08/31/2017

 The mood is low.

 I'm down because I'm sick. It started with an uncontrollable coughing fit during group therapy on Tuesday and got progressively worse. The thought of staying to be seen on Tuesday had gone through my mind briefly. I should learn to listen better.

 Anyway, cold medicine works okay for about three hours then I have to take more. My head is stuffed-up and I have an unproductive cough which is very annoying.

 I was supposed to meet with Joan, my former Pod-Mom, for lunch today. We were going to go to market and get burritos from RobBurrito's. For those of you not in this area, RobBurrito's makes some of the best burritos I've had anywhere and I've been to a lot of places.

 There's even a funny story surrounding a steak fajita burrito that we laugh about every time it's mentioned. I was really looking forward to this. Having to reschedule is upsetting. I suspect I'll feel like crap for the next few days then be better by Tuesday (that's the first market day next week).

 I've been doing a great deal of reading about history, both individual and history of civilizations as a whole.

 I'm more fascinated with individual history than anything else. People are a lot more interesting than anyone realizes. All you have to do is listen. There are aspects to everyone's story that are common recurring elements.

 Ask someone if they have regrets and they will tell you they will. Any other answer would not be truthful. The common factor in regrets is that everyone has one defining regret. One thing they believe would have changed their lives had they made a different choice.

 My one big regret, ironically enough, involved another Wendy.

 Her name is Wendy McNeil. I met her when I was stationed in England in the late 1980's. The US has what is called a status of forces agreement (SOFA) that permits US service members with families to rent or purchase housing in the community.

 One of the guys in my unit rented a house in a village called St. Neots. It was about half an hour's drive from the base. Gregg would invite me over for holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas since I was single with no family.

 It was on a Thanksgiving visit that I met Wendy.

 The British refer to Thanksgiving as Thursday. It's a American holiday. I was going to Gregg's house for Thanksgiving dinner and realized when I was almost there that I forgot my cigarettes. I debated turning back but didn't have time so I stopped in a shop on the High Street in St Neots to get a pack smokes.

 Wendy was the cashier.

 When she heard my “American accent” she said she'd kill for an American Marlboro. Guess which brand I smoked? Anyway, I told her I'd bring her a pack next time I was in town. For some reason, I could not stop thinking about her so I came up with an excuse to visit Gregg and dropped in at that shop with a new pack of Marlboro's.

 So, I had an in and I asked for her number and she gave it to me.

 The first time we talked on the phone was when we realized she lived in the house that was the other half of the duplex Gregg was renting. In fact, he was renting it from Wendy's parents. Wendy was friends with Gregg's nineteen year old daughter Gina.

 And I met her purely by accident.

 The thing is, I would have met her at Christmas anyway because Wendy's parents always has a huge dinner on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas...it's a long story) and Gregg would get a real Butterball turkey for them from the commissary on base.

 I would frequently forget that everything that was common to me was foreign to them and a large number of British people think America is paradise. Or they did then, at least. So I would have run in to her at the Boxing Day dinner anyway.

 It was like we were meant to meet. I know that sound romantic and all but as far as I was concerned it was just a coincidence. Romance is another thing in my Blind Spot. I understand there are certain social conventions and mores involved in establishing a relationship. But understanding a thing and being able to do a thing are very different things.

 Yes, I can go through the motions. I know what words to use, how to behave, what order things are supposed to be in....all of that. I just never realized that someone else was getting something entirely different out of the same thing. This fact should have shown up on the empathy radar. The fact that it didn't is how I determined it's a blind-spot behavior.

 That is to say, I can understand something just fine without understanding it at all.

 It's something I know about but will never be able to experience. The first time I described this to someone, they said is was sad. I don't feel sad about it because you just can't miss something you never had.

 So, my primary regret.

 The one big thing in my life that I believed if I could have a do-over would have completely changed my life involved the very first Wendy in my life. For her eighteenth birthday (the age of majority in England is sixteen) Wendy, myself, another guy from my unit, and his British girlfriend all went to a nightclub.

 Wendy and I were standing at a balcony rail watching people dance below us. We were having the same discussion we always had, the big thorn in our relationship—sex. I wanted to do it a lot, Wendy didn't want to do it at all. That history is complicated and far to involved for a journal entry.

 I only remember the last part of the sentence because it was too loud to hear the first part but she'd said something about me “getting it somewhere else”. It was one of those things that is framed as a statement but is really a question.

 My regret is that I told the truth.

 For years I lived in the shadow of that moment when our relationship officially ended. I believed that had I chosen to lie, just that once, things would have been better. We would have stayed together, gotten married, she would become an Air Force wife.

 Unlike most people in life, I actually did get that do-over.

 It was ten years later, I'd been a civilian for three years and was still going to college. This was when the internet was relatively new, all services were dial-up, there was no voice over internet at that time so people used text services that would allow people to locate each-other on a network then connect directly for a text conversation.

 I was on a service called ICQ (this comes from Ham Radio language). I just got a message one day asking if I was the Benjamin Weikert that was stationed in England ten years ago. I was stunned to say the least. At last, here was that opportunity to make things right.

 The thing I never understood, all of those years living with this regret, is that things really aren't like we remember them.

 I was actually very fortunate this had occurred. It made me realize that all of the things I wished I had done differently really don't matter. I did what I did because that was the correct fit for that pattern.

 I understood, on some level anyway, that a lifetime relationship was never going to happen for me even if I wasn't aware of it at the time. And this all hinged on my lack of understanding.

 People can experience the same thing differently. Our definition of an experience is rooted in our own understanding and our own history. Hot is not the same for everyone, neither is cold, neither is love or hate or sympathy.

 The concept of being able to experience something as another does is preposterous. No two people have identical constituents to their personality. They literally can't experience things in exactly the same way.

 I frequently ask myself if being able to understand the experience of another is even relevant.

 Would we get along better if we just understood there really is a difference?

 My head's getting blocked up again so I'm going to go be miserable some more.

 I'm not rereading this, sorry if it's rambling and error-riddled, but...

 Thanks for listening

09/09/2017

 The mood is good.

 The only thing holding me back is me. 

 Truly. That's the only thing that's ever held me back. Recognizing this fact has changed my life in ways I never imagined.

 So, I am working on healing the rift between my older brother Chris and myself. It stems from an incident two and a half years ago. Yes, two and a half years. Sounds ridiculous when I just say it out like that.

 And it is.

 I made the first move last week when I dropped off a cake. I was too late to catch Chris, he was already asleep and it's best not to wake him unless he's on fire. I made another attempt yesterday. I turned up with a half-bucket of extra crispy from KFC.

 Everyone was home this time. Chris was up. I hugged him really hard for about two minutes. I don't care what's happened in our past. That doesn't matter anymore. He's my brother and I intend to be a part of his life.

 Chris takes a week vacation at this time every year.

 Actually, it's a stay-cation. He doesn't go anywhere. I plan on wandering for the next few weeks with the plan to eventually turn up at my brother's place in Huston. Obviously, visiting Huston right now would be foolish if not impossible so that's out.

 I tried to talk him into putting off his vacation then coming with me to visit Thomas...he didn't go for it. I'd have to drug him, tie him up with duct-tape, and throw him in the trunk until we hit Mississippi.

 He'd probably be in a bit of a mood after that so I'll think of something else.

 Had a very productive morning. Went and got my hair cut and the car washed. I still burn out pretty quickly but with a nap and some lunch I'll be ready to go again.

 I'm just enjoying the sense of freedom I have now. It's a feeling I hadn't had since I was a very small child. No worried, few responsibilities, and the means to go exploring...

 What more could anyone ask of life?

 Thanks for listening.

CT,

I know you are not a religious person but you do appreciate things of beauty.

The PA "Coal County" has some of the most gorgeous Byzantine Catholic and Orthodox churches in America--some that are replications of the ones in the immigrants "home country."

A lot of them have been documented in the photo gallery section of Byzcath.org---might take some Google searching for St. Clair, Frackville, Minersville, Ashland, etc.

09/21/2017

 The mood is cool.

 Nice and even.

 I've been thinking about my mother a lot recently. There is far less pain involved now. The years we spent under the rule of the Tyrant had caused far too much damage for us to be a normal family even after his death.

 But getting out of the Air Force when I did was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

 I managed to reconnect with my mother in a way we never had before. She always knew exactly how do move me in a particular direction. She could see a potential in me I could not see in myself and she carefully moved me toward realizing it.

 She gently nudged me into trying College. I took to higher education like a fish to water. It was incredible. She encouraged my relationship with an English Professor because she ran in the kind of crowd my mother thought I belonged in.

 I found my first job on my own...and was miserable in it.

 My mother knew this without me even telling her. She nudged me toward taking the Civil Service Exam. I did and it was just like college. I had the third highest score in the entire state for the position of Welfare Caseworker.

 She encouraged me to go to the interview even though the company I was working for wouldn't give me leave to do so. And I did.

 When the Welfare Office sent a letter saying they were not offering me a position because they found my voice mail greeting “threatening and inappropriate”, my mother talked me down and encouraged me to call and at least talk to them.

 I did, and I was hired. This was a dream realized.

 And all because my mother was in my corner, every step of the way.

 Getting out of the Air Force when I did was the best thing that ever happened to me.

 Because of my mother.

 Love you mom, and...

 Thanks for listening.

I'm going to do my best to get a post up before hitting the road.

The adventure begins Tuesday.