Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree...

...with anyone else but me.

New Day! New Look! No more lower case all the time. New outlook. Sunday was Pierce's Birthday. He would have been twenty years old. Karen & I went out to Audubon Park. The "Fly" is a section of the park that runs along the Mississippi River. When I was a teenager, we used to listen to bands play and drink wine on Sundays. Of course, that was in 1975. A great deal has changes since then. The roadway enters the area, runs along the river and ends up coming out near where Tchoupitoulas St. would go through the park if it did. Coming into the area, you cross a set of rails, a you do going out. Following the road a bit further, you see the giraffe enclosure marked by green wooden, then chain-link fence with green slats. Just past that fence you see a huge old majestic oak tree on the left that is aptly named, "The Tree of Life". Standing at the roadway and looking directly through the oak at the interior corner of the giraffe fence, is Pierce's tree.

It's a small, but healthy live oak tree that stands about as tall as I do. Walking up to it held mixed emotions for Karen and I both. We both shed tears as we thought of the symbolism the little tree held. Since we have no permanent grave or tombstone to come to when thinking of his final resting place, this was apropos for my dear boy. We had gotten some plastic colored bells on gold tone chains, a small angel that said something about earning his wings, a birthday balloon & a small card. We took our time and strung the bells, all the while feeling brighter as we worked. I had a ball chain on my LSU coin holder that I used to secure the little angel on the tree. Karen placed the ballon in the support stick while I wrote on and attached the card. My only prayer being that he is somewhere that he feels no pain and can be happy...

Take care, our angel... wherever you may be. Our hearts are with you and we love you very much.

"happy birthday to you" is an empty phrase...

sunday will bring your twentieth birthday, mr. pierce. i've placed a memorial in the times-picayune with a photo of you giving me your, "i'm about to do something goofy, dad", look. i took it at the Ben Franklin graduation ceremony. it seems like it was just last week that you donned your green cap & gown and ascended the stairs to receive the diploma that you worked so hard to earn.

i hope you can see what i put in the paper. i hope you can see that we love you and miss you terribly. i miss you constantly. i handle it as i can, best i can. every one of us deals with it in our own way. i suck at dealing with it. everything around me reminds me of you. the last scenario game was completely screwed up for me because at every juncture i was turning for you, going to ask if you had done something, ran a prop, calmed a situation. but i found nothing at all. nothing but your memory and my enduring, pain. i still find myself crying every day, at least once.

i SCREAM inside that I miss you! i ask if the hurt will ever end. i pray to a God who does not seem to listen to my pleas to make this all just a nightmare that i will surely wake from soon. no. no waking. cruelty from the void. i miss you, little boy. your tiny cartoon voice that endeared my heart to you forever. the bond with your brother that you gave back to me that had all but vanished in the wind. your willingness to be silly; your recklessness to a fault; the adrenaline tells me that it is stone cold and starkly true. you rest somewhere unkown to me and all the others who love you. will we ever see you again?

what's left to say? questions? anger? rage? again, that it hurts? that i long to see the shit pile that sold you your demise get what he deserves - go to prison and have another inmate with an ax to grind, slit him from asshole to earlobe while raping him in the shower? that i hope he watches his own blood flow down the shower drain along with the life from his fragile body? that he deserves no less than what he gave you? how could you think you were invincible? how could you deprive everyone who loved you so much and wanted so much for you? that same success for your self? how can i wish such pain on someone else, especially his parents?

Pierce, i will never recover from your loss... ever. so i wish you happy birthday for Sunday. never again can i celebrate the sobriety that you and your brother were so instrumental in helping me achieve on the day after your second birthday. but i can assure you it is still there... eighteen years, my son. i love you more than you will ever imagine. i hope you can celebrate on Sunday. i think karen and i are going to try and meet you at your tree. help me find it... dad

GFG "Meet the Jones" 2006
Assisting on the Dr. Yak Show "taping"

It's All A Big Lie...

it's all a big lie. they tell you it will get better over time. the truth is, it never gets better. it hurts and hurts and hurts. nothing makes it feel any better. you live on the verge of tears. you stay at the point of grief. and those that are still here bicker over petty bullshit. they fail to see that family is the heart of their existence. alienating those that brought them into this world and have given them lifelong counsel, they become scholars at eighteen whose wisdom surpasses Aristotle or Socractes. unfortunately, they are so smart, they have no idea who those men were. the mistakes that we have made are unforgivable and unending. their mistakes fall among the ranks of the "So what?" when their sires lay on death's bed, they shall regret their arrogance. and after the reaper makes his pass, they shall spend the rest of their existence regretting their mistakes and praying they had it to do over again so they could say the words; make the reparations... they have no idea how it is our own mistakes that have haunted us. they care not to hear of how we suffered. they can't imagine having those same problems. yes, they are bulletproof, or so they think. if they could only be convinced that we are earnest and sincere when we show them that we are only relating our own experiences. we can only pray that they are not doomed to repeat the past... our past. and so many time our prayers are ignored.

leopards - pt. 8 (everybody's got something to hide except me and my lackey...)

great Beatles songs have great titles. that's where the title of this post was culled from. seems that everyone really does have something to hide. what it is and the severity of it or the chance of severe consequences all lies on their pillow at night. we all live with our past actions. the one sure thing in life is that we will all face death. will we each be able to stand and deliver at the highwayman's beck and call?

crazy segue, here i go.  we anxiously awaiting the results of the home DNA test kit that was completed and sent in to the company. the day finally came where the results were to be posted. when i read the results, i was quite overjoyed. even though i knew what they were going to be, i still felt good about it. the comparisons were 15 out of 15 with 99.999991560295% of the entire caucasian-american population being excluded from probability. it was 99.999992753473% probability that i was her daddy. most cool. i officially had a daughter cause you couldn't get any closer than that!

so "what now?" you ask. how do i go forward in my life.what is good and what is bad? the question of the ages. i know that if i check my list, there's a pretty big part filled with good people; family and friends who are irreplaceable in my life. Mom and Dad, Matt and Brigitte, Johnny, (who is himself a separate post) and Allison; my dearest Karen and her brood - Alyson, Kat & Michell; and my best and closest friends whose counsel and support have helped me through crisis after crisis and are still keeping me close. Woody and "Ol' Dawg" Woody Sr., Mairi, Shawn and Fallon and Frank; and don't forget the friends in paintball... team mates in the Hired Gunz that are always ready to help if needed; Steve, Butch, Ramzi, Mike H, and the others who have been there.

  

the drama is gone, for the moment. 2008 has been an amazing year. and we're only at the halfway point. i lost a son and a friend and a huge part of my heart. i discovered a daughter and hope i can be a father for her. i've endured such an incredible amount of deep down pain, that there were more than several times it was good that I was running low on certain prescriptions. i've asked God "Why?" so many times that i'm surprised that he hasn't tossed a lightning bolt at me just to shut me up. i've asked family and friends "Why?" so much, i'm surprised that they didn't toss a toaster in the bathtub (or shower) just to shut me up.

we have the task of watching the fate of a young man who chose a life that ultimately led him to play a large part in the extinguishing of another life that was so important to us. i am incapable of being distracted from this situation. i am unable to fill the void in my heart. i can't imagine how his parents feel. of course, i take it for granted that his parents feel anything in the first place. or should i say care. i hope they did. i hope that they did everything they could to prevent their son from taking the track that he has. because if they didn't, they will be as deserving as he is of punishment for his sins. from what i've been told, i think they do care. and i think that they also have asked God, more than once, the same "Why?" that i have. but their suffering goes on and on. In the likely event that their son ends up in prison, their "Why?" will become a mantra as it has become in my world.

so the world goes on. we all live life. we have to. the only other choice is to die. and i'm not quite ready, yet. there's too much to stick around for. until then, though...

to Pierce - with love, forever - Dad

leopards - pt. 7 (enter at your leisure...)

OR - ATTACK AT THE PYRAMID...

well, well, well... at this particular time, we've learned a great deal about "everything and all". the suspense has been building as we wait for more info to come rolling in.

thankfully, the $100 do-it-yourself, handy-dandy, DNA testing kit had arrived at my house, finally... it has a hodgepodge of instuctional information, along with wooden stick swabs and packets to identify and seal the samples for analysis. it was a fairly easy thing to conduct and i saw no reason why we couldn't take care of it quick and easy.

i contacted 'Rette and we made arrangements to meet on a wednesday, i think. it was my day off. well, it was actually both of our days off. or better stated, "off days". she slept really late and by the time she was up and around, i had a paranoia and anxiety attack that just exploded in my face. i couldn't work up the nerve to step out of the door. i called her and told her that it was a washout. she said she was ok with it, but i knew better. i know that at some level she was disappointed. Hell, I was disappointed!

the next possible day we could meet was sunday. i was bound and determined to make it work. Karen was ready to accompany me on the trek to the southshore. we loaded up and took to the road.

i spoke with Lirette and coordinated times. we were going to her home. she told me that Mom L was going to take a ride or something to give us some time to do what we needed. we arrived at the home and noted that it was very nice. memory glands were triggered as i saw the house across the street and remembered that i had once lived there in another life.

we approached the door and Lirette opened it to greet us. she was so beautiful that i found it difficult not to stare at her. i find myself disbelieving that i was part of bringing her into the world. she had me right there, hook, line and sinker. but i could also see the boys in her appearance, too. as we walked up the stairs to the main floor, i unexpectedly saw Mom L standing in the kitchen at the island. i looked for a reaction from Karen, but couldn't pick one up, so we continued up.

pleasant introductions ensued and were completed quickly. Mom L immediately asked for the retrieval code number for the DNA testing online results. without thinking, i just gave her the paper with the code on it. i don't know why, but i began to get irritated with myself for doing that. i was the one that shelled out the hundred bucks for the test. the results should come through me. i found the action boorish and intrusive. in the spirit of cooperation, i said nothing more. after all, this whole thing was for Lirette and i.

as i started to bring out all of the materials for the test, Mom L started into the line of inheritance again. i shrunk away from it and concetrated on getting things prepared for the test. Karen gave me a squeeze on the leg and i honestly can't remember a word of what i said.

then came a bigger surprise. one of Mom L's friends, let's call him Leisure Suit Larry, came into the room. i had met him once, a long time ago, the circumstances i'll leave to the wind. he came to the kitchen and injected himself into the conversation. he actually asked about my mother & father's house and whether or not the mortgage was paid off! now i went into complete freak out mode and was determined to get things done and get the Hell out! Karen could sense the same and we took care of the test as fast as possible. it took near fifteen minutes to complete things before we could go. when it was finished, we did the vamoose dance as graciously as we could.

i believe that this whole performance was in very poor taste and hurt Lirette more than anyone. i'm used to being shit on. she was robbed of time that she could have spent with me. being on strange turf and confronted by what might as well have been strangers concerning information that had nothing to do with the situation at hand and was certainly none of their business, i was worried about the whole thing. why the intrusive questions? why couldn't Lirette and I build our own relationship without interference from outsiders? Lirette, at nineteen, should be able to have some degree of freedom and privacy. i was being judged by Wife A, from who i'd been divorced from for many years; and by Mom L, who remains an enigma to me as to her behavior concerning this. who knows? Hell, Wife A is making a sport out of informing people that i am some kind of malicious degenerate... conspiring to steal my daughters trust fund? what incredible nerve they both have accusing me of something like that. i've done nothing to warrant that attack.

the crazy thing is that I don't/didn't/haven't wish/wished any ill will or harm to either of them. i just wish they'd let me live my life and leave me alone.  what can i do but roll with the punches...

the results are due in ten days. come back and see what they are... thanks for reading...

we interrupt this program for an important announcement...

take a really good look at this individual. Shanon Frank is his name. i don't know for certain, but i have heard that he is a street junkie; a scum bag; a petty thief who steals to support a heroin habit; a petty low level dealer who deals to support his habit. hell, he might even be a male prostitute in the more seedy and gay areas of the French Quarter just to support his love for chasing the dragon.

while he MAY be all of this, there is one thing he definitely IS... and that's in jail. actually, he's been in jail since around April. you see, he had already been arrested for possession of heroin and cocaine. he had to attend pretrial drug court and was required to take a drug test to see if he'd been a good little boy. did he pass the test?

alright, we're back on Drug Family Feud! so did he pass? let's ask the families! Dumass family, what's your answer? uh... uh... ok, Richard. we're gonna say YES! alright, Dumass family. if we see YES, you're gonna take home the money AND the convict! can we see YES!?! BOMP! Awwwwww, no YES so you didn't win the cash. can the board show us what's there! survey said, NO! aww! he was too stupid to stay clean long enough to stay out of jail.

there is an article in the Times Picayune for July 2, 2008 that tells of Frank allegedly selling the heroin to a friend of Pierce. this crap was responsible for killing him. the heroin, that is. although i personally can't see the difference between one crap and anotheer.

Here's a link to the piece... "Overdose at Hotel Leads To Arrest" by Laura Maggi

and in a fantastic breakthrough, i was contacted yesterday by Assistant US Attorney, Jay Quinlan. thorough apologies were given for the delay in involving me in the investigative process up to that point. he also informed me of all of the information that he could concerning what was happening, (which was a great deal). i have great expecations and am confident Mr. Quinlan will do his job with passion.

it is unfortunate that i was not informed of the Magistrate proceedings so i could have looked mr. frank in the eye. i guess that was reserved for "in the know' special people...

leopards - pt. 6 (une nuit a Paris...)

You've heard me heavy breathing on the telephone
My word they say that I'm belongin'
In a home for crazy people
But you know I don't belong there
I was an orphan and I couldn't help it
I'd been in and out of trouble
Ever since they left me
In a basket on the freeway*

wow. the sixth installment of  "as the leopard spots". i wasn't sure that i would get to this point without drawing it out another three or four episodes. but i have throroughly enjoyed writing it. i have been suffering with sort of a writers block since the beginning of the year. the spectre of Pierce's passing and an unusual amount of stressful baloney had rendered me unable to place words where i wanted. but there i go again, off on a tear. its time to get back to the main subject of this post.

disclaimer: over the last couple of years, i have developed a tendency to have crappy short term memory. if i misstate something here, or put it out of sequence, or whatever, keep that in mind... alcohol and drugs - neither on my plate anymore, coupled with being mental can take a toll on that mush in your skull, i must say...

when we last parted, i had just discovered that Lirette had been told that there was a stong possibility that i was her natural father. i was blown away! even though the suspiscions were there for over nineteen years, i was not prepared for this. the questions, answers and "what in the world?"s were popping up in my head as fast as i could think.

we started to communicate again, through myspace. she had questions, as did i. it seems that near to a year and a half ago, after the father she knew had passed, Mom L came to her. she was kind enough to tell her daughter that the man she knew as her father... well, suffice to say that there's a more than a good chance that he was not the bona fide pater puella. not being priivy to the conversation, i would have imagined that she was fairly upset and confused upon hearing this bit of trivia. it seems that i was the father of question.

my memory can be very inadequate when trying to recall phone conversations and such. to my best recollection, she spent some time trying to find me and the boys on the internet and around. She never could quite make the hookups for one reason or another. and i remained oblivious to the nature of it all.

back to where we were...post-Pierce. i had discovered that Lirette knew that the possibility was there. So we again began to talk. by internet and by text.

i was trying to figure out how i was going to break the news to Johnny and my parents. that tended to take care of itself, though. i had stopped by my parents' to pick something up on the way home from Gunfighter. i got what i needed and was leaving, when my brother, Matt, came running up to the car. He proceeded to tell me that i had better talk to Johnny. "Why, is something wrong?", i asked. he said that Lirette had talked to Johnny and told him of the chance that they were brother and sister. ok. not on my time clock, but it wasn't a wash out.

being happy about her newfound relatives, Lirette had posted an entry on myspace that made some comments about Pierce and Johnny and their familiar relationship. i was torn between cooling any of her enthusiasm over "finding" us, but was trying to be cautious for all parties involved, lest someone overreact in a way that would cause me to lose my relative cool... pun intended.

i contacted Johnny and asked him about it. he was torn between "attaboy" and "aw, shit". i could understand it. after all, he was going to have to face his mother when the news reached her. and that in itself could be a harrowing experience. he reiterated that thought and i agreed that we must be discreet.  i thought it prudent to contact Lirette and restate my fears. he would let her know about the post.

in addition, i had no idea what the state of her deceased father's family was or her relationship with them. in no way, shape or form did i want them hurt of embarassed. we agreed to that. it would be difficult enough to explain to the people that had to be told.

Johnny and Karen also thought that it would be in everyone's best interest to submit to DNA testing to determine the validity of the claims being made. i agreed, but i knew better. i was her father, of that i was quite sure, so i ordered a DNA test kit and waited for its arrival. when it came, i checked it out and decided that it would work. so i started to make the arrangements to meet with Lirette to get the swabs we needed to submit.

it was a Friday evening when the phone call came. Karen was not home, so i had no support group in the wings. the call was from Mom L. i explained that i was getting the paternity test very soon. she was uninterested in that. she wanted to ask me what my "intentions" were concerning Lirette. huh? intentions? laws, laws, Tom; m-o-o-n, that spells trouble. i hadn't even met my daughter yet, (in modern times), and here i was being asked what my intentions were.

first off, i really didn't understand the question, and told her that. she asked about what Lirette's place would be in my family line of inheritance. wow. now i was starting to get creeped out. not to mention, a bit angry at the question. i told her that i really hadn't thought of that either, since this just came about. she then told me that there were "legal ramifications" to Lirette. now i was really freaking out. what in Soul Coughings name is she talking about? then, out of the blue, she started hammering me with rhetoric about how horribly i treated my boys in the time right after their mother and i separated and what a terrible person I was. hmmm. something was starting to smell funny and i thought i knew where, or what wife's bottle it came from.

the "discussion" degenerated into an old fashioned haymaker arguement. flashbacks from my first marriage and divorce were appearing on the screen and it did not feel good. the only question i could ask that made any sense was, "Mom L... if i am such a rotten, no good son-of-a-bitch, then why the Hell did you tell Lirette about me in the first place?" why not just let her live with the beliefs that she was raised with? more yelling... more crap... me getting dangerously angry. Karen walks in. phone hangs up. i'm saved. Karen is my GREAT hero. without her, i would be cannon fodder...

my counselor advises me to eliminate discussions with Mom L or Wife A. they are counter-productive and only end with me grasping for the ativan. i decided that this was prudent advice and that all communications would be with Lirette.

i was really quite befuddled as to why Wife A was involved. i mean, conventional wisdom would say, "GUY creates LIFE with ONE. twenty years later, ONE tells LIFE real deal. LIFE happy and wants to meet GUY. ONE goes to Wife A and tells her the story of LIFE. according to them, GUY is evil monster who is at the root of all the worlds evil. his plans are already in place to steal all trust funds and jewelery and money that LIFE has. GUY ponders and says trust funds?  money? why is everyone mad at me? Wife A should consider that it took GUY plus ONE to make LIFE. how can it be all GUY fault? and above all, what business does she have piddling in this? she not mama. we not married any more. why does she talk bad to everyone? she should be happy for Johnny who gets a new sister. it is funny world we live in...

NEXT: AMBUSH AT THE PYRAMID

*Iceberg - The Original Soundtrack - 10cc - 1975

leopards - pt. 5 (all the young girls love alice...)

the year of our lord 2008 is a year that will go down as infamous in the family records. of course, the incident that will stay indelibly marked on everyone's hearts, was the loss of Pierce Taylor Sharai. his passing marked the start of a year that has just reached the half-way point. several events have brought surprise to some and dismay to others.

Lirette is the focus of this almost final chapter of the "leopards don't change their spots" series of posts. and so i begins...

before Pierce died, we spoke vaguely about Lirette. i asked if he's seen her or had a chance to socialize with her. he told me that he, or Johnny, rarely saw her now that they had gotten older. she hung out with a different group of people than he did, so it was not anything manufactured with purpose.

i secretly let out a sigh of relief, as i still thought of the strong possibility of Lirette being my daughter.

the thought of them coming together by chance terrified me. over the years that passed from toddlers to teenagers, one cannot possibly know the pain that it caused. anyone thinking that i need to be punished for the act of origin is welcome to step in my shoes of that time. it was a running bad dream...

 i can't recall just how, but i found out that the father that she knew as her father had died of a heart attack close to two years ago. i was quite taken, as he was a friend of many years. despite the estrangements, we had still grown up together and it made me quite sad to think of his passing.

at the same time, though, it rekindled my curiousity to find out more about Lirette. however, i had no way to contact her without her thinking i was insane. i could just see calling her and saying, "hi Lirette. you don't really know me, but i think i'm your father. may i have some time to - CLICK!" right. she'd have hung up on me in an instant. then she would have told Mom L, and that could have disastrous consequences.

when the tragedy of Pierce came, i was unprepared to handle anything of an emotional nature. it was all i could do to keep from collapsing. there were many family members, friends and acquaintences at the funeral home. it brought about a conundrum in the fact that i wanted it to all be over; but i dreaded it drawing to a close. the lid would close on the casket and he would be gone forever. the finality of it was making my head spin.

but wonderful and incredible friends like Woody and Mairi, Woody Sr., Roger Kennedy and all of the Hired Gunz scenario paintball team, the entire New Orleans paintball community, and so many others that i couldn't begin to thank were steadfastly there. of course, Karen, Alyson, Mitchell and Kat were there, as much time as their father would let them. and walking through the family rooms, i saw someone i had not seen in a long time.

Mom L stood by the wall. i hesitated to approach until she indicated that i could. Thanking her for coming, i immediately asked where Lirette was. i really don't remember the details of the conversation, but Lirette had decided not to attend. after polite thank yous, i moved along.

this brought Lirette back to light again. i discussed the whole thing with Karen. she expressed interest but advised me to use caution. i started out looking around and found myspace and facebook accounts that had her name. i introduced myself as an old friend of her parents. we made contact regularly. but considering the past behavior of Mom L, i decided that it was not fair to either of us to continue this relationship. it was torture for me and she might start to think i was some weird perv or something. so i stopped sending messages and replied to anything that she sent as briefly as possible, if it required a reply. the traffic slowed and died out. i delivered it to the back in the closet of my mind until something would bring her out again.

then came the shocker. the one that gives you that adrenaline zap to the gut. i was reading her bulletin posts, as i had subscribed to them for convenience. and there was one that was her usual fare; boyfriend, skateboards, weekend activities, etc. then a line that said something to the effect that she was sad or upset because a relationship with someone she cared about had soured.

reading more, i looked for the bastard who had dared hurt her. she said his initials were "M - R - F". hmmm. m r f, eh? didn't ring any bells. looked it over a few times when it kicked me right in the ass. my real father... nah. couldn't be. but it was. it was true. she knew about me. i was speechless... elated... happy... relieved... but wait a minute. how did she find this out?

did you lose your faith in God, no?
does your conscience always get you down?
fall to pieces rough and tumble
does your conscience always get you down?

these days it's all in the mind
it's elemental
don't say you're up when you're down
it's elemental


i'll be back with the last installment of "leopards" very soon. my eyes and my mind can only write for as long as my ass can stand...

leopards - pt. 4 (get off your horse, get on this train)

"welcome to the real world"

i said "welcome to the real world"

are we rushing like the wind?

naked out and naked in

"welcome to the free world"

i said "welcome to the me world"

are we rushing like the wind?*

Lirette contemplates meaning...

so i left you at the events told of my sons after their return from Katrina exile. but i failed to mention my own story of the storm. short and sweet, i weathered the storm at my parents home in Covington, LA. they packed up the car and headed north with Brigitte, my brother, Matt's daughter. eventually, they ended up in Little Rock. Matt and I battened down the hatches on Magnolia and waited for her to strike.

we watched the weather on every station. everyone prayed that the monster would move east or west and spare us the destruction that was sure to come with a CAT 5 storm like this. my memories of the devastation that Camille wrought many years ago fueled speculation that New Orleans was in deep trouble. an old friend that lived in Manassas, VA, used to tell me that the "perfect storm" would dump the lake and the river together, right on top of the Crescent City. Katrina basically did something just as bad.

the morning of the strike came and we sat drinking coffee and watching the television with hope. unfortunately, there was none to be had, as she was barreling down on the southeast coast of Louisiana and throwing her worst at the Mississippi Gulf Coast. that's how big this bitch was.

the winds were rising by the minute, as we stood on the front porch and watched the squall lines come through. the eerie sound of tree branches cracking. no birds or wildlife were to be found, 'cept one brave little hummingbird, who hovered around the feeder on the back porch. he finally became so exhausted that he perched on the wire suspending the feeder and rode out the storm. ignoring Matt and I as we came in and out the back door, it was an amazing thing to see.

for the most part, the Covington home was the victim of only slight damage. there was more damage to the trees and utility lines than anything else. don't misunderstand me. you could not walk to the street gate without the aid of a chain saw. all done, it looked like a bomb had gone off...

as soon as the winds died down enough to venture out safely, we did what anyone else in the same situation would have done. we cranked up the generator. since we had wired in an "essential appliance" list to plug into the juice when we had lost it all. so that left only one thing. run a coax cable next door to the empty house and hook it in to the existing, aimed and unused satellite dish. then return to the living room and switch on DirecTV to see what's going on.

with the generator gassed up and generating, the refrigerator chuffed into life, and the television found it's groove when the DTV downloading screen and logo came on. we had come through the storm and were about to see the news. anticipating another close call for New Orleans, we grabbed snacks and drinks to survey the area. we hit WWL first. no signal on air. as it was with the remainder of the local stations. a trip up to the CNN and Fox News organizations showed us why the local stations were off the air. and it was enough to hit your disbelief switch and put you into shock.

the city was in various stages of complete flooding and devastation. the ninth ward was inundated with water that came from a breach in the navigation canal. the 17th street canal had broken through the levee near the Old Hammond highway bridge at the Orleans/Jefferson line. it was pouring millions of gallons of brackish water into Lakeview, destroying everything in its path. New Orleans East was the same thing. There wasn't a place that the overhead cameras could find that had not been touched by the fury of this storm.

there was no electricity and no phones. even the cell phones were down because the relay towers had their power eliminated with the same crap. some could text, but that was spotty. i remembered my house in Abita Springs. Wife B had not been in contact yet, but she eventually came up the walk to say that it was demolished by pine trees falling. when we eventually got out there, she was correct. it was pretty much messed up and would never see it's current layout again. it needed major repairs. the roof, interior ceilings and walls, the floors and carpet... all ruined. not to mention the furniture and personal belongings.

a tree had fallen and broken off at the half point, sending the top half on an almost perfect drop to the roofline where the main house structure met the studio/office. this neatly clipped the entire studio roof off and sent it down and back with only the large entertainment center to keep it from crashing to the floor. it also, tragically, acted as a funnel to send a torrent of rain water down the split and soaking the contents of the entertainment center and everything else in the entire office area.

my books and magazines; years of unreplaceable paintball magazines and classic books that i had collected over the years. DVD after DVD were found soaked with the inserts stuck to the disc and rendered unuseable. what little that could be salvaged was taken to my parents. it was more depression and stress that i ever thought would surface. thank God that Gunfighter survived with nary a scratch.

lawyer, FEMA, IHOP and relief check were as repeated as Red Cross Master Card. days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. relationships ended and lives changed for the better or the worse. Entrenched at my parents home, it was comfortable and secure. But at almost fifty years old, i needed to have an air of independence. i needed... oh, shit. who am i kidding? i was snug as a bug in my own room at Magnolia and just happy to be there.

years of paintball in a soaked down mess on the floor...

IT'S COMING! I SWEAR IT IS!

*Tears for Fears - Elemental

there's no such thing as a free ride

just a note for anyone who may be wondering... for some reason, this free blog site, Blogger.com, belched and is now fighting me on my formatting. you'll notice that it eliminated all my line breaks and paragraphs throughout every post except for one. since their one weak point is help for this kind of stuff, please bear with me while i go back and correct them all. damn! and i type in all lower case purposely for a reason that i am not stating...

ALL FIXED!

the time(s) of the season... REDUX

i would be remiss if I failed to point out that the New Orleans Times-Picayune ran a front page story on the rise in deaths attributed to Heroin in the last few months. since Pierce was killed, more deaths have occurred. a total of seven. what a waste of life. young people better open their eyes and see that this shit is nothing to fool with. heroin has always been a drug for bums and imbeciles. killing yourself is not en vogue, dumbasses.

parents better open their eyes wide and look at what their kid is up to. seeing your child in a coffin is not the way to open them, either. i have stepped forward on multiple occasions and said how I feel... said what I felt needed to be said for the sake of these kids! if you keep hiding behind the cop-out of being your childs friend instead of his or her parent and educator you are courting a disaster that could haunt you all of your life.

"Heroin creates a circle of death" link will take you to the article.... then we can all play the "mystery girl" guessing game. Right. I've been accused of many things as a result of coming forward on this feature. I've been accused of making myself look stupid or bad; and making Pierce look like some raving street addict. For the record, I felt like someone had to step forward and say something in defense of him.

and while I'm at it, here the link to a "Sunday Morning with Dennis Woltering" show on WWL-TV Channel 4 in New Orleans that covered Pierce, Maddy Prevost and another young man having problems with heroin.

spend some time browsing MySpace and Facebook. look at the photos on the profiles and read the comments; look at the graphics and take note of how many of these young people are in posession of alcohol or drugs. blatantly smoking what appears to be marijuana and drinking.

teenage alcohol use is not a laughing matter. how many times have you heard or read that? but just keep on reading and watching the newspapers, magazines and television news stories. time after time, a child is killed as a direct result of alcohol use. automobile accidents; alcohol poisoning; they all add up to aggravated ignorance. and the parent who stands there and allows the kids to drink is as guilty as sin when something tragic happens. "let's have a party at which little Miller can invite all his friends. If we have it here at home, then we can allow them to booze it up under our supervision". that makes it all ok. believe that shit and you have your head stuck firmly up an alligator's ass!

once you give them the booze, it begins the cycle of adult life. but this cycle of life has two roads. the road they choose to take is up to them. one road gives them confidence without alcohol and the ability to interact with others and take life's punches with the occasional cocktail; this individual is fortunate, indeed. the other one takes his or her first taste of alcohol and is immediately lifted to an entirely different plane of existence. they can interact socially without feeling awkward or stupid. they solve problems that their mentors could only talk about. they drive with the aplomb of Mario Andretti; that is until the get their first DUI or clip an oak tree on St. Charles Avenue doing sixty plus. but that only slows them down until next time.

Nancy Grace attacks the scum of the world on a nightly basis. child molesters, pornographers, murderers and kidnappers. her verve for the chase is as exciting as her genuine glee at one of the perverts being apprehended. WHY, Ms. Grace have you not done any features on this practice that take so many lives. what will you do when your precious twins get old enough to hoist one with the boys? Will you place them in a parentally monitored party environment where you can watch them drink before they reach twenty-one? will you use your huge expanse of an audience to investigate this problem and expose it as the crime it is? will you ever see these words and do you even care? i can reflect on this... if you have teenage children, pray that they love and respect you enough to delay their adventure into alcohol use. avoid the temptation to please them and be socially accepted by hosting any affair that includes underage drinking. death, from anything, is final should it visit your family and he is indiscrimanate over who he takes. losing a child as a result of alcohol or drugs is a numbing existence that never leaves you. keep yor head in the sand if you just don't care.

if you do care, you had better open your eyes before it breaks your heart...

This post originally appeared in April. It was one of the more controversial and was taken down at anonymous request. It has now been edited and returned to the Blog...

leopards - pt. 3 (if i'm lion i'm dyin'...)

so, another portion of my life begins as another one closes the door. or should i say slams? according to certain individuals, we can all be friends and pals again. aw, shit. i don't want to go out on another tangent. forget that. i have to go there. it contributes.

post Katrina, i lived at my parents home. Johnny came back from exile in Florida with his mother to stay with us and work locally. the community began to return to SOME sense of normalcy. one of those things was the re-opening of the local IHOP. this is where i met Karen. Karen has been one of the best things to ever happen to me. i'll talk more of her later in a separate post.

Pierce eventually returned from Florida, too. in typical Pierce fashion, he changed his plans and cost me almost $200 in air fare from non-refundable tickets that I gladly gave up. i didn't care. i just wanted to see him. when he did get home, things were like they never had changed... non-storm wise, that is. Katrina had done her damage to many, many lives; the lion's share of those lives would never return to the way they were before the storm of the century.

The boys' mother's home in the Lakeview area of New Orleans had been devastated by the brackish water surge. They were only a few miles away from the breach in the 17th Street Canal levee that sent millions of gallons of water from Lake Pontchartrain across one of the most beautiful sections of the city. what remained for them was only what they managed to take with them in their escape to Florida. years and years of countless memories were ruined by the encroachment of the filthy, disease ridden water.

Johnny worked with my brother, Matt, in the area, cleaning up and repairing damaged homes. he was able to get to the house and view the destruction. taking a camera with him on most days, he took lots of photos of the damage; both of his house and of the entire area. nothing can prepare you for the terrible destruction and heartbreak that followed Katrina.

i browsed through the photos of his home and yard and was moved to tears, as i saw the memories that had been collected over the years. i saw furniture that i had assembled and painted many years earlier with my own hands, twisted and warped in a pile of debris. mold and a telltale waterline inside the rental house displayed the extent of the water's smoldering fury.

i felt an intense deal of sorrow for their entire family. these were the things that the boys grew up with. these items were their life and their world. the landlord had been so kind as to shovel everything outside into a big pile where it remained vulnerable to further attacks of weather and those sneaky enough to get into the area and loot without being caught. no one should have to endure the hardships and emotional turmoil wrought by a natural disaster such as a hurricane.

West End Boulevard "Neutral Ground" from Veterans Blvd to the Lake looked as this did.

in the back of my mind were the friends and people I knew that lived in the area. my grandmother lived in two separate homes on Canal Boulevard; one between I-10 & Harrison and one at the corner of Louque and Canal near Navarre and Homedale. Wife A and I had lived, pre-wedding, on Catina Street for a while and Mom L had purchased a home almost across the street from there. "little" Lirette came to mind again, as I had not been in contact with Mom L. i silently thought to myself the hope that they came through it ok. i still could not picture her as old as Pierce. in my memory, she was still the kindergartner that I remembered from the grocery.

then, unfortunately, I was forced to turn to bigger fish...

MORE IN FOUR!

leopards - pt. 2 (hyena meat is tough, man!)

gosh-a-mighty! is intermission over THIS soon? We might need another...
all I can say is that I'm ready to place the rest of the information that I have on this heyah blog log. now looking at these two pictures of Pierce and Rette, one would find it exteremely difficult to tell which "twin" was which. i was in constant turmoil about which observant individual would blow the whistle with the loud exclamation,

"My Lord! These two children look exactly alike!" the sweating I did. the subdued anger felt because I was being shut out.

after the grocery incident, as I was saying, life took a very strange turn. i was diagnosed with the disorder after a horrible stay in a South Shore psychiatric joint. wife B and I were together at that time and trying to get set up. while I was in the joint, she felt the need to play around on me with someone else. discovered, she asked to be forgiven and have another chance. I gave it to her on the condition we move to the North Shore so I could be closer to my parents.

i was such a case that I could no longer work. we moved to Mandeville and secured an apartment in the world renowned Woodlands Apartments. this began an adventure that would last until I finally left the relationship in February of 2005. it was a roller coaster ride of emotions, high & low. it was an excercise in self control. it was definitely love-hate at times. had it been unencumbered by her "youngest juvenille deliquent in-training for full fledged criminal", it may have had a chance. but he had sufficiently poisoned the mind of his mater, that she literally believed anything he told her. too bad he didn't tell her how much i loved her...

walking through a black neighborhood and throwing a tire through the windshield of an "abandoned" car cost me a few hundred dollars. no remorse - strike one.
expelled from school for carrying marijuana in his front pants pocket during a dog led locker search. no remorse - strike two.

after Katrina, i let her use my car to get to the shelter with the request that she not return to the damaged house. she ignored me, brought the car to the house, when finally reaching her, she told me that the car had run out of gasoline on Hillcrest Boulevard and that they had left it there parked and locked. unfortunately, some evildoer had stolen it. after a week of running around like an imbecile trying to track down this automobile. finally, on the following Friday, a letter came from a local towing service. we raced over to get it from bondage to find that it had been flipped on the roof and was a total loss. i was in total depression.

but we noticed something funny. there were three keys for the car. the car was supposed to have been locked when left and stolen. i was worried about the spare key I kept in the glove compartment. when I checked keys, I had mine; hers was unremovable in the ignition switch; and the third one was... yep, you guessed it. the third one was in the glove box. which indicated that either she, or one of her kids, had flipped the car. She lied to me to protect her kid.

a local deputy met me at the scene on Hillcrest and pointed out exactly what happened. the kid lost control of the car while driving down Hillcrest and went off the right side of the road. as he did that, the right front wheel went up the guy wire for a utility pole. they went far enough up it to eventually flip the car. they ran like thieves and left my car there to be vandalized and looted. my stereo and CD's were all gone and they had taken the winter clothes that I had stored in the trunk. thanks from the bottom of my heart you little criminal asshole. the clincher came when I contacted her and told her that I knew she'd lied and asked her why. she told me that he was "mad" at me for leaving so we were "even". no remorse - strike three - they're all OUT!

and so began my life anew. another divorce loomed and another portion of my life concluded. i was back at home with my parents and damn happy to be there!

(note: i must say her oldest son is ok in my book. he's worked at a local Mickey D's for almost four years as a grunt. to do that take guts... not much brains, but guts. he knows i'm kidding and that i think it's a damn good deal!)

INTERMISSION II

leopards don't change their spots - pt. 1

Let me introduce you to someone. This is Lirette. She is my daughter. Almost twenty years ago, an indiscretion brought her to life. Details are not required. Suffice to say that Lirette was born approximately nine months later. Although I had strong suspicions as to just who her father was, I was rebuffed by her mother and assured that she was not a result of our indescretion.

As time went by, I was taking part in raising my two sons, John and Pierce. Pierce and Lirette were one month apart in age. Since we were all friends, there were many instances where the two children were close to each other. I didn't have to look hard to see the close resemblence between them. Although I asked her mother, (Mom L) many times if she was sure that I was not Lirette's father, the answer was always the same.

During the course of time, the boys' mother, (let's say Wife A), and I divorced. It was a bloody and horrific process that left indelible stains on the lives of us all. To this day, she hates and despises me for a myriad of real and perceived wrongs done during the divorce process and the years since. I am convinced there is no forgiveness now, or ever, in her heart for me.

My second marriage, (Wife B), made it even worse. I was married to someone who lived on the border of stability. She was volitile in everything she did and was prone to displays of temper and emotion that would eventually cause friends and family to shy away from our company. Although I did care greatly for her, I was unable to see a way out for myself. I had made a promise to myself that this union just could not fail. You see, I considered myself a failure for being unable to continue in my first marriage for reasons I won't address here, as that is an entirely different story.

To sum it up at this point, Wife A despised Wife B; Not an unusual circustance in nasty divorces. Wife A thought Wife B was the sole reason for the divorce. Unfortunately, she was wrong. Wife B only gave me the courage to take the steps needed to remove myself from the situation. The horrible thing about it all was that the boys had to suffer through it all. The biggest regret that I have in my entire life is that my boys had to live that situation. I am convinced that the purgatory that is my life at present is a result of my inability to place myself in the eyes of my sons and see what they went through. But that belongs to me...

We now return to Lirette. Wife A had been friends with Mom L since before we were married. Mom L had been friends with me before Wife A was in the picture at all. After the initial separation, Mom L saw me with, who was to become, Wife B and decided that I was a rat bastard and stopped talking to me. After that point, there was no more contact with Mom L, save a chance meeting in the grocery store where I appealed to her for reconciliation. We had been friends for a very long time and I did miss her counsel and company. Lirette was with her and I found myself hard pressed to conceal my elation at seeing her and how much she resembled Pierce. We parted with smiles and I thought that we could be friends again.

The size of the fool that I had become was demonstrated upon receipt of a phone call from Wife A. She informed me that she had spoken to Mom L and was to inform me, basically, that it would be a cold day in Hell before we would ever be friends again, and laughed at me for my lame attempt. Well, kick me in the balls, Sister...


Back in the world again, what we'll call a "disorder" had begun to take over my personality. The stress of the divorce; he stress of the new fiance and wife; the stress of life placed me in a facility that cared for those individuals who did not have the tools to meet the world every day.

INTERMISSION

Pain or Pane... Plain or Plane...

Pierce's Gunfighter Logo

It is incredible how life can continue to kick you in the ass. It's also incredible how we can get back up and take the next step in continuing that same life. Like, this morning I was working out on the front deck, trimming the tree, when I was bitten by a huge ass fire ant. Damn! As Artie Lange says, "Wahhhhh!" I hate it when I get writer's block. The ant didn't help the block. Stupid ant.

So, I haven't said anything at all in a couple of weeks. Maybe tomorrow... It always comes to pass that when I get the thoughts in my head to write, I'm not in front of a keyboard. Then when I get in front of a keyboard, it's like mental Imodium.

Actually, whenever I write from my center, it usually offends or pisses someone off. Many of my circle of readers became angry because of things I wrote about Pierce and the circumstances around his death. All I can say is that there is only ONE other person in this world who can posssibly know how I feel. But we've never seen eye-to-eye, anyway, and I'm fairly confident we never will. So why should I let that affect me any more?

But enough with doom and gloom. It's time to discuss that most wonderful time of year... Graduation time.

This year, we have some very noteworthy grads. First, we have Brigitte. Though Hell & high water, my brother, mother and father have managed to threaten, whip, beat and punish into submission and acceptance Brigitte Michelle. She finally figured out that education - good... goofing off - bad. To have a future, she needed to perform well in her studies. Now that she has been born again hard, due to her introduction and further immersion into film, stage and television makeup arts. This as a result of her working with local haunted house productions, (The Scream Factory and the Morturary). She has turned from junior Goth-gal to a young lady who has tremendous potential in the field she has chosen. She's set up at SLU and will do wonderful things! Now, if they can only get her to clean her room... Bravo, Brigitte!

Soon I'll try to finish the high school class with Mary Katherine and jump up to the Majors with Allison at LSU! In any case, congratulations to both of them for an amazing job!

break it down again...

i've been asked to remove the content that I had up here. i took it down for a while, then edited it and put it back in a sanitized version. pierce will never leave my heart.

in dreams they come... with pain

Losing a loved one is bad enough. Losing a loved one and finding out about it at 7:30 AM on a sleepy Sunday morning is horrible. January 20, 2008, was the Sunday morning. Sipping coffee and looking over some e-mail. The phone rings and it is my father. His tone is panic. Urgency is in his voice. It seems a woman with the last name of "Wood" called my brother's home to report that my oldest son, John, had been transported to the East Baton Rouge Coroner's Office and morgue after expiring from a drug overdose while at the Baton Rouge Marriot Hotel.

My first feelings were of disbelief. But then my gray matter kicked in to suggest that Johnny's girlfriend lives in Baton Rouge, so it could very well be a genuine event. We began calling every number we could trying to find him. Pierce didn't answer his phone. Johnny wasn't answering his phone, either. Minutes seemed like hours. Finally a call came though on my cell from Johnny himself. Immediate relief came over me. But Johnny's good news was shortlived, as he informed us that it looked like Pierce may have fallen victim to a similar fate, only at the New Orleans Marriot downtown.

My heart sank lower than it could have and we waited. we communicated with friends and family, using the time to reassure each other that nothing possibly could have happened to Pierce. He had been at the hotel with friends, in town for the Krewe of Vieux parade from Louisiana State University. He had just begun to get settled in his new apartment. He had the world at his feet and a wonderful plan for living. This just could not be happening. It HAD to be a mistake.

I paced and sat at the computer and spun, back and forth in my leather chair. Watching the clock, my glare wore holes in the surface of the numbers as the second hand called it's, "tick, tick, tick", in an almost mocking sound. The minutes grew to hours, as friends trickled in to comfort and console; to offer some small ray of hope that they themselves had no faith in. Shock was setting in and it was no gentle friend. Calls of inquiry to the Marriot Hotel were politely but firmly dismissed. They would not even tell us if Pierce had been in a room there. Of course, we knew he had the room... we knew.

We called the New Orleans Police Department. That was like talking to the fitting room attendant at Super Wal-Mart on Saturday during Christmas. It was MARDI GRAS. They had drunks vomiting all over themselves and fun bag tourists pissing in the middle of the street for the cameras of (insert reality/cops show name here) camera crew filming the debauchery. And don't forget those balconies. God help the poor dumb ass whose drunken stupor allowed him to fall on the street because the titties he saw were only inches away. That was the important people the cops had to watch. To Hell with a grief striken and confused family.

Next was the Coroner. This too, was fruitless. The nightmare continued as all we could do was hope that some caring law enforcement or public offfical would have pity on a family on the edge and tell us what was happening. Don't count on it. They could take lessons in public service from some of the cadavers they've been charged with.

All of the just mentioned entities were as cold and callous as they could be. We were bothering them interfering with them doing their jobs. Guess what, Sock Monkeys? That IS your job! helping those in trouble or distress. Enforcing the law. We got jaded and frozen people who I hope never have to search for a relative who has met with misfortune. Bastards, all. Don't worry about talking to the people whose lives have just been pulled out from underneath them. Not to mention the poor soul who is in their command. Their, (ALL of the agencies aforementioned), ideal interaction would be, Thank you for calling the New Orleans (PD, Coroner, Feds, etc.) voice interaction system. To continue in English, press "1"; To return to your cocktail, press ***

• You pressed "1". In English, here are your selections:
• Press "2" to attempt to speak to a duty officer. We call this the "Scooby" option. People selecting this option are told, "Rotsa Ruck". There is another option. Let's say "2A". With "2A" you get an officer who actually gives you an NOPD Item Number... And nothing else.With that Item No. you are entered in the world of leaving countless numbers of messages to law enforcement people who won't call back, EVER.
  
  Surely they have a big board with names of the people who call. They throw darts at the names in random. If your Item No. is hit, BINGO, you might get a call. But don't hold your breath.

• Press "3" to get the person who will tell you that they care, but there's just nothing they can do to help and no information they can give, but if you need some more help, please call again.
• Press "4" to speak with the Weekend Crew at the Coroner's Office. "Hello You've reached the Coroner's Office. Our hours are from 9-5, Monday thru Friday. If you've reached this recording, then please try again during normal hours".
• Press "5" to speak with the SHHH! feds SHHH! These guys are SO super secret that they have earned the right to be SO disgustingly rude, so completely callous and so self-important, that their entire system should be revamped with the victims and families in mind.

Ripley's Fun Facts: SINCE JANUARY 20, 2008, I HAVE NOT RECEIVED ONE SINGLE SOLITARY COMMUNICATION FROM ANYONE IN PUBLIC OR LAW ENFORCEMENT SERVICE...

on July the 2nd,  i was finally contacted by the United States Attorney's Office - details are on the entry post of the same date. thank you, Mr. Quinlan...

Jesus, do you hear that silence? I am his natural father. Not step. Not mother's fiance'. I am fifty percent responsible for bringing Pierce into this world and since he dies, NO ONE has contacted me. Of this exact thing I caution you, parents who may be reading these lines. The bottom line is that they (some) don't care.

And if you're a divorced parent and not chosen to get the goods from the "authorities", you're stonewalled even worse. The information, if any, is filtered and disseminated and may even be completely cut off!

I guess it's really because Pierce was something to the effect of "not very close" to me or "our side of the family".
 

Pierce and Jester being "not close", while planning paintball strategy...

end part with note... i have made some references that will piss some people off. .. what can I say? i may revisit this or I may not. but it seems my entire existence is tied in with it. and the pain is unbearable. it is supposed to subside with time. but you know something? when you wake in the wee hours of the morning with nothing in particular on your mind, and the thought of him hits you, when does the adrenaline sickness that hits your stomach go away? when do the tears stop when you hear a song by an artist that he loved? when do you stop shaking your head to clear the fact that you just can't accept that he is gone forever? this, I wonder every single day as my tears fall...