Two of my best friends from grade school joined the band when we all moved into junior high school. Well, to be honest, they joined the “drum corp,” which could actually be considered pretty damn cool by some people. And it was considered cool even back then.
Anyway, they joined up as drummers and started hanging out with the 8th grade drummers, even though we were all in 7th grade at that point. It was those 8th graders that made my life a living hell for the next year.
I really wanted to join the drum corp also, but we were too poor and I knew it. I didn’t even bother to ask my dad if I could join, because I knew he had enough stress in his life just paying the bills we already had, without having to worry about more bills that come associated with having a kid in band. Instruments cost money. Uniforms cost money. Trips cost money.
I knew how cool those band guys were though, and I REALLY wanted to join and be able to hang out with 2 of my best friends. In fact, I tried hanging out with them even though I wasn’t in band for a while, but I got off to a bad start with their new “buddies.” This was right at a time in my life when my voice was changing, so I kinda sounded like Froggy from “Our Gang.” My voice would crack and break for no reason whatsoever, so I compensated by talking in a very baritone type of voice. Well, the leader of the drum corp was a guy named Clint, and when I was introduced to him I said “My name is Eddie. Eddie Francis,” in that peculiar baritone/Froggy voice of mine … and that was it. He instantly hated me for reasons I never understood.
It should be noted that I was also the shortest guy in junior high, and I stayed the shortest guy until the last month of 8th grade when Augie Shemotti moved into our school and took my place in the year book as “Shortest Dude.” He got to get his picture taken with the girl I’d had a crush on since 4th grade, Marlene Launer. The only girl who was always shorter than I was, and the one that I had wanted more than anything to have my picture taken with. She was my “little red-haired girl,” to my “Charlie Brown.”
So, maybe it was because of my frog voice, or maybe it was because I was so short and easily pick-on-able, but for the next year my best friends turned against me and followed the lead of their new leader Clint, who had decided I was the guy they were going to pick on and harass all year.
Looking back on it from the perspective of an older person, I can see now that Clint probably didn’t have a very good home life. He lived in a trailer park and had long, greasy hair. I didn’t really see any of that back then. What I saw was a kid a year older and 50 pounds heavier than me, who had stolen my two best friends and turned them against me. And it hurt.
Didn’t help that I was not only short with a cracking voice, but I was also pretty socially awkward. I spent most of my time with my nose in books and didn’t really relate well to other kids my age. I also spent an inordinate amount of time bragging about my older brothers, three of which were Green Berets in the Army, well actually only two of them were at that time, the third was a Green Beret in Vietnam, and had long been out of the Army by the time I was in junior high. —see, still doing it today and I’m closer to 50 than not.
Clint and his cronies (including my former two best friends) would chase me all over the school yard with Clint fast on my heels yelling “EDDIE. EDDIE FRANCIS!” In his best imitation of my frog voice. The worst part is that he must have known I had a crush on Marlene Launer, because he always made a point of doing it in front of her, which quadrupled the amount of embarrassment and shame I felt, especially since all I could think to do back then was run away.
Clint and his cronie Bob would also call and order pizza to be delivered to my home. Usually with all the toppings, including sardines, and my dad would get mad at the pizza delivery guy, even though it wasn’t his fault. I knew who was doing it, because at school the next day I would get comments from one of them about pizza on my shirt or the corner of my mouth.
One thing Clint and friends didn’t realize is that I was a teacher’s aide for English, and my teacher taught both grades, which meant that I got to grade all of their papers … and grade them I did. Honestly, I never even had to work that hard at failing them, they did all the work themselves by turning in such shitty work. Passive-aggressive much junior high aged Eddie? Yeah, probably, but it was really the only means I had toward fighting back. The guys that were my friends though, man they EXCELLED at English that year. Even some of the people that had the toughest time usually passing were getting As. You know what they say about friends in low places!
Growing up, I never did forgive Clint for that year. I never really got to be close friends with my former friends again, but at least they stopped picking on me by the time we got to high school. One of them actually went on to tour the world as a drummer in a band, and now today we are all “friends” again on social media. Not that I ever really plan on hanging out with them again, but it’s good to see how their lives turned out, and that a lot of their dreams came true.
I heard the other day that Clint died a couple of months ago from a sudden heart attack. I am sure that most people would be slightly sad about that happening, even to their worst enemy. Not me. I hope Clint died in fucking pain and that his after life is full of someone chasing him around and making his life a living hell, embarrassing him in front of someone he likes.
Hey fucktard Clint! I outlived you dickwad! Suck on that you piece of shit! And now I get to write about your sorry ass and there is nothing you can fucking do about it. Can you guess the name of the bad guy in my novel? Hmmm …. wonder what kind of neurosis people are going to remember you for? Not sure yet, but trust me, it won’t be something you want your name to be associated with!
Friday, December 11, 2015
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Test Drive
We took our first foray into the wilderness this weekend with the bus. Sort of a test drive to see how everything works, which, honestly has kind of worried me since we bought it for the ridiculously low price of $1,200, and we didn't bother to take it to a mechanic first and have it checked out, or really did anything more than turn on the lights and the engine and ran it though the gears to make sure they all worked.
For the test drive we decided to head out to our favorite hot springs located on the Idaho/Oregon border on the Owyhee River. Snively Hot Springs (http://www.idahohotsprings.com/destinations/snively/) is a 79 mile drive from where we are staying in Boise (each way) and I thought it would make the perfect test run. It's far enough out of town to make it a good test, but close enough that if things went wrong we would be able to call someone to come help us. Besides, it's a fucking hot springs and we can soak all day and night! Well, technically it closes at sundown, but I rarely pay attention to that kind of stuff, and so far I have been lucky in that I have never been caught. Besides, I honestly think stupid rules like "closed at night" need to be broken. Look at it this way: the hot springs is on public land and belongs to the public, the people that patrol said public land are "public servants" who are paid by the taxes we pay, therefore they work for US, and if we (the people who pay their salary) say that we want the hot springs open at night for us to use it, then that should be our right. Just because some other dumbasses came along at some point in history and abused that right and left the hot springs a mess, does not mean that we will do the same. That's like saying "oh sorry, you can't have a gun because at one time a serial killer used a gun." Fuck that. The hot springs belongs to us, which is why I have no problem breaking stupid rules like that. (End of rant.)
Anyway, Friday while I am sitting at work I was all the sudden like "Damn, I want to go to the hot springs." So I texted Candy and we decided to go ahead and just do it. (I love being spontaneous like that.) So we packed up the bus, grabbed some food to take along and hit the road.
Well ... almost.
The first problem we did discover was that a couple of warning buzzers would not stop going off. Buzzer #1 was by the back door, and is meant as a signal that the back door is locked (the back door can't be locked when the vehicle is moving. I'm thinking it's a safety issue if the school bus was full of children and the bus crashed, it has to be available as an emergency exit.) So Candy, being handy with a screwdriver (handy Candy ... lol) pulled the cover off the buzzer and disconnected it. Buzzer #2 was basically the same thing but located at the front of the bus. We did the same thing and disconnected it also. What worries me though is that neither buzzer was going off the first time I moved the bus, right after we bought it. Guess we will find out later on down the road if either of these is going to be an issue.
Once we got that all sorted out, we did finally hit the road. The buzzer thing might have been a blessing in disguise, because we ended up missing all the Friday night after-work, rush-hour traffic that is usually an issue between Boise and Nampa. We had a clear shot and didn't have to change lanes a bunch of times, which, if truth be told, was a big relief to me as I haven't really driven anything this big since my Air Force days when I used to haul Nukes, and that was damn near 30 years ago.
One thing we need to figure out is either how to make a gate that keeps our 100#+ dog, Sadie, from being right in my face when I am driving ... OR ... at the very least a shoulder pad and sleeve that I can wear to keep all the drool off my shoulder and arm.
We were very fortunate to have such a beautiful evening for the drive out there. The weather was a perfect 80 degrees, and there were just enough clouds in the sky to make for an awesome sunset.
We didn't make it to the hot springs until well after dark, which was a little bit hairy on some of those curvy back-hill, one-lane roads, but we made it without a hitch. Well, at least until we got there and I overshot the parking lot in the dark and had to back down the road about 50 yards in the dark.
Reminder to self ... fix the back up lights, and/or install a video backup system so I can see where the fuck I am backing up in the dark.
I would have taken more pics of the hot springs itself, but for one my camera is broken, and for two I wasn't about to take my phone down near the water and have it break also, so instead I'm just gonna post an old pic I have taken of the hot springs here, and if you have seen it before, just ignore it. (Taken last January.)
All-in-all it was a very successful weekend, although we had planned on staying until Sunday morning before we left to go back to town, we ended up leaving Saturday evening and driving halfway back to Boise because of all the damn flies that kept harassing us all weekend. That will teach us to park anywhere close to the outhouse!
The reason we only drove halfway back Saturday night is because we stopped at a truck stop and had dinner in the restaurant, and afterwards I was like "Fuck it. I'm full. I'm tired. We have a bed. Let's just sleep here." So we did.
We arrived back in Boise about 7am this morning, which was a good thing because we needed to back down the street where we are staying, and to do that we have to cross a busy thoroughfare that is usually packed with cars ... BY BACKING ACROSS THE ROAD. Proved to be no problem at 7am on a Sunday morning.
Well, that's it for now. Future plans include waiting til next payday (Oct. 5) so that we can buy wood flooring and install it.
The adventure continues ....
#skoolie #hotsprings #snively #testdrive #owyheeriver #offgridliving #schoolbus #idaho/oregon
For the test drive we decided to head out to our favorite hot springs located on the Idaho/Oregon border on the Owyhee River. Snively Hot Springs (http://www.idahohotsprings.com/destinations/snively/) is a 79 mile drive from where we are staying in Boise (each way) and I thought it would make the perfect test run. It's far enough out of town to make it a good test, but close enough that if things went wrong we would be able to call someone to come help us. Besides, it's a fucking hot springs and we can soak all day and night! Well, technically it closes at sundown, but I rarely pay attention to that kind of stuff, and so far I have been lucky in that I have never been caught. Besides, I honestly think stupid rules like "closed at night" need to be broken. Look at it this way: the hot springs is on public land and belongs to the public, the people that patrol said public land are "public servants" who are paid by the taxes we pay, therefore they work for US, and if we (the people who pay their salary) say that we want the hot springs open at night for us to use it, then that should be our right. Just because some other dumbasses came along at some point in history and abused that right and left the hot springs a mess, does not mean that we will do the same. That's like saying "oh sorry, you can't have a gun because at one time a serial killer used a gun." Fuck that. The hot springs belongs to us, which is why I have no problem breaking stupid rules like that. (End of rant.)
Anyway, Friday while I am sitting at work I was all the sudden like "Damn, I want to go to the hot springs." So I texted Candy and we decided to go ahead and just do it. (I love being spontaneous like that.) So we packed up the bus, grabbed some food to take along and hit the road.
Well ... almost.
The first problem we did discover was that a couple of warning buzzers would not stop going off. Buzzer #1 was by the back door, and is meant as a signal that the back door is locked (the back door can't be locked when the vehicle is moving. I'm thinking it's a safety issue if the school bus was full of children and the bus crashed, it has to be available as an emergency exit.) So Candy, being handy with a screwdriver (handy Candy ... lol) pulled the cover off the buzzer and disconnected it. Buzzer #2 was basically the same thing but located at the front of the bus. We did the same thing and disconnected it also. What worries me though is that neither buzzer was going off the first time I moved the bus, right after we bought it. Guess we will find out later on down the road if either of these is going to be an issue.
Once we got that all sorted out, we did finally hit the road. The buzzer thing might have been a blessing in disguise, because we ended up missing all the Friday night after-work, rush-hour traffic that is usually an issue between Boise and Nampa. We had a clear shot and didn't have to change lanes a bunch of times, which, if truth be told, was a big relief to me as I haven't really driven anything this big since my Air Force days when I used to haul Nukes, and that was damn near 30 years ago.
One thing we need to figure out is either how to make a gate that keeps our 100#+ dog, Sadie, from being right in my face when I am driving ... OR ... at the very least a shoulder pad and sleeve that I can wear to keep all the drool off my shoulder and arm.
Reminder to self ... fix the back up lights, and/or install a video backup system so I can see where the fuck I am backing up in the dark.
I would have taken more pics of the hot springs itself, but for one my camera is broken, and for two I wasn't about to take my phone down near the water and have it break also, so instead I'm just gonna post an old pic I have taken of the hot springs here, and if you have seen it before, just ignore it. (Taken last January.)
All-in-all it was a very successful weekend, although we had planned on staying until Sunday morning before we left to go back to town, we ended up leaving Saturday evening and driving halfway back to Boise because of all the damn flies that kept harassing us all weekend. That will teach us to park anywhere close to the outhouse!
The reason we only drove halfway back Saturday night is because we stopped at a truck stop and had dinner in the restaurant, and afterwards I was like "Fuck it. I'm full. I'm tired. We have a bed. Let's just sleep here." So we did.
We arrived back in Boise about 7am this morning, which was a good thing because we needed to back down the street where we are staying, and to do that we have to cross a busy thoroughfare that is usually packed with cars ... BY BACKING ACROSS THE ROAD. Proved to be no problem at 7am on a Sunday morning.
Well, that's it for now. Future plans include waiting til next payday (Oct. 5) so that we can buy wood flooring and install it.
The adventure continues ....
#skoolie #hotsprings #snively #testdrive #owyheeriver #offgridliving #schoolbus #idaho/oregon
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Fruitless Weekend
This weekend we were really hoping to find a more permanent place to park the bus before we can begin to work on it, but as it turns out, all the real estate and rental companies were looking forward to the 3-day weekend also and all took off like their offices were on fire and filled with fire-proof spiders that have a taste for human flesh and think it's rather delicious. So, no matter how many phone calls or emails I sent Friday afternoon they weren't returned. Well, except one guy that I called Friday morning, and he only returned my call to say he busy running from spiders and might call me back on Tuesday if he lived through the weekend.
So, not wanting to tear the bus completely apart in the parking lot at my work, we did the next best thing .... organized.
It's amazing how much crap a person realizes they don't need after living in a bus for a week with another person, a dog that is larger than either person and two space-occupying cats who just rightly assume that everything is theirs. I was able to condense down my tool boxes from 3 large monstrosities, to merely 2 large monstrosities. The purchase of a clothes duffle bag, much as we used to use in basic training, really help to get a bunch of the mess relocated to a single spot, and a quick trip to the thrift store (there is no such thing as a quick trip to a thrift store, btw) helped by finding a couple of wall hangers that could be hung flat to the wall and allowed us to hang a bunch of stuff up out of the way for the time being.
Mostly though my weekend was taken up with fucking around with crap on the internet, and drawing up plans for how we want to remodel the bus.
Actually the drawing up of the plans didn't take that long, it was the multiple "honey, can you move this over here so I can see how it looks" from my loving and beautiful wife that took the most amount of time.
Anyway, here is the basic floorplan we finally agreed on:
Here it is showing the storage above the bed and above the windows:
Here is the right wall if you are standing at the drivers seat looking toward the back of the bus:
The left wall stading at the driver and looking toward the back:
And finally the draft of where the electrical lines, plumbing lines and gas lines need to run. We opted to get a composting toilet instead of a regular one because I don't like the thought of a black tank for waste and we want to be more environmentally friendly.
So far this is all just the basics and will probably change 100 more times if my wife has her way, but this is WAYYYY easier than actually moving furniture!
So, not wanting to tear the bus completely apart in the parking lot at my work, we did the next best thing .... organized.
It's amazing how much crap a person realizes they don't need after living in a bus for a week with another person, a dog that is larger than either person and two space-occupying cats who just rightly assume that everything is theirs. I was able to condense down my tool boxes from 3 large monstrosities, to merely 2 large monstrosities. The purchase of a clothes duffle bag, much as we used to use in basic training, really help to get a bunch of the mess relocated to a single spot, and a quick trip to the thrift store (there is no such thing as a quick trip to a thrift store, btw) helped by finding a couple of wall hangers that could be hung flat to the wall and allowed us to hang a bunch of stuff up out of the way for the time being.
Mostly though my weekend was taken up with fucking around with crap on the internet, and drawing up plans for how we want to remodel the bus.
Actually the drawing up of the plans didn't take that long, it was the multiple "honey, can you move this over here so I can see how it looks" from my loving and beautiful wife that took the most amount of time.
Anyway, here is the basic floorplan we finally agreed on:
Monday, August 31, 2015
Goodbye last chapter
Another chapter in this crazy thing I call "life" came to a close yesterday, and for just a little bit I was feeling maudlin about closing it and moving on to a new chapter. Only for a little bit though.
What a weekend though. Man did we get a workout. We got all our stuff completely moved out and packed into a 12' trailer, a little work trailer we tow behind the jeep and into the bus, which showed us just how much stuff we have to get rid of to be able to live this kind of life where the bus is our home.
One thing to note though is that I threw my back out moving down here from Coeur d'Alene two years ago and have suffered stoically (or not so stoically if you ask my wife) though the pain and have been to a chiropractor a few times since we got here. On Saturday when my wife was gone doing some errand I was still moving stuff into the bus, and you know how school buses are with the big door at the back? Well I had just taken a load into the bus and was coming out of the bus stepping down to a little step stool and I slipped and fell really hard. I landed with the very middle of my back on the back of the bus, bent over backwards and afraid that I had just severed my spinal cord. I'm not lying when I say I was completely scared and freaked out and all I could do was stand there in complete pain afraid to move for several minutes. I didn't even try to call out for help because I knew no one was around, and I was alone and all on my own. When I did finally dare to move, I straightened up slowly, sure that I was never going to be able to move the rest of the stuff into the bus and I would be forced to rely on other people, but 'lo and behold I was fine. In fact more than fine. My back had finally "POPPED" back into place.
Apparently my chiropractor has been going about fixing my back the wrong way. What he needed to do was just bend me over completely backwards with a knee in my back, and then pull with all his might.
So anyway, last night we pulled out of the driveway and drove the bus across town to where I work and spent the night parked alongside the building. The nice this is that I have the combination to go in the building, so I was able to run an extension cord inside and hook us up to power, and since we are parked right next to my office, we are able to get wi-fi coming from computer. So we had a nice relaxing evening snacking on pizza and watching Netflix on my 46" TV which is sitting on a dresser at the end of our bed. It actually kinda felt like we were in a movie theater ... but with comfortable seating.
This morning I tore down the walls of my pride and took my boss and the owner aside and asked for permission to park next to the building until we can find a more permanent place to make this our home, and I was greatly relieved and more than a little overjoyed when they said it would be fine, and asked if there was anything else they could do to help.
There are many things I don't like about Boise, and about working at a job that keeps me stuck in front of a computer all day long and rarely ever seeing the sun, but my bosses are NOT one of those things. They are truly compassionate people who are always willing to lend a hand, and I'm not even sure why I was hesitant to ask them, as I knew what kind of people they were. Too often I let my own pride get in the way of doing the things I need to do. I really want to try to not be that way as we go off into the future into our new life, and to be joyful and thankful of those that help us along the way.
What a weekend though. Man did we get a workout. We got all our stuff completely moved out and packed into a 12' trailer, a little work trailer we tow behind the jeep and into the bus, which showed us just how much stuff we have to get rid of to be able to live this kind of life where the bus is our home.
One thing to note though is that I threw my back out moving down here from Coeur d'Alene two years ago and have suffered stoically (or not so stoically if you ask my wife) though the pain and have been to a chiropractor a few times since we got here. On Saturday when my wife was gone doing some errand I was still moving stuff into the bus, and you know how school buses are with the big door at the back? Well I had just taken a load into the bus and was coming out of the bus stepping down to a little step stool and I slipped and fell really hard. I landed with the very middle of my back on the back of the bus, bent over backwards and afraid that I had just severed my spinal cord. I'm not lying when I say I was completely scared and freaked out and all I could do was stand there in complete pain afraid to move for several minutes. I didn't even try to call out for help because I knew no one was around, and I was alone and all on my own. When I did finally dare to move, I straightened up slowly, sure that I was never going to be able to move the rest of the stuff into the bus and I would be forced to rely on other people, but 'lo and behold I was fine. In fact more than fine. My back had finally "POPPED" back into place.
Apparently my chiropractor has been going about fixing my back the wrong way. What he needed to do was just bend me over completely backwards with a knee in my back, and then pull with all his might.
So anyway, last night we pulled out of the driveway and drove the bus across town to where I work and spent the night parked alongside the building. The nice this is that I have the combination to go in the building, so I was able to run an extension cord inside and hook us up to power, and since we are parked right next to my office, we are able to get wi-fi coming from computer. So we had a nice relaxing evening snacking on pizza and watching Netflix on my 46" TV which is sitting on a dresser at the end of our bed. It actually kinda felt like we were in a movie theater ... but with comfortable seating.
This morning I tore down the walls of my pride and took my boss and the owner aside and asked for permission to park next to the building until we can find a more permanent place to make this our home, and I was greatly relieved and more than a little overjoyed when they said it would be fine, and asked if there was anything else they could do to help.
There are many things I don't like about Boise, and about working at a job that keeps me stuck in front of a computer all day long and rarely ever seeing the sun, but my bosses are NOT one of those things. They are truly compassionate people who are always willing to lend a hand, and I'm not even sure why I was hesitant to ask them, as I knew what kind of people they were. Too often I let my own pride get in the way of doing the things I need to do. I really want to try to not be that way as we go off into the future into our new life, and to be joyful and thankful of those that help us along the way.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Anxiety level
I don't usually get anxious about most things. I feel like I am a fairly grounded person and things in life have always worked out for me where I have always had a roof over my head, food to eat, a bug-free place to sleep in comfort, and a warm shower to make me feel clean and healthy.
Then again, I have never set out to put myself in a position of homelessness.
The thought of NOT having a home to come to after work where I can relax and play some video games and maybe watch some tube, and cook dinner on a functional stove, is sending my anxiety level skyrocketing today.
I freely admit, I am really scared about our decision, and if I was a praying sort of person I would be so inclined right now, but seeing as I have usually only prayed to the gods of fishing and sex, I'm pretty sure the other ones know I have been ignoring them for years, so I am sure they are up there looking down on me and having a riotous good laugh at my expense right now. Do you think there is a god of homelessness?
Then again, I have never set out to put myself in a position of homelessness.
The thought of NOT having a home to come to after work where I can relax and play some video games and maybe watch some tube, and cook dinner on a functional stove, is sending my anxiety level skyrocketing today.
I freely admit, I am really scared about our decision, and if I was a praying sort of person I would be so inclined right now, but seeing as I have usually only prayed to the gods of fishing and sex, I'm pretty sure the other ones know I have been ignoring them for years, so I am sure they are up there looking down on me and having a riotous good laugh at my expense right now. Do you think there is a god of homelessness?
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Moving stuff, then moving it again
So with the clock quickly ticking down on the time we are in a "normal" living abode, we packed almost everything we owned in an enclosed trailer a few days ago before we bought the bus in the anticipation of moving out to some friends property in Mountain Home, Idaho. Turns out our friends boyfriend who owns the property has very little sense of humor and borders on being a psycho ... so we passed.
Now that we have the bus we have had to rethink where we want our possessions, which means that this evening I had to tear into the already stored stuff in the trailer and pull out the items that we immediately want in the bus. Of course, as it turns out, everything we wanted was clear at the fucking front of the trailer, so we pretty much unloaded the whole damn thing, to get to a few items. Tomorrow I may think about repacking the trailer.
On a plus note, I sweated my ass off, so I consider that my workout for the day, and I drank a liter of water, so yeah, there's that too! I may have undone all that hard work and water drinking by slamming a beer though. Oh well, we only live once, unless you subscribe to Buddhism, then you might make it around this clock a few times. I kinda do subscribe to that chain of thinking, so take that for what you will.
Anyway, one of my major worries right now is that we have no place to park our bus while we work on it and make it a home. Mainly I am worried about our dog and cat and how hot they may get during the day when we are at work. In fact, I am incredibly worried about that more than anything else, and so far I have no answer.
With that weighing heavily on my mind, I decided to throw it out there to the universe and see if it came back at me with a resounding slap in the face or a tickle of the balls. I decided to write a craigslist ad (I know, only serial killers use craigslist, but I'm kinda desperate).
Here is the ad I wrote:
I've already had the universe start responding. A very nice cross dresser said she has some friends with property just 20 minutes down the road and she is going to talk to them. They need help with bills, and as it just happens we have the money to help, and they have the land for us to live on. We will see tomorrow if this is going to be a viable thing or not.
For tonight, I think I shall go take a shower and hit the sack.
Now that we have the bus we have had to rethink where we want our possessions, which means that this evening I had to tear into the already stored stuff in the trailer and pull out the items that we immediately want in the bus. Of course, as it turns out, everything we wanted was clear at the fucking front of the trailer, so we pretty much unloaded the whole damn thing, to get to a few items. Tomorrow I may think about repacking the trailer.
On a plus note, I sweated my ass off, so I consider that my workout for the day, and I drank a liter of water, so yeah, there's that too! I may have undone all that hard work and water drinking by slamming a beer though. Oh well, we only live once, unless you subscribe to Buddhism, then you might make it around this clock a few times. I kinda do subscribe to that chain of thinking, so take that for what you will.
Anyway, one of my major worries right now is that we have no place to park our bus while we work on it and make it a home. Mainly I am worried about our dog and cat and how hot they may get during the day when we are at work. In fact, I am incredibly worried about that more than anything else, and so far I have no answer.
With that weighing heavily on my mind, I decided to throw it out there to the universe and see if it came back at me with a resounding slap in the face or a tickle of the balls. I decided to write a craigslist ad (I know, only serial killers use craigslist, but I'm kinda desperate).
Here is the ad I wrote:
Hey there awesome people!!! Don't let the $300 discourage you, that is what we would "like" to pay, but we are willing to bargain and work out a deal!
OK, so here is the deal. My fabulous wife and I are looking for a place to park/live and remodel our new-to-us school bus into an RV/Home. That's right, you cool cats, we have a "Skoolie" and we intend to make this our forever home!
Sounds crazy right? Sure, it might be, but it's our dream to make this into something incredibly awesome that we will be proud to show off to our family, friends and complete strangers.
About now you are probably thinking "Oh crap, damn hippies!" The thing is you are only partially right! My wife has that whole hippie thing going on where she sees the good in everyone, and she loves to garden (in fact is still working on her degree in botany/therapy) and she is just one of those lovely people that everyone loves to hang out with and is like everyone's mom ... that cusses enough to make a sailor blush! On the other hand is me, the shaved head dude with the long goatee and horn rim glasses looking almost like an old hipster. I do photography for fun and have a steady job as a graphic designer (been doing it for almost 20 years now ... shit that seems like a long time!) who loves to drink his micro brews and play video games when I have the time, which I won't for a while since we are going to be poring our blood, sweat and tears into making this bus our home.
Oh, just to make things perfectly clear WE ARE NOT VEGANS. Nope, I likes me a good fricken steak, and it better be bloody rare! And BACON!! OMG, I love bacon. That shit is gonna kill me one of these days, but it's a hella way to go, right? Did I mention my wife is a kickass cook! Hells yeah! That woman can make a gourmet meal outta scraps and if you live anywhere close you are gonna be drooling and invite yourself over to eat with us as often as possible ... and you know you are totally welcome at our table anytime! Warning though, she starts most dishes with a healthy amount of garlic, so if you're a night crawling vampire with your fangs out, you may have to pass on her cooking!
Along with us comes 100 pounds of furry love in the form of an Anatolian Shepherd (think cross between a St. Bernard and a German Shepherd) who has instilled in her from generations of breeding to protect sheep from wolves. She doesn't like other dogs much until they have submitted to her will, not that she would actually attack them, but she has a 98 decibel bark that is scary as fricken hell. I know, because when she has to go outside to go pee, she gets right in my face and it looks like a hell hound is going to rip my face off ... luckily I know she loves me and wouldn't actually ever hurt anything, hell she ignores the squirrels on the fence throwing acorns at her, and she thinks our cat is one of her sheep that she has to protect. For that matter, I'm pretty sure she thinks we are sheep, and her job is to make sure no wolves (dogs) are able to get within 10 feet of us. But you know what, she is gonna be our security system when we finally say "screw it all" and hit the road. Pretty sure we will never have to worry about anyone getting close with how loud her bark is. What we should worry about is if we are going to be able to keep our hearing in tact when she decides to use that voice inside the bus! Speaking of which, if you happen to have a construction site and you want overnight security and don't mind us working on our bus ... well the three of us would be a fricken bargain! We would be ecstatic to exchange security service for a place to park for a few months while you build around us!
By now, if you are still here, you are asking yourself "what can I do to help out these awesome fricken people?" Well let me tell you brother and sister, what we are looking for is a little bit of land to put our bus on (And that big ol' bastard runs! She ain't just gonna sit there forever, because we won't be able to sit still for long) and maybe share in your power and water until we can get our solar system paid for and installed, and the bus looking like an awesome 300 sq ft tiny home on wheels! For a short time we will need just a little extra space for a P.O.S. broken down RV we are going to buy and straight out strip the parts from, and then that piece of shit is gonna go to the scrap yard. But trust me, I'm gonna get this done as quickly as possible so that no is put out by that eyesore for very long. I may be an artist, but I'm an artist with a work ethic that knows how to get shit done.
Now we are looking to be as close to Boise/Garden City as possible because, you know, that's where I go to put in my time and get those almighty useful green pieces of paper that I am going to use to pay you for letting us park at your place and share your water and electricity! The closer we live to work, the less I will have to pay on gas to get back and forth to work, and the more I can afford to pay you!
Now that you have decided that you are already in love with us, and you can't imagine your life without us in it, give us a jingle, write us a text or an email, or simply speak to the wind and hope we are on the same wave length of spiritual awareness (the last one is not nearly as reliable a form as communication as one would hope) and lets talk, have a drink together (tea works fine too) and discuss the details!
Thank you, namaste, gracious, Go raibh maith agat, etc. etc. etc ...
Alf & Candy
seven0four nineteen sixty seven
obligatory hashtags
#property, #schoolbus, #wegotcash, #renttous
I've already had the universe start responding. A very nice cross dresser said she has some friends with property just 20 minutes down the road and she is going to talk to them. They need help with bills, and as it just happens we have the money to help, and they have the land for us to live on. We will see tomorrow if this is going to be a viable thing or not.
For tonight, I think I shall go take a shower and hit the sack.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
The Crazy Bus
Desperate times, call for desperate measures.
So, here's the deal. A few short weeks ago our landlord found out that we were subletting a room to a friend and told us this violated our lease (one of those things I never bothered to read) and told us we had to get out. In essence, and reality, we were evicted from our house. Well, our credit score sucks ass as we are both in monetary recovery from crap our exes pulled, so our credit score combined with an eviction has made it so no one will now rent to us, plus we have a dog and cat so a bunch of places won't rent to us because of them. And we can't buy because no one will loan us the money. So what are you supposed to do in that situation? Especially when it is coming down to the wire and you only have less than one week before you have to be out of your place?
You get fucking creative is what you do.
We have talked since we first met about tiny home living, you know, getting rid of all the crap in our lives and living on just what we need and WANT to have in our lives. Well, we weren't exactly ready to beyond the talking and planning stage yet, but this circumstance has become a catalyst for getting our asses in gear ... and in this case the gear comes with a 454 Cummins Diesel, that purrs like a fucking lion who is pissed off.
I'm not really a praying kind of person, if I chose to pray to anyone it would be the gods of fishing and sex (Try not to pray to wrong god at the wrong time), but my lovely lady is the praying kind, and she put it out there for the universe to provide us with something in our time of desperate need ... and apparently the universe listened!
We found this already started bus conversion that someone needed to sell because they had to leave for the other side of the country because of a death in the family. We were able to pick up this smooth running 1991 Ford B7000 school bus for a whopping $1,280 (including tax and title).
Now the plan is to find a non-running RV on craigslist that has other things that work, like a generator, fridge, stove, plumbing and other stuff. I saw one today for $600 that everything works except the engine, and I think I can get it for $400, which is more than we would pay for just a generator by itself. Hopefully it will be there next payday.
Then the real work begins.
Friday, August 21, 2015
Feel like crying
Why is it that whenever I feel the need to ask my family for money that it drives me into serious depression? It's not like I ask all that often ... like once every 10 years. And it's not like they ever have loaned me much to begin with. I remember borrowing $300 from one of my brothers about 20 years ago to get back to California from Montana and I paid him as soon as I got home to Cali.
I guess one of the reasons it makes me feel so bad is because it makes me feel like such a damn failure that I have to resort to begging. It's purely my pride bringing me down, or lack of said pride.
Another reason is because I have never really felt a part of my family. As many of you know, my grandparents adopted me and raised me as one of their own, but the fact of the matter is that most of my "brothers" only see me as the son of the sister that none of them liked because she was an alcoholic and a drug abuser, and it doesn't matter how hard I fight as a vocal advocate against drug and alcohol abuse that I can't seem lift that stigma of being born from one. Well, at least in the eyes of my brothers.
So to go begging for money from these guys who have never really considered me one of their own, is even harder than asking complete strangers on the street, I think. It just reinforces that I am not good enough in their eyes to make it on my own. At least this is what runs through my head when I have to do something as demeaning as asking them for money.
The thing is, if they would have truly accepted me as one of their own when I was younger and helped me out as much as they helped each other out, then I wouldn't be in the boat I am in today. They seem to have short memories and don't remember that they all got their start with the help of either our dad, who loaned them money when they needed, or from one of the older brothers. Unfortunately dad wasn't around to give me as much support as he gave them, and since they don't really see me as a "true" brother, I have never really had the support from them.
I try so hard everyday to make it in this world that I am woefully unfit to compete in, and the struggle just seems to get harder and harder, and the only support I have is emotional support (which don't get me wrong, is fabulous to have), from my wife and kids and a few friends, but when it comes down to financial matters, I suck at them no matter how hard I try, and I have no one that can, or is willing, to help me figure out this part of my life. I've been purely making shit up as I go along and I just can't seem to get it right.
I am a failure.
I guess one of the reasons it makes me feel so bad is because it makes me feel like such a damn failure that I have to resort to begging. It's purely my pride bringing me down, or lack of said pride.
Another reason is because I have never really felt a part of my family. As many of you know, my grandparents adopted me and raised me as one of their own, but the fact of the matter is that most of my "brothers" only see me as the son of the sister that none of them liked because she was an alcoholic and a drug abuser, and it doesn't matter how hard I fight as a vocal advocate against drug and alcohol abuse that I can't seem lift that stigma of being born from one. Well, at least in the eyes of my brothers.
So to go begging for money from these guys who have never really considered me one of their own, is even harder than asking complete strangers on the street, I think. It just reinforces that I am not good enough in their eyes to make it on my own. At least this is what runs through my head when I have to do something as demeaning as asking them for money.
The thing is, if they would have truly accepted me as one of their own when I was younger and helped me out as much as they helped each other out, then I wouldn't be in the boat I am in today. They seem to have short memories and don't remember that they all got their start with the help of either our dad, who loaned them money when they needed, or from one of the older brothers. Unfortunately dad wasn't around to give me as much support as he gave them, and since they don't really see me as a "true" brother, I have never really had the support from them.
I try so hard everyday to make it in this world that I am woefully unfit to compete in, and the struggle just seems to get harder and harder, and the only support I have is emotional support (which don't get me wrong, is fabulous to have), from my wife and kids and a few friends, but when it comes down to financial matters, I suck at them no matter how hard I try, and I have no one that can, or is willing, to help me figure out this part of my life. I've been purely making shit up as I go along and I just can't seem to get it right.
I am a failure.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Indecision
Have you ever been so stressed that you mind just shuts down and you can't seem to make any important decisions, because you are afraid that your choice is going to be wrong, and you can't afford to make another wrong decision at this critical juncture?
That's how I have felt everyday for the last month.
I. Am. Afraid. To. Make. Any. Decision.
That's how I have felt everyday for the last month.
I. Am. Afraid. To. Make. Any. Decision.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Pursuing Life
Tomorrow looms ever present in my thoughts, never retracting enough to allow me to breath. Mortality crashes down upon the soul crushing me beneath its heavy burden, while I try to grasp at the tendrils of my youth that remain, however few and wispy they are, but I can’t get a handhold on their ethereal tentacles.
Regrets for things I have done, I have few. Regrets for things I have NOT done, I have many. With the days quickly closing the gap between the time I came in like a lion, a hollering and screaming at being taken out of such a safe, warm place, to the time when I endeavor to go out the same way I wonder if there is enough time to do all the things I wish to do during this existence, and I find that the answer does not elude me as much as I wish, but is hammering away at me with a stiff finger on my forehead punctuating each word with a sharp jab, and that word is the same over and over again: “No!”
There are those who need me, those who want me to succeed and those who wish I fail in complete misery and abject solitude. I go on despite them all. My bones are weary though and begging me to just let them lie still for eternity, or longer, just so they can have a respite. I can’t give in to the bones though, I can’t let them decide where my heart and head belong, because if I do then regret is the only thing I will ever know, and I can’t live or die with only that.
The knowing of that which is not wanting to be known rips and tears at my being. The rage building up inside at the shear powerlessness of knowing what the future holds in store for me is fueling a new surge that with any luck and lot of prayers to all those immortals who may or may not be watching over me will tide me over as I step off the path of normality, and with no gentle caress of my limbs on the stones of future endeavors I trample forward blindly, but with purpose and hope renewed that I can at least serve as an example of dogged determination to do what my heart and head calls.
Or die trying.
Regrets for things I have done, I have few. Regrets for things I have NOT done, I have many. With the days quickly closing the gap between the time I came in like a lion, a hollering and screaming at being taken out of such a safe, warm place, to the time when I endeavor to go out the same way I wonder if there is enough time to do all the things I wish to do during this existence, and I find that the answer does not elude me as much as I wish, but is hammering away at me with a stiff finger on my forehead punctuating each word with a sharp jab, and that word is the same over and over again: “No!”
There are those who need me, those who want me to succeed and those who wish I fail in complete misery and abject solitude. I go on despite them all. My bones are weary though and begging me to just let them lie still for eternity, or longer, just so they can have a respite. I can’t give in to the bones though, I can’t let them decide where my heart and head belong, because if I do then regret is the only thing I will ever know, and I can’t live or die with only that.
The knowing of that which is not wanting to be known rips and tears at my being. The rage building up inside at the shear powerlessness of knowing what the future holds in store for me is fueling a new surge that with any luck and lot of prayers to all those immortals who may or may not be watching over me will tide me over as I step off the path of normality, and with no gentle caress of my limbs on the stones of future endeavors I trample forward blindly, but with purpose and hope renewed that I can at least serve as an example of dogged determination to do what my heart and head calls.
Or die trying.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Test for twitter
This is a test, just a test. Had this been a real blog you would have been informed by homing pigeon.
Getting Ready To Go Dark
So, a lot has been happening recently, such as we are getting evicted from the house that we have lived in for the past year and a half.
This is a good thing though!
The wife and I have been talking for years about how we would like to live in a tiny home, or live on the road full time, and now the time for talking is almost done and we are going to make it happen. Being evicted is just going to be the catalyst that gets our asses out of the talking sphere into the actual doing it.
The reason for the eviction is because my landlord finally found out that we have been subletting a room in our house illegally to a friend (brother) and it's no fault of the landlord that this situation happened. I totally blame myself. I'm just too nice sometimes and it gets me in trouble, but then again I'd rather be the kind of person that takes care of his friends and ends up homeless than a jerk who doesn't care about anyone. So it's all cool as far as I am concerned.
My buddy felt so bad about this happening because of him that he dropped $500 extra into my lap on the way out, which is going to help a considerable amount toward our new adventure! See, this is why I take care of my friends, because it all comes back around eventually.
OK, so the plan!
We are currently in the process of selling off all the furniture and larger items in our house, so that we can combine it with the $1,300 we have to our name and eventually buy a motorhome to live in. We are just so sick of living in a ticky-tacky house, paying rent to live a ticky-tacky existence and for what? So we can live from paycheck to paycheck just barely surviving and hating every single day that we wake up, in a place we don't want to live? Fuck that. Done with it.
A couple of friends of ours have a trailer that they are going to let us live in for a couple of months while we save up money for our new rolling home, and if things work out it looks like they are buying a new house about a 1/2 hour outside of town, and they have said that if the deal goes through, we can set up the trailer on the property and live there for a couple of months, which would put us into late October or early November before we need to get our RV.
During the time we live in the trailer I have a couple of things to fix on the Mini Cooper and then I can sell it and get out from under the monthly car payment for it. At the same time we need to find a tow system for the Jeep Wrangler so we can tow it behind whatever RV we end up with. The tricky part is that neither one of us is willing to give up our 300 pound cast iron bathtub. The solution I have devised is to weld a platform on the back end of the RV that can hold the tub, but I have to make it strong enough to hold it AND the water we fill it with AND the weight of a person in the water. Could be tricky, but I think it can be done, and that we can do it and have a tow bar that extends behind that to tow the Jeep. We'll see once we buy an RV.
The other fun thing is that we have a 100 pound Anatolian Shepard (think St. Bernard and you will be close) who is going to have to live in the RV with us AND a cat! Not too worried about the dog running away because she gets separation anxiety if I leave the room. The cat on the other hand loves being outside and only really comes in when he hears food being prepared. Cats!
OK, on top of all that we want to outfit our RV with Solar panels and charging system. I've priced it and we should be able to get all the power we need in a 500 watt system for around $800-$900, which in the long run will save us a fortune and we will be able to stay off the grid for longer amounts of time.
The thing I'm most worried about is being able to get internet. I know we can sometimes be able to hit places that have free wi-fi, but that will be few and far between. I'm considering getting an unlimited data plan with my phone and the plan that turns my phone into a hot spot. Not sure how much that is going to cost yet, but I'm thinking somewhere close to an extra $100 a month, which would be really cutting it tight when we are living on the road and not knowing where our next paycheck is coming from. So yeah, that could be a problem in the long run.
As for work on the road, well I'm hoping to be able to sell some of my photography, and write freelance articles for magazines, newspapers, or whoever will shell out a few coins for my measly ability to put two words together in an almost cohesive sentence. My wife is the one that has more marketable skills when it comes to living on the road, even though she thinks she will be the one holding us back. She isn't afraid to do any kind of work and loves to grow things, which I think will get us in with the hippy communities and we should never have to worry about where our next meal is coming from. The things we will need money for (gas, internet, fixing things that break) will be more my area of the partnership.
The thought of all this is scary as hell, but at the same time I'm so fucking excited I can't wait to get started. I think it will be a harder life than either of us has ever known, and I'm not deluded enough to think that it's going to be all roses and easy days, but I think we will both be healthier than we are now and SOOOO much happier. I do know that if I don't get out from sitting behind this computer all day I am just going to waste away to nothing. I can feel my body slowly dying as I sit here and feel like rigamortis is already setting in, and I need to do something .... ANYTHING ... to bring life back into myself.
So, here we go. Wish us well and we hope to see you when we are out on the road!
This is a good thing though!
The wife and I have been talking for years about how we would like to live in a tiny home, or live on the road full time, and now the time for talking is almost done and we are going to make it happen. Being evicted is just going to be the catalyst that gets our asses out of the talking sphere into the actual doing it.
The reason for the eviction is because my landlord finally found out that we have been subletting a room in our house illegally to a friend (brother) and it's no fault of the landlord that this situation happened. I totally blame myself. I'm just too nice sometimes and it gets me in trouble, but then again I'd rather be the kind of person that takes care of his friends and ends up homeless than a jerk who doesn't care about anyone. So it's all cool as far as I am concerned.
My buddy felt so bad about this happening because of him that he dropped $500 extra into my lap on the way out, which is going to help a considerable amount toward our new adventure! See, this is why I take care of my friends, because it all comes back around eventually.
OK, so the plan!
We are currently in the process of selling off all the furniture and larger items in our house, so that we can combine it with the $1,300 we have to our name and eventually buy a motorhome to live in. We are just so sick of living in a ticky-tacky house, paying rent to live a ticky-tacky existence and for what? So we can live from paycheck to paycheck just barely surviving and hating every single day that we wake up, in a place we don't want to live? Fuck that. Done with it.
A couple of friends of ours have a trailer that they are going to let us live in for a couple of months while we save up money for our new rolling home, and if things work out it looks like they are buying a new house about a 1/2 hour outside of town, and they have said that if the deal goes through, we can set up the trailer on the property and live there for a couple of months, which would put us into late October or early November before we need to get our RV.
During the time we live in the trailer I have a couple of things to fix on the Mini Cooper and then I can sell it and get out from under the monthly car payment for it. At the same time we need to find a tow system for the Jeep Wrangler so we can tow it behind whatever RV we end up with. The tricky part is that neither one of us is willing to give up our 300 pound cast iron bathtub. The solution I have devised is to weld a platform on the back end of the RV that can hold the tub, but I have to make it strong enough to hold it AND the water we fill it with AND the weight of a person in the water. Could be tricky, but I think it can be done, and that we can do it and have a tow bar that extends behind that to tow the Jeep. We'll see once we buy an RV.
The other fun thing is that we have a 100 pound Anatolian Shepard (think St. Bernard and you will be close) who is going to have to live in the RV with us AND a cat! Not too worried about the dog running away because she gets separation anxiety if I leave the room. The cat on the other hand loves being outside and only really comes in when he hears food being prepared. Cats!
OK, on top of all that we want to outfit our RV with Solar panels and charging system. I've priced it and we should be able to get all the power we need in a 500 watt system for around $800-$900, which in the long run will save us a fortune and we will be able to stay off the grid for longer amounts of time.
The thing I'm most worried about is being able to get internet. I know we can sometimes be able to hit places that have free wi-fi, but that will be few and far between. I'm considering getting an unlimited data plan with my phone and the plan that turns my phone into a hot spot. Not sure how much that is going to cost yet, but I'm thinking somewhere close to an extra $100 a month, which would be really cutting it tight when we are living on the road and not knowing where our next paycheck is coming from. So yeah, that could be a problem in the long run.
As for work on the road, well I'm hoping to be able to sell some of my photography, and write freelance articles for magazines, newspapers, or whoever will shell out a few coins for my measly ability to put two words together in an almost cohesive sentence. My wife is the one that has more marketable skills when it comes to living on the road, even though she thinks she will be the one holding us back. She isn't afraid to do any kind of work and loves to grow things, which I think will get us in with the hippy communities and we should never have to worry about where our next meal is coming from. The things we will need money for (gas, internet, fixing things that break) will be more my area of the partnership.
The thought of all this is scary as hell, but at the same time I'm so fucking excited I can't wait to get started. I think it will be a harder life than either of us has ever known, and I'm not deluded enough to think that it's going to be all roses and easy days, but I think we will both be healthier than we are now and SOOOO much happier. I do know that if I don't get out from sitting behind this computer all day I am just going to waste away to nothing. I can feel my body slowly dying as I sit here and feel like rigamortis is already setting in, and I need to do something .... ANYTHING ... to bring life back into myself.
So, here we go. Wish us well and we hope to see you when we are out on the road!
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Dad
I have never really subscribed to Hallmark holidays like father’s day that were created to sell greeting cards. For me each and everyday is a day to celebrate those that you love. I don’t need or want a day set aside that I am required by other’s to buy gifts, cards or to celebrate. Instead I would prefer to just remember or be remembered randomly throughout the year.
One of the reasons this is instilled into my very core of beliefs is that I once bought my father a gift for father’s day that was a wood plague that had some inspirational quote on it and a picture of a man fly fishing. My step mother at the time berated me for buying such a useless gift and made me return it. It goes without saying that I never really got along with her, but her lesson is still ingrained in me today, and I learned to hate most holidays because of her. Thanks bitch.
Now having said that, all the people here talking about their father’s has caused me to reminisce about my own dad and the love and joy that he raised me with.
He wasn’t my biological father, but rather my grandfather who legally adopted me, took me in and raised me as one of his own. Something he didn’t have to do, but something I am eternally grateful for, because I have met my biological mother (his daughter) and I can only surmise the life I would have been subjected to had she been allowed to raise me. Let’s just suffice it to say my life would have most likely ended down a completely different path filled with misery. Instead, this man who wasn’t required to raise me took me in and gave me a foundation for life that truly made a difference.
Conrad Keith Francis, my dad, was born in 1923, the youngest of six children, in fact way younger than his other brother’s and sisters. All of his sisters were born before 1900 and his brothers were born after 1900 with the closest brother to his age being 10 years older than he was. Which is a remarkable coincidence to the life I was raised. The closest of my adopted brothers to my age was eight years older than me, with the rest ranging up to 19 years older than me. Which should be expected since my grandfather adopted me. It is my belief that my dad was also adopted by his grandparents, although I have no proof of this and no one is around anymore who could bear witness to this.
OK, look at it this way: Dad was born in 1923, his 3 older sisters were at a minimum 24 years older than he was. If my dads mother started having children when she was 15 then based on the fact that she had 3 daughters before 1900 then the youngest she could have been when my dad was born was 41 years old (+ or - a couple of years), which basically was unheard of back in those days. It’s actually a pretty rare occurrence even now, not unheard of, but still rare, and we have a ton more of medical advances in the last 100 years.
This is something that has been running through my mind for years. I believe that my dad is more alike to me than anyone else ever considered, and because of that similarities in our lives (both adopted and raised by our grandparents) he treated me far different than he did any of my brothers.
Now we all have heard stories about the men and women who grew up and went off to war in the 1940’s and what a tough life they had. Well, I don’t believe that my dad has as tough a life as a lot of the other men of his day, or if he did, he didn’t let it decide who he was going to be.
When dad joined the Navy he already had three older brothers who were in the military, two in the Army and the third I have no idea what branch he was in, I have just always been led to believe that all three of his brothers were already in the military. I have also heard multiple stories about their time in the military and wish they were still around so that I could interview them. The stories go that Uncle Bill was one of the special forces members that trained in Colorado on skis along with the same guys who came back after WWII and started up such ski resorts as Vale and Aspen. It is said that he spent his time as a Special Forces medic in the Alps, racing down the mountain on skis with wounded soldiers strapped to a basket that he straddled. How true this was, I don’t know, but these are family stories passed from one generation to the next. My Uncle Walt is reputed to have been one of the glider pilots that flew behind enemy lines on D-Day while having to sit on his flak jacket to avoid being shot from the german soldiers shooting up into the night sky hoping to randomly hit one of the gliders. Again, no idea if this is true or not.
My dad on the other hand joined the Navy and it is thought that this was right after the Sullivan Brothers were all killed on the same ship, so the military now had a policy that if all of the male members of a family were in a war zone then the youngest was either excluded from military service, or kept out of actual combat. Which is why I think my father was stationed in the Alaska frontier. Dad often told stories about his time being stationed there at a remote outpost, the most common being that his job was to go out and hunt and fish and bring back food for their small unit. Which makes sense. Dad was from Idaho and was no stranger to hunting and fishing, and in fact was an avid fly fisherman his who life, a trait that my brothers and I all share from him. There are many times that I remember dad lamenting about how he should have never left the military, because he loved his assignment in Alaska so much.
After the war my dad went back to Idaho where he was a bartender for a short time in Council, Idaho. He met my mom who was a waitress at the diner across the street and fell completely in love.
Just to jump off track for a moment, my biological mom has claimed that after dad’s death she found a divorce decree in his belongings to a woman that none of us ever heard of at a time before he met mom. Anyway, just a curiosity and a question none of us will ever have answered.
Back on track.
From Council dad and his new wife spent a few years in the Idaho backcountry working at Stibnite mine as a machinist. Oh the stories he used to tell of his time living there, but each one of those is a writing in itself, so I will spare you the details here. During their time here mom gave birth to my two oldest brothers and oldest sister.
Somehow dad and mom went from there to living in Southern California and dad went to work for Lockheed. I never heard the details of what prompted them to move, but I suspect that it was because mom loved the desert and hated the snow, and dad loved mom and would do anything to make her happy. I know he hated the desert and the heat and always wanted to move back to Idaho. The next four brothers were born down here, I believe.
Dad was a harsh father to my brothers. He ruled a very strict household and wasn’t afraid to use a belt, nor was he remiss about using a swift backhand to knock someone in their place when they were talking out of turn at the dinner table. Or at least those are the stories that I hear from my older brothers. I do know he was especially hard on my oldest brother, and that brother still harbors resentment toward dad to this day.
In contrast, my life with dad was completely different than their experience. Dad rarely used a belt on me and I could see in his eyes how much it pained him to have to use a belt on me at all. To be honest the belt never really hurt me, it was the knowing that I had disappointed dad that hurt me more. Maybe it was because in his heart he knew I was his grandson, and he couldn’t bear to hurt me … or, the more logical answer was that my older brothers had put him through so much of the wringer of life before I came along that he had just given up and realized that young men are going to be young men and it doesn’t matter how much punishment you deal out, they are still going to do stupid things.
When I was older and nearly out of my teenage years I came to think of my dad less as a father, and more as a best friend. There were many things I never told dad about my life, and now I wish I had, because I know he wouldn’t have judged me. He would have understood and offered me up some cool advice or just given me a look that let me know what an idiot I had been.
When I finally became a father myself, my dad was always there for me and taught me good lessons on what a father should be, the main one was “just be there for them.” A lesson I have strived to do myself. I often wish that he had been able to be there for me just a little longer as I endeavored to raise my own small family, but cancer took him from us in 1994, not long after my second child was born.
I fondly remember getting to spend the last few days of his life with him as he laid in the hospital bed and his life slowly eroding away. He and I had some great laughs as he recalled stories and told anecdotes about his life, but his last piece of advice to me was one I will never forget.
“I know your brothers treat you like you are still a little kid, I know mine treated me that way all my life, but don’t let that stop you from being your own man. They love you and mean well, but make your own place in this world.”
I love you and miss you dad. No one could ask for a better role model to raise them or a better friend to have by their side.
One of the reasons this is instilled into my very core of beliefs is that I once bought my father a gift for father’s day that was a wood plague that had some inspirational quote on it and a picture of a man fly fishing. My step mother at the time berated me for buying such a useless gift and made me return it. It goes without saying that I never really got along with her, but her lesson is still ingrained in me today, and I learned to hate most holidays because of her. Thanks bitch.
Now having said that, all the people here talking about their father’s has caused me to reminisce about my own dad and the love and joy that he raised me with.
He wasn’t my biological father, but rather my grandfather who legally adopted me, took me in and raised me as one of his own. Something he didn’t have to do, but something I am eternally grateful for, because I have met my biological mother (his daughter) and I can only surmise the life I would have been subjected to had she been allowed to raise me. Let’s just suffice it to say my life would have most likely ended down a completely different path filled with misery. Instead, this man who wasn’t required to raise me took me in and gave me a foundation for life that truly made a difference.
Conrad Keith Francis, my dad, was born in 1923, the youngest of six children, in fact way younger than his other brother’s and sisters. All of his sisters were born before 1900 and his brothers were born after 1900 with the closest brother to his age being 10 years older than he was. Which is a remarkable coincidence to the life I was raised. The closest of my adopted brothers to my age was eight years older than me, with the rest ranging up to 19 years older than me. Which should be expected since my grandfather adopted me. It is my belief that my dad was also adopted by his grandparents, although I have no proof of this and no one is around anymore who could bear witness to this.
OK, look at it this way: Dad was born in 1923, his 3 older sisters were at a minimum 24 years older than he was. If my dads mother started having children when she was 15 then based on the fact that she had 3 daughters before 1900 then the youngest she could have been when my dad was born was 41 years old (+ or - a couple of years), which basically was unheard of back in those days. It’s actually a pretty rare occurrence even now, not unheard of, but still rare, and we have a ton more of medical advances in the last 100 years.
This is something that has been running through my mind for years. I believe that my dad is more alike to me than anyone else ever considered, and because of that similarities in our lives (both adopted and raised by our grandparents) he treated me far different than he did any of my brothers.
Now we all have heard stories about the men and women who grew up and went off to war in the 1940’s and what a tough life they had. Well, I don’t believe that my dad has as tough a life as a lot of the other men of his day, or if he did, he didn’t let it decide who he was going to be.
When dad joined the Navy he already had three older brothers who were in the military, two in the Army and the third I have no idea what branch he was in, I have just always been led to believe that all three of his brothers were already in the military. I have also heard multiple stories about their time in the military and wish they were still around so that I could interview them. The stories go that Uncle Bill was one of the special forces members that trained in Colorado on skis along with the same guys who came back after WWII and started up such ski resorts as Vale and Aspen. It is said that he spent his time as a Special Forces medic in the Alps, racing down the mountain on skis with wounded soldiers strapped to a basket that he straddled. How true this was, I don’t know, but these are family stories passed from one generation to the next. My Uncle Walt is reputed to have been one of the glider pilots that flew behind enemy lines on D-Day while having to sit on his flak jacket to avoid being shot from the german soldiers shooting up into the night sky hoping to randomly hit one of the gliders. Again, no idea if this is true or not.
My dad on the other hand joined the Navy and it is thought that this was right after the Sullivan Brothers were all killed on the same ship, so the military now had a policy that if all of the male members of a family were in a war zone then the youngest was either excluded from military service, or kept out of actual combat. Which is why I think my father was stationed in the Alaska frontier. Dad often told stories about his time being stationed there at a remote outpost, the most common being that his job was to go out and hunt and fish and bring back food for their small unit. Which makes sense. Dad was from Idaho and was no stranger to hunting and fishing, and in fact was an avid fly fisherman his who life, a trait that my brothers and I all share from him. There are many times that I remember dad lamenting about how he should have never left the military, because he loved his assignment in Alaska so much.
After the war my dad went back to Idaho where he was a bartender for a short time in Council, Idaho. He met my mom who was a waitress at the diner across the street and fell completely in love.
Just to jump off track for a moment, my biological mom has claimed that after dad’s death she found a divorce decree in his belongings to a woman that none of us ever heard of at a time before he met mom. Anyway, just a curiosity and a question none of us will ever have answered.
Back on track.
From Council dad and his new wife spent a few years in the Idaho backcountry working at Stibnite mine as a machinist. Oh the stories he used to tell of his time living there, but each one of those is a writing in itself, so I will spare you the details here. During their time here mom gave birth to my two oldest brothers and oldest sister.
Somehow dad and mom went from there to living in Southern California and dad went to work for Lockheed. I never heard the details of what prompted them to move, but I suspect that it was because mom loved the desert and hated the snow, and dad loved mom and would do anything to make her happy. I know he hated the desert and the heat and always wanted to move back to Idaho. The next four brothers were born down here, I believe.
Dad was a harsh father to my brothers. He ruled a very strict household and wasn’t afraid to use a belt, nor was he remiss about using a swift backhand to knock someone in their place when they were talking out of turn at the dinner table. Or at least those are the stories that I hear from my older brothers. I do know he was especially hard on my oldest brother, and that brother still harbors resentment toward dad to this day.
In contrast, my life with dad was completely different than their experience. Dad rarely used a belt on me and I could see in his eyes how much it pained him to have to use a belt on me at all. To be honest the belt never really hurt me, it was the knowing that I had disappointed dad that hurt me more. Maybe it was because in his heart he knew I was his grandson, and he couldn’t bear to hurt me … or, the more logical answer was that my older brothers had put him through so much of the wringer of life before I came along that he had just given up and realized that young men are going to be young men and it doesn’t matter how much punishment you deal out, they are still going to do stupid things.
When I was older and nearly out of my teenage years I came to think of my dad less as a father, and more as a best friend. There were many things I never told dad about my life, and now I wish I had, because I know he wouldn’t have judged me. He would have understood and offered me up some cool advice or just given me a look that let me know what an idiot I had been.
When I finally became a father myself, my dad was always there for me and taught me good lessons on what a father should be, the main one was “just be there for them.” A lesson I have strived to do myself. I often wish that he had been able to be there for me just a little longer as I endeavored to raise my own small family, but cancer took him from us in 1994, not long after my second child was born.
I fondly remember getting to spend the last few days of his life with him as he laid in the hospital bed and his life slowly eroding away. He and I had some great laughs as he recalled stories and told anecdotes about his life, but his last piece of advice to me was one I will never forget.
“I know your brothers treat you like you are still a little kid, I know mine treated me that way all my life, but don’t let that stop you from being your own man. They love you and mean well, but make your own place in this world.”
I love you and miss you dad. No one could ask for a better role model to raise them or a better friend to have by their side.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Guess my dreams aren't quite dead yet
My last writing was very therapeutic. It allowed me to put what I have been feeling for months down on paper (well kinda). I got it out and now I feel better, like I have been carrying a heavy weight that was just dragging me further and further down into the depths of self pity.
The burden has been lifted, and with it my head has suddenly become a lot clearer.
I love my wife. I love traveling while writing stories and taking pictures. For some reason I could not see a way to combine the two without putting a serious amount of stress on her.
But now, I can kind of see a way for it to happen.
First step: Sell everything I own that is not essential for me to have. Things I can’t/won’t be carrying with me when I travel anyway.
Step two: Use the money from selling everything to buy a tadpole trike, trailer, and supplies.
Step three: Start taking small trips on the trike (which is what I always planned to do to begin with, but for some reason I got it in my head that I was skipping this step and going right to being a world traveler.)
Step four: Work my way up to longer trips, such as from here to Portland, or Seattle.
Step five: Plan a month long trip down the Pacific Coast.
Step six: Recruit sponsors using my blogs and pictures from the smaller trips to show them that sponsoring me for a national or world tour would be feasible.
Step seven: Travel the world.
In my bout of depression and pity I had completely forgotten about the preparatory trips to get myself in shape. Which could easily take me a couple of years. And of course, anything could happen during the course of a couple of years. Hell, I could die on one of the smaller trips and then wouldn’t have to worry about what’s going to come, or maybe my lovely wife would join me and either learn to love that kind of life, or realize that I am a complete nut job that she is better off without.
I also complete forgot how just the small act of writing something down has the ability to pull me from the cycle of constantly overthinking something, and now you are all screwed because I need a forum for me to express my thoughts and this is the forum I choose.
The burden has been lifted, and with it my head has suddenly become a lot clearer.
I love my wife. I love traveling while writing stories and taking pictures. For some reason I could not see a way to combine the two without putting a serious amount of stress on her.
But now, I can kind of see a way for it to happen.
First step: Sell everything I own that is not essential for me to have. Things I can’t/won’t be carrying with me when I travel anyway.
Step two: Use the money from selling everything to buy a tadpole trike, trailer, and supplies.
Step three: Start taking small trips on the trike (which is what I always planned to do to begin with, but for some reason I got it in my head that I was skipping this step and going right to being a world traveler.)
Step four: Work my way up to longer trips, such as from here to Portland, or Seattle.
Step five: Plan a month long trip down the Pacific Coast.
Step six: Recruit sponsors using my blogs and pictures from the smaller trips to show them that sponsoring me for a national or world tour would be feasible.
Step seven: Travel the world.
In my bout of depression and pity I had completely forgotten about the preparatory trips to get myself in shape. Which could easily take me a couple of years. And of course, anything could happen during the course of a couple of years. Hell, I could die on one of the smaller trips and then wouldn’t have to worry about what’s going to come, or maybe my lovely wife would join me and either learn to love that kind of life, or realize that I am a complete nut job that she is better off without.
I also complete forgot how just the small act of writing something down has the ability to pull me from the cycle of constantly overthinking something, and now you are all screwed because I need a forum for me to express my thoughts and this is the forum I choose.
Unfulfilled Dreams
We are told nearly from the time we are old enough to stand on our own two feet that we need to follow our dreams. Life is not truly fulfilling unless you are striving toward something that fills you with great joy and happiness. In fact we are told that if we aren’t striving toward our goals, then we are truly being less than human and not experiencing life to the fullest.
What happens though if the process of reaching toward our own true happiness causes another human to feel pain and anguish. Is our own personal goal truly worth another person’s unhappiness?
For many years I was in a loveless marriage because I got a girl pregnant. I had to put my own dreams on hold because I knew it was my responsibility to raise this child of mine right, because I didn’t trust her mother to know the right way. Then along came a second child, and my dreams were put further on hold.
I knew I was never cut out for the life of a regular 9-5 person, punching a clock day to day just to pay bills on stuff I never really wanted to begin with, and I promised myself that after I had raised my kids I would once again reach out into the world and strive for those goals that I once had.
See, it was always my dream to travel the world on a bike. To see everything there was to see that I possibly could. To write about it and to take pictures of it. To live.
A couple of years before my kids graduated from high school, my wife and I divorced, and this just fueled my dreams even more. I knew the time was coming close to when I could break away from the ordinary life and follow my own personal dream. I could live to be a person that I could respect. I had been a good father. I had stuck around and raised my kids with every bit of love and generosity that I could find, and I think they turned out pretty good, but now they were almost ready to go out into the world on their own, and if I never followed my dreams, how could I ever expect them to. What kind of example would I be if I never did those things I was destined to do.
Then the unexpected happened. While I was playing around during those first few years of freedom from marriage, I found my soul mate.
Honestly, she was never supposed to come along, as I never believed in the whole concept of “soul mate”. In fact, I had a hard time even believing in the concept of love, other than the love I had for my children. There it was right in front of me though, and I embraced it, and jumped right in to creating a wonderful life with this amazing woman.
Somewhere along the way, I kind of let the thoughts of my dreams and ambition take a back seat to this wonderful new love that I had found. All I cared about was finding ways to make her happy. Granted, it hasn’t always been that way, but we both try our very hardest to be there for each other. (If I was being honest with myself, I know she is there even more than I am.)
A couple of years have passed and we have been living in pretty much bliss for the most part … until recently.
I have been extremely unhappy for several months now, and it is getting worse. For the longest time I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, I was just angry for no reason, and coming to hate my life a little bit more each day. At first I blamed it on having to move 400 miles away from my kids to a city I have never really liked. Then I blamed it on the people in the city who can’t seem to accept me and my eccentricities. I blamed it on my job. I blamed it on the heat. I blamed it on the cold. Finally I came to the realization that it was none of these things.
The thing that is making me unhappy is me feeling stuck and not following my dreams.
Now my wife is the most supportive person in the world, and I know she would do whatever she could to make my dreams come true, much as I would for her, but the dream that I have requires things that I don’t think she can either do, or handle.
See, I plan on being on the road until the road stops, then finding another road and going down that one until it stops. And so on, and so on. My dream entails being out on the road for an endless amount of time, braving the elements, nature and encountering other not-so-savory or honest humans. I means and unending amount of nights sleeping in a tent, and maybe not showering for days or even weeks. It means sometimes having to go without a meal and having to live on the bare necessities.
My dream is not an easy life for even someone who dreams of it, let alone for someone who has never had that dream.
My heart fills with joy when I think about traveling, taking photos and writing. It is what I was born to do. I know that it is most definitely NOT the life for everyone. Hell it’s not the life for most people. Only a few people are cut out for that kind of existence, and I know I am one of those special people.
I wouldn’t wish that kind of life on my worse enemy if they didn’t choose to live it, let alone wish it on someone I love almost more than life itself.
The thing is, for me to live that kind of life, I would have to quit my job and sell pretty much everything I own just to buy the supplies I need for a few months. It would take a bunch of luck and perseverance to find a corporate sponsor or many individual sponsors to keep me on the road for any length of time.
I keep asking myself how can I make something like this work. How can I sell everything I own and still be able to find a way to take care of my soul mate?
Would she be able to handle that kind of life, riding a bicycle next to me as we travel sometimes 5 miles in a single day, or maybe 100 miles on a VERY good day. Living in a tent every night, pumping bicycle pedals all day. Could she live on MREs or what food I am able to forage and hunt for? Could she seriously go without a bath for a couple of weeks at a time.
My answer is: No, I don’t think she could.
So the next question I have to ask myself is: Can I make enough money through sponsorships to keep her bills paid so that she can live comfortably while I am on the road?
The answer: I seriously doubt it.
So if I can’t take her with me, and I can’t afford to pay her bills when I am gone, then what am I left with?
That is my quandary.
So each day I go over my possibilities and come to the same conclusions. I can’t leave and I’m unhappy staying. Each day I die just a little more inside as my dreams drift a little further and further out of my reach. Each day my body gets just a little bit softer because I am too depressed about the future and can’t bring myself to move off the couch to do anything about it.
When I am alone, all by myself, I can feel the tears running down my cheeks because I am too afraid to follow my dreams, because my dreams will cause another person to be hurt if I do follow them.
Each night I go to bed praying that I don’t wake up and have to face another day of this pointless existence of going to work just to pay for bills for things that I could care less to have. Each day I get just a little more angry and resentful of everything. Pretty soon I will no longer be the guy that she fell in love with, I will just be a shell of the man I once was, a shell filled with anger and unfulfilled dreams.
How is a person supposed to follow their dreams when their dream will cause another person to be unhappy?
What happens though if the process of reaching toward our own true happiness causes another human to feel pain and anguish. Is our own personal goal truly worth another person’s unhappiness?
For many years I was in a loveless marriage because I got a girl pregnant. I had to put my own dreams on hold because I knew it was my responsibility to raise this child of mine right, because I didn’t trust her mother to know the right way. Then along came a second child, and my dreams were put further on hold.
I knew I was never cut out for the life of a regular 9-5 person, punching a clock day to day just to pay bills on stuff I never really wanted to begin with, and I promised myself that after I had raised my kids I would once again reach out into the world and strive for those goals that I once had.
See, it was always my dream to travel the world on a bike. To see everything there was to see that I possibly could. To write about it and to take pictures of it. To live.
A couple of years before my kids graduated from high school, my wife and I divorced, and this just fueled my dreams even more. I knew the time was coming close to when I could break away from the ordinary life and follow my own personal dream. I could live to be a person that I could respect. I had been a good father. I had stuck around and raised my kids with every bit of love and generosity that I could find, and I think they turned out pretty good, but now they were almost ready to go out into the world on their own, and if I never followed my dreams, how could I ever expect them to. What kind of example would I be if I never did those things I was destined to do.
Then the unexpected happened. While I was playing around during those first few years of freedom from marriage, I found my soul mate.
Honestly, she was never supposed to come along, as I never believed in the whole concept of “soul mate”. In fact, I had a hard time even believing in the concept of love, other than the love I had for my children. There it was right in front of me though, and I embraced it, and jumped right in to creating a wonderful life with this amazing woman.
Somewhere along the way, I kind of let the thoughts of my dreams and ambition take a back seat to this wonderful new love that I had found. All I cared about was finding ways to make her happy. Granted, it hasn’t always been that way, but we both try our very hardest to be there for each other. (If I was being honest with myself, I know she is there even more than I am.)
A couple of years have passed and we have been living in pretty much bliss for the most part … until recently.
I have been extremely unhappy for several months now, and it is getting worse. For the longest time I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me, I was just angry for no reason, and coming to hate my life a little bit more each day. At first I blamed it on having to move 400 miles away from my kids to a city I have never really liked. Then I blamed it on the people in the city who can’t seem to accept me and my eccentricities. I blamed it on my job. I blamed it on the heat. I blamed it on the cold. Finally I came to the realization that it was none of these things.
The thing that is making me unhappy is me feeling stuck and not following my dreams.
Now my wife is the most supportive person in the world, and I know she would do whatever she could to make my dreams come true, much as I would for her, but the dream that I have requires things that I don’t think she can either do, or handle.
See, I plan on being on the road until the road stops, then finding another road and going down that one until it stops. And so on, and so on. My dream entails being out on the road for an endless amount of time, braving the elements, nature and encountering other not-so-savory or honest humans. I means and unending amount of nights sleeping in a tent, and maybe not showering for days or even weeks. It means sometimes having to go without a meal and having to live on the bare necessities.
My dream is not an easy life for even someone who dreams of it, let alone for someone who has never had that dream.
My heart fills with joy when I think about traveling, taking photos and writing. It is what I was born to do. I know that it is most definitely NOT the life for everyone. Hell it’s not the life for most people. Only a few people are cut out for that kind of existence, and I know I am one of those special people.
I wouldn’t wish that kind of life on my worse enemy if they didn’t choose to live it, let alone wish it on someone I love almost more than life itself.
The thing is, for me to live that kind of life, I would have to quit my job and sell pretty much everything I own just to buy the supplies I need for a few months. It would take a bunch of luck and perseverance to find a corporate sponsor or many individual sponsors to keep me on the road for any length of time.
I keep asking myself how can I make something like this work. How can I sell everything I own and still be able to find a way to take care of my soul mate?
Would she be able to handle that kind of life, riding a bicycle next to me as we travel sometimes 5 miles in a single day, or maybe 100 miles on a VERY good day. Living in a tent every night, pumping bicycle pedals all day. Could she live on MREs or what food I am able to forage and hunt for? Could she seriously go without a bath for a couple of weeks at a time.
My answer is: No, I don’t think she could.
So the next question I have to ask myself is: Can I make enough money through sponsorships to keep her bills paid so that she can live comfortably while I am on the road?
The answer: I seriously doubt it.
So if I can’t take her with me, and I can’t afford to pay her bills when I am gone, then what am I left with?
That is my quandary.
So each day I go over my possibilities and come to the same conclusions. I can’t leave and I’m unhappy staying. Each day I die just a little more inside as my dreams drift a little further and further out of my reach. Each day my body gets just a little bit softer because I am too depressed about the future and can’t bring myself to move off the couch to do anything about it.
When I am alone, all by myself, I can feel the tears running down my cheeks because I am too afraid to follow my dreams, because my dreams will cause another person to be hurt if I do follow them.
Each night I go to bed praying that I don’t wake up and have to face another day of this pointless existence of going to work just to pay for bills for things that I could care less to have. Each day I get just a little more angry and resentful of everything. Pretty soon I will no longer be the guy that she fell in love with, I will just be a shell of the man I once was, a shell filled with anger and unfulfilled dreams.
How is a person supposed to follow their dreams when their dream will cause another person to be unhappy?
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