Little Lambs Eat Ivy...

It's the Time - Of the Season

2009-10-30T08:40:00.006-05:00

IN THE ROOM WHERE THE GIANT FIRE PUFFER BLOWS, THE TORTURE NEVER STOPS

What's your name?

(What's your name?)

Who's your daddy?

(Who's your daddy? He rich?)

Is he rich like me?

Has he taken

(Has he taken)

Any time

(Any time to show)

To show you what you need to live?

Oh Sweet Jesus, it is about to begin. One of those periods in time that occur twice a year; the time when we are subjected to physical and mental torture of the utmost, compliments of Mother Nature. Actually, it han not one thing to do with Ma Nature. It is a whim of governmental creativity that supposedly keeps the cows from being miked in the dark hours of the morning; Keeps kids from standing at a dark bus stop waitng to go to school; You know what I'm talking about - DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME; Specifically, the lack thereof. People like myself, android mutants with bodily and mental goofistrations, go into complete spasm when DST ends. Mother Naturee gives us the Autumnal Equinox. That was back in September and signaled the beginning of Fall. But this DST crap is not hooked to anything. In fact, they change it around as they see fit.

Now, here's the rub. I LOVE DST! The extra hour of power flowing sunlight is a boost to the system. Why not just KEEP it 365? Why screw up everyones face by switching on and off? If it wasn't so damn cold, I'd just move to Alaska or Greenland where they have days, even months, of sunshine. And the downside of the same amount of time in the dark. Pfftht. Oh my God, Taylor... What a world you are coming into. A president whose very citizenship and qualification to be president is being questioned, with some success, in the Federal courts. Crime, drugs, crazy people, cats & dogs sleeping together! Well, cats & dogs aren't so crazy. Sounds like my house!

In other news: Bradford Wade - fifteen years plus six supervised probation... worm. I hope and pray that Leroy Largethang finds a special place at the head of his line for you and yourself.

Here comes the holidays. On us before we know it. God, please blank my mind out so I don't have to see any of it. Wake me in January...

The Sweet Indulgence of Good Nature

2009-10-28T17:23:00.000-05:00

My younger brother loves to refer to our family as being directly descended from the Biblical Job. I must admit that most of our maladies and malcontent seem to originate from some power greater than we could ever control. And it has an axe to grind with an ancestor! But for now I have nothing but glad tidings and great news. Lirette has delivered unto this world an 8 pound, 2 ounces beautiful baby boy who shall go by the name of Taylor. I thank the Blessed Mother for her intervention in the delivery and extending her protection and love on mother and child.

And now, without further adieu, I present Taylor for your enjoyment...

"Taylor, you are my first grandchild and hopefully not the last. Karen said that your little face is the most perfect face she has ever seen on any baby. I believe I have to agree. You're pretty damn cute. I'm praying for you. It's not in my character right now, I know. But we all need all the help we can get. And you're a huge step in the right direction. Growing up, take your own road; Keep your own counsel; Don't let anyone pull you down and out; Remember that family is the most important thing and that your Mother loves you more than anything in the world. And most important, never, never, ever burn the bridge that carries you back home..."

We'll talk again soon...

Dude Looks Like a Lady...

2009-09-18T14:13:00.002-05:00

Nah na na na - Na na na na - Heh heh hey - Good Bye!

Ah, if I was only satisfied at the results of yesterday... Since no one really reads this blog, 'cept me-self, I post my most inner, cynical & sarcastic thoughts. If someone really DOES read it, then I make no apologies; navigate elsewhere or stick around for some of my truth.

The "victory" was hollow as Judge Feldman spoke the words that we had waited so long to hear. Mr. Shanon Frank would be going to the federal penitentiary for tweve long years. And with a little "icing on the cake", he added six years of supervised probation.

Now that, my friends and readers, is a good old fashioned piping up the roto-rooter. Twelve years in jail is a long time. But the six year supervised probation is a more joyous torture than I could have ever hoped for. For the uninitiated, "supervised" probation means that when he gets out of prison, butt hole several sizes larger and wearing an apron for underwear, he will have to return home and report to his Probation Officer within 72 hours.

Once he gets registered, he'll need to report for a pee test every week. No drugs and no alcohol or it's the express bus back to bein' Bubba's bitch. If he gets sick, he'll have to report whatever prescriptions that he gets to his PO. If they test him and the levels of whatever drug he has is too high for their comfort... what's that ZZ Top song? "Waitin' for the Bus"? He'll live with a curfew and someone looking over his shoulder. He'll have to maintain a decent job. We all know how easy that is for a convicted felon...

His feeble and insincere attempt at reading an apology letter made my stomach turn. I sat and watched as this bottom feeding piece of shit read a contrived, and probably required in the terms of his plea bargain, apology that mean nothing to us, much less him.

His attorney ranked right down there with Frank as he made excuse, after pitiful excuse as to why "Poor Shanon" was a victim of his upbringing and Katrina and vomit, ad infinitum. I watched as the Judge grew weary of his inane ramblings and grew angrier by the minute. Without saying, Mr. Attorney was arguing with fervor against the Judge going outside the sentencing/plea bargain guidelines and adding time to his sentence. He did have the power to do that and he knew that the Judge was very close to that very same thing.

Your new pals waving a welcome to you...

The Probation Office had been kind enough to give the Judge a copy of the letter I was asked to write for them to consider in recommending sentence. It seems that the letter had a profound effect on the way the Judge felt.

If you would like to read it, I have it posted in this Blog. Ripples in the Surface - Rocks in Their Heads (Letter)

He read it more than once. I guess it gave him a little more insight on how Shanon's actions had impacted a large group of people who loved and cared for Pierce. What was even more comical was that a convictee, who stood before the bench earlier, tried to bullshit the Judge into thinking that he really just needed a rehab program and that he was another "victim". The Judge explained that his present plea bargain of eleven months in jail was not sufficient for him to complete a drug rehab program. So the Judge went outside the sentencing recommendation and sentenced him to TWO YEARS in jail, just so he would have ample time to complete a rehab program. Boy was that guy pissed!

The thought came to me of Richard Pryor's Mudbone character when he visits the Voodoo Lady with Toodlums to shrink his feet from the hex his girlfriend gave him. Mudbone was watching all the things she was doing to him when her pet monkey, or spider jumper on him. He said, "That's when I pulled out mah knife!"

That same thought hit, as Frank had been goofing around and laughing and smiling with friends and family in the courtroom. When the Judge did this, he sat erect and all traces of a smile left his face pronto!

I'm sure his little brown-eye did a twitch in his seat. His own attorney, whose name I'll refrain from posting here for fear of ruining my Blog totally, slapped his stack of files and made a disgusted comment concerning the Judge. I thought it funny that it bothered him so much. I could even bring a trace of pity to bear when Shanon's Father went to the lectern and proceeded to apologize to every person he could think of. I was beginning to feel a slight tinge of embarassment for him when he stepped over the line; at least in Judge Feldman's opinion.

He said that "he knew how our family felt". The judge said "NO, you don't". He said it again and the Judge repeated himself in a more firm manner. That did it. To pay for the sins of your child for something you didn't do sucks pretty bad. But then the saying does state, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn".

SO, off we go, or he goes; Off to his requested prison facility in Oklahoma where he will spend his next twelve years. I hope he cries himself to sleep every single night and lives in constant mortal fear for his life. I hope that every gang member that CAN get close to him and intimidate him, DOES get close to him and make him feel very small. Make him feel as small as I do when I wish and pray with all my heart that I could hold my son and tell him how much I love and care for him. But I am robbed of that... robbed by thieves who stole his life... stole his soul... But as more of these these carrion come to face their judges, I gain a very small dot of satisfaction. But the only way I'd be totally satisfied is to have Pierce standing next to me. And God won't let that happen. He's gotten him and is holding him hostage... hopefully until I can get there. Until then, have fun...

Is it something I said (in a previous life)?

2009-09-13T11:46:00.003-05:00

I don't think I've been so prolific with my writings in quite a long time. But then I haven't had such a wealth of internal pain to write about. Don't get me wrong; there's always the regular old daily grind. But lately there's been a lot more added to the funk bucket.

Last night I got a call from a very old friend. We're talking high school old. I spent a great deal of my sixteen through thirty year old days and nights with him and or his brother. I had basically lost touch with him. However, I maintained contact with his brother and spoke to him by phone every one to two weeks.

Now the second brother we'll call, Vince. Vince and I had gone through some amazing times together growing up. We graduated high school in the mid 70's and spent a good ten years straight living the wild party life. Sex, drugs & rock and roll. The seminal birth of the "new wave". I was entranced by it and with the help of Vince's brother, I became emerged in it, beginning what I thought would become a lifetime career as a rock and roll technician.

I worked at the local music store and mixed sound for local bands. Vince partied with me on the weekends and worked in a stable, responsible job that he had held for several years. One thing that I always admired in him was his ability to be responsible and his unwavering convictions. Money, work, cars... He always had it together. While I went from gig to gig; barely had a running vehicle; traveled all over the country with bands that were always "almost" going to make it big. When I finally got a respectable gig with a well known band, I was so sick of the scene that I actually refused a job with Alabama as their road sound engineer. What a dumb ass I was. But that life is hard on anyone, especially on with morality and mentality as weak as mine. Toss in the bipolar mix and you have a recipe for disaster and wreckage. And all the while, Vince remained stable, worked at his job, earned promotions and did all the things a normal responsible adult would do.

I ended up married and a father. I tried to go the responsible route and ended up in San Antonio. We still kept in touch, long distance. When I came back to New Orleans, he had bought a home with a pool and was living with his long time steady girl, (we'll cal her LSTG). He had changed jobs to a more responsible and stable position and was working himself up the ladder. But he had developed physical problems with a bout of diverticulitis that almost killed him. For the gastrointestinally uninformed, a diverticulii is a pocket that forms in the wall of the lower intestine. Most are minor and annoying. His was large and had collected enough "matter" to be toxic and start to kick his ass. After surgery and removal of his gall bladder, he made it through and returned to his normal life.

Here, I have to admit that I admired Vince more than any of my friends because he was able to beat the outside world and hold a steady & responsible job and buy a home with a pool and, for all practical purposes, maintain a normal life. All things that I found incredibly impossible to do. And now he had beat this physical thing and was on the road to recovery.

After some time I divorced and remarried, still trying to hold on to some semblance of sanity and responsibility. Everyone hated the new wife. Deservedly so. She was off by a hinge or two and grated of most peoples nerves. What I found in her I can't explain. I visited Vince at his new employer a couple of times. That was before I moved to the Northshore.

Once on the Northshore, I developed a phobia for the South and came across as little as possible. But our love for cutting edge music kept us in contact and we met up and attended the Tubes show at, (gasp!) Kenny's Key West in Metaire. With a crowd of about ten people, it was an almost private show. I'll never forget how incredible that performance was and how much fun we had.

In opposite manner, Robin Trower came to the House of Blues and we agreed to go. Wife Two just HAD to go along. We picked up Vince and travelled downtown. As the opening act was burning up the stage, W2 had a sudden attack of "imanassmossis" which required that she INSIST that I bring her home to Mandeville. Sullenly and embarassed, I explained the situation to him and offered cab fare. In his usual manner, he blew it off and stayed to enjoy the show while I grew another resentment on the ride across the twenty-four. He later told me that LSTG had picked him up. I never felt so horrible in my life.

THEN CAME KATRINA...

His home was devastated and he lost LSTG. My home was devastated and I divorced W2.

His health went on the fritz again. He needed a kidney. He managed to roll the lucky dice and get one. His home was rebuilt. He was again enjoying life. I found my most wonderful love. We continued to talk every couple of weeks, vowing to get together very soon.

Over the last few times we spoke, he had found a girl who he cared for. Details are unimportant, but he sounded happy. We spoke a great deal about Social Security, as he was scheduled to get it and they had taken mine away. When very last we spoke, he sounded bad. I asked what was wrong and he blew it off to a cold.

His brother suprised me when he called last night. He said he had gotten my number off of Vince's cell phone. Vince is in the hospital in an induced coma. Through circumstances that they're still trying to ascertain, Vince took a couple of falls at home. One of those falls fractured his shoulder. He failed to go to the hospital or call for help and ended up with pneumonia. Other things he'd done had lowered his resistance and compromised his immune system. The drugs they're giving him to bring his resistance back up may damage his new kidney beyond repair. He may never come out of the coma.

Again, God. Thanks so much. I know you do what you do for a reason. But this guy worked his ass off and was responsible and all the crap he was supposed to be responsible for. Put him through all this stuff then give him another chance at life, only to yank it away? I need to see him. I need to see him pull through and come out of this! Please! For a change... Or is it his destiny to fail?

DEAR GOD, PLEASE BRING L'IL JESTER BACK...

2009-09-12T17:36:00.002-05:00

We all miss you so much... Won't you please let him come back home, God? Was it that bad? Did he not make amends in the time hes been gone? Had he not built up enough credit in St. Peter's book to warrant a return trip? Yeah... Whimsical dreams and unanswered prayers of a father torn asunder by a loss that will not release it's icy talons from his heart. Every picture, every song, every time I repeat the same thing as an expression of my grief brings only more grief. It does NOT go away. Time does NOT cure the pain. My mind is a scrambled mess of WTF and I can't seem to move away form it. I think that those who say that our time on Earth is really Hell are probably correct.

WE HAVE THE CURE

2009-09-10T15:08:00.010-05:00

This is bullshit. The cure for what? The cure for my sense of rambling idiocy? I was browsing through some photos of paintball games past and found some with Pierce & John together and a game that I didn't attend. Very unusual. I feel like crap, anyway, with this crud, cold, allergy attack or whatever. So seeing the pictures destroyed me. Now this is notihng new. Anytime I see photos of Pierce it is cause for breakdown. But that's only part of what started me writing today.

When a man's an empty kettle he should be on his mettle,
And yet I'm torn apart.
Just because I'm presumin' that I could be kind-a-human,
If I only had a heart.

I'd be tender - I'd be gentle and awful sentimental
regarding Love and Art.
I'd be friends with the sparrows ... and the boys who shoots the arrows,

If I only had a heart.

Picture me - a balcony. Above a voice sings low.

"Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"

I hear a beat.... How sweet.

Just to register emotion, jealousy - devotion,
And really feel the part.
I could stay young and chipper and I'd lock it with a zipper,
If I only had a heart.

So this is how I feel part of the time. That part of me that wants to be romantic lives in these lyrics. Until it gets to the part about emotions. That's when I flunk out. No, I think that maybe I would fare better here with the straw man...

I could while away the hours, conferrin' with the flowers

Consultin' with the rain.

And my head I'd be scratchin' while my thoughts were busy hatchin'

If I only had a brain.

I'd unravel every riddle for any individ'le,

In trouble or in pain.

With the thoughts you'll be thinkin' you could be another Lincoln

If you only had a brain.

Oh, I could tell you why The ocean's near the shore.

I could think of things I never thunk before.

And then I'd sit, and think some more.

I would not be just a nothin' my head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry,
If I only had a brain

Yes, my friends, the Scarecrow seems to fit me to a tee. But should I pass over the Lion as though he doesn't exist in this chain of unbridled thought? His song was certainly most entertaining, especially in the Bert Lahr version when he "rrrruffed" so convincingly, (read erotically).

Yeh, it's sad, believe me, Missy, When you're born to be a sissy

Without the vim and verve.

But I could show my prowess, be a lion not a mou-ess

If I only had the nerve.

I'm afraid there's no denyin' I'm just a dandelion,

A fate I don't deserve.

I'd be brave as a blizzard....

Tin Man

I'd be gentle as a lizard....

Scarecrow

I'd be clever as a gizzard....

Dorothy

If the Wizard is a Wizard who will serve.

Scarecrow

Then I'm sure to get a brain,

Tin Man

a heart,

Dorothy

a home,

Lion

the nerve...

Now in this song we learn that the Lion places a high value on nerve, as he percieves it. As such, he will risk leaving his forest to travel with three complete strangers at the slim chance he may get some nerve. Poor Lion.

Which brings me to where I am now. Just where? Will anyone ever understand mania? Will they ever understand the vicious "static" that runs through your head; so much that you can even listen to the radio when driving in the car? Will they ever understand that same static is what keeps you from paying complete attention to what they're saying. People get insulted and what do you say to them? "Uh, I'm sorry but the constant froth of mixed static and internal dialog just prevents me from locking on to the first few worlds of your sentence". They either don't understand or they are convinced you're a fucking lunatic. And you ARE!

Thirteen years ago... THIRTEEN, DAMMIT! Thirteen years ago I met one of the kindest & knowledgeable men in the medical mental health profession. I was in complete pain and it was his job to evaluate me for Social Security Disability. Dr. D. did my evaluation and my followups and counseled me through what was going to happen to me over time. He treated me when nobody else would. He was there until the day he retired. This was a bad day for me. Doctor change...

So since then I have been running under the radar. Trying to stay within the realms of sanity, take my meds and fight with my demons as they come at me. I have a new Doc who knows now what the deal is. He didn't until yesterday.

So, to the meat of it; The Social Security Administration decided, after thirteen years, to dump me off. Huh? Yep. They told me that they did a medical review and said I was not cured, but I was able to go get a job. Not a job like I USED to have, mind you... No 65-70K for you. I guess they want me to push a janitors broom or flip burgers. I'm just trying to figure out what to put on the job application for what I've been doing for the past thirteen years.

"Uh, Mr. John... I see here a rather large gap in your employment history. Can you tell me what you've been doing ffor the past thirteen of so years?" "Oh, I see... Mental Disability. Right. We're gonna have to get back to you on that. The guard here will escort you out." "But all I wanted was a bag boy job!"

No benefits means no doctor. No doctor means no prescriptions. No prescriptions means manic episodes. No prescriptions means depressive episodes. Depressive episodes mean suicidal ideologies and thoughts.

WHO IN THE WORLD WOULD DO SUCH A THING IN GOOD CONSCIENCE!?!

A Sportster and Key West sound so irresponsible...

Watch out for Dad, Pierce... "The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive."

It's the Choices You Make That Bring Your Wake

2009-07-06T13:30:00.002-05:00

Depression... Depression... Depression is a rather fickle thing. Most people think of depression as, "gosh, golly, I just feel so darn stinky today and I might just cry. But I won't and it will all be better in the morning". Sure thing, Shirley. That works with NORMAL people But what about us individuals that walk the Earth with thine heads scruzzled up as they've been in a blender at Sazerac? We don't have the luxury that Baby Skeets has of making it all feel better in the morning, boop-boop-a-doo, I thank you.

Even under the watchful and helpful guidance of the psychiatric specialists and the pharmaceutical specialists we STILL fall down and go boom. For an even more distinct group, we fall UP and go boom. Some of us do it both ways in fairly rapid succession, by todays standards. I'm "fortunate" enough to stay in the upright position most of the time. There are benefits that help those such as us. No sleeping days upon end. Regular eating and drinking of food and drink. Wake at a healthy hour and sleep at least five hours.

But when the down creeps up on you it is catastrophic. I am defenseless against its insidious talons. It sneaks in the room and starts me sleeping in longer periods. No more 5:00 AM wakies! You may not wake until 7 or 8! And you'll fall dead snoring at 8:00 PM. no movies or completely watched TV shows for you, Lad!

The choices you make... (This was no choice.) Bring your wake... Yeah, eventually. I want a break! I want something to be constant in life besides pain, aggravation and despair. I want to stop worrying about the bank acount and groceries for more than six months and I want my companion to spring out of what is rapidly becoming a REAL depression. I want people that owe me money for services rendered to pay up! Because, you see, money IS the root of all evil. Without money you wither, die and live beneath a bridge support. Without cash, you lose all your "stuff". Without dinero, bellies distend and babies depend, but get nothing more than a hug and a reassurance that things will be better... soon.

Money is the root of all happiness and the statement that money is the root of all evil is a steaming pile of horse shit made up by those people who HAVE money. They expect it to deter the people who don't have anything... Anything to keep the have-nots away from THEIR precious money.

What a screwed up world; what a screwed up country. With all of the political crap slinging going on, you'd think that one of these idiot politicians would say, "HEY! Why send all the damn money to all these places all over the world when we have our OWN people starving and poor and living in povety? Why can't Big Bro take care of what is at home? HEY! BARACK! Why in the Hell aren't you doing something about THAT!?!" (And I'm definitely not referring to the "help" for illegal aliens... Look more towards the Appalacians to see where REAL help is needed from REAL Americans...)

Because that's just the way it is. The rich get richer; the poor get poorer; it takes money to make money... What a rant...

Ripples in the Surface - Rocks in Their Heads

2009-05-15T13:34:00.007-05:00

On June 11th, Shanon Frank is scheduled to be sentenced. I was asked for a statement concerning how these actions had an "impact" on me. The following is my reply...
______________________

April 30, 2009

United States District Court Eastern District of Louisiana

Probation Office

Mr. *************

500 Poydras St. Room 505 New Orleans, LA 70130

RE: United States v. Shanon E. Frank Docket No. 08-196 “F”

Dear Mr. ******,

Thank you for your letter of April 28 and our preceding telephone conversation. Your letter issues an invitation for me to submit information concerning the impact that Mr. Frank’s offense had on me. (For the record, I am NOT seeking any financial restitution. Any restitution obtained should go to Susan P. Sharai.)

I don’t believe that any parent could sufficiently describe how the death of a relatively young child impacts their lives. How do you address the loss of a child, offspring, prodigy & student that you watched grow from and infant to a young adult? I’ll begin, but please have patience with my chronology, as this is very difficult to compile.

I watched as the doctor brought him into this world; held him and saw the look on his Mother’s face as she saw him for the very first time. I held him at an emergency room on more than one instance after he had developed an unexplained fever and was the recipient of a spinal tap. I literally felt his pain through my broken heart as I watched the huge orderly hold our little toddler bent in half like a willow switch as they inserted the needle to draw the fluid. Or after falling on a slippery floor and hitting his eyebrow on a window ledge. He actually broke out of the “Papoose Board” used to hold him down while the intern stitched the wound and I stood there crying like a baby.

I saw his fascination with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles turn into songs and dances that he and his brother would perform for hours on end. I can still hear the unmistakable sound of him scaling the crib rails and landing on the carpet in his room; then, the sound of his diaper rustling as he made a beeline for our bedroom. He’d tiptoe best he could and get inches away from his Mom or I’s face and say, in that unforgettable cartoon character like whisper-voice, “Can I come sleep with you?” This scene was repeated almost every night until he finally grew old enough to sleep on his own.

I saw his intelligence and social skills blossom and saw him as he entered the educational career of a gifted and talented student. I saw a child that was able to drop all semblances of racism through being a member of distinguished classes at Hynes Elementary, Lusher Middle & Ben Franklin High School. He belonged to the best of the best and they all loved and respected each other. Upon graduation, he eschewed offers from other schools out of state and attended Louisiana State University at Baton Rouge. He majored in biochemistry and was in the honors program.

There is an immense debt of gratitude that I owe Pierce and his brother that bonded us in a way that no one else can possibly imagine. Almost nineteen years of sobriety and life as a result of the concern and love of John and Pierce. I actually owe them my life.

He was a communicator and mediator, as much as he was thrust into that role for us. He was a go between with his mother and me. I could always count on him to track down and get a message to his brother, Johnny, when I needed to talk to him. He was loved by all of his friends and classmates, from Louisiana to St. Petersburg, Florida, where he took shelter with his Mom for Katrina. While there, he endeared himself to the students at St. Petersburg High School and build friendships that would have lasted their lifetimes. There is a page on the social networking web site, Facebook.com that is totally dedicated to the “Loving Memory of Pierce Sharai”. (I might add that even Mr. Frank is listed as a member of the group. How ironic.) 477 people whose lives were touched by Pierce took the time to sign in and write about how they felt. From one word cries to multiple paragraph tributes to the friend and confidant that we all lost.

Browsing the photographs show a typical nineteen year old college student, full of brass and ambition. With an attitude that said “I’m bulletproof” and the perceived ability to take on the world, Pierce’s spirit and infectious charm had its way with everyone he came into contact with. From co-workers to freelance jazz musicians and tap dancers on French Quarter streets, Pierce could fit right in and draw a smile.

We play recreational paintball. Had it not been for Pierce, I’d have never gotten into it. I remember the excitement in his voice when he called and told me about the first time he’d played. That was in 2001. Over the years, we all became more and more involved in it. Pierce was responsible for bringing his brother, John, into the game. The three of us have travelled to events all around the South. Since 2003, I’ve been a partner in Gunfighter Paintball Games; a paintball scenario game production company. My close friend and partner, Woody Lovill and I, put on scripted games for players locally. Pierce learned the mechanics of the game by the numbers. He was our Head Referee and ran the logistics for every game so we could make sure that the games ran well on the field. He was one of the best in the business. He is woefully missed by all of our staff and the players. There will never be anyone to replace him. He was unique in what he did.

We also opened a paintball pro-shop in 2004. Pierce was there all the way, from moving in the fixtures to painting the racing stripes on the walls. Every day I walk into the store I think of him because of the faint red paint stain on the carpet by the door where he dripped paint when he stopped paying attention to what he was doing. He worked on markers (guns), especially his own. And he loved to play. He was a member of our paintball scenario team, The Hired Gunz; one of the oldest paintball scenario teams in the Deep South. Despite being a legacy member, he was never looked upon as such and was respected by opponents and peers alike. Since he has been gone, a great deal of the enthusiasm is gone from the game.

These seemingly material accomplishments are nothing compared to losing my hope. Susan and I were blessed with two sons. Each grew up in their own manner and each took their separate roads. The oldest, John, has chosen his path in life and is well on his way to a successful career, marriage and a family of his own. My pride in John’s ability to handle himself is exceeded only by my confidence that he will complete whatever task he sets out to do.

Pierce had aspirations that seemed cemented in his desire to succeed. He had told me at a younger age that he wanted to be a doctor. He refined that desire to a career as a neurosurgeon. We used to have a private joke in where he was to become a highly successful neurosurgeon with a big home and a pool with a cabana house. I would come and live in the cabana house. We would toss that phrase back and forth, “Remember the pool house!”

But now I sit here with the realization that this is an exercise in futility. I sincerely believe that nothing I write in this document will have any effect on Mr. Shanon Frank’s sentence. Besides the obvious reasons, (His actions lead directly to the death of my son…), Mr. Frank is a drug addict. He has been arrested before this incident more than once, for either taking drugs or selling drugs. He knew, beyond any reasonable doubt that I could ever come across, that the heroin he sold to the group of young people that included my son, was of a deadly potency.

I’m sure that Maddie Prevost’s parents can relate when it comes to this entire group of bottom feeders that provided the poison that killed her and Pierce. The relationship here was that there were weeks between the deaths of these two children. Between using it themselves and seeing the results, they had to know what it was capable of. They just didn’t care. I make that same assumption that he is a drug addict again, so I call to mind the actions of a drug addict.

The actions of a drug addict, especially a heroin addict, revolve around doing whatever is necessary to obtain his drugs and doing those drugs. This cycle rises to repeat until the addict overdoses and dies or is incarcerated and severed from his supply. Had Mr. Frank not been caught selling or doing drugs, he would not be in the position he is in now. In my eyes, Mr. Frank is guilty of no less than murder. He sold the poison that killed my child. He knew what he was doing before AND when he did it. If he had sold a packet of strychnine and it would have killed someone, he would be guilty of murder. Why not mark this heroin as an instrument of death as would be any other poison or weapon? Simply because there was a bigger fish to catch? We’re told that we must understand that because there is no other choice.

Those of us who love Pierce continue to ask the question, “Why?” Why would such a brilliant young man with a future that shined so bright take such a risk? The thrill? The high? Peer pressure? You might as well blame Hollywood, for I don’t think we’ll ever have the answer to that, or many other questions. Pierce played in a game that, unfortunately, cost his life. Mr. Frank has travelled his merry way until arrested and put in jail. He even had the nerve to go onto Pierce’s memorial Facebook page and sign in; leaving a photo of him holding what looked like a gun! A shallow attempt at faux remorse, or someone with a sick sense of humor?

So because he helped get a “bigger fish”, the Justice Department recommends a few years off his sentence. We start at fifteen years. He gets three off for being a good citizen and ratting out his supplier. That puts him at twelve years. If he gets the standard 2-for-1 “good behavior” time credit, he’ll be out in six. (This may be wrong, but it is my perception.) With any luck, he’ll get out and do what any addict does upon getting out of jail; (Because you KNOW he’ll be able to score in prison. He won’t go his whole term without feeling the effects of his drug of choice.) He’ll hook up with the first old pal he can find that has any chance of scoring. He’ll score his smack and shoot it up as fast as he can. And I hope the first shot stops his heart. (NOTE: I have since found that Federal sentences are not subject to the same "good time" rule that state prisoners get.)

You asked how this all had an impact on me. In so many words, I am destroyed; saddened; I have nightmares; I cry for no obvious reason; anything I look at or hear that has anything to do with Pierce sends me into a crying jag or into a depressive episode; I hate Mr. Frank. I can’t even manage to feel pity for his parents. At least they have their son. Mine is gone. I am bitter and hate filled for the person who destroyed a huge part of my life, a huge hope for my life. I go through life suspicious of everyone who was involved with the incident.

So there it is. If I could put rage, pain, remorse, anguish, terror and several other words in a can, you’d have how this has impacted my life. I say “MY” life. But the lives this tragedy has been pressed upon go on and on. Family, friends and everyone whose existence Pierce Taylor Sharai touched. Thank you, Shanon Frank for destroying so many lives with one selfish action. Fifteen years isn’t enough.

Thank you for the opportunity to voice my concerns.

Sincerely yours,

John E Sharai, Sr.
____________________________________________________

Laaaaadies and Gentlemen! We Present...

2009-02-03T15:00:00.011-06:00

One of the premier events of the Paintball world is Rick Chard's Extravaganza. Held at the Aitport Crowne Plaza Hotel, it is a industry show that doesn't allow spectators off the street. Lots of friends and companies we work with. Good food and fun. Get to see Ben and Bonnie and John Amodea and Bea and Mke... Should be fun. In Wednesday - out Friday lunchtime...

365 Days of Missing You

2009-01-20T17:35:00.000-06:00

Not much to say here. It's all in my heart. We all miss you more than anything in the world. For me, that will never change...

Beware of Tuesday's Fat

2009-01-08T07:25:00.008-06:00

January 12th marked the Feast of the Epiphany; the day where is is believed the three wise men presented their gifts of the Magi, (Frankincense, Gold and Myrrh), to the Christ child. In New Orleans, though, it is also known as the "Twelfth Night". It marks the beginning of the Dionysian festival of Carnival that lasts until Fat Tuesday; Mardi Gras; Carnival Day; Shrove Turesday or the day before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.

Long has it been a South Louisiana tradition, to participate in this extended party from it's beginning to end. Unfortunately, in the revelry and ignorance that goes on during the event, (just watch COPS), young people have an increased ability to secure alcohol and drugs on a more relaxed scale. I have but one thing to say to the parents out there who truly love and care for their children...

Fight it. Fight it with all your heart. Fight it until they get mad at you. Fight it until they are positive that you care. Fight it without the beer in your own hand or while waving good-bye on your way to Pat O'Briens. If you love your kids and you want to avoid the chance of seeing him or her lying dead in a casket, have the good sense to understand that young people under the age of twenty-one have no business drinking alcohol. PERIOD. To show any tolerance in this issue places a misguided twist in these chldrens' minds that it is in some way permissible for them to drink. It's a two month period of vigilance and care.

But believe me... it's better than losing them forever...

Speaking of APPLE Trees...

2009-01-06T08:58:00.003-06:00

Being an Apple fan but not of great financial means, I was interested when they came out with the I-Pod Shuffle. My sweetie got me one for my birthday in September. It was great, as I didn't have a radio in the car I was using, so I could have music on my commute.

In early December, it failed. I called Apple and they arranged for a replacement. It was, of course, necessary to provide my VISA debit card number to ensure the return of the defective product. It would not be charged if the unit was returned by the date specified.

Long story short, up to this point, got replacement; sent back old one via DHL. New unit had small scratch, but so what? Story over - no harm, no foul...

Right.

On December 20, Apple Store charged my debit card $75.04 for a I-Pod Shuffle that Karen only paid $49.50 for. In calling them, and after an hour and a half telephone torture, it was found that they THOUGHT I had not returned the unit. After supplying them with the DHL numbers, they found that alas, it was their mistake and they had found my unit. Apology-blah-blah. If I would then call Customer Relations, they would arrange to get my money back.

ANOTHER aggravating call and I was told that in 5-7 days I would get the money that they shouldn't have taken in the first place back. I was entirely pissed, but their robots can only answer with "We're so sorry" and "I know how you feel". Thoughts of Uncle Albert came to mind.

This morning, SURPRISE!. no money... SO, I called Apple. Amazing as it was, they had a problem with something being rejected on my refund and it had not been processed. But a supervisor had just seen the problem and arranged for my refund to be pushed through... in 5-7 days... Of course, this may have something to do with the time limit you have at YOUR bank for disputing a charge. I gave them the five days before I would go to my bank. Let's see what happens...

The moral of the story is... The bigger they are, the harder YOU fall.

At our shop I can refund a card charge IMMEDIATELY. The card processor may take a day or two to get it forwarded. Apple is so freaking big, I'm sure they can stretch anything the way they'd like.

If you buy Apple, beware. It's too bad, because if I had not seen or called in either instance, they would have made a fast $75 off of me. I wonder how many other people they screw like this?

Shame on you Apple.

Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree...

2008-12-08T09:04:00.011-06:00

...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...

2008-12-04T20:00:00.001-06:00

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...

2008-10-06T17:44:00.001-05:00

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...)

2008-07-05T21:42:00.009-05:00

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...)

2008-07-05T11:33:00.008-05:00

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...

2008-07-03T07:22:00.007-05:00

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...)

2008-07-01T07:38:00.014-05:00

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...)

2008-06-30T18:00:00.003-05:00

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)

2008-06-30T08:01:00.012-05:00

"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

2008-06-29T19:09:00.005-05:00

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

2008-06-29T17:41:00.001-05:00

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'...)

2008-06-28T17:05:00.068-05:00

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!)

2008-06-28T12:19:00.028-05:00

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 screw around on me with someone else. what a wonderful gal, eh? she asked to be forgiven and have another chance. sap that i am, I gave it to her on the condition we move to the North Shore so I could be close 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 lierally believed anything he told 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