First Things First
My First Bike
The 2 elm trees are gone and 2 new ones have grown and I have become old, but in the picture I am age 6.
The house across the street will be my grandparents’ last residence. The (new) car belongs to the young man who lives there now.
The story of the house and long outhouse-coal-chicken shed which are off camera is on MySpace.
I on my bike and the neighbor in that car are destined to meet Head-On. Mom told me recently that I had “the breathe knocked out of me” which explains how 2 seconds after seeing the car pull out, I looked up to see a lady rushing to me. I pulled my bike from under the car and began pushing it home. Here are my thoughts as I walked…
“You are a little kid.”
“You were just hit by a car.”
“Little kids cry when cars hit them.”
Instantly my eyes were wet. Then as I neared home, I thought…
“If Mom sees me crying, the neighbor boy will get in trouble.”
Instantly my tears dried. My bike peddle was bent 90 degrees and the boy replaced it and it was over. People did not run to a lawyer for everything back then.
I don’t have a photo to tell you about flying off of my motorcycle, over the hood of a pick-up and landing in the oncoming lane in front of a semi. It’s a story of a town with a perverted traffic court.
My First Car
It is a 1956 Chevy in 1966 ( $145 )
Hinsdale Class of June 66
GO Hinsdale Red Devils
You might be crying for 4 years if you don’t get the President of your Choice. So get out and VOTE for me. I need the job.
Speak of the Devil or devilish, I had a chance if Mom had allowed, to get my photo with Vincent Price cutting my throat. He was across the street from this photo site doing his own photoshoot. There have been so many close calls and coincidences in my life.
My First Stripe LOL
Well, at least I had a marksmanship ribbon.
I enlisted with hopes to win the Medal of Honor to save face for failing college chemistry. My recruiter did not lie, for I told him that I was going in regardless. A military career came to mind even while in basic training. Later I would reject an enlisted career, but after getting my degree and taking the 7 hour Officer exam, I could not get into OTS. Finally I chewed out some recruiting officers and got an answer and apology letter. It was due to too much manpower left over after Vietnam.
I got out of the service during a recession. So, I took the legitimate job in a Mafia owned corporation. I was introduced to the Chairman and V.P. and given various assignments like preparing an exhibit for removal from the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. For ambiguous reasons my 3 month trial was unsuccessful. So one night I tried to talk to step-Dad about a suspicious job offer. His only response was “Get a job.” On payday at month’s end the boss was gone. All the “employees” who would not listen were following me to the States Attorney and FBI. Step-Dad changed his story to “I told you so.” His daily greeting was “you do everything half-assed”, no matter the truth. Hence I am dedicating a page to my Real Father who gave me respect regardless.
As for step-Dad, he had some very positive attributes, but I am just making example of the life I had. Flashing back to about a month before this picture, right after I said to the recruiter that I was going in regardless and picked the USAF for training in case I survived…step-Dad was sitting on that chair in the picture and called me in to talk. I thought it was my first father – son talk.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” as if I had much choice with the Draft Board! Tears came not because I was afraid but because of this first talk and my lost college dreams. I said “I don’t know” and instantly he grabbed me ( “Damn it boy, you gotta do something”) and threw me across the room, banging my head against the edge of a door. My eyes got wet, and not because it hurt. All this “talk” from the time he called me to his side lasted about 45 seconds.
No names, I must protect my step-family for my mother was and brothers are in high position and I am the “Black Sheep” because of my stress disorder and they think I am being scammed in a sort of venture to regain a life worth living.
So, after the job scam I ended up at the YMCA waiting for the next college quarter. There I met 2 friends, one told me that he sold $10 worth of marijuana for food money and the other was a NARC. I went as backup on one buy,(( but it was not nearly as risky as doing it in Angeles City, Philippines. I couldn’t talk the small stature G.I. out of using drugs so I went to protect him. Later he told me that they were sugar pills, HA! )). So, I was in a delicate situation, knowing how hungry we both were, living on 20 cent eggs, but I managed a peaceful solution of the NARC just leaving town.
Meeting First Dallas Cowboy
It was Golden Richards and I at a social meeting for F-16 Technical Publications personnel
The distinction of being the first pro-ball player I met goes to a Ram, Lawrence MacClutchen who’s brother was a co-worker on the F-16.
It is ironic to meet so many players since I am not a sports fan.
One New Year’s Eve my leather coat was stolen and to be brief I found myself side-by-side with a Cowboy trying to catch the thief.
One night in a club I sat down for a brief chat with Hollywood Henderson who had a well known cocaine habit. He got up and went in a side door. The next day news said that (3 hours later) he was arrested for possession. Ahah! I knew his source.
I was by chance invited to join the crew making a TV commercial with a Cowboy; to join them for lunch that is. Being jobless, I was tempted but did not intrude. The last Cowboy I did not know, but I recognized the Super Bowl ring. Later, I would have a real friend in an X-Chicago Bear.
I had other friends and acquaintances, Orville the X-Public Relations man for Sonny & Cher and the harpist for the Dallas Symphony, a WWII Bomber Wing Commander, Chief Interogator in Vietnam, but though I stood 3 feet from the General Dynamics test pilot, I said nothing for he was discussing something serious by the cockpit mockup.
So, 50 feet from this photo site is a parking lot which is pitch black at night. I passed daily on the way home. Well, I am a bit psychic and knew my car was being tailed. Rather than lead them home, I led them to the darkness. Fortunately neither side had a gun and it was settled without violence. God has kept me from seriously harming or being harmed ~28 times. This is just a disjointed attempt to outline my life. I have so many stories (ie The little girl’s head crushed by a garbage truck and the story behind it). Decades ago a guy said to me “You look like a man who has been everywhere and seen everything.”
A lot was left out of my story, so let’s go back to my bike. A year before, I think at age 5 I had a dream that repeated exactly for 4 or 5 nights in a row. I was standing in military style formation as an intity of great authority addressed us. However I could see no others, only the purest white light up, down and all around.
The authority described a very rough life assignment (mercifully one does not recall things like their own date of death). I stepped forward saying or thinking “I wreckon I might as well….”. Suddenly I was floating down a dimmly lit tunnel with grey wrinkled walls. In a few seconds I woke to bright sunlight and was HERE, in the World. In other words, I had recalled Choosing the family, body and life that my Soul would experience.
My purpose in living this life is two fold. It is preparation for leadership, but only after the Second Coming will I regain the health and strength to lead. The second purpose is to Witness the effects of the 2 Knowledges of Good and Evil as Man’s technology increases exponentially.