Friday, October 2, 2015
Saturday, March 21, 2015
I have Come To A Crossroads
After weeks of mindful deliberations I have come to the conclusion to keep writing on this blog. I may have had some otherworldly actions to help me with my decision. I am not a person that believes in the paranormal but the things that have happened to me recently have given me pause to this non-belief. Some very abnormal things have happened causing me to delve a little more deeply in the thought of beings that are not alive nor are they dead. Some very small events that can easily be explained away have come to dominate my subconscious mind. I do not know if it is because the recent death of my son and my subconscious is forcing my mind to explore the remote possibility of the existence of two opposite forces coexisting. What if it is possible for the dead to be able to exist with the living? I have always been taught that when a man dies his body is left to rot and his soul continues on a journey. I am not sure what that journey consist of. Is it possible for the dead to linger among the living until his reservation is open? My problem is the forces that are at work against me. Evil? Godly? I do not know.
For days after my son died my body went through a plethora of feelings. Sometimes I could hear my son talking to me. I could feel his touch, smell his odor. There were days that I expected, even hoped of his presence. Those were the days he did not come. His main avenue of contact was my dreams. I guess the mind is at such a receptive stage these things are possible. I have been having trouble sleeping at night since his death until my Doctor gave me a prescription of sleeping pills. The pills were for sleep and anxiety. He gave me 2mg Xanax to take as I saw fit. While in a pill induced stupor I made contact with my son that was as real as me sitting here typing. We sat down and talked about the things we never could say while he was alive. We talked for hours. Until after one night of talking I realized the actual time was twenty minutes. How could this be? I know that I was awake and not dreaming , so, there was only one explanation. This was real. The conversations continued and got stranger and stranger.
For days after my son died my body went through a plethora of feelings. Sometimes I could hear my son talking to me. I could feel his touch, smell his odor. There were days that I expected, even hoped of his presence. Those were the days he did not come. His main avenue of contact was my dreams. I guess the mind is at such a receptive stage these things are possible. I have been having trouble sleeping at night since his death until my Doctor gave me a prescription of sleeping pills. The pills were for sleep and anxiety. He gave me 2mg Xanax to take as I saw fit. While in a pill induced stupor I made contact with my son that was as real as me sitting here typing. We sat down and talked about the things we never could say while he was alive. We talked for hours. Until after one night of talking I realized the actual time was twenty minutes. How could this be? I know that I was awake and not dreaming , so, there was only one explanation. This was real. The conversations continued and got stranger and stranger.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
The Day My Son And A Large Part of My Heart Died
Of all my boys, four in all, Bubba had the roughest time as any. I told you about wearing crutches when he was not yet a teenager. He got into smoking weed and drinking in his teens. Hell, all the kids did it, not just mine. I will have to say that he was the last one to leave a party and he was the party. He had a nickname, Cornbread. I never asked him where he got it. I wish now that I had asked. I interviewed many of his high school friends to find out the good, the bad, and the funny side of my son. I wanted the real, raw, and mainly the honesty. I told them what I was doing and every one told me it was a good idea to finish his blog. When I would get discouraged or feeling down I would call one of his friends. We would talk about how they would sale pot right out of the window. My boys and their friends knew that my wife and I would go to bet and get up real early. I was told many of pounds of pot had been steamed on my kitchen to loosen it up for sale. I heard some things you would not believe but not once did I get mad. I made my children go to church until the age of 16 they could decide on their own. needless to say, when my youngest boy turned 16 it was my wife, my daughter and myself going to church. I am grateful my sons found God through his Son, Jesus the Christ and I am looking forward to the day we can all be together, again.
Sorry, I did not mean to preach, I needed to say that. I wish there were a way the at a certain time every father, that is a good father to their children, could be privy to their inner thoughts. Then again, those thoughts may drive the parent mad. What if those thoughts would save your child's life but ended the life of your brother's child? Would that be too much for our mortal minds to deal with?
I learned so very much about my child that I was ashamed, at first' but then I began to understand. I would ask myself if I were raised in the era that he was raised in, just how would I turn out? I was raised in the era that every one worked. Every one knew every one. When a neighbor needed help, he got it and nobody was asking for a dime. Your word meant something, as well as your name. It was a completely different time. If my son would have grown up in that era what kind of person would he be. I guess what I'm trying to say is that no one knows the answer or do I expect every one to be alike. From what I have found our about my son, I believe he would have given the shirt off his back. even if he did not have one, he would find you one. I'll be back, thanks for listening
Sorry, I did not mean to preach, I needed to say that. I wish there were a way the at a certain time every father, that is a good father to their children, could be privy to their inner thoughts. Then again, those thoughts may drive the parent mad. What if those thoughts would save your child's life but ended the life of your brother's child? Would that be too much for our mortal minds to deal with?
I learned so very much about my child that I was ashamed, at first' but then I began to understand. I would ask myself if I were raised in the era that he was raised in, just how would I turn out? I was raised in the era that every one worked. Every one knew every one. When a neighbor needed help, he got it and nobody was asking for a dime. Your word meant something, as well as your name. It was a completely different time. If my son would have grown up in that era what kind of person would he be. I guess what I'm trying to say is that no one knows the answer or do I expect every one to be alike. From what I have found our about my son, I believe he would have given the shirt off his back. even if he did not have one, he would find you one. I'll be back, thanks for listening
Saturday, December 27, 2014
I Have Lost My Son and Do Not Know What To Do
I have recently lost my son, the author of this blog, and only recently I have gotten to know him. I do not know how, if any, many people read this blog. It is obvious to me that he put a hell of a lot of work into this. I cannot understand his motivating factor for writing this blog without knowing if anyone would read it. Maybe it was his way to cope with the bad deal he got handed to him. Not long after he joined the Air Force he had a patient who had asked him to put him out out his misery. He was in terrible pain. Many times David would call me on the phone and struggled with a decision that I believe ended his life way to short. He told me of a patient that he has by the name of Col. DeBarge. I have not changed the names that he entered in his posts for fear of confusion. My memory is not what it once was.
It took many months to read this blog and I am still not sure I have grasp the enormity of it. My son was a very bright child and I believed he would have done great things. He must have had a very hard time trying to decide the fate of the Col. I am not gonna pretend to believe that I would know what he was going through because his mind worked in a way that I find impossible.
MY YOUNG SON
David was born on May 5th, 1959 in Gadsden, Alabama. He had two older brothers, one 3, the other was 15 months. I worked at Siemens Corporation so the daily childcare went to my beautiful wife, Kathryn Thomas Riley. She must have enjoyed those infants because we had another boy in 1962. I think Kap, my pet name for my wife, was fairly lax with punishment but when the boys got out of control I handled it when I got off from work. Those boys were so afraid of their Daddy, just the mention of Mom telling Dad of any misbehaving is all it would take. That is how she kept the boys in line. They were terrified of me and when I got home the boys paid the price of misbehaving. Needless to say they were well behaved little young men. Seemed better than the Wrath of Dad
THE MIDDLE SCHOOL YEARS
Now this is the time that their curiosity about the outside world really peaked. I failed to mention we had a new younger son that was born in 1962. I honestly do not know how my wife and I kept our wits about us from 1955 - 1962. That is 4 boys born in 7 years. I would not do it, again. That's for sure. We were, however, greatly awarded with a beautiful baby girl in 1966. It must have been the dogie style that got us that girl, I haven't a clue. It was fantastic until time to get kids in school. I do not know how my wife did it. I would leave for work at 5am and let her work her magic. My kids were always in school, on time and prepared for the next days assignment. My wife was a amazing woman! Thanks to her determination and hard work my children would have spent the majority of their youth in an Alternative School. I guess you haven't a clue what an alternative school is. It is where the trouble makers are kept away from the other students to give those students a chance at learning uninterrupted. The kids were not allowed to disrupt any part of the classes. Those that showed some promise and made a real effort got to go back to the real school. Some made it, others were chained to their desks. They were gonna make a concerted effort to get the children to make it back to their school. The middle school years were the best times of my life. Coaching my sons baseball team and football team allowed me to spend many precious hours during the time when my sons were not afraid to give me a hug in public.
My second child was born with a deteriorating hip condition. He was forced to wear a brace that held his left leg up and use crutches. It was not long before he abandoned one crutch so he could get around better. He even played little league baseball and was pretty dang good at it. That crutch did not slow him down, at all. As I said. he was the second child but we named him after me. He looked more like me than the first one so he got the name. He was called Bubba by the other kids when they were young but the name stuck. He was Bubba until the day he died. That, my friend, was the absolute worse day of my life.
It took many months to read this blog and I am still not sure I have grasp the enormity of it. My son was a very bright child and I believed he would have done great things. He must have had a very hard time trying to decide the fate of the Col. I am not gonna pretend to believe that I would know what he was going through because his mind worked in a way that I find impossible.
MY YOUNG SON
David was born on May 5th, 1959 in Gadsden, Alabama. He had two older brothers, one 3, the other was 15 months. I worked at Siemens Corporation so the daily childcare went to my beautiful wife, Kathryn Thomas Riley. She must have enjoyed those infants because we had another boy in 1962. I think Kap, my pet name for my wife, was fairly lax with punishment but when the boys got out of control I handled it when I got off from work. Those boys were so afraid of their Daddy, just the mention of Mom telling Dad of any misbehaving is all it would take. That is how she kept the boys in line. They were terrified of me and when I got home the boys paid the price of misbehaving. Needless to say they were well behaved little young men. Seemed better than the Wrath of Dad
THE MIDDLE SCHOOL YEARS
Now this is the time that their curiosity about the outside world really peaked. I failed to mention we had a new younger son that was born in 1962. I honestly do not know how my wife and I kept our wits about us from 1955 - 1962. That is 4 boys born in 7 years. I would not do it, again. That's for sure. We were, however, greatly awarded with a beautiful baby girl in 1966. It must have been the dogie style that got us that girl, I haven't a clue. It was fantastic until time to get kids in school. I do not know how my wife did it. I would leave for work at 5am and let her work her magic. My kids were always in school, on time and prepared for the next days assignment. My wife was a amazing woman! Thanks to her determination and hard work my children would have spent the majority of their youth in an Alternative School. I guess you haven't a clue what an alternative school is. It is where the trouble makers are kept away from the other students to give those students a chance at learning uninterrupted. The kids were not allowed to disrupt any part of the classes. Those that showed some promise and made a real effort got to go back to the real school. Some made it, others were chained to their desks. They were gonna make a concerted effort to get the children to make it back to their school. The middle school years were the best times of my life. Coaching my sons baseball team and football team allowed me to spend many precious hours during the time when my sons were not afraid to give me a hug in public.
My second child was born with a deteriorating hip condition. He was forced to wear a brace that held his left leg up and use crutches. It was not long before he abandoned one crutch so he could get around better. He even played little league baseball and was pretty dang good at it. That crutch did not slow him down, at all. As I said. he was the second child but we named him after me. He looked more like me than the first one so he got the name. He was called Bubba by the other kids when they were young but the name stuck. He was Bubba until the day he died. That, my friend, was the absolute worse day of my life.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
You need to know
Not too long ago, I was involved in a dangerous mission where I was critical injured. I was flown to a secret base for extensive medical treatment. What I learned after all this was that I was not able to die. This was a top secret study to understand why I do not die. All the big brass hung around to see if I could be a weapon. I want to say first that I would do anything as my capacity as a fighter pilot. I still made bombing raids but my bosses does not think I should fall into the enemies hands. I see why, therefore. My missions are highly scrutinized and if there is a small chance then I will be placed on desk duty. The Flight Surgeons want and need to spend as much time with me as possible. To figure out how I have these death-defying incidents where I will always survive. They do not understand why I come back in water. I suppose that for the next several weeks I will be studied to find what makes me so different. I cannot tell anyone what I am going through and let me tell you this is no fun. The Flight Surgeons will stop at nothing to figure why I have not been able to die. I just want to be back with my battle buddies and my squadron to go back like it was before. Something is very, very strange going on with me and I hope that I can help them. I am ready to get back into what I do best; soldiering. Please hand in there with me to fight these Not too long ago, I was involved in a dangerous mission where I was critical injured. I was flown to a secret base for extensive medical treatment. What I learned after all this was that I was not able to die. This was a top secret study to understand why I do not die. All the big brass hung around to see if I could be a weapon. I want to say first that I would do anything as my capacity as a fighter pilot. I still made bombing raids but my bosses does not think I should fall into the enemies hands. I see why, therefore. My missions are highly scrutinized and if there is a small chance then I will be placed on desk duty. The Flight Surgeons want and need to spend as much time with me as possible. To figure out how I have these death-defying incidents where I will always survive. They do not understand why I come back in water. I suppose that for the next several weeks I will be studied to find what makes me so different. I cannot tell anyone what I am going through and let me tell you this is no fun. The Flight Surgeons will stop at nothing to figure why I have not been able to die. I just want to be back with my battle buddies and my squadron to go back like it was before. Something is very, very strange going on with me and I hope that I can help them. I am ready to get back into what I do best; soldiering. I called a couple friends of mine to accompany me to the Petro Truck Stop. I had them wait in the lounge with a predetermined code to let them know if things went south. I did not have to wait long. In came Pedro looking bad. I mean that he looked sick. He must have stayed coked up for a few days is my guess.
I stood up to get his attention and before he walked three steps there was a loud shot. I recognized the sound of a high power semi-automatic pistol. Two quick shots followed and Pedro went down. I did not hang around to check on him because by the time I heard the double tap I was already out the doors. All hell broke loose inside with people running out of the Petro not knowing where they were going, just getting away from the shots. I eased to my car and slowly left the premises heading south on I-15 to the strip and the safety of my Hotel suite. What the hell just happened?
As I was watching the news about the shooting trying to figure if I was on their hit list. My mind was racing. I could not maintain conscious flow of thoughts. Nothing close to this has ever happened before. I was afraid to use the phone for fear of my suite being bugged. If it was bugged they would have known I would be there, too. That makes me believe I was not a target. Pedro most definitely was the target. Why? Did he fuck someone out of their dope? Does not sound like Pedro. Did the Bolivians think that maybe he was the reason one of their high ranking cartel members was murdered a few days ago. I had to get out of Vegas, fast. I could not use the Leer for fear of being blown up in the middle of a flight. My mind is racing 90 miles an hour trying to see if it was possible I would be next.
I immediately went down to the Hotel safe and withdrew all my cash, jewelry, and passports. I had $560,000 dollars in cash. The rest of my money was tucked away in a dry dock for smaller fishing boats inside the well of a redone Chris Craft. It will be safe while I find a way to figure out what happened to Pedro.
The phone rang in the rental car as I was driving East on I-70 just before the tunnel. It was a good 16 hours after Pedro got smoked. I picked up the phone with confidence because only one woman knew my number. The voice was indeed Latino with the man speaking softly he asked, "Did you hear about Pedro?" I played dumb and asked who the hell Pedro was. "You piloted a Leer that landed at McCarron just six days ago with Pedro, a few Rock Stars, along with several beautiful women. Now, let me ask again. Did you hear about Pedro?" I did not know what the fuck to say. Obviously, he knew when I landed and about my passengers. So, I took the bait. "Yes, I heard about Pedro. May I have the pleasure of getting your name?" He said in due time. all will be revealed. He then asked me if I was leaving Vegas I had better change my plans. Whew, at least he hasn't got a GPS tracker on my car. I thought it over about 5 seconds and turned my car around heading back to 'Sin City'. The only way I was to find out the truth is to hear this guy out. I have never fucked over any of my cartel friends so what or where do I fit into this. I damn sure don't know.
It was less than a minute and a car plowed me over the side, into the water. I do not know who or where I will be, next. All I can say is , HOLD ON!!!.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
I called a couple friends of mine to accompany me to the Petro Truck Stop. I had them wait in the lounge with a predetermined code to let them know if things went south. I did not have to wait long. In came Pedro looking bad. I mean that he looked sick. He must have stayed coked up for a few days is my guess.
I stood up to get his attention and before he walked three steps there was a loud shot. I recognized the sound of a high power semi-automatic pistol. Two quick shots followed and Pedro went down. I did not hang around to check on him because by the time I heard the double tap I was already out the doors. All hell broke loose inside with people running out of the Petro not knowing where they were going, just getting away from the shots. I eased to my car and slowly left the premises heading south on I-15 to the strip and the safety of my Hotel suite. What the hell just happened?
As I was watching the news about the shooting trying to figure if I was on their hit list. My mind was racing. I could not maintain conscious flow of thoughts. Nothing close to this has ever happened before. I was afraid to use the phone for fear of my suite being bugged. If it was bugged they would have known I would be there, too. That makes me believe I was not a target. Pedro most definitely was the target. Why? Did he fuck someone out of their dope? Does not sound like Pedro. Did the Bolivians think that maybe he was the reason one of their high ranking cartel members was murdered a few days ago. I had to get out of Vegas, fast. I could not use the Leer for fear of being blown up in the middle of a flight. My mind is racing 90 miles an hour trying to see if it was possible I would be next.
I immediately went down to the Hotel safe and withdrew all my cash, jewelry, and passports. I had $560,000 dollars in cash. The rest of my money was tucked away in a dry dock for smaller fishing boats inside the well of a redone Chris Craft. It will be safe while I find a way to figure out what happened to Pedro.
The phone rang in the rental car as I was driving East on I-70 just before the tunnel. It was a good 16 hours after Pedro got smoked. I picked up the phone with confidence because only one woman knew my number. The voice was indeed Latino with the man speaking softly he asked, "Did you hear about Pedro?" I played dumb and asked who the hell Pedro was. "You piloted a Leer that landed at McCarron just six days ago with Pedro, a few Rock Stars, along with several beautiful women. Now, let me ask again. Did you hear about Pedro?" I did not know what the fuck to say. Obviously, he knew when I landed and about my passengers. So, I took the bait. "Yes, I heard about Pedro. May I have the pleasure of getting your name?" He said in due time. all will be revealed. He then asked me if I was leaving Vegas I had better change my plans. Whew, at least he hasn't got a GPS tracker on my car. I thought it over about 5 seconds and turned my car around heading back to 'Sin City'. The only way I was to find out the truth is to hear this guy out. I have never fucked over any of my cartel friends so what or where do I fit into this. I damn sure don't know.
I try to get my bearings just as soon as my mind slows down. Yep, here it comes the hot desert sun. Why is every time I travel I always end up in someplace HOT? Now, I've got to figure where I am and find clothes appropriate to this time.
I try to get my bearings just as soon as my mind slows down. Yep, here it comes the hot desert sun. Why is every time I travel I always end up in someplace HOT? Now, I've got to figure where I am and find clothes appropriate to this time.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Joker. This dude, or whatever it was, did not make me laugh. At all.
I had been in Vegas about a week when Tyler disappeared with someone else. I had not seen any of my buds that flew in here with me. It is not that unusual. They have obligations and things to do that does not involve me. I have a flight crew of five which all lived in Vegas. When I need them all I have to do is call. They do not complain with six figure salaries I pay. It works out fine for all involved.
Joker visited me last night. It is always at night. You never know if it is day or night living in the Hotel on the Strip. I was sleeping off a wild party when I heard what sounded like a passive bolt of lightening. It brought me straight up. The air feels charged with some type of energy. Then I see the light. A brilliant white light. It is the same way every time. This is the third time Joker has made an appearance. I see a shape of a man without any features of someone I recognize. It is still scary as hell. Joker just stands there for what seems like a few minutes but in reality it is hours. I cannot figure out what he wants, if he is real, or if this all is a psychological issue. I have not spoken with anyone about Joker. The truth is I am afraid I would be hospitalized and I do not have time for that.
Pedro called me and wants to meet today. I wonder what he has got up his sleeve? What ever it will be I have no doubt the money will be good. After unloading those 35 birds I am taking a break from smuggling. Personal smuggling, anyway. Pedro will be a different story.
The shower has water coming at me from all directions. It feels awesome. I call room service while I get ready. I've got an hour before I'm to meet Pedro. He wants to meet me at the Petro Truck Stop in North Vegas. It is out by the racetrack with nothing around but warehouses. I have no idea why he wants to meet there.Something does not seem right. He even sounded funny on the phone. I think I'll call some friends of mine to go with me. A person in my business can never be too careful.
I had been in Vegas about a week when Tyler disappeared with someone else. I had not seen any of my buds that flew in here with me. It is not that unusual. They have obligations and things to do that does not involve me. I have a flight crew of five which all lived in Vegas. When I need them all I have to do is call. They do not complain with six figure salaries I pay. It works out fine for all involved.
Joker visited me last night. It is always at night. You never know if it is day or night living in the Hotel on the Strip. I was sleeping off a wild party when I heard what sounded like a passive bolt of lightening. It brought me straight up. The air feels charged with some type of energy. Then I see the light. A brilliant white light. It is the same way every time. This is the third time Joker has made an appearance. I see a shape of a man without any features of someone I recognize. It is still scary as hell. Joker just stands there for what seems like a few minutes but in reality it is hours. I cannot figure out what he wants, if he is real, or if this all is a psychological issue. I have not spoken with anyone about Joker. The truth is I am afraid I would be hospitalized and I do not have time for that.
Pedro called me and wants to meet today. I wonder what he has got up his sleeve? What ever it will be I have no doubt the money will be good. After unloading those 35 birds I am taking a break from smuggling. Personal smuggling, anyway. Pedro will be a different story.
The shower has water coming at me from all directions. It feels awesome. I call room service while I get ready. I've got an hour before I'm to meet Pedro. He wants to meet me at the Petro Truck Stop in North Vegas. It is out by the racetrack with nothing around but warehouses. I have no idea why he wants to meet there.Something does not seem right. He even sounded funny on the phone. I think I'll call some friends of mine to go with me. A person in my business can never be too careful.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
No Fucking Cornflakes
It was 2:20 am when I looked at the clock. My body was paralyzed. The only thing that I could move were my eyes. Lying on my left side my back was pointed toward the bedroom door. The noise that woke me from a hard sleep was loud. I know it was close. What seemed like minutes, when I looked back at the clock it read 3:05. Had fear gripped my mind causing me to lose time?
The night was clear with a half moon. While I was in my trance, if that's what it was, my vision became cat-liked. I could see the stings on the blinds.My hearing had been sharp since I woke up.I began to feel I just did a big shot of cocaine. All of my senses were alert. My legs were fine. I had heard nothing the whole time. I slowly turned over bringing my Glock from under my pillow. There was not anyone around, now. What was the source of the loud noise? This is not the first time this has happened. This shit has been going on since my brother died. Hell, it may be originating from my own brain. I have never found the source. Maybe it is my bro trying to tell me something. I need to make some drastic changes. I have already started something new. I forgot to buy some cornflakes leaving me without something I did every morning, afternoon, whenever I got up, that is. This is when I changed my life. A drastic one.
I joined the US Air Force. I started out as a load master on a KC-135. I worked my way up to that, anyway. I went to college and received a BS in Aeronautics. I had to have at least a BS to enter flight school. After being accepted and finishing Officers Training School I was shipped off to Randolf AFB in San Antone. Introductory was 25 hours of flying a prop plane and learning in the classroom. Undergraduate was a little more exciting. One year of flying 10-12 hours a day flying a T-38 Talon which happened to be supersonic. As was the case in most everything I became real good at skills needed to be a successful fighter pilot. I was finally shipped to my permanent party base, Eglin AFB, Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. Eglin was an armament development and test center. It also had a new fleet of F-15 Eagle's in their SAC. I learned to fly with another set of eyes. The F-15 was a two seater. A weapons officer rode behind me and we quickly became the hunters. Flying missions out over the Gulf, training. That is all we did. Scramble, get airborne in 20 minutes. Train, Train. I never new how all this training would make me a very, very, wealthy man. I enjoyed serving my country and had planned on staying until I retired. Plans changed. What a change it was!
The night was clear with a half moon. While I was in my trance, if that's what it was, my vision became cat-liked. I could see the stings on the blinds.My hearing had been sharp since I woke up.I began to feel I just did a big shot of cocaine. All of my senses were alert. My legs were fine. I had heard nothing the whole time. I slowly turned over bringing my Glock from under my pillow. There was not anyone around, now. What was the source of the loud noise? This is not the first time this has happened. This shit has been going on since my brother died. Hell, it may be originating from my own brain. I have never found the source. Maybe it is my bro trying to tell me something. I need to make some drastic changes. I have already started something new. I forgot to buy some cornflakes leaving me without something I did every morning, afternoon, whenever I got up, that is. This is when I changed my life. A drastic one.
I joined the US Air Force. I started out as a load master on a KC-135. I worked my way up to that, anyway. I went to college and received a BS in Aeronautics. I had to have at least a BS to enter flight school. After being accepted and finishing Officers Training School I was shipped off to Randolf AFB in San Antone. Introductory was 25 hours of flying a prop plane and learning in the classroom. Undergraduate was a little more exciting. One year of flying 10-12 hours a day flying a T-38 Talon which happened to be supersonic. As was the case in most everything I became real good at skills needed to be a successful fighter pilot. I was finally shipped to my permanent party base, Eglin AFB, Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. Eglin was an armament development and test center. It also had a new fleet of F-15 Eagle's in their SAC. I learned to fly with another set of eyes. The F-15 was a two seater. A weapons officer rode behind me and we quickly became the hunters. Flying missions out over the Gulf, training. That is all we did. Scramble, get airborne in 20 minutes. Train, Train. I never new how all this training would make me a very, very, wealthy man. I enjoyed serving my country and had planned on staying until I retired. Plans changed. What a change it was!
Friday, August 15, 2014
I was a fearless young man. An adrenaline junkie. I guess that is why I chose to be a fighter pilot. Whether it was rappelling from 140 ft. cliffs, diving my dirt bike like a man possessed. As long as I got scared doing something that was what I wanted to do.
My brother was a couple years older and wired the same. When we were still in high school there was nothing we would not do. We tried to out do each other. Man, he was my hero. We were known to fight anywhere, anytime. There were not very many people that would fuck with us. In those days foosball was popular. We would go to a game room, put our quarter on the table and play for hours. As long as we won the next pair would try to unseat us. There would be a dozen quarters on the table from people trying to make a name for themselves by beating us. I played back and Earl played front. I swear, he had the fastest pull shot I had ever seen. That was not his only shot, either. He could handle the ball with such ease. The toe shot was his second best shot. He did most of the scoring because I would pass him the ball. I would smoke a long shot every now and then but my forte was a blocker. We would travel to tournaments and win a couple hundred bucks then come back home to school the locals. We were awesome! The only problem we had was his drinking. He drank beer all day, every day. Then one day he was on his KZ 1000 when a truck pulled out in front of him. He had no where to go. Ended up in a coma for 11 days. When he woke up and got well enough to go home he brought something with him; seizures. He had to take Dilantin to control his seizures. He would not stop drinking. The doctor told him that drinking alcohol would induce seizures. Didn't listen. In 1989 he had a seizure while diving and hit a duely loaded down with horse feed head on. Killed him instantly. This was, by far, the toughest thing I had ever tried. It took a long time for me to get over his death. I still think of him, daily. Oh well, I promise this is it for the sad shit. We are about to get into the crazy shit.
I wake up somewhere in the Hudson River.Every time this happen,I have no clue where I will be swimming to the top to get that fresh air I need so badley. I am naked and will have to call on my ex-wife to get me someplace where I cannot be seem. I have figured out that when these water problems happen it means that I have died and are re-born. Not as a child but as myself with all knowing what will happen.I have to figure out what the hell is going on with me.
My brother was a couple years older and wired the same. When we were still in high school there was nothing we would not do. We tried to out do each other. Man, he was my hero. We were known to fight anywhere, anytime. There were not very many people that would fuck with us. In those days foosball was popular. We would go to a game room, put our quarter on the table and play for hours. As long as we won the next pair would try to unseat us. There would be a dozen quarters on the table from people trying to make a name for themselves by beating us. I played back and Earl played front. I swear, he had the fastest pull shot I had ever seen. That was not his only shot, either. He could handle the ball with such ease. The toe shot was his second best shot. He did most of the scoring because I would pass him the ball. I would smoke a long shot every now and then but my forte was a blocker. We would travel to tournaments and win a couple hundred bucks then come back home to school the locals. We were awesome! The only problem we had was his drinking. He drank beer all day, every day. Then one day he was on his KZ 1000 when a truck pulled out in front of him. He had no where to go. Ended up in a coma for 11 days. When he woke up and got well enough to go home he brought something with him; seizures. He had to take Dilantin to control his seizures. He would not stop drinking. The doctor told him that drinking alcohol would induce seizures. Didn't listen. In 1989 he had a seizure while diving and hit a duely loaded down with horse feed head on. Killed him instantly. This was, by far, the toughest thing I had ever tried. It took a long time for me to get over his death. I still think of him, daily. Oh well, I promise this is it for the sad shit. We are about to get into the crazy shit.
I wake up somewhere in the Hudson River.Every time this happen,I have no clue where I will be swimming to the top to get that fresh air I need so badley. I am naked and will have to call on my ex-wife to get me someplace where I cannot be seem. I have figured out that when these water problems happen it means that I have died and are re-born. Not as a child but as myself with all knowing what will happen.I have to figure out what the hell is going on with me.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
I became an independent cocaine supplier soon after being discharged from the US Air Force. With my military training in an F-15 Eagle, my services were ideal for the Cuban that had cut off J.D.'s balls so we became partners.I did the flying while Pedro handled the local Bolivians. The D.E.A was spending their time with Pablo and we were flying in and out of Bolivia in a 29 million dollar Falcon 7x. A beautiful jet and a lot of fun to fly. The money was incredible. I could not spend it fast enough. I had attorneys handling everything for me. Hell, I did not know all the properties I owned. Didn't care. All I did was fly like an eagle, round the sea, fly like an eagle letting Pedro show the way.
We stayed busy until the rainy season. Pedro let me keep the jet to go back to my musician buddies. The ones that loved the coke and the ludes, anyway. You know what time it was; Party Time! I picked up Stephen Tyler in Boston, stopped in New York to get Sammy Hagar and some friends of the female variety. It was very important that I maintain the perception that I was operating a legitimate transportation choice for the wealthy. That meant no drugs at least 12 hours before getting in the cockpit. While flying to Vegas a beautiful brunette took care of my cockpit.
Landing at McCarran is when all my fun began. First, we had to help Tyler out of the jet and pour him into the limo. I would have to make a final search of the cabin to make sure there were no more 714's passed out. We made it to our suites on a Monday and by the time Friday came I had sold 34 Birds, or kilos, as us old schoolers called them. Pedro would let me have on front everything for $10,000/kilo and I would sell 35 at $25,000/key. You do the math. It was a fucking lot.
I spent the days playing golf, betting ridiculous amounts for shit like closest to the hole, longest drive. I made sure I passed around the Rorers, not taking any myself giving me a better shot at hanging onto my money. This went on for several years and all I was doing was flying a beautiful jet making millions. Until I met a guy named Joker. What he did was not in the least funny.
We stayed busy until the rainy season. Pedro let me keep the jet to go back to my musician buddies. The ones that loved the coke and the ludes, anyway. You know what time it was; Party Time! I picked up Stephen Tyler in Boston, stopped in New York to get Sammy Hagar and some friends of the female variety. It was very important that I maintain the perception that I was operating a legitimate transportation choice for the wealthy. That meant no drugs at least 12 hours before getting in the cockpit. While flying to Vegas a beautiful brunette took care of my cockpit.
Landing at McCarran is when all my fun began. First, we had to help Tyler out of the jet and pour him into the limo. I would have to make a final search of the cabin to make sure there were no more 714's passed out. We made it to our suites on a Monday and by the time Friday came I had sold 34 Birds, or kilos, as us old schoolers called them. Pedro would let me have on front everything for $10,000/kilo and I would sell 35 at $25,000/key. You do the math. It was a fucking lot.
I spent the days playing golf, betting ridiculous amounts for shit like closest to the hole, longest drive. I made sure I passed around the Rorers, not taking any myself giving me a better shot at hanging onto my money. This went on for several years and all I was doing was flying a beautiful jet making millions. Until I met a guy named Joker. What he did was not in the least funny.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Where ever the best concert was playing that is where we were playing. We would stand out by the bus the band used after concerts. A couple of ludes to the security guy and we were in like flynn. Most bands would have a huge party post concert, depending on what city they, and we, just happened to be in. Atlanta was always the Bomb! Coke and 714's would get us anywhere. Soon, we were snorting coke with the band members like we grew up, together. Most of your Southern rock bands knew who I was and what all I had. The coke and Ludes were not coming from my delivery friend but were coming via a smuggler in Georgia named JD. He had Cuban friends in Miami that front him all the coke he wanted. They would even deliver, too. In between concerts JD and I spent our time restocking for the tours of many southern bands.
It was that way until I found JD in his barn hanging from a beam with his nuts cut off. He crossed the wrong Cuban. I knew what I had to do, get the hell out. Disappear. If I wanted to live I knew that was my only choice. That is when I decided to join the
United States Air Force.
I wanted to make more money than JD had ever dreamed. Thus, the Air Force.After I paid my debit to Uncle Sam my plan was to fly as much coca in the us as anyone. Military, here I come!
It was that way until I found JD in his barn hanging from a beam with his nuts cut off. He crossed the wrong Cuban. I knew what I had to do, get the hell out. Disappear. If I wanted to live I knew that was my only choice. That is when I decided to join the
I wanted to make more money than JD had ever dreamed. Thus, the Air Force.After I paid my debit to Uncle Sam my plan was to fly as much coca in the us as anyone. Military, here I come!
Ludes and the car derby alond with the concerts
My buddy with the pharmaceutical coke supply had a roommate so we had to let him in on it. The first time we used the white powder it was decided to snort it. After that initial test run we did not have it any other way. Lines were made on the kitchen table and before we could do two of them hours had passed. Talk, talk, talk, talk. We had a rule that when someone raised their hand it was time to cut your speech short. Talk, Talk, raise hand, talk, talk, raise hand. that was how it went. I even talked my buddy into giving me a bag to take with my brother and I to see Frank Zappa at the Fabulous Fox theater in Atlanta, Georgia. It did not take long before we were doing Ludes and Placydils just to get some sleep. It is a thousand wonders how we survived the attack of the Pharmacaine. Amazing times.
Pharmaceutical drugs were everywhere. We indulged in excess. If you wanted to know who had the Ludes all you had to do is look at cars that were owned by your buddies. If there were a few extra dents that was probably where you would find them. Or, they would give themselves away. One phone call and you knew. The caller thought he was just fine. As soon as he started talking we knew he was not fine,he waas fucked up.
As I said before we grew up in the greatest era for Rock and Roll. Therefore, every weekend we were on a "Road Trip" to a concert. I saw RUSH in Dothan, Al. in 1978 and after the concert we stopped at a Zippy Mart to get some drinks for the ride back to Ft. Walton Beach, where I was stationed in the Air Force. That we will cover later. I noticed a huge bus pull up outside and a couple of band members came into the store. I looked around and I was the only one that knew who these guys were. I ran out to my car to get my ticket stub and ran in the store approaching Geddy Lee asking for his John Henry. He laughed, took my ticket and signed John Henry. I looked at it and informed him I knew who he was and he gave me his real name on my ticket.
Pharmaceutical drugs were everywhere. We indulged in excess. If you wanted to know who had the Ludes all you had to do is look at cars that were owned by your buddies. If there were a few extra dents that was probably where you would find them. Or, they would give themselves away. One phone call and you knew. The caller thought he was just fine. As soon as he started talking we knew he was not fine,he waas fucked up.
As I said before we grew up in the greatest era for Rock and Roll. Therefore, every weekend we were on a "Road Trip" to a concert. I saw RUSH in Dothan, Al. in 1978 and after the concert we stopped at a Zippy Mart to get some drinks for the ride back to Ft. Walton Beach, where I was stationed in the Air Force. That we will cover later. I noticed a huge bus pull up outside and a couple of band members came into the store. I looked around and I was the only one that knew who these guys were. I ran out to my car to get my ticket stub and ran in the store approaching Geddy Lee asking for his John Henry. He laughed, took my ticket and signed John Henry. I looked at it and informed him I knew who he was and he gave me his real name on my ticket.
Monday, December 23, 2013
In The Beginning, no it is not the first book of the Bible
The first time that I laid eyes on Airman Riley He must have been 19 years old. He was a sponge and wanted to learn about everything. Medicine, listening to my old war stories. He loved when I talked about flying. I was a Ret. Full Bird that commanded a squadron at Eglin before I retired. Twenty years after I retired from playing golf, which I would ask Riley how he played that weekend, I was handed a death sentence. Late stage colon cancer.
Eglin A.F.B., Ft. Walton Beach, FL. Regional Hospital, ward 2-east, room 225. That was my home when I met Riley. We immediately hit it off. He was a sharp kid at 19y.o. that flirted with the nurses and did his job. Most of the tech's would half-ass to my morning routine. I'd just look at them and smile. I knew I had a partner less than a week after I met him. When he did my morning routine it was complete. Bathed, shaved ,clean linen, clean clothes. I never had to ask for anything. Hell, Riley would even fill my pitcher up with fresh ice water. He was motivated and loved his job. He told me sometimes his Surgeon buddy would call 2-east and ask his charge nurse if Riley wasn't too busy I would like to have him accompany me in the O.R. Riley loved to watch Surgery. He even talked the Orthopedic Surgeon into teaching him how to put in a K-Wire. It is connected to weights to keep a displaced fracture where it should be. He talked about medicine all the time. Said him and another Tech, Henry Frazier Steele III, were going to become Doctors. I know for a fact that Riley never made it. Don't ask me how I know. You'll know soon enough. I had to convince him to do something that very well could ruin his life. Not only that but it will destroy his dream of becoming a Doctor.
The pain was getting much, much worse. I had a steady Morphine drip that I controlled, to a point. I couldn't od. I had to make that decision after much agony and sleepless nights. The decision to end my life. Bunny and I had a lot of good years after the Air Force. We would talk about it and Bunny would just sit there and cry. It came to a point that she started listening to me. The pain I was in was not worth bearing. I was going to die, anyway, I should make it on my terms to say goodbye to my Bunny. It took a while to convince her to get someone to euthanize me. Who did we trust? I trusted one person, Riley. I trusted him with my life, or death. But would he jeopardize all his ambitions to help and old, dying, aviator? I don't know.
Eglin A.F.B., Ft. Walton Beach, FL. Regional Hospital, ward 2-east, room 225. That was my home when I met Riley. We immediately hit it off. He was a sharp kid at 19y.o. that flirted with the nurses and did his job. Most of the tech's would half-ass to my morning routine. I'd just look at them and smile. I knew I had a partner less than a week after I met him. When he did my morning routine it was complete. Bathed, shaved ,clean linen, clean clothes. I never had to ask for anything. Hell, Riley would even fill my pitcher up with fresh ice water. He was motivated and loved his job. He told me sometimes his Surgeon buddy would call 2-east and ask his charge nurse if Riley wasn't too busy I would like to have him accompany me in the O.R. Riley loved to watch Surgery. He even talked the Orthopedic Surgeon into teaching him how to put in a K-Wire. It is connected to weights to keep a displaced fracture where it should be. He talked about medicine all the time. Said him and another Tech, Henry Frazier Steele III, were going to become Doctors. I know for a fact that Riley never made it. Don't ask me how I know. You'll know soon enough. I had to convince him to do something that very well could ruin his life. Not only that but it will destroy his dream of becoming a Doctor.
The pain was getting much, much worse. I had a steady Morphine drip that I controlled, to a point. I couldn't od. I had to make that decision after much agony and sleepless nights. The decision to end my life. Bunny and I had a lot of good years after the Air Force. We would talk about it and Bunny would just sit there and cry. It came to a point that she started listening to me. The pain I was in was not worth bearing. I was going to die, anyway, I should make it on my terms to say goodbye to my Bunny. It took a while to convince her to get someone to euthanize me. Who did we trust? I trusted one person, Riley. I trusted him with my life, or death. But would he jeopardize all his ambitions to help and old, dying, aviator? I don't know.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
The Next Chapter
I have come along way since the days of battling with my Colonel. The nightmares. Maybe certain people have the ability to communicate with the dead, I don"t know. I do know, however, that I have spoken with the dead. I have had dealings with an old man for a lot of years. Sometimes, I would think that I was losing my mind. Overload because of dreams, real events, and stress.
Now, I am getting hit with stuff that it as every bit of real as the oceans of the sea. One large problem. I do not know what to do. I believe that when I talked with my brother and it seemed I had to fulfill a mission that would make a twenty-year SEAL want to come along for the ride. It will be like nothing I had ever experienced. Like Mr. Hendrix"s band, " Experienced"
My wife has been spending a lot of time with the doctors. One, in particular. I don't really blame her, I guess. I am mostly trying to find the light. That is the one thing I have to do.
I keep going over in my head the past year. The first time that I went into the light. I still remember the feeling emanating from all my family that was there to greet me. I wonder if they think it was a false alarm, or something.The second time into the light was so different. I must have not been "one of them." It is because the shocker I had on the first day of walking around is the reason I may believe it. I know that when I slipped my field of vision just over the ledge I did not see people. I saw many orbs of light and that has shaken me to the core. As soon as I saw them, they were gone. I had the eeriest feeling about those orbs. It is like they were alive. What being, I'm not sure.
The doctors finally came back into my room and I began hearing things that did not interest me in the least. Talk of not being interested. The only thing on my mind was getting the hell out of this dimension and into another. In the back of my mind I cannot help but wonder if this and my dealings with the Col. were related. What I did to the Col. bothered me to the point I began self medicating to rid my memory of killing another man.
The drug use started small. I would take a few 5mg. Valiums and would feel like a million bucks. It did not take long before those few turned into ten to get the same effect. Later it became time to change the chemical I was using to deal with the horror I created. Meperadine Hydrochloride was the winner. Most people know it by Demerol. I knew it by roll. Roll I did for a long time. The horror that rolling made bearable soon turned into something unexplainable. I only thought I was experiencing horror. Years after I killed the Col. I really learned what horror meant. I believe that what is happening to me now is payback. To be honest, I'm scared as hell. theblogmeister
I keep going over in my head the past year. The first time that I went into the light. I still remember the feeling emanating from all my family that was there to greet me. I wonder if they think it was a false alarm, or something.The second time into the light was so different. I must have not been "one of them." It is because the shocker I had on the first day of walking around is the reason I may believe it. I know that when I slipped my field of vision just over the ledge I did not see people. I saw many orbs of light and that has shaken me to the core. As soon as I saw them, they were gone. I had the eeriest feeling about those orbs. It is like they were alive. What being, I'm not sure.
The doctors finally came back into my room and I began hearing things that did not interest me in the least. Talk of not being interested. The only thing on my mind was getting the hell out of this dimension and into another. In the back of my mind I cannot help but wonder if this and my dealings with the Col. were related. What I did to the Col. bothered me to the point I began self medicating to rid my memory of killing another man.
The drug use started small. I would take a few 5mg. Valiums and would feel like a million bucks. It did not take long before those few turned into ten to get the same effect. Later it became time to change the chemical I was using to deal with the horror I created. Meperadine Hydrochloride was the winner. Most people know it by Demerol. I knew it by roll. Roll I did for a long time. The horror that rolling made bearable soon turned into something unexplainable. I only thought I was experiencing horror. Years after I killed the Col. I really learned what horror meant. I believe that what is happening to me now is payback. To be honest, I'm scared as hell. theblogmeister
Sunday, October 27, 2013
What Comes Next?
The help my mission is going to need is no one's fault.I am still trying to find a way to trust that my brother believes I can handle it but I will not have any help from him. When will I be able to go back into the light? I will indeed have to find my brother to complete a misson I still do not know much about. It is strange that I cannot use my brother but I will fail without him. First, I have to know exactly what needs to be done and then I will have to figure out a way that does not include him.It seems that I have been put into a position of failure. Why? I do not have time to dwell on this problem, now. Lorri has finished pushing the plunger all the way and I'm starting to feel the warmth that precedes the light.
While I was seeking the light Lorri was sitting with three doctors trying to comprehend what they were telling her. "The cells of the muscles that caused your husband's problems have interjected themselves into his bone marrow. The multiple tests that we have used has confirmed that your husband has AML." Before the doctor could continue Lorri asked him if I was going to die. The doctor continued, "Acute Myeloid Lukemia is a type of blood cancer. AML usually develops from cells that turn into white blood cells other than lymphocytes. Sometimes, though, it can develop from other types of blood forming cells.The cause of this disease for most people is unknown. We think your husband's cancer cells in the muscle is the reason he developed AML."
"I thought you said that the cancer in his muscles was dying off. The cancer was gone." She gave him an accusatory look.
"Mrs. Riley, acute myeloid lukemia starts in the bone marrow. This is the soft inner portion of the bone. With the type of cancer he has, the bone marrow cells do not mature the way they are supposed to. These immature cells or blast cells, just keep building up. When we did the spinal tap we found the problem."
"What is the course of treatment and what all does it involve?" She was worried that when she put the drugs in me and caused me to be comatose she may have aggravated the problem. "Will the fact that he is sleeping so deep affect anything negatively? Just the thought of her causing me trouble would be a problem she would have a hard time dealing with.
"The expected outcome for AML depends on certain factors. With him being under 60 years of age is a plus. His cancer of the muscle is more likely the cause and we will not have to worry about gene mutations or chromosome damage."
"Mrs. Riley," the tall doctor that looked young enough to be Doogie Howser spoke up, "There is a chance that he contracted this disease from the radiation and chemotherapy he received treating the cancer in his muscles. Mechlorethamine and Procarbazine were used along with radiation and we believe this was the cause."
Dr. White then said, "AML is actually a group of related diseases.Treatment will depend upon each subtype as well as other factors you really do not want to hear. It does not require surgery but he will need a regime of strong drugs that will make him very, very, uncomfortable. It would be best if we put your husband in a medically induced coma."
The way Lorri was smiling made the doctors look at each other in curiosity. She then told them to wait after I woke up so she could discuss it with me. It was not much longer after the doctors left that I woke up. I could not remember jack shit. Time did not exist. I asked Lorri how long I was out and she told me it was only about twelve hours. Shit, no wonder. I do not know exactly what I am supposed to do. When I am supposed to do it and who I am supposed to help. I do have one thing going for me, though. The doctors are gonna put the good shit in me, so, maybe I can do this mission impossible.
I talked Lorri into going home or her Mothers' to get some rest. She resisted at first but she finally gave in. I wonder how she is really handling this whole thing. I have put a lot on her with the light and everything. She believes me and that is what matters most.
I guess tomorrow will be the big day. I try and reflect on my previous trips into the light to see if I can better understand what I have to do. Hell, it does not help, at all. What do I know? I have been given access to come and go freely into the light. I must help someone but I do not know who that someone is. I cannot get any help from my brother. I have a lot riding on this. I just hope I am able to live through it all. My reward for accomplishing the mission impossible better not be death. That would suck. I keep getting the feeling that somehow my brother does not want me to succeed. I do not know why, either. It is just a feeling. It's more than a feeling.
While I was seeking the light Lorri was sitting with three doctors trying to comprehend what they were telling her. "The cells of the muscles that caused your husband's problems have interjected themselves into his bone marrow. The multiple tests that we have used has confirmed that your husband has AML." Before the doctor could continue Lorri asked him if I was going to die. The doctor continued, "Acute Myeloid Lukemia is a type of blood cancer. AML usually develops from cells that turn into white blood cells other than lymphocytes. Sometimes, though, it can develop from other types of blood forming cells.The cause of this disease for most people is unknown. We think your husband's cancer cells in the muscle is the reason he developed AML."
"I thought you said that the cancer in his muscles was dying off. The cancer was gone." She gave him an accusatory look.
"Mrs. Riley, acute myeloid lukemia starts in the bone marrow. This is the soft inner portion of the bone. With the type of cancer he has, the bone marrow cells do not mature the way they are supposed to. These immature cells or blast cells, just keep building up. When we did the spinal tap we found the problem."
"What is the course of treatment and what all does it involve?" She was worried that when she put the drugs in me and caused me to be comatose she may have aggravated the problem. "Will the fact that he is sleeping so deep affect anything negatively? Just the thought of her causing me trouble would be a problem she would have a hard time dealing with.
"The expected outcome for AML depends on certain factors. With him being under 60 years of age is a plus. His cancer of the muscle is more likely the cause and we will not have to worry about gene mutations or chromosome damage."
"Mrs. Riley," the tall doctor that looked young enough to be Doogie Howser spoke up, "There is a chance that he contracted this disease from the radiation and chemotherapy he received treating the cancer in his muscles. Mechlorethamine and Procarbazine were used along with radiation and we believe this was the cause."
Dr. White then said, "AML is actually a group of related diseases.Treatment will depend upon each subtype as well as other factors you really do not want to hear. It does not require surgery but he will need a regime of strong drugs that will make him very, very, uncomfortable. It would be best if we put your husband in a medically induced coma."
The way Lorri was smiling made the doctors look at each other in curiosity. She then told them to wait after I woke up so she could discuss it with me. It was not much longer after the doctors left that I woke up. I could not remember jack shit. Time did not exist. I asked Lorri how long I was out and she told me it was only about twelve hours. Shit, no wonder. I do not know exactly what I am supposed to do. When I am supposed to do it and who I am supposed to help. I do have one thing going for me, though. The doctors are gonna put the good shit in me, so, maybe I can do this mission impossible.
I talked Lorri into going home or her Mothers' to get some rest. She resisted at first but she finally gave in. I wonder how she is really handling this whole thing. I have put a lot on her with the light and everything. She believes me and that is what matters most.
I guess tomorrow will be the big day. I try and reflect on my previous trips into the light to see if I can better understand what I have to do. Hell, it does not help, at all. What do I know? I have been given access to come and go freely into the light. I must help someone but I do not know who that someone is. I cannot get any help from my brother. I have a lot riding on this. I just hope I am able to live through it all. My reward for accomplishing the mission impossible better not be death. That would suck. I keep getting the feeling that somehow my brother does not want me to succeed. I do not know why, either. It is just a feeling. It's more than a feeling.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Something Is Strange
My brother and I sat by the water and listened to music from some well known dead people for about two hours. It was then that my brother got up and asked if I would follow him. "Sure, you ain't gonna get me lost, are you?" I played. It just felt so good to see him after all these years. "Where are we going?" I asked. "Not very far. I want you to see someone." I knew exactly who he was talking about. It was our Mother. This was gonna be very strange, indeed.
We walked along the bay about thirty minutes and came upon a beautiful cottage tucked in with the palms. "Is this where Mom lives?" I asked. Bubba stopped and turned to look at me. He had a different look about him. Almost troubled. That can't happen here, right? I was trying to convince myself that all would be well and for some reason I knew that it would not. I was lost in my thoughts when I almost bumped into her. "Mom! You look fantastic. I cannot believe I am here, now, looking at you." My Mom hugged me to the point that it felt like she had never died. There were no tears. That's sad, to me. I would have really enjoyed shedding a few with my Mom. I really missed her. I do not know what lies ahead for me and can't say that I will make the correct decision.
After about two hours with Mom we said our goodbye's and headed deeper into the jungle. Finally, I asked Bubba what is it that I was supposed to do. "I can't tell you. I can only show you what has to be done, that's all. I cannot tell you how to do it. Sorry, Spot." As we made our way farther inland the sound of the water disappeared. We were overcome by sounds of something very scary. A deep, low guttural sound that did not belong here. I could not pinpoint exactly where the sound was coming from. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at the same time. How is that possible, I mumbled under my breath? All of a sudden I became very disoriented. I felt almost like I could puke. I closed my eyes and lay on the grass to get rid of the feeling like I had been spinning real fast. My eyes were squeezed shut very hard and when I opened them I could barely make out my beautiful wife, Lorri. She was standing next to me, holding my hand. "There you are!" she softly said. "I was wondering when you were coming home." I was more confused than I had ever been and had to ask her what was happening to me. Convincingly, she gazed into my eyes and told me in a soft voice, "You are cancer free! There is no sign of any tumors, anywhere."
"How long have I been gone?" I spoke softly, too. What she told me I could not comprehend. Did she say six months? "Have I been lying here six whole months?" I had a very confused look on my face, Lorri said. Hell, I was confused. How can I have been in a coma six months and it seemed a half of one day in the light. Now they are saying that I do not have cancer. How the hell was I supposed to make it back into the light if they send me home? No, this can't work. I'll have to come up with a way for the doctors to keep me in the hospital. That was not gonna be easy.
We walked along the bay about thirty minutes and came upon a beautiful cottage tucked in with the palms. "Is this where Mom lives?" I asked. Bubba stopped and turned to look at me. He had a different look about him. Almost troubled. That can't happen here, right? I was trying to convince myself that all would be well and for some reason I knew that it would not. I was lost in my thoughts when I almost bumped into her. "Mom! You look fantastic. I cannot believe I am here, now, looking at you." My Mom hugged me to the point that it felt like she had never died. There were no tears. That's sad, to me. I would have really enjoyed shedding a few with my Mom. I really missed her. I do not know what lies ahead for me and can't say that I will make the correct decision.
After about two hours with Mom we said our goodbye's and headed deeper into the jungle. Finally, I asked Bubba what is it that I was supposed to do. "I can't tell you. I can only show you what has to be done, that's all. I cannot tell you how to do it. Sorry, Spot." As we made our way farther inland the sound of the water disappeared. We were overcome by sounds of something very scary. A deep, low guttural sound that did not belong here. I could not pinpoint exactly where the sound was coming from. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at the same time. How is that possible, I mumbled under my breath? All of a sudden I became very disoriented. I felt almost like I could puke. I closed my eyes and lay on the grass to get rid of the feeling like I had been spinning real fast. My eyes were squeezed shut very hard and when I opened them I could barely make out my beautiful wife, Lorri. She was standing next to me, holding my hand. "There you are!" she softly said. "I was wondering when you were coming home." I was more confused than I had ever been and had to ask her what was happening to me. Convincingly, she gazed into my eyes and told me in a soft voice, "You are cancer free! There is no sign of any tumors, anywhere."
"How long have I been gone?" I spoke softly, too. What she told me I could not comprehend. Did she say six months? "Have I been lying here six whole months?" I had a very confused look on my face, Lorri said. Hell, I was confused. How can I have been in a coma six months and it seemed a half of one day in the light. Now they are saying that I do not have cancer. How the hell was I supposed to make it back into the light if they send me home? No, this can't work. I'll have to come up with a way for the doctors to keep me in the hospital. That was not gonna be easy.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
The River's Edge
I turned and started walking towards the river. I could not believe the clarity of the colors that spread before me. For the first time I looked down at myself to see that I was wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a Hawaiian shirt. I was amazed, yet confused. This is nothing like my first trip. My mind began to wonder if I was even in the right place. While juggling those thoughts in my head I came upon a rise. I slowly walked up it to look down by the river and noticed the tops of some thatched roofs. All I could see was the roofs unless I took another step forward, which I did. I saw right away a brilliant light emanating from the area where I saw the thatched roofs. Slowly, I stepped forward and saw something that took my breath away. There were several dozen circular orbs just floating a few feet from the ground. As soon as I saw them they all in turn seemed to be looking my way. In a burst of speed I have never witnessed the orbs disappeared into the buildings under the thatched roofs. I do not have a clue what I saw, however, I was not at all intimidated by the sight I had just witnessed. Just before I was to start down the hill towards the buildings I perviewed everything around me. The river curled around and emptied into a beautiful bay. It reminded me of some of those tropical scenes you would find at a travel agency but ten times more beautiful. I looked towards my left and saw a doe grazing with her two fawns. The largest buck I had ever seen was with them. They were looking straight at me but made no move out of fear. Just curiosity. I could not get over the brilliance of the color of everything I could see. This must be something special, if it is real. I'm having trouble deciding if I was hallucinating in my bed at the hospital are is what I am seeing real. The difference between the first time I entered the light and now is what is sparking my indecision. Nothing is the same except the feeling of love I am experiencing, now, and the same amount as was before.
The hill was not that steep and it didn't take me long to get down by the river. I turned and saw a figure coming out of one of the buildings and walking towards me. His blue eyes were amazing with the warm smile across his face. His gait was very familiar to me since I had not seen him since March 3, 1989. It was my brother. My best friend that lost his life on earth from a car accident. Oh, He looked much better than the last time I saw him. I could not believe that I was being so calm about this. He walked up to me and we embraced then said, " You look great! It is such a blessing to see you, again." Here my brother was, standing in front of me holding my arms. The feeling was better than any feeling I had experienced. " Bubba, I cannot believe we are standing here. You look great, too." I said with a huge smile. The emotion was almost overwhelming but I felt a force around me that guided my actions. Whatever I was feeling was somehow in charge. It is hard for me to explain. I grabbed my brother in a bear hug and felt all would be well. Somehow I knew that everything would be okay. The months that it took for me to get over his death. The years it took my Mom to look at a picture of him. The times my younger brother and I used to laugh at the stories we would share about some of the things all three of us would do. Bubba was 33 years old when he died. That's ironic, isn't it? I was about to turn 30 in May and my younger brother, Keith, was just 14 months younger than me. It seemed that Bubba knew what I was thinking because he said, " We had some great times, together, didn't we?" We started to talk about some of those times and had a few good laughs. Well, it proved that there were emotions, here. I had about a million questions to ask when he said to follow him.
We walked away from the hutches and towards the beautiful bay I had seen coming down the hill. " You have been given a very unique opportunity and it will require a lot of choices to make." I looked down at his feet and he was wearing flops, too. " I want you to know," he said, " That I will not be able to aide you in your decision. You will have to make the correct one, all on your own." I had not paid that much attention to where we were going I was so deep in thought. I looked up and there was a fire blazing with a dozen or so people sitting around the fire. I began to here a guitar and the familiar voice of Hank Williams, Sr. "Let us sit and enjoy the music."
The hill was not that steep and it didn't take me long to get down by the river. I turned and saw a figure coming out of one of the buildings and walking towards me. His blue eyes were amazing with the warm smile across his face. His gait was very familiar to me since I had not seen him since March 3, 1989. It was my brother. My best friend that lost his life on earth from a car accident. Oh, He looked much better than the last time I saw him. I could not believe that I was being so calm about this. He walked up to me and we embraced then said, " You look great! It is such a blessing to see you, again." Here my brother was, standing in front of me holding my arms. The feeling was better than any feeling I had experienced. " Bubba, I cannot believe we are standing here. You look great, too." I said with a huge smile. The emotion was almost overwhelming but I felt a force around me that guided my actions. Whatever I was feeling was somehow in charge. It is hard for me to explain. I grabbed my brother in a bear hug and felt all would be well. Somehow I knew that everything would be okay. The months that it took for me to get over his death. The years it took my Mom to look at a picture of him. The times my younger brother and I used to laugh at the stories we would share about some of the things all three of us would do. Bubba was 33 years old when he died. That's ironic, isn't it? I was about to turn 30 in May and my younger brother, Keith, was just 14 months younger than me. It seemed that Bubba knew what I was thinking because he said, " We had some great times, together, didn't we?" We started to talk about some of those times and had a few good laughs. Well, it proved that there were emotions, here. I had about a million questions to ask when he said to follow him.
We walked away from the hutches and towards the beautiful bay I had seen coming down the hill. " You have been given a very unique opportunity and it will require a lot of choices to make." I looked down at his feet and he was wearing flops, too. " I want you to know," he said, " That I will not be able to aide you in your decision. You will have to make the correct one, all on your own." I had not paid that much attention to where we were going I was so deep in thought. I looked up and there was a fire blazing with a dozen or so people sitting around the fire. I began to here a guitar and the familiar voice of Hank Williams, Sr. "Let us sit and enjoy the music."
Monday, August 5, 2013
The Light
I told Lorri what I had seen, felt, and believed during the time I was in a coma. She seemed to be in shock because I coded. Through her tears she told me that she thought I was going to die. I reassured her that what I experienced was nothing to be afraid of. She did not want to lose me and was against my wanting to be placed back into a coma. I convinced her that when I coded it had nothing to do with the medically induced coma. I was having to tell her this by writing because of the ET tube and my fingers were getting cramps. I assured her that nothing bad was to happen by choosing to be placed back into a coma. We looked into each others eyes not knowing if we would ever see each other, again. She agreed and went to tell the medical staff.
It was just a few minutes before my room was full of doctors and nurses. Lorri explained to the staff my wishes. The doctors reminded her that the coma could cause another respiratory arrest and they could not promise her anything. She held my hand and told them it is what I wanted and she agreed. The hospital made us sign a waiver to cover their ass, legally. Fine with me. I'm ready to go into the light. I also realize that in order for that to happen I may have to die. It was worth the chance, for me, to be with those loved ones I was with before.
I watched the plunger of the needle emptying the drug into my vein. That warm feeling covered my body and as I was about to lose consciousness I looked at Lorri, with tears flowing down her cheeks, praying I would see her, again.
I see it. I have been wanting this more than I have wanted anything in my life. The light grew brighter until I was enveloped with feeling never experienced before. When I opened my eyes I was sitting on a hilltop overlooking a river. The colors were brighter than any colors I had ever seen. It was the most beautiful scene you could imagine. I could smell the grass. I could feel a slight breeze in my face but something was missing. Where were those that met me when I came through the light last time? I was all alone. I must be dreaming. This could not be what I had experienced the last time. I was confused. I wanted to go back until I saw a figure walking towards me. I could not make out who it was but I believed it to me a human. The closer the figure came I recognized who it was. I have to be dreaming. In a moment of clarity I knew I was not dreaming. I knew the man by name. I had never seen him before but I knew quite a bit about him. He was crucified by the Romans and on the third day he was resurrected. He was wearing a bright white gown, flowing with the breeze. As he approached I stood and asked him if he was Jesus, the Son of God. He told me he was my creator and I was his child. It was not like last time when I communicated with my family without speaking. I was speaking to him and he was speaking to me. I was about to ask him if I was dead when he told me that I had been given a unique gift. I could stay as long as I wanted and could go back whenever I chose. All I could say was thank you for this gift you have given me and your sacrifices that allowed my family to be in your presence. He pointed in the direction of the river and told me to go, that I would find what I was looking for. I turned and started to walk towards the river. theblogmeister
It was just a few minutes before my room was full of doctors and nurses. Lorri explained to the staff my wishes. The doctors reminded her that the coma could cause another respiratory arrest and they could not promise her anything. She held my hand and told them it is what I wanted and she agreed. The hospital made us sign a waiver to cover their ass, legally. Fine with me. I'm ready to go into the light. I also realize that in order for that to happen I may have to die. It was worth the chance, for me, to be with those loved ones I was with before.
I watched the plunger of the needle emptying the drug into my vein. That warm feeling covered my body and as I was about to lose consciousness I looked at Lorri, with tears flowing down her cheeks, praying I would see her, again.
I see it. I have been wanting this more than I have wanted anything in my life. The light grew brighter until I was enveloped with feeling never experienced before. When I opened my eyes I was sitting on a hilltop overlooking a river. The colors were brighter than any colors I had ever seen. It was the most beautiful scene you could imagine. I could smell the grass. I could feel a slight breeze in my face but something was missing. Where were those that met me when I came through the light last time? I was all alone. I must be dreaming. This could not be what I had experienced the last time. I was confused. I wanted to go back until I saw a figure walking towards me. I could not make out who it was but I believed it to me a human. The closer the figure came I recognized who it was. I have to be dreaming. In a moment of clarity I knew I was not dreaming. I knew the man by name. I had never seen him before but I knew quite a bit about him. He was crucified by the Romans and on the third day he was resurrected. He was wearing a bright white gown, flowing with the breeze. As he approached I stood and asked him if he was Jesus, the Son of God. He told me he was my creator and I was his child. It was not like last time when I communicated with my family without speaking. I was speaking to him and he was speaking to me. I was about to ask him if I was dead when he told me that I had been given a unique gift. I could stay as long as I wanted and could go back whenever I chose. All I could say was thank you for this gift you have given me and your sacrifices that allowed my family to be in your presence. He pointed in the direction of the river and told me to go, that I would find what I was looking for. I turned and started to walk towards the river. theblogmeister
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Am I Dead?
The feeling, the bright light, the love emanating from my family that has gone on before me. I want it back. All I feel now is the need to return to where I had been.. I have read stories of near death experiences and never truly believed them. If that is what I had then I know that they are real. I try and tell my wife what just happened to me but I cannot communicate with her. My mind is working and I think I can talk but I am just lying there, motionless. I look at her and wish she could see and feel what I felt. There is nothing in this world that I can compare to what I went through. I do not know how long I was there but I wish I could go back. I cannot grasp the reasoning behind the visit to the other side. Did I almost die? At this point death would be special. Then I wonder if I actually die will I go to the same place I was previously. I just want to go back and feel the love from my family and friends.
It felt like my bones were being crushed by a force never experienced. I tried to open my eyes but they were taped shut. As my brain was attempting to process what was happening I felt a warm sensation flowing through my veins. The pain in my body was easing but not going away completely. Sudden bright lights as the nurse took the bandages off my eyes made me think, for a second, I was going to that loving place. I blinked a few times and focused my eyesight to the people standing around me. My Doctors, my earthly family, nurses, and a bunch of equipment. They had brought me out of a coma. The news I was hearing was shocking. I had been in a coma for three months and during that time the tumors in my muscles, a result of the spreading bone cancer, had shrunken in size. Only a minor victory, though. The medical staff tried to tell me that nothing was done to me while I was in a medically induced coma. Diagnostic tests that were done had shown the Doctors that my tumors were shrinking. They had done nothing to cause this and were perplexed. It was not great news to me but the medical staff seemed a bit excited. My mouth was so dry I could not even speak, so, I asked for something to write with. I asked them if I had died. The look in their eyes gave me the answer. I had coded and had to be brought back with the defibrillator. They wanted to know how I knew. I was not about to tell them for fear of being given anti-psychotic drugs. Fuck'em. They don't need to know but I had to tell my wife. It took several hours of tests and questions from the staff before I had the chance to be alone with her. So, I began to tell her my story. theblogmeister
It felt like my bones were being crushed by a force never experienced. I tried to open my eyes but they were taped shut. As my brain was attempting to process what was happening I felt a warm sensation flowing through my veins. The pain in my body was easing but not going away completely. Sudden bright lights as the nurse took the bandages off my eyes made me think, for a second, I was going to that loving place. I blinked a few times and focused my eyesight to the people standing around me. My Doctors, my earthly family, nurses, and a bunch of equipment. They had brought me out of a coma. The news I was hearing was shocking. I had been in a coma for three months and during that time the tumors in my muscles, a result of the spreading bone cancer, had shrunken in size. Only a minor victory, though. The medical staff tried to tell me that nothing was done to me while I was in a medically induced coma. Diagnostic tests that were done had shown the Doctors that my tumors were shrinking. They had done nothing to cause this and were perplexed. It was not great news to me but the medical staff seemed a bit excited. My mouth was so dry I could not even speak, so, I asked for something to write with. I asked them if I had died. The look in their eyes gave me the answer. I had coded and had to be brought back with the defibrillator. They wanted to know how I knew. I was not about to tell them for fear of being given anti-psychotic drugs. Fuck'em. They don't need to know but I had to tell my wife. It took several hours of tests and questions from the staff before I had the chance to be alone with her. So, I began to tell her my story. theblogmeister
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