completely vulnerable and give myself to you in absolute honesty, I have to admit that for much of my life I have felt that life was against me. That it had something against me.  I sometimes think of life as a fight. As if there is something out there that is doing all it can to get me to give up. That it has been trying for 25 years to get me to throw in the towel and finally call it quits for good.  Whatever it is, does it not realize that after all of the shit that it has put me through, that giving up isn't going to happen? All of the immense pain, heartache and suffering I've experienced. All of the sacrifices that I have made. If I haven't given up yet, I never will.  I Won't Back Down is a representation of that tenacity. A symbolism of my relentless perseverance.  "You can stand me up at the gates of Hell, but I won't back down."  

10
Reflections 
Diana Ross & The Supremes 

Over the years I have become more and more introverted. I wouldn't quite call myself a misanthrope but give me enough money to live off the grid, I'd become as close to a recluse as a person can get without being a recluse. I cannot stand how unfair, unreasonable, inconsiderate, insensitive and sociopathic people are. There are a lot of good people on this planet. You're probably one of them. I have been privileged to have known and that I continue to know some of them. I'd like to think of myself as one, or at least a decent one. Yet, there are so many people on this planet that are just shit, absolute shit. I've known too many of them. Way too many of them and I don't wanna know anymore. I don't wanna meet anymore. I want every shit person I've known in my life to be in my past. I don't want any for my future.  I know I will though. It's inevitable.   All of these thoughts I just expressed are what I feel every time I hear Reflections. 

9
Someday I'm Gonna Ride In a Cadillac 
Charlie Major 

 At near 37 years of age, I hope I have a lot of life left to live. I hope I have a lot of life left to experience. I hope to be a positive impact and influence in more people's lives. I hope to have and be a friend to more people. As I long for more good people in my life, I want to be a good one that comes into there's. Don't care to be used, exploited or abused as I have been, but to the genuine and sincere out there in the world, I hope to be another positive in their lives.  I sometimes wonder what the Hell my purpose is, if I even have one at all. It may not seem like much to many, but I take it very seriously and I did all I could to give Miss Peanut the best life I could give her. I strive to give Miss Ruby and Miss Marquee as much love as I can give them. People think I'm sometimes joking when I say that I zero interest in going to a people Heaven, but if you want to talk to me about getting into Dog and/or cat Heaven you now have my attention. Thing is, I'm not. I'm 100% serious.  

Now, I do hope that one day I'll discover that I had other purposes in life. That there was another reason I exist and that I was meant to do other things too.  Yet, I also realize that the day of realization that I have pictured since I was a wee little boy that barely knew how to read may never come.  That the moment of laying in a hospital bed knowing the end of my life is near without having that question answered is a reality I might face one day.  I get that.  That's where, Someday I'm Gonna Ride in a Cadillac comes in. 

I don't wanna die anytime soon. I've been suicidal in my life & I have to admit that, but I'm not now. This isn't what this is about.  This is about knowing that no matter how much life robs me and denies me of so many other things, it cannot rob me of death. Death will be a peace that I will one day be granted.  Now maybe I'm wrong about that and maybe there is life after this one.  And maybe because I didn't believe exactly the way someone else wanted me to, that life will be worse than this one.  Yeah, that's a possibility I suppose. I don't give it my allegiance though and I'm not ever going to either.  

8
It's All For You
Sister Hazel 

I never was a good wrestler. My name means nothing in the sport of wrestling and it never will.  I was mediocre at best and that's being generous and optimistic. I never won any major tournaments, I never qualified for state. Yet wrestling was a huge part of my life for 12 years and it continues to be a huge part of my life.  I won three hardest working wrestler of the year awards in high school.  I gave so much of myself to the sport. I don't have the accolades, credentials and accomplishments that so many others have and I suppose there are a fair number of people out there that doubt me.  That's fine. I know what i did. Those who were there, who actually witnessed me, know what I gave. My Coaches know how hard I worked. My teammates know. Many in the community of Sigourney, Iowa know.  Witnesses mean more than assumers.  It's All For You brings all of the emotions I have from wrestling into a consumed medley of three and a half minutes.  My devotion and dedication. What went wrong and how I could have possibly fixed it. The peace I finally came to with it.   

7
The Heart of The Matter
Don Henley 

Forgiveness has been a big part of my life. First and foremost learning to forgive myself. I've done some wrongs in my life and it's been hard to forgive myself for them. I've made some honest mistakes in my life and it's been hard to forgive myself for those. It's been even harder for me to forgive whatever I'm angry at for the unfairness of those situations. Going to Northwestern College is a classic example. I truly felt at the time I was making the right decision. I know now how foolish of a choice that school was for me to go to, but I didn't know that at 18. At the time I felt I was making one of the best decision of my life. It's been hard for me to except that I have had to pay such a hefty price for a truly honest mistake. I didn't mean for that to be a mess up. I truly didn't & to know how much of a punishment it has been on my life, has made me bitter. It's been a journey to forgive that.  

A lot of people have their opinions, judgments and criticisms on the fact that I no longer talk to my father. It may be very difficult to understand, but in essence it's all been about forgiveness. I'm just so sick of being angry. I'm so tired of being so worked up. I'm so sick of defending myself and getting into it with him over and over and over again. I don't wanna be angry anymore. I don't wanna be mad. I don't wanna hurt.  I'll never ever be given credit for this, but God damn did I try and make things right and mother f'er did I try for such a long f'n time. All my Dad has for me is judgment and criticism. That's it. He offers me nothing else and hasn't for over 15 years.   

I'm not who or what he wants me to be. I'm not living the life that he wants me to live. He leaves me with one of three options.  A, listen to the ridicule, judgment, putdowns, chastising and criticism and just take it. Just sit there and take it.  B, listen to the ridicule, judgment, putdowns, chastising and criticism and give it right back. Remind him that he isn't perfect. Remind him that he made some mistakes along the way. Let him know all of his shortcomings and failures.  I got too much pride and way too much of an attitude to do A & I'm too tired to do B.  Even if he deserves it, I don't care to put people down. Not like that. Not in that way.  That's a fight I don't care to have and I'm not going to have.  So that leaves me with C & C is to just eliminate him and other negative people out of my life.  I'm already one step ahead of you for those who suggest to talk to him about it and tell him how I feel. I did for close to 20 years. My Dad has always loved me. He always will love me, but he doesn't like me. I don't know for sure, but I'd say he hasn't like me in 22 years. Ever since I broke my back and it put an end to the idea of me ever being a successful athlete. I think that's when his dislike for me began & it's grown little by little ever since. He'll never forgive me for not being a huge success after college graduation.  Some feel that it is his right considering how much $$ he spent on me to go to college.  I get that to a degree. Believe it or not, I do sympathize with that, but here's the piece I know for a fact that they're missing. I MEANT TO.  I wanted to be a success. I wanted things to turn out right. I did what I could to make them turn out that way. Impeccably? No, but my heart was in the right place. 

The last thing my sister Sara said to me was, "You sure do think highly of yourself don't you?"   I took what she said and I thought a lot about it. She's right. I do.  And that's the problem.  That's the issue that She and my father both have with me. They think so little of me. Think of me as a loser. Think of me as a piece of shit.  And that's why they have such an issue with me, because I don't think of myself that way.  Like Del Griffith in Planes, Trains and Automobiles, I like me.  I'm honest, I'm fair, I'm genuine, I'm sincere, I'm raw and I'm real. I don't have a lot of money. I don't live in a brand new house. I don't drive a brand new car. I can't afford to take Ashley to Hawaii in June & turn around and spend a week in LA in September. Sorry. I'm not a Jason Janes. No one is ever going to one day say that I groomed them for 10 years & then completely robbed them of everything they had. That they thought of me as a friend and found out later that I wasn't. No one is ever gonna say that about me. So yeah, I like myself.  They don't & that's The Heart of the Matter.  I owe no one to give up the peace I have found by eliminating them from my life. It has been how I've been able to let go of that anger and hurt. Anyone can have a problem with it if they want to. I don't care. 

6
Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now (PERFECT STRANGERS THEME)
Bryan Pomeranz 

It's such a quick, blink and you'll miss it moment within the show, but it has to be my all time favorite moment in television. When Larry Appleton opens up the Newpaper and sees his first article published for the first time. The since of accomplishment and pride that he feels. The moment of, "Finally, I've done it." I don't care how many times I've watched this scene, I never grow tired of it. Each time I am so happy for him and share within that success. Knowing how hard he worked and how bad he wanted it to happen. It may be a fictional moment in a fictional television program, but it's reminiscent to Mark Linn-Baker who played Larry.  A struggling 25 year old actor, who got his big break.  Just love the song that accompanies this moment.  Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now. 

5
Pacing the Cage
Bruce Cockburn 

Gawd, every lyric of this song speaks to the inner depths of my heart. I've never met Bruce Cockburn. Probably never will. He knows nothing of me or my existence, but I can't help but think he wrote this song for me. It is so poetic and Hell, the lyrics probably don't even mean what I think they mean. No doubt that what this song says to me, isn't what Cockburn intended. That's the beauty of music. That a song can become so powerful, that it takes a life of its own. 

I've felt trapped my entire life. Held down. Always something in my way. More often than not fear. Often times substantiated fear.  The opportunities to jump 5 feet onto a tempurpedic matress have been few and far between, and the opportunities to jump out of an airplane without a parachute into crocodile infested waters have been plentiful.  The ride on the ship, with plenty of life boats, life preservers and a well seasoned captain hasn't been offered, but by George if I care to swim across unchartered waters full of rough waters, sharks and jellyfish, have at it.   Excuses?

Yeah, that may very well be the case. Maybe I should have stopped waiting for the right moment. Maybe even though I might have literally died trying, I should have went for it anyway. There's a good chance that I wouldn't have made it.  There's a good chance that I would have came back with my tail between my legs, but at least I would have tried.  I've discovered that failure sucks, but to have never given it a shot sucks even more. There are certain dreams that are past me now. They're gone and I'm not getting them back.  Like a tiger that dreams of living in the jungle, I find myself in the zoo that is life, in the circus that is someone else's dream, not mine.  Back and forth I go, trapped, Pacing the Cage. 

4
The Waiting 
Tom Petty 

You cannot self diagnose yourself insane and ironically enough the very notion of thinking that you may be insane is proof that you are not. Nevertheless there has to be something loony about a guy who has failed as many times as I've failed who continues to try anyway.  At this point in my life there is little to no reason for me to believe that I'm still going to make it as a writer, but I do.  I've had nothing but disappointments, failures, rejections and people in important positions tell me that I don't have what it takes and I never will. I continue to write anyway. I continue to tell stories. Why? I don't even know if I know why anymore.  Maybe it isn't my purpose. Maybe writing and storytelling isn't what I'm meant to do.  Well, whatever, don't give a shit. It's what I love, so life or whatever consistently tells me to give up and quit can kiss my ass. I'm going to continue doing it. It's who I am. It's WHAT I DO.  Do I believe that success will come along with it someday? Yes, I do.  And that doesn't make me insane? The fact that it doesn't, that's insane. 

3
Mr. Jones
The Counting Crows 

I've always been true to myself and I've always been true to my dreams. With all the reason in the world to, I've never given up on myself. This song is hard for me to talk about because it was the song that Jason and I used to represent ourselves & our dreams. Him as the director and me as the screenplay writer, we had a lot of goals. I thought of him as the Mr. Jones and the "me" as me.   There may not be a Mr. Jones in my life anymore, but there is a me. And Me still believes in me.  Me still has these desires and Me is going to realize them one day.  

2
Dancing In the Dark
Bruce Springsteen 

I have wondered for years what in the Hell, "Dancing in the Dark" meant. Such a strange phrase. What in the world could Springsteen mean by it.  I think years ago I figured it out.  I stopped trying to find the subluminal message with in it. I stopped lookin at it metaphorically and I took it at its literal meaning.   Dancing in the dark.  What does it mean to dance in the dark? What does that look like?  Well you can't see it. You can't experience it.  Why? Cause it's happening in the darkness. It's happening in the pitch black.  And if it's happening where people can't see it, then people don't know anything about it.  I feel that way sometimes with my work.  Overambitious? Arrogant? Think too much of myself. Yes, tell me an artist who truly wants to make it that doesn't. I do feel that I have some phenomenal ideas. I feel that I have stories inside of me that would make great films. That I have a talent within me in so many other fields, but that I spend my time Dancing In the Dark  because I don't have the right platform to get my talents and abilities out to the right people.  I do feel that I have a level of talent to get somewhere on that mountain.  I'm not saying the top of it, but I do believe I belong somewhere on it.   

1
Against The Wind
Bob Seger 

If there was ever a song written that illustrates my life to a T, Against the Wind is it. This has been my life. From start to right now, probably finish I have had the wind against me. Not to reiterate what I've written already, I think that may say enough.  


===

Are there other songs? Yep. I could have made this a top 15 or even a top 20. Maybe even a top 25.  Who knows?  Like a Rock another Bob Seger classic comes to mind, and boy does that one speak to my soul.  

Let's Try Wrestling

 

If you've ever met me in person, it isn't too hard to imagine that as a little kid I was awkward and weird. Not all that much different than I am today.  A sensitive kid that cried easily, I was a target for bullies. Three kids in particularly picked on me nearly all of the first part of first grade. Ian, Drew and Greg. It was mostly petty stuff like shoving, poking and slaps to the back of the head.  Not a big deal to me now at 37 years old, but to the 7 year old me, it was Hell. 

My teacher Mrs. Fritchen did what she could about it. If she caught them bullying me, she put an end to it right away. Yet she wasn't always around to protect me. Especially after school.  Drew had this move that he would use on me, where he shoved his thumb down really hard into my collar bone. It hurt bad enough to make me cry. My Dad hated that these three kids were picking on me and I think he hated it worse that I would just stand their and take it. I never defended myself.  

Things got a little better as a kid two grades ahead of me, Nate Coble found out that the kids were picking on me. He would follow me all the way home, to make sure that the kids didn't bother me on my walk home from school.   

My Dad wanted me to start sticking up for myself. He told me to never start a fight and to do my best to always walk away from one if at all possible, but if Ian, Drew and Greg wouldn't leave me alone, I had every right to defend myself.  No matter how many lectures I sat through with Dad, I still wouldn't move a muscle if those three came around. It was driving my Dad insane. 

The first thing we tried was Taekwondo.  That lasted all of one afternoon.  The Nelson family had moved into our little town of Sigourney, Iowa and turned our old movie theater/movie rental store into a dojo. I was friends with their two sons, Darrell III & Derek.  On the first day of practice, I was one of the first ones there. As my mom was signing me up for classes, I went into the basement where practice would be. On the wall there were all sorts of weapons. Nun chucks, swords, katanas, you name it.  A huge arsenal of weapons. At the time I was a huge TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLE fan (Hell, who am I kidding? I still am!).  I saw sai on the wall, so I grabbed them and started dancing around pretending like I was Raphael. Sensei Nelson did NOT like this at all.  She was ticked! I got yelled. My mom got yelled at. We were both asked to leave.  That was the end of my days in Taekwondo. 

Time passed as the bullying by my three Enemigos continued their daily assault.  During P.E. Class our teacher Mr. Mateer handed out flyers for Little Savage Wrestling. I didn't think anything of it at the time, as I shoved it into my bookbag. Yet when I got home, my Dad was super excited about it as I handed him the flyer. He thought it was something that I should defiantly try when it started in a few weeks. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't care either way. 

Soon after Dad had a business trip to Dallas, Texas. He was going to be gone for a couple of weeks.  When he came back he had a gift for my sister and a gift for me.  At this time in my life, WWF (WWE) was a huge interest of mine. I was a huge Hulk Hogan fanatic and watched it every time it was on TV.  The gift my Dad got me was a WCW action figure of Scott Steiner. 

As I opened up the package, my Dad had me turn it over as he read the back of it to me. 

Before becoming a WCW tag team champion with brother Rick, Scott was an All American wrestler for the University of Michigan in amateur wrestling. 

I asked my Dad what amateur wrestling was. He told me that amateur wrestling was the same thing as Little Savage Wrestling. If I wanted to one day do what Scott Steiner and Hulk Hogan did, I was going to have to first do Little Savage Wrestling.  That's all the convincing that I needed. 

A couple of nights later my Uncle Jim took me to my first wrestling dual.  I had no idea what was going on out there on the mat, and it was a lot different than the wrestling I watched Hulk Hogan do on TV. Nevertheless the HWT match really interested me. Our HWT at the time was a kid named Derek Miller and he threw his opponent all over the mat. It was fun watching him.  I wanted to do what he was doing. 

My parents had gotten divorced in November, so by my first practice in March (we got started late back then) my Dad had already been out of the house for four months.  He told me to be ready for when he came over to pick me up.  Excited, I took my mom's makeup out of the bathroom drawer and painted my face like the Ultimate Warrior. I figured I might as well go to practice in style.  When Dad came to pick me up, we immediately drove over to Grandpa Harry's house (where he was staying at the time) and washed the makeup off my face.  There my Dad gave me a pair of headgear he had gotten from my Uncle Chris who wrestled for Montezuma. 

"You have to wear these, otherwise you'll get cauliflower ear." 

I had no idea what cauliflower ear was, but the way my Dad described it, I knew I didn't want it. I've seen horror films less terrifying than the way Dad made Cauliflower ear out to be. I put that headgear on right then and right there & I did not take it off until we got back home.   

Believe it or not, I remember my first practice. Not every detail of it, but more than you'd think I'd remember from 30 years ago.  I'll never forget how our head coach Larry Bird described getting into your stance. 

"You wanna stand like you're taking a dump out in the woods." 

Not sure how many of us were taking dumps out in the woods, but it made sense to us. 

Then the high school coach, Tong Uk Yi came in to show us a few moves.  

All of the other kids were shouting out the names of moves as Coach Yi demonstrated them. Wanting to appear as if I knew something, my Dad had told me the names of a few moves. I didn't know one from the other, but remembered one as I shouted it out. 

"Chicken wing!" 

Coach Yi looked at me and said, "No, this is a half nelson."

I repeated the word. "Half nelson." 

Two weeks worth of practice, and it was time for my first tournament.  

I was scared to death. 

It was one thing to go onto the mat and practice these moves with my teammates but to actually try them in competition? I shook with anticipation.  

My Dad and Uncle Jim took me to my first meet.  I don't remember where it was, but I do remember that my Dad had two rules for the day.  No matter what happened, I was going to show good sportsmanship. That meant shaking my opponent's hand before and after the match.  Secondly, I was to give it 100% and never give up.   

That day I got the wind knocked out of me, both eyes blackened, a fat lip and a bloody nose.  To quote Elias Koteas, I looked like I called Mike Tyson a sissy.   

I was pinned in my first two matches and by all rights I should have been pinned in my final match, but the referee took mercy on me I guess. Either that, or he enjoyed watching me suffer.  

The match was against South Tama County's Brian Flynn.  From the get go he had me up in the air and on my back. Yet with my Dad and Uncle Jim cheering from the sidelines for me to keep fighting, I did all I could to hit the neckbridge that Coach Bird had taught us in practice. 

It's amazing how long three minutes can be when you're fighting on your back like you're fighting for your life.  Towards the end of the third period, I was spent. I had nothing left.  

"Hey now," The referee said to me. "You haven't given up yet, don't give up on me now. As long as you keep fighting, I won't call the pin."

"Yeah," Brian said as he held me down on my back. "Don't give up. Keep trying." 

Face red, out of breath, somehow or another I found it in myself to keep fighting off my back. After what seemed an eternity, the whistle blew. Time was up.  Brian 14, Me 1. 

Call wrestling a weird sport, not more than 5 minutes later, Brian and I were in the bleachers playing with action figures. It's amazing to me how two kids can go at it little mortal enemies on the mat and only moments later, be friends off of it.   

After that tournament, I was done with wrestling. I told my Dad on the way home as I looked at my battered and beaten face in the side mirror that my days of wrestling were over.  Much to my surprise I didn't receive a rebuttal. He just said ok, if I didn't want to do wrestling anymore I didn't have to. 

And for a week, I didn't.  Our practices came and went and they went without me. A few kids at school asked me why I wasn't going anymore, but it didn't bother me any.   

Then one day while up town grocery shopping with my mom, we ran into coach Bird and his wife. 

"Stephen," He said to me. "I've really missed you at practice. I was sad you weren't there."

I felt a bit ashamed having missed practice, but it wasn't until he said what he said next, that I made up my mind that I was going to go back to wrestling practice again.  

"You are one of my favorites." 

Other than my parents and family members, no adult had ever told me I was one of their favorites before. I thought of Coach Bird as a very important person. He was the guy who taught people wrestling. He thought of me as one of his favorites? Me?  I thought to myself that if I was one of his favorites, than I had to go back. I just had to.  When I got home, I called my Dad on the phone and said I wanted to go back to wrestling practice.  

One night after getting bulled at school my Ian, Drew and Greg, my Dad said to me, "you know, you can use what you learned at wrestling practice against these guys."   It had never occurred to me to use wrestling as a form of self defense, but maybe my Dad was right. Maybe wrestling could help me against these bullies. 

I'll never forget where it was. Our playground at Sigourney South Elementary school looks different now than what it did then, but I'm almost positive 30 years later I could stand in the exact same spot where it happened.  Drew decided he wanted to do his thumb in the collarbone trick that day and I decided I was going to use a move on Drew that I had done at wrestling practice. Surprising both myself and him, before I knew it, I had Drew up in the air and down on his back among the woodchips.  I thought for sure that Ian and Greg would jump on me in defense of Drew, but instead they just stood their shocked. After a while Ian began to laugh at Drew. Drew got up and dusted himself off as Ian began to make fun of him and give him crap.  I kept waiting for the retaliation thinking that I was going to get the beating of my life. Instead they walked off.  That was the last day they ever picked on me and believe it or not, Greg and I became friends a short time later.   

That season I went 1-13.  How I won that one match I did, I don't know. I think he was as nervous and scared as I was and it just so happened that I'm the one that got my hand raised at the end of it.  A 1-13 record isn't much to be proud of, but from my picture above, you can tell how proud I was to be a wrestler. It made me feel like a somebody. It made me feel important.  Three decades later, I still feel it was one of the best decisions I ever made in life. Something I wouldn't change for the world.  So thank you Sensei Nelson for kicking me out of your dojo that day and thank you Coach Bird for calling me one of your favorites. Whether I was or not, I believed I was and that had a huge positive impact on my life. 

0-2 on the Day & still walked out a champion

 There's not a whole lot to say about my personal wrestling career. It was one full of a lot of injuries, disappointments and depression.  As a pee-wee I showed promise and potential with some notable results, but then broke my back in eighth grade, missing nearly the entire season. I was never the same after, then suffering more injuries that hampered my career throughout high school including a torn bicep, a torn groin and torn ligaments in my ankle. I don't have stories of the state tournament. I have but one time in my entire career where I beat a ranked opponent. My moments of glory and notoriety are few and far between.  I was a nobody in this sport that did nothing and accomplished nothing. I've always been forth and honest about that. Yet, I still had some great moments in wrestling, even if they didn't involve me getting my hand raised. I still have stories to tell, even if they didn't involve parts where I stood on top of a podium and had someone put a gold medal around my neck.  This is one of them. 


Sectionals, 2003, junior year. 

Luck started off on my side that cold February day inside of Belle Plaine High School.  The kid I was supposed to wrestle first round ended up not making weight, so I advanced to the semi-finals without having to do anything...well other than make weight.  In the semi-finals I had Ryan Lewis of Lynnville-Sully.  

One of my problems as a wrestler is that I had way, way, way too much respect for my opponents. Lewis had been a match shy of state qualification the season before with a 3rd place finish at Districts. Not only had he placed 3rd, he had knocked off Robbie Yilek of Belle Plaine to do so.  Lewis started off the season ranked in the top 20 & he was my first match of the season.  In the first period, I surprised myself by taking him down twice. Instead of calming down and relaxing, I got way too overzealous and in the second period ended up on my back and pinned.  This time I knew better than to let my nerves get to me.    

As good as Lewis was, I knew he couldn't stop my double leg. I had hit it twice on him in the dual and had the confidence to hit it again.  In our sectional semi-final match, I once again hit him with it twice, and scored two takedowns. Yet, I couldn't ride Lewis. He was very good on bottom. He got an escape and a takedown of his own.   

Third period it's my choice and with the advice of my coaches I go neutral. I'm ahead 4-3.  All I have to do is not stall & keep him from taking me down.  I have no idea why, but I completely froze up at that moment. I went numb. My legs became weak and I couldn't move.  

I could hear Coach Kirby and Coach Jarmes going nuts over on the side, screaming at me to hit my double leg again. That's exactly what I should have done. That's exactly what should have happened.  Instead with only seconds left to go, it was Lewis that shot in.  Right on the edge of the mat, he was awarded two points.  I lost 5-4. 

It's one of those matches I always wonder how much it would have changed my perspective on myself as a wrestler had I won. I've always had a lot of respect for Lewis.  He was a two time district qualifier, once a match away from state. When people ask me about the best wrestlers Lynnville Sully had during my years, Lewis is always one of the first names I bring up.  Would I think more of myself had I won that match?  I don't know.  At districts, I wouldn't have fared too well. Gotta come clean about that too.  Had three time state place-winner Nic Chiri of New London in the bracket.  He pinned everyone in the first period that day.  


My next match for 3rd place was against Wade Kimm of Iowa Valley.  An opponent that I had beaten earlier in the season 11-6.   Wade himself was a good wrestler that would win a district title & a state qualification the next year in 2004 as a senior. 

First period as the aggressor Kimm fights off two of my takedown attempts, but I'm able to nail a Kelly on Kimm and go up 2-0.  

Second period Kimm goes down. I'm unable to turn him as he gets an escape to cut my lead 2-1.  Then out of nowhere Kimm hits his patented headlock & I go straight to my back.  I fight like mad, using all the energy I have as I fight my way off my back. The period is over, I survived it, but I'm down 2-6.  I have a lot of catching up to do. 

I go to over to Coach Kirby and Coach Jarmes. 

"I can take him down." 

They nod at me. They trust me. 

I choose neutral. My game plan is to light him up on takedowns. I know I'm better than him on my feet, and I knew that if I don't hesitate and commit to my shots, I can win this battle. 

As soon as the whistle blows, I'm in on a takedown.  I let him up.  Towards the end of the period, I have nailed three takedowns. One more and I have this match tied.  I think back on the Lewis match and know that fear and hesitation are NOT the way to go. I shoot in and take him down. The score is now 10-10 as I ride him out the rest of the period. 

I am pumped. I am ready to go.  I know that 3rd place bronze medal is mine. We're headed to sudden victory and I'm going to win this match.   

Yet we're not heading to over time.  As I stand on the line in my stance, ready to go I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's the official. 

"Go over to your coaches." He says to me. 

I walk over to Coach Kirby and Coach Jarmes. I ask them what's going on.  They say that they aren't for sure as I look over at Iowa Valley's coaches. They are discussing something with the referee. A camera is grabbed as the referee and the Iowa Valley coaches watch it. I'm so in the moment, that all I can see, all I can visualize is myself taking Wade down and winning the match. 

That's when I started to notice my surroundings.  As time goes by I hear a chant. 

"Let's go Steve. Let's go Steve." 

At first I think the crowd is cheering for Steve Carl of Belle Plaine. We're at Blaine Plaine high school & he's in the championship match against Lewis. Yet I look over at the other mat, and there's nobody on it. I'd find out later that Steve pinned Lewis in the third period.  The Steve these people are cheering for is Steve Stonebraker, me! 

The Belle Plaine fans, the English Valley fans, Hell everyone in that gym except for Iowa Valley was cheering for me.  It was a surreal moment.   

After what seemed like forever, the referee motioned us back to the mat.  I walked out there feeling like a million bucks.  I didn't have to see the numbers, I already knew I could cash in this ticket.  Yet instead of blowing the whistle, he grabbed us both by the wrist. Then he raised Wade's hand. 

My heart sunk. I guess without knowing it, I had locked my hands after one of the takedowns. I must have done it quickly, because the referee missed it.  The Iowa Valley coaches saw it & when they showed the video to the official, he saw it too.   

I lost 11-10, because I had locked my hands.  No one to blame but me. It was my own fault. 

Nevertheless, it was the only time in my career where I heard a chorus of boos after the match.  I heard people screaming some very unfair obscenities at the referee. It made me feel bad for him. It wasn't his fault. 

I shook Wade's hand and gave him a hug. He now had Lewis in a challenge match. I wished him the best of luck.  I even shook the referee's hand. I could tell how flustered he was with so many people screaming at him. I wanted to let him know I wasn't angry with him. It was his job to call the match fairly.  I think he did that.  Who I WAS angry with, was myself. 

I grabbed my clothes from my coach and walked to the locker room.  I felt small. I felt unimportant. I felt like a loser.  People came up to me and slapped me on the back. 

"YOu got hosed Stonebraker!"

"That was bull Stonebraker!"

"You got screwed Stonebraker"

It was comforting in a weird way to have so many people on my side. People I didn't even know giving me their condolences. It was sorta cool, but truth is, they were wrong. I didn't get hosed or screwed. I just made the idiotic and stupid mistake of locking my hands.   

I should have been a 2003 Sectional Runner-up and a 2003 District qualifier.  That should be a credential I have on my resume, that I don't.  Instead I finished 4th that day.   

I took a long shower. No matter how much soap I used or how hard I scrubbed, I felt dirty.  I owed a better performance to my coaches. I owed a better performance to my teammates and myself.  It was one of the lowest feelings I felt in high school. 

I had held it all in.  Showing sportsmanship, humility and class was something that Coach Kirby and Coach Jarmes demanded. It was our #1 priority on the Sigourney Savage Wrestling team and something I took very seriously. Yet I had held it all in.  As I walked out of the shower and sat down on the bench with my towel wrapped around my waste, I finally let it all go. 

I sat with my head down, pointed at the ground and sobbed. I thought I was in that locker room all by myself. I was wrong.  I wasn't alone.  Someone else was in their with me. 

"You raise that head up, you hear me? You raise that head up right now." 

I looked up. It was Jack Smith. Sigourney's legendary coach from 1963-1988 who had lead our high school to multiple 2nd & 3rd place finishes at the state tournament. 

"Coach Smith?" I was shocked to see him. 

"You stop that crying. You got no reason to cry." He said to me. "If you lower your head again, I'm gonna come over there and pop you one under the chin." 

He then told me that I may not have won a sectional title that day, but as far as he was concerned I was still a champion. I could have thrown a fit or acted like a hooligan, but instead I conducted myself with class. He said of all things, it was the most impressive thing he saw all tournament. 

All these years later, it is still one of my most prized memories of my high school career.  I don't have a medal to show from the 2003 sectional tournament.  It's one of many tournaments that I went into with nothing and walked out with nothing...if we're talking physical things like bracket sheets and medals.  Yet I did walk out with something that day.  A memory that all these years later, I still cherish as much now as I did then.  

Boys Will be Boys

 For the most part growing up I was a pretty good kid. I'd be ornery every now and again and there were a few times where I out right misbehaved. For the most part though, I stayed out of trouble and played by the rules.  One of my best friends growing up, was a bit more on the wild side. 

One of the best people I've ever known in my life, deep down inside he wasn't only a good kid, he was a great kid. He was a man of justice, even at the tender age of 5, 6 years old. One that always stood up for the other guy.  One who never tolerated the mistreatment of others. If you were ever in a bind, or you found yourself outnumbered, all you had to do was glance over your shoulder, He always had your back.  I guess I've called a lot of people "friend" during my near 37 years on this planet, but only a select few, less than a dozen that truly fit that moniker.  He was one of them. 

Yet he was also mischievous. Had a heck of an imagination and wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. Every once in a while he'd fear the consequence of his action, but it was always after he had already done it, never before.   

One day were were playing outside and he got an idea.  His Dad had an old car that sat out in the yard.  It had sat there in the same place for years.  He figured since they hadn't moved it in years, it must not be that important.  Earlier that day we had watched a movie where these guys had trashed a car.  My friend thought it looked like fun. I wasn't so sure. 

We went into the garage, as he handed me a hammer and grabbed himself a baseball bat. 

"Here," He said. "We can use these." 

"Are you sure we won't get in trouble for doing this?" 

"We'll be fine."  

With the assurance of a good insurance salesman who insist you need flood insurance while living in Death Valley, California, I followed him to the car. 

"Have at it!" He said as he crawled on top of the car's hood. 

I sat down next to the back tire and lightly tapped my hammer against the wheel. 

"No, no, no!" He yelled at me. "Like this!" 

He reared back like Hank Aaron about to hit a home run as he hit the windshield with such force that it knocked him back on his rear end.  A huge hole that spiderwebbed nearly the entire windshield remained.  

"What the HELL are you boys doing!" 

I dropped my hammer and froze in panic.  It was his Dad.  We heard him through the kitchen window as we heard the door slam.  I was best friends with this kid, going over to his house for 14 years of my life and it was the only time I was ever afraid of his Dad.  

I'll never forget what my friend said to me as his Dad approached us. 

"Say it was your idea."

"What!?!?!?" 

"He won't hit you. He'll blister my ass!" 

When his Dad got to us, I was so afraid that I couldn't speak. I couldn't even move.  

"It was Stephen's idea."   

His Dad took one look at me and then looked back at him. 

"Like Hell it was!"  He grabbed him under the arm, hoisted him up and carried him, screaming and fighting back inside. 

Thinking that he might come back for me, I went and hid.  As I hid, I heard two very loud noises one followed right after the other. 

WHAP!
"AH!!" 

It was the sound of my friend getting spanked and his reaction to it. 

A few minutes later, my friend came hobbling outside.  

"Stephen!" He yelled for me.  

I slowly crept around to where he was. 

"Is it safe?" I asked him. 

He rubbed his behind with his hand as he slowly sat down, fidgeting about from the soreness that remained. 

"Yeah," He said. "It's safe." 

"Did you get spanked?"

"What the hell do think?" He frowned at me. "This is really your fault you know."

"My fault?" 

"Yeah." 

"How is it my fault. It was your idea."

"Well yeah," He admitted. "But your supposed to talk me out of these things.  That's your job." 

Unable to warrant a response all I could do was stare at him. 

"My mom says your a good influence on me, or at least your supposed to be." 

Yeah, supposed to be.  

Complete the Story: 20 of 198

 The desert is an unforgiving place.  This one is called Death Valley for a reason.  Every living thing there has to fight for survival. And we would have to fight, too, or else we would be consumed by a sidewinder, bobcat, or one of the other predators who made their home the heat. Oddly enough as we had never experienced a hot of greater degree and we ached from pain of thirst, it was the night that concerned me. We had been held at gun point, hands tied behind our backs, blindfolded, gagged and forced to get into a limousine. Positioned up against the window, I heard the instructions given to our executor.  

"Drive them out into the desert. Pop them out there. Make it quick. I'm hungry. Louie's closes at 11." 

I don't think the others heard it. I barely did and I was right up against the door. In fact, I know they didn't hear it. They couldn't have. Even though I couldn't see, I could still hear. I could still sense. While I felt a state of confusion and uncertainty from them, I didn't feel a state of panic. If they had heard what I had, I would have. 

I thought of two things as we drove out to the desert. I thought of time. If he had to be back before 11, this essentially gave him an hour to get to where he was going, off us and then get back. In high pressure situations its easy to fooled by time.  Minutes can turn into hours and hours can turn into minutes. Yet it was about 10 to 8 when they all showed up on the property. I suppose it was around 8:30 or so when we were forced hands behind our back, gagged and blindfolded into the limo. If he got his work done by 9:30, he'd be back by 10:30. Perhaps I was giving him too much credit.  Punctual as I am, I refuse to go into a restaurant with anything less than a half hour left before they close. Not sure why I thought this man who had been told to kill us was suddenly going to have the decency.  Why it struck me as peculiar that he'd shoot four people in the back of the head, two of them minors and yet feel it was inappropriate to show up at a restaurant expecting food and service shortly before they closed. 

The other thought was of anger, but it wasn't at him. It wasn't even at the other man who had told him to kill us. It wasn't because I had no idea who these people were, or why they were doing this to us. It wasn't because I'm 25 and I thought of all the life I'd miss. It was because of Louie's.  If the other man had not mentioned Louie's, I'm not even sure if I would have felt anger.   

Louie's is the most expensive restaurant in our area. No one I know has ever ate there. I've never ate there. It's a somebody restaurant. You could save up for a while and afford one of their dishes, but that wasn't good enough for him. You had to prove that you could afford to eat their any time you wanted.  They looked at your car, your clothes and if you weren't up to their standards, you weren't getting in.  You had to be important. You had to be worthy.  Apparently this guy who within a short amount of time was going to off us and the sociopath who nonchalantly ordered our execution, they were good enough.  We weren't.  I wasn't. But, they were.  Of all the things that now faced me, my death, my cousin and her two kids deaths, not knowing why this was happening, of all things, thinking of Louie's is what pissed me off most. 

The limousine came to stop as he put it into park. He left the engine running.  I had been so preoccupied by my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed it until then, but he had the radio on.  Brian's Song by Anne Murray was on the radio.  

"Even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with you honey."  It was almost comical hearing him sing along. Even more comical that he waited for the song to end before opened up the door and got out. 

Few words were spoken as he opened up the back door and ordered us out of the car.  We walked for abut a minute or so, maybe two when he told us to get down on our knees.  I began to regret not putting up a fight at my Uncle's house.  The four of us had been so cooperative doing exactly what these people had asked us to do.  I figured that was our best course of action. I was wrong. Now all I could do was hope that I'd be the first to be shot.  

BANG! 

The gun shot was so loud and deafening that I did not hear the body hit the ground. All I knew was that I had not been first.  I knew I wouldn't be the second either. I wasn't going to be the third. I was going to be the last. 

Five seconds at most is all the time their could have been between gun shots.  Each felt like a decade but all in all the entire experience took a quarter of a minute.  Three bangs.  It was now my turn. 

BANG! 

I was still conscious. I could feel my body shake. I could feel myself breathing.  Was this what it was like to be dead? Was I now a spirit? I felt no pain.  I didn't feel my body against the desert sand.  I could still feel my knees hard against the ground. 

"Listen," The man said to me. "After I cut you lose I'm going to put the knife behind you.  If you go to turn around or remove your blindfold before I drive away, I'll shoot you twice in each foot." 

I nodded. 

"Good," He said. "Listen for the car to drive away.  Count to 100 and then you can remove your blindfold and gag." 

I did as the man instructed.  

The light from the hot sun burned my eyes as I removed my blind fold. It took a minute for the blur to clear as I looked over to my left and saw my cousin and her two kids.  They were alive. Unharmed and alive.  I cut them loose.   

"Why didn't he kill us?" My cousin asked. 

"I don't know." 

All four of us had the same questions and all four of us had the same answers.  All we knew now is that we were out in the hot desert and we had to make it back to civilization.   Night was going to be falling soon and this time a year the temperature could get down into the 40's.  A temp the human body might not survive.  

We were far enough away I knew however far we had to go, we weren't making it before the sun went down.  We'd have to spend the night.  Maybe that's what the man who drove us out here to kill us was planning on.  Figured why waste four perfectly good bullets if mother nature could do the job herself? 

We walked in the direction of the trail the limousine had made.  Walked until we were out of energy. Then we gathered in a small circle. Back to back, resting up against one another.  I feel asleep with my eyes open. 

McIntyre Says, "WRONG!" to Doctor's Claims

 Dr. Sam Ich of CHI Memorial Hospital in Chattanooga, Tennessee came under attack late Thursday afternoon when he told a group of college students to stay out of the sun on excessively hot days. 

Dr. Ich was explaining to the students at UT-Chattanooga that on days when heat reaches excessive temperatures it can pose a variety of dangers to the human body.  Heat exhaustion and severe burns being among some of those dangers. 

"You want to stay out of the sun on a day like today," Dr. Ich said. 

That's when George McIntyre, a 70 year old former wrestling official, town know it all and local idiot verbally attacked Dr. Ich. 

"WRONG!!" McIntyre shouted from a seat in the third row of the auditorium. 

Confused as to McIntyre's claims as well as his insistence, Dr. Ich entertained his claims asking why he felt he was wrong. 

"You can't go into the sun!" McIntyre shouted. "It's 94 million miles away!" 

Dr. Ich tried to explain to McIntyre that he didn't literally mean that students shouldn't go into the sun. He simply meant that they shouldn't go outside into the sunlight without proper precautions and protection. 

"If you meant that, then you should have said it!" McIntyre continued to shout. "You said into the sun.  Not into the sunlight or sun's rays.  These kids can't go into the sun.  Anyone knows that.  The sun is 94 million miles away.  It'd take 19 years to reach the sun." 

Dr. Ich tried to once again explain what he meant and the usage of the common expression, "stay out of the sun" but McIntyre continued to protest. 

"They'd burn up long before they ever reached the sun anyway." McIntyre laughed. "Call yourself a Dr? You don't even know that you can't actually go into the sun." 

Dr. Ich tried to continue his presentation but McIntyre continued to interrupt demanding that Dr. Ich admit that he was wrong and apologize for making an inaccurate statement.  

"The man is deranged," Dr. Ich said when asked for comment. 

At the present time we are still gathering comment from George McIntyre.  He's spent the last four hours telling us how wonderful, intelligent, great and magnificent he is.  

Realizing Good Fortune

 When the small odd looking little anomaly arrived at 5:33 a.m. May 22nd, 1985 that would eventually be named Stephen Franklin Stonebraker, he was graced with the good fortune of having all six of his grandmas still alive.  

Unfortunately I never got to know my Grandma Norma Stonebraker that well.  She passed two and a half months shy of my fourth birthday. I do remember bits and pieces of her. It's funny because what I do remember is so insignificant.  I remember she kept candy bars in the refrigerator.  Butterfingers and Kit-Kats.  I remember her taking me to work with her once and sitting me on a big warm dryer.  That's about the extent of it though.  

Then a short time later Grandma Edna Barrett passed away. She was already in poor health from the time my memory kicked in.  I think I was a year older than what I was when Grandma Norma passed.  While I do remember visiting her in the hospital, the memory I have of her that sticks out most was at my Uncle John and Aunt Dawn's wedding.  I wanted to sit next to her, so I kinda just went and wedged my way between her and another guest.  

Now my Grandma Danels I knew very well.  Spent a lot of time with her.  She was my main babysitter when I was a kid.  Even though she's been gone now for 28 years, it's never felt that long.  I skipped school some days, pretending not to feel well just to be able to spend the day at her house.  

Grandma Alta Stonebraker I'd visit either with my Dad or my Grandpa Harry about 12 times a year.  We'd go down to her and my Grandpa Clarence's house (he passed in 1997) about once a month.  I loved listening to her tell stories of long ago and I think we sat and looked through picture albums every time I visited.  She lived to be 103 & was mentally with it up until about the last two years.  

Grandma Reta Fox was a lot like Grandma Alta.  She loved history and she loved to talk about it.  Which was great for me, because I loved hearing about it.  We had a lot in common.  She lived to be 96 I believe or somewhere around that age. 

Then when I was 11, I was even more lucky because when my Mom married Barry, I inherited another Grandma.  Evelyn Lee.  Even though I could be a little pain in the ass at times, she always welcomed me into her family.  

I'll also say even though members of my family don't like it, I have always and I still consider Dorothy Bos a grandmother of mine.  She was married to my Grandpa for a couple of years and even though their marriage didn't work out, she was extremely good to me during that time.  She told me that she still thought of me as a grandson the last time I saw her.  She passed a few years back too.  I suppose it's probably longer ago than that, but it doesn't feel like it. 

And now Grandma Kathleen Harding is gone.  Another very special woman in my life that helped to shape me into what I at least hope is a decent person.  I may not be rich. I may not have a new house or a new car.  What I do have though is decency.  Respect.  Kindness. Empathy. Love and care.  In those areas, I do feel rich and all of that is because of the fortune of being surrounded by such incredible people. 


It donned on me a couple of days ago that all of my Grandmothers are gone now.  It was a depressing feeling, but the depression didn't last long.  Instead there's a feeling of happiness. A feeling of gratitude.  During my lifetime I was fortunate enough to have eight women to give me grandmotherly love and guidance. 

For that, I am incredibly thankful.