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. 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

i am not there, i did not die...

Something that says a great deal about Pierce is the eulogy that I composed for his services. How I ever got through it, I'll never know. He had to be there giving me courage & strength to go through it without breaking down.

No parent ever expects to deliver a eulogy at one of their children’s services; especially a child taken so quickly and at such a young age. The deep seated pain and sense of unfathomable loss is something unnatural and foreign to humans. As it has been said over and over again, “no parent should have to bury his child”.

When Pierce came into the world, I knew he would achieve things that I could never do. Even as a toddler, some of his serious nature was apparent. He refused to sleep in his crib and ended up between his Mom and me most every night. But he wasn’t alone in that department, as big brother was good at the same thing. As he grew older, he would start out in his bed, but at some point in the night I would hear the unmistakable rustle of his diaper and his little feet running as he hit our bed and whispered, “Wanna come lay with you”. Of course, he climbed up and settled in, closing his eyes and drifting off with a smile on his face.

We bore his pain in more than one occasion. From high fevers of unknown origin, to spinal taps to the accident when his Uncle Mark visited from New Orleans; I will never forget his run down the hallway to tell everyone dinner was ready. As he reached the tile in the foyer, he slipped and struck his eyebrow on the window ledge. After a trip to the Emergency Room, some stitches and a broken Papoose board, we returned home with our little guy to brother Johnny waiting at the door. It was the kind of pain that, as parents, we expected to bear. To take away as much of that hurt as we could.

No brothers could have been closer. From Ghostbusters to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, they shared their fantasies and played their games. This degree of closeness would serve them through their childhood, adolescent and young adult years. Unfortunately, as happens in many families, jobs, lives & separations took place and they ended up with dual households and new strangers in the parental roles they were familiar with.

The years went by quickly for me. I moved to the Northshore. Pierce and Johnny visited as they could. I did what I could to remain a fixture in their lives. But my own poor choices betrayed me and all but estranged my relationship with Johnny, who was attending my alma mater, Archbishop Rummel. Through all of the difficulties, Pierce could look through my defects and see that I was still his father and that he would always cherish that. Our time was ours.

Then, as if it were an answer to a prayer, Pierce discovered an unconventional sport that gave us a common ground. That sport was paintball. It enabled us to spend weekends together in the outdoors. We met people who we have developed solid, lasting friendships with. We learned how to operate a field and referee games. Had it not been for Pierce, I would have never met my closest friend, Woody. AND, have my hangout paintball shop and game company. Without Pierce, I would have none of that. Sadly, though I never ended a phone call or visit without saying “I love you” and delivering a big hug, I don’t think I was able to tell him just how much he meant in the overall picture. I failed to have the foresight for tragedy.

He was a capable Game Director, Head Referee, Role Player, Artist and all around great player. With a smile on his face, Pierce and Ramzi, Travis or Blake could be seen with a sideward grin when planning the next goof on some unsuspecting staff member. He could take a forty page game script and within five minutes have it laid out and ready for “Game On!” If you walk into the Gunfighter Pro Shop, look two places. The stripes that go around the walls – his handiwork. And the pinkish-red stain near the front wall – where he spilled paint on the carpet! (Note: The shop was moved in August 2009. Since Pierce couldn't be there to duplicate the stripe, it was decided that the stripe would remain, in it's only part... on the cork bulletin board that he insisted we paint across when we originated the design. If you enter the new shop, check it out. Red & yellow - you can't miss it...)

And in another answered prayer, someone else who I was scared that was gone from my life returned for the same thing with the assistance of Pierce... Big brother, Johnny. I think that was what I was most grateful for. Johnny has picked up almost all of the skills that his brother performed and can do it well, including his relationship with his Dad. And I thank God we have grown closer than ever in our lives, for we shall need each other to survive through the repercussions of this event.

Honor student at LSU. All-around paintball “great”. Liked and loved by everyone he came close to. Touching so many lives and having so much ambition and potential. What will we do without you, my precious, precious, son? We will never forget your enthusiasm, your verve, your sense of perfection, your love for all things Ralph Lauren Polo, your loving heart, your bright smile, and who could forget your lightning fast trigger finger. I will never forget ANYTHING about you, my son; for you are a part of me and will ALWAYS be a piece of my heart until I am lucky enough to join you in Heaven when my time comes.

I love you, Pierce.

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant though no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree;
Be the green grass above me.

With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale, sing on as if in pain.
And dreaming through the twilight,

that doth not rise or set;

Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.

Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894)