the 3 mental health conditions i have



depression, when i lose my jobs, and  when i lose my way in life, i go into a deep depression

or it could be anxiety, like like i go out, but when people treat me like one of their mob, i go into

a shell, saying, i am not a hooligan, i am a family person, and i would winge about this for days

i was thinking that other people, were trying to fight me because i am trying to be a street person

and the voice was saying you and your brother ain’t like us, you see, i always have been teased

by other poor people, because i am poor too, and i remember in the bar, i wanted to go to the bar

to have a beer, and these men wanted me to play with them, i was too young to understand, that they

were just using me, and i felt i was getting hassled, day in and day out, by the working class, it doesn’t stop

me from helping them, but i prefer to help the homeless, or disadvantaged at common ground, and

i look at common ground plans, and it could be how i visioned, when people yell at me, i go, leave me

alone, mate, i am a family person, i felt people were taking my job away from me, every day, i know now

that they weren’t, but i felt people were saying, i am sorry, your not cut out for helping us, today

i was really crazy, i implied to this man, who was doing the washing up, that i wanted to do this

he was upset, maybe, it is not depression, it’s me being anxious to help people, with my past, voices

saying don’t muck with brian, saying he is still a shy person, and despite all the good things i did

i left them, but the reason why i did, because, i was paranoid, that, i was being put in a little situation

by the people at the rainbow, like me being *******, in the craft room, i remember that note very well, i was

very uneducated about this, and i was trying to make it up to my mum after yelling at her and dad when i was young

and when i was drunk, and i wanted to be nice to everyone, but my kindness could have killed me, like i was

arguing with everyone, getting defensive so to speak, and i ate a lot of food and nearly died of obesity. well

i could say, i did die, of obesity, i am getting voices, every time i say i want to **** me when i was young, when i mean

the evil streak in me, the voice says, don’t, i liked that little guy, and he really did like that little guy, it could have

been created from the simpsons, there was a problem when i was working at the rainbow, i gave into temptation, where

i mucked with people who mucked around, but i still did my cooking and creative writing, and now, i have so many stories

to share with my youtube generation, but i was making mum and dad relax around me, and that is all i care about, and

then the crazy delusions i was getting when i killed my loving family cat, delusions were coming into my head, at first

i thought it was cool, i was hearing old mates and all my family, all gathering and the voices were great, and i tried every time

my parents got cranky, i tried to calm down, you see my parents would cry over spilt milk, literally, and then wondered why i

got cranky with them, i made a joke saying dad, don’t cry over spilt milk, dad got cranky and said, implying he was a clean person

and we should feel guilty about dropping anything on the floor, i said to dad, accidents to accure, and dad said, yeah but you need

to be more careful, and i wanted to escape my parents, because they were such projectionists in everything they did, and i found

out that leaving my house in a mess, was my way of playing cool for them, maybe in 2004, they were cleaning my house for me

before i went to hospital, but, i found mum and dad, as i said, real perfectionists, everything had to be perfect, i found it hard to

understand that my house if messy could spell eviction, but i was living in the backyard, yeah, mum and dad help, but i find a little

too much, i was doing fine when i moved in my new flat in hawker, i cleaned it every day, until i went into hospital, but dad

still wanted to be a dad, and i wanted him to be a friend, because, him and mums way wasn’t helping me, i understand where

it should help me, but it flaming didn’t, ya see i hated that little situation, where dad and mum were treating me like a 4 year old boy

so i brought back the memories for dad, saying why don’t you smoke again dad, saying, you seemed happier when you smoked

because, dad said, don’t argue with me be a BUDDHIST, i am a buddhist, but unlike christians, buddha allows a bit of teasing as

long as it is done in a peaceful, dad is dead, and now dad is betty campbell, but i want mum to one day understand this, because

i feel she is dwelling in all this, and she is worrying about me, but, i prefer the life of enjoyment, and i like community spirit

you see i liked and still like how men used to say i am doing a wonderful job, i was visioning dad turning off me, like he was

dwelling in the past, i told dad that his father is macauley culkin, but he actually is ryan clark, and mums dad is macauley culkin

i know this cause i am cronus, i liked when men said to me, keeping busy, mate, keeping out of trouble, mate

because i liked helping in the community, but mum and dad, i feel, were treating me like an old fogie, when they were complaining

about me doing volunteer work, i liked volunteering, every job was fun, mum and dad just worried about me, but in hindsight

i didn’t want them to worry, ok i never liked all that being my mums son, nor i hated being a little kid, i sit there and let us big adults

muck around, i liked how i was feeling down in the dumps, and i rang up dad and mum and we’ll doing the same thing

then i heard dad say, i am not mucking around in cool kid groups with brian, like a real **** would say, you see i was being an adult

i hated how dad tried to be like the in crowd, there is nothing wrong with that, but he looked like he was worried, i felt like saying

STOP WORRYING ABOUT YOUR SON BRIAN, AND RELAX, i tried to get him to relax by asking him to watch the cricket

and other shows, he refused, and now dad is dead, he is betty campbell now, but dad obsessed with doing everything perfect

if ya wanna copy dad, fine, but, i want to have better people around me, ok, to have PARTIES, dudes

rather than just doing it with mum, i am saving for adelaide on nye and the carols in the domain as well in sydney

PLEASE BUDDHA, BRING DAD CLOSER TO ME, ON TV, i miss him

Chonny: -in car- Hey, dad?
Dad: What?
Chonny: Which way to the doctors again?
Dad: You have to turn left here and then go straight. Okay, hey what you do at doctor anyway? You sick? Eat some panadol then.
Chonny: Oh no no, I'm going there for a blood test 'cause I wanna find out what blood type I am.
Dad: Oh, ok. Is this what you do in your spare time?
Chonny: It's kinda for my work.
Dad: It's kinda... gay.
Dad: Hey boy. How's school?
Chonny: Oh, not that good... um... I get bullied at school...
Dad: Who cares? I just want to know the result from your report card!
Chonny: Oh uh uh they're pretty good, I got a A+ in math.
Dad: Mm. That's okay. 7 times 7!
Chonny: 49!
Dad: Mm. That's okay.
Chonny: I got a A+ in Chemistry.
Dad: Mm, that's good, make me the drug.
Chonny: A+ in Physics.
Dad: Mm. That's okay, you could have done better.
Dad: What about the English?
Chonny: Uh.. I got uh....
Dad: What about the ENGLISH?
Chonny: I got a... I got a...
Dad: WHAT ABOUT THE ENGLISH?!
Chonny: I got a... B, B+.
Dad: B+?! WHA, WHA, B PLUS?!?
Mom: B PLUS?!
Dad: B PLUS AGAIN?! That's it. Too late. No more chance. You die.
Chonny: WHAT?! Why?
Dad: You die, ok? When we get home, I'm gonna go to the backyard, okay, get my butcher knife, chop the branch, chop the stick from the tree, very long one, and I'm gonna have to whip a *****, I'm gonna have to whip you! I'm gonna have to whip you!
Chonny: NO! No, sorry dad! I'm sorry!
Dad: Sorry is not an excuse, okay. Just listen to my lecture, listen, listen carefully.
Chonny: -sniffs-
Dad: Ok. A, it stand for the good job. Ok. A stand for the good job, you have to get A. It stand for the good job. A stand for: A doctor. A lawyer. A dentist. Ok? All the good job.
Chonny: Then that means A can stand for a garbage man.
Dad: Garbage man? Ga- garbage man?! GARBAGE MAN START WITH A G! NO WONDER YOU FAIL THE ENGLISH! YOU CAN'T EVEN SPELL DA GARBAGE MAN! Just get out of my car, ok. We already at the doctor. Just get out.
Chonny: -gets out of car-
Dad: Garbage... ugh. Garbage man start with a G. Even I know that and I can't even spell garbage.

30 Minutes Later

Chonny: -gets back into car-
Dad: So how was it? Your blood all good?
Chonny: Yeah, yeah, it was all good.
Dad: So what the result? What blood type are you?
Chonny: Um, my blood type is B positive.
Dad: B positive? B PLUS?! B PLUS AGAIN?!?

THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY, BRIAN WANTS TO BE AN ADULT, BUT HE;S TOO YOUNG



YOU SEE BRIAN ALLAN SINCE HE MOVED TO CANBERRA, HE HAS BEEN GETTING

VOICES IN HIS HEAD, OF HIS FAMILY AND OUTSIDERS, TREATING HIM LIKR A LITTLE

YOUNG DUDE, BUT BRIAN WAS FRUSTRATED, CAUSE, HE LIKED THE ADULTS BETTER

YOU SEE BRIAN WAS A COOL KID, BUT HIS VOICES WERE BOTHERING HIM, WHEN BRIAN

SAID I AM A MAN, HIS BROTHER WOULD SAY, SHUT UP, BABY, THEN ANOTHER VOICE SAYS

FROM AN OUTSIDER, SAYING, MEN BULLY, BRIAN, AND YOUR NO BULLY, BE LIKE USES WITH

THE YOUNG DUDES, AND BRIAN WAS UPSET, AND SAID, NO I AM AN ADULT, THERE IS NOTHING

WRONG WITH BEING AN ADULT, I WAS A COOL KID, YOU SEE, I WANTED TO BE ALLOWED TO RELAX

BUT BECAUSE MY BROTHER WAS ONLY 2 YEARS YOUNGER, HE FORCED ME TO JOIN HIM

WHICH I DIDN’T MIND, CAUSE AS I SAID, I WAS A COOL KID, YOU SEE WE PLAYED YARD CRICKET

AND FOOTBALL AND SPORTS SHOWS, AND BECAUSE OF ALL THIS, I WAS A REAL MAN, WHICH

UPSET MY PARENTS WAY OF LIFE, AND I DID THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH MY CHILDHOOD

WITH OUTSIDERS CALLING OUT TO ME, SAYING, YOUR STILL A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE, AND

WHEN BRIAN SAID, I AM AN ADULT, THEY SAID, ADULT, ADULT, TRYING TO TAKE THE NOVELTY

OUT OF ME SAYING I AM AN ADULT, CAUSE I AM TOO WOOSEY TO BE LIKE LYLE, AND THIS

YOUNG DUDE SAID, **** MY ****, YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE BRIAN, BRIAN AT FIRST

SAID ******* I AM NOT GAY, HE SAID, NO YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE MATE, **** MY FUCKEN ****, ****

BRIAN SAID, WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME BE TO BE A REAL MAN, THEN HE SAID, **** MY ****

YOU ARE TOO WOOSEY TO BE A MAN, AND BRIAN SAID, I DON’T WANT TO **** YOUR ****, ****

I AM NOT GAY, YA ****, HE GRABBED MY ARM AND PULLED ME INTO THE ROOM AND FORCED ME

TO **** HIS ****, THE FUCKEN **** HE WAS, AND BRIAN AS SOON AS HE LEFT, WAS FOLLOWING HIM

AND HE SAID, BRIAN ****** MY ****, YA SEE THAT **** IS NOT LIKE ME, AND THEN I WAS PLAYING

A TIE UP GAME, WHERE BRIAN ASKED THIS YOUNG DUDE TO TIE HIM UP, HOPING IT’LL TAKE THE

LITTLE YOUNG DUDE OUT OF THE STREET, BUT BRIAN BECAME WILD, AND HIS DAD, WELL HE AIN’T PERFECT

BUT STILL HIS PRIDE GOT IN THE WAY, I GOT CRANKY WITH DAD, CAUSE, HE LOOKED AS IF HE DIDN’T GIVE A ****

YOU SEE, I WAS TRYING TO GAIN RESPECT AND OPEN UP TO HIM, BUT I FOUND IT HARD, AND DAD HAD A LIFE

LIKE BEING A SCHOOL TEACHER WHERE HE HELPED A LOT OF KIDS, ACTUALLY DAD WAS THE REAL KIDS FRIEND

BUT, ME, I COULDN’T GET THROUGH TO DAD, SO I PUNCHED HIM AND THREATENED HIM WHEN HE LAUGHED AT ME

I SAID, SHUT UP, *******, YOU ARE NOT LIKE US, AND DAD WANTED TO HAVE HIS CHAIR, NOW DAD DID MAKE IT UP TO ME

BUT I WANTED FRIENDS, AND I FUCKEN TRIED TO BE CAREFUL, BUT I HATED THE YOUNG DUDE ASKING ME TO **** HIS ****

AND BRIAN HATED HIS DAD, HAVING A PROBLEM, WITH HIM BEING A KID, I WAS PLAYING BASKETBALL LIKE MY BROTHER

PLAYED TENNIS, AND DAD NEVER UNDERSTOOD, I LIKED THAT LIFE OF GOING OUT AND WALKING AROUND THE MALL

YA KNOW MUCKING AROUND BEING A FOOL ON SOME DAYS, BUT OTHER DAYS, MAINLY ON WEEKENDS I WENT TO THE MALL’
‘
TO HAVE LUNCH AND HAD A BIT OF A MUCK AROUND AT *** BLACK PINNY ARCADE, AND THEN OVER TO THE BOWLING ALLEY

AND ON THE WAY HOME, I ENJOYED ALL THE KIDS PLAYING IN KEANE PLACE, YA KNOW YARD CRICKET, YA KNOW, BEH AND JOSH

AND THIS KID WHO LOOKED LIKE A CARBON COPY OF THE BIG YOUNG DUDES I LIKED AS A KID, BUT HE WAS A TROUBLE MAKER

AS HE ASKED ME TO TIE HIM UP, AND IF I DIDN’T KNOW BETTER, I WOULD HAVE TIED HIM UP, BUT I SAID NO, HOPING KIDS WOULD

STOP TREATING ME LIKE A PHEDAPHILE, AND THEN ANOTHER GAME OF CRICKET WITH BRENDAN AND CANDICE AND MY BROTHER

AND I LOOKED LIKE A REAL COOL KID, CRUISING AROUND, THEN AFTER A WHILE, THE VOICES STARTED, AND EVERY VOICE WENT

TO BED, LEAVING BRIAN THE COOL KID TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT, PLAYING COMPUTER GAMES, WATCHING TALK SHOWS, AND JUST AS

I WENT TO BED, MY MATES RANG ME UP, TO DRINK BEERS OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL, AS WELL AS JUMPING IN OUR FAMILY’S SWIMMING POOL

AND LEAVING SHARP OBJECTS, MAKING MY FATHER, NEVER TRUST ME EVER AGAIN, I WAS TRYING TO BE LIKE A MATE I LIKED, PAT, BACK THEN

BUT I LOOKED LIKE A DRUNKEN WOOSEY *****, CAUSE, I WAS TRYING TO BE THE COOL KID IN THE CLUB, TEASING THE NERDY YEAH MATE YEAH KID

WHO IS LIKE DAD’S NERDY BEING FRIENDS MOTTO, BUT, I WAS A FOOL, BUT I ENJOYED WALKING AROUND FROM PUB TO PUB, WITH THE

LINE IN MY HEAD, MEN DON’T DO THAT, THAT’S WHAT KIDS DO, I AM OFF TO THE PUB, AND WHEN I LOOKED SHY AT A FEW STAGES IN MY LIFE

IN CIVIC, I HEARD DADS VOICE SAYING, GO INTO A PUB BRIAN, RATHER THAN WALK AROUND CIVIC, AND I PARTIED ALL OVER THE CITY CLUB

AND THE PRIVATE BIN, SOMEONE TRIED TO ROUGH ME UP OUTSIDE THE CHARNWOOD INN, AT A CHOIRBOYS GIG THERE, BRIAN LOST EVERYTHING

THAT NIGHT, BUT THE TAXI DRIVER WAS HAPPY TO GIVE ME A FREE RIDE HOME, I AM NOT DOING THAT AGAIN, AND I VISIONED ME AND BRENDAN

WERE ******* TOGETHER, BETWEEN HOUSES, BUT I HATED DAD LOOKING LIKE HE DOESN’T CARE FOR MY WELL-BEING SO I HAD NUMEROUS FIGHTS

WITH HIM, BUT I DON’T BELIEVE IN VIOLENCE, AND DAD, ALWAYS DID THE WIMPY THING TO CALL THE POLICE IN RATHER THAN JUST RELAX AND LET ME YELL

DAD, HAS HIS PRIDE, TO PROTECT, I SAID THEN, **** YOUR FUCKEN PRIDE, I WILL NEVER BE A NERDY ADULT LIKE YOU DAD I SAID, AFTER A WHILE I UNDERSTOOD DAD

BUT I CAN’T UNDERSTAND, WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT TO BE AN OLD JITTERY MAN, BACK THEN, BRIAN WAS JUST TEASING THE OLD JITTERY MAN IN DAD, DAD

LET HIS PRIDE GET THE BETTER OF HIM, DAD CARED, BUT, HE COULD’VE BEEN A LITTLE NICER BACK THEN, CAUSE I NEVER HELD A GUN TO HIS HEAD

AND I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A FIGHTING COOL KID, BUT I WAS A COOL KID, WHO LOVES TO PARTY, I HAVE ALWAYS LIKED PARTIES, IN THE PAST

AND I WILL LOVE THEM THROUGH EVERY BUDDHIST LIFE OF MINE, DAD, REMEMBER FRANK SPENSER, BETTY, OH DEAR BETTY, WELL YOUR BETTY NOW DAD

AND NOW, I HAVE TO MAKE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND, I HATED FIGHTING DAD, I WAS HAVING PROBLEMS, LIKE I THOUGHT I WAS DEALING WITH, LIKE A COOL YOUNG DUDE DOES

I WANTED TO BE AN ADULT, DON’T WE ALL

Victor D. López (October 11, 2018)

You were born five years before the beginning of the Spanish civil war and
Lived in a modest two-story home in the lower street of Fontan, facing the ocean that
Gifted you its wealth and beauty but also robbed you of your beloved and noblest eldest
Brother, Juan, who was killed while working as a fisherman out to sea at the tender age of 19.

You were a little girl much prone to crying. The neighbors would make you cry just by saying,
"Chora, neniña, chora" [Cry little girl, cry] which instantly produced inconsolable wailing.
At the age of seven or eight you were blinded by an eye Infection. The village doctor
Saved your eyesight, but not before you missed a full year of school.

You never recovered from that lost time. Your impatience and the shame of feeling left behind prevented
You from making up for lost time. Your wounded pride, the shame of not knowing what your friends knew,
Your restlessness and your inability to hold your tongue when you were corrected by your teacher created
A perfect storm that inevitably tossed your diminutive boat towards the rocks.

When still a girl, you saw Franco with his escort leave his yacht in Fontan. With the innocence of a girl
Who would never learn to hold her tongue, you asked a neighbor who was also present, "Who is that Man?"
"The Generalissimo Francisco Franco," she answered and whispered “Say ‘Viva Franco’ when he Passes by.”
With the innocence of a little girl and the arrogance of an incorrigible old soul you screamed, pointing:

"That's the Generalissimo?" followed up loud laughter, "He looks like Tom Thumb!"
A member of his protective detail approached you, raising his machine gun with the apparent intention of
Hitting you with the stock. "Leave her alone!" Franco ordered. "She is just a child — the fault is not hers."
You told that story many times in my presence, always with a smile or laughing out loud.

I don't believe you ever appreciated the possible import of that "feat" of contempt for
Authority. Could that act of derision have played some small part in their later
Coming for your father and taking him prisoner, torturing him for months and eventually
Condemning him to be executed by firing squad in the Plaza de Maria Pita?

He escaped his fate with the help of a fascist officer who freed him as I’ve noted earlier.
Such was his reputation, the power of his ideas and the esteem even of friends who did not share his views.
Such was your innocence or your psychic blind spot that you never realized your possible contribution to
His destruction. Thank God you never connected the possible impact of your words on his downfall.

You adored your dad throughout your life with a passion of which he was most deserving.
He died shortly after the end of the Spanish Civil War. A mother with ten mouths to feed
Needed help. You stepped up in response to her silent, urgent need. At the age of
Eleven you left school for the last time and began working full time.

Children could not legally work in Franco’s Spain. Nevertheless, a cousin who owned a cannery
Took pity on your situation and allowed you to work full-time in his fish cannery factory in Sada.
You earned the same salary as the adult, predominantly women workers and worked better
Than most of them with a dexterity and rapidity that served you well your entire life.

In your free time before work you carried water from the communal fountain to neighbors for a few cents.
You also made trips carrying water on your head for home and with a pail in each hand. This continued after
You began work in Cheche’s cannery. You rose long before sunrise to get the water for
Home and for the local fishermen before they left on their daily fishing trips for their personal water pails.

All of the money you earned went to your mom with great pride that a girl could provide more than the salary of a
Grown woman--at the mere cost of her childhood and education. You also washed clothes for some
Neighbors for a few cents more, with diapers for newborns always free just for the pleasure of being
Allowed to see, hold spend some time with the babies you so dearly loved you whole life through.
When you were old enough to go to the Sunday cinema and dances, you continued the
Same routine and added washing and ironed the Sunday clothes for the young fishermen
Who wanted to look their best for the weekly dances. The money from that third job was your own
To pay for weekly hairdos, the cinema and dance hall entry fee. The rest still went to your mom.

At 16 you wanted to go to emigrate to Buenos Aires to live with an aunt.
Your mom agreed to let you--provided you took your younger sister, Remedios, with you.
You reluctantly agreed. You found you also could not legally work in Buenos Aires as a minor.
So you convincingly lied about your age and got a job as a nurse’s aide at a clinic soon after your arrival.

You washed bedpans, made beds, scrubbed floors and did other similar assigned tasks
To earn enough money to pay the passage for your mom and two youngest brothers,
Sito (José) and Paco (Francisco). Later you got a job as a maid at a hotel in the resort town of
Mar del Plata whose owners loved your passion for taking care of their infant children.

You served as a maid and unpaid babysitter. Between your modest salary and
Tips as a maid you soon earned the rest of the funds needed for your mom’s and brothers’
Passage from Spain. You returned to Buenos Aires and found two rooms you could afford in an
Excellent neighborhood at an old boarding house near the Spanish Consulate in the center of the city.

Afterwards you got a job at a Ponds laboratory as a machine operator of packaging
Machines for Ponds’ beauty products. You made good money and helped to support your
Mom and brothers  while she continued working as hard as she always had in Spain,
No longer selling fish but cleaning a funeral home and washing clothing by hand.

When your brothers were old enough to work, they joined you in supporting your
Mom and getting her to retire from working outside the home.
You lived with your mom in the same home until you married dad years later,
And never lost the bad habit of stubbornly speaking your mind no matter the cost.

Your union tried to force you to register as a Peronista. Once burned twice cautious,
You refused, telling the syndicate you had not escaped one dictator to ally yourself with
Another. They threatened to fire you. When you would not yield, they threatened to
Repatriate you, your mom and brothers back to Spain.

I can’t print your reply here. They finally brought you to the general manager’s office
Demanding he fire you. You demanded a valid reason for their request.
The manager—doubtless at his own peril—refused, saying he had no better worker
Than you and that the union had no cause to demand your dismissal.

After several years of courtship, you and dad married. You had the world well in hand with
Well-paying jobs and strong savings that would allow you to live a very comfortable life.
You seemed incapable of having the children you so longed for. Three years of painful
Treatments allowed you to give me life and we lived three more years in a beautiful apartment.

I have memories from a very tender age and remember that apartment very well. But things changed
When you decided to go into businesses that soon became unsustainable in the runaway inflation and
Economic chaos of the Argentina of the early 1960’s. I remember only too well your extreme sacrifice
And dad’s during that time—A theme for another day, but not for today.

You were the hardest working person I’ve ever known. You were not afraid of any honest
Job no matter how challenging and your restlessness and competitive spirit always made you a
Stellar employee everywhere you worked no matter how hard or challenging the job.
Even at home you could not stand still unless there was someone with whom to chat awhile.

You were a truly great cook thanks in part to learning from the chef of the hotel where you had
Worked in Mar del Plata awhile—a fellow Spaniard of Basque descent who taught you many of his favorite
Dishes—Spanish and Italian specialties. You were always a terribly picky eater. But you
Loved to cook for family and friends—the more the merrier—and for special holidays.

Dad was also a terrific cook, but with a more limited repertoire. I learned to cook
With great joy from both of you at a young age. And, though neither my culinary skills nor
Any aspect of my life can match you or dad, I too am a decent cook and
Love to cook, especially for meals shared with loved ones.

You took great pleasure in introducing my friends to some of your favorite dishes such as
Cazuela de mariscos, paella marinera, caldo Gallego, stews, roasts, and your incomparable
Canelones, ñoquis, orejas, crepes, muñuelos, flan, and the rest of your long culinary repertoire.
In primary and middle school dad picked me up every day for lunch before going to work.

You and he worked the second shift and did not leave for work until around 2:00 p.m.
Many days, dad would bring a carload of classmates with me for lunch.
I remember as if it were yesterday the faces of my Jewish, Chinese, Japanese, German, Irish
And Italian friends when first introduced to octopus, Spanish tortilla, caldo Gallego, and flan.

The same was true during college and law school.  At times our home resembled an
U.N. General Assembly meeting—but always featuring food. You always treated my
Closest friends as if they were your children and a number of them to this day love
You as a second mother though they have not seen you for many years.

You had tremendous passion and affinity for being a mother (a great pity to have just one child).
It made you over-protective. You bought my clothes at an exclusive boutique. I became a
Living doll for someone denied such toys as a young girl. You would not let me out of your sight and
Kept me in a germ-free environment that eventually produced some negative health issues.

My pediatrician told you often “I want to see him with ***** finger nails and scraped knees.”
You dismissed the statement as a joke. You’d take me often to the park and to my
Favorite merry-go-round. But I had not one friend until I was seven or eight and then just one.
I did not have a real circle of friends until I was about 13 years old. Sad.

I was walking and talking up a storm in complete sentences when I was one year old.
You were concerned and took me to my pediatrician who laughed. He showed me a
Keychain and asked, “What is this Danny.” “Those are your car keys” I replied. After a longer
Evaluation he told my mom it was important to encourage and feed my curiosity.

According to you, I was unbearable (some things never change). I asked dad endless questions such as,
“Why is the sun hot? How far are the stars and what are they made of? Why
Can’t I see the reflection of a flashlight pointed at the sky at night? Why don’t airplanes
Have pontoons on top of the wheels so they can land on both water and land? Etc., etc., etc.

He would answer me patiently to the best of his ability and wait for the inevitable follow-ups.
I remember train and bus rides when very young sitting on his lap asking him a thousand Questions.
Unfortunately, when I asked you a question you could not answer, you more often than not made up an answer Rather than simply saying “I don’t know,” or “go ask dad” or even “go to hell you little monster!”

I drove you crazy. Whatever you were doing I wanted to learn to do, whether it was working on the
Sewing machine, knitting, cooking, ironing, or anything else that looked remotely interesting.
I can’t imagine your frustration. Yet you always found only joy in your little boy at all ages.
Such was your enormous love which surrounded me every day of my life and still does.

When you told me a story and I did not like the ending, such as with “Little Red Riding Hood,”
I demanded a better one and would cry interminably if I did not get it. Poor mom. What patience!
Reading or making up a story that little Danny did not approve of could be dangerous.
I remember one day in a movie theater watching the cartoons I loved (and still love).

Donald Duck came out from stage right eating a sandwich. Sitting between you and dad I asked you
For a sandwich. Rather than explaining that the sandwich was not real, that we’d go to dinner after the show
To eat my favorite steak sandwich (as usual), you simply told me that Donald Duck would soon bring me the sandwich. But when the scene changed, Donald Duck came back smacking his lips without the sandwich.

Then all hell broke loose. I wailed at the top of my lungs that Donald Duck had eaten my sandwich.
He had lied to me and not given me the promised sandwich. That was unbearable. There was
No way to console me or make me understand—too late—that Donald Duck was also hungry,
That it was his sandwich, not mine, or that what was on the screen was just a cartoon and not real.

He, Donald Duck, mi favorite Disney character (then and now) hade eaten this little boy’s Sandwich. Such a Betrayal by a loved one was inconceivable and unbearable. You and dad had to drag me out of the theater ranting And crying at the injustice at top volume. The tantrum (extremely rare for me then, less so now) went on for awhile, but all was well again when my beloved Aunt Nieves gave me a ******* with jam and told me Donald had sent it.

So much water under the bridge. Your own memories, like smoke in a soft breeze, have dissipated
Into insubstantial molecules like so many stars in the night sky that paint no coherent picture.
An entire life of vital conversations turned to the whispers of children in a violent tropical storm,
Insubstantial, imperceptible fragments—just a dream that interrupts an eternal nightmare.

That is your life today. Your memory was always prodigious. You knew the name of every person
You ever met, and those of their family members. You could recall entire conversations word for word.
Three years of schooling proved more than sufficient for you to go out into the world, carving your own
Path from the Inhospitable wilderness and learning to read and write at the age of 16.

You would have been a far better lawyer than I and a fiery litigator who would have fought injustice
Wherever you found it and always defended the rights of those who cannot defend themselves,
Especially children who were always your most fervent passion. You sacrificed everything for others,
Always put yourself dead-last, and never asked for anything in return.

You were an excellent dancer and could sing like an angel. Song was your release in times of joy and
In times of pain. You did not drink or smoke or over-indulge in anything. For much of your life your only minor Indulgence was a weekly trip to the beauty parlor—even in Spain where your washing and ironing income
Paid for that. You were never vain in any way, but your self-respect required you to try to look your best.

You loved people and unlike dad who was for the most part shy, you were quite happy in the all-to-infrequent
Role as the life of the party—singing, dressing up as Charlie Chaplin or a newborn for New Year’s Eve parties with Family and close friends. A natural story-teller until dementia robbed you of the ability to articulate your thoughts,
You’d entertain anyone who would listen with anecdotes, stories, jokes and lively conversation.

In short: you were an exceptional person with a large spirit, a mischievous streak, and an enormous heart.
I know I am not objective about you, but any of your surviving friends and family members who knew you
Well will attest to this and more in a nanosecond. You had an incredibly positive, indomitable attitude
That led you to rush in where angels fear to treat not out of foolishness but out of supreme confidence.

Life handed you cartloads of lemons—enough to pickle the most ardent optimist. And you made not just
Lemonade but lemon merengue pie, lemon sorbet, lemon drops, then ground up the rind for sweetest
Rice pudding, flan, fried dough and a dozen other delicacies. And when all the lemons were gone, you sowed the Seeds from which extraordinarily beautiful lemon trees grew with fruit sweeter than grapes, plums, or cherries.

I’ve always said with great pride that you were a far better writer than I. How many excellent novels,
Plays, and poems could you have written with half of my education and three times my workload?
There is no justice in this world. Why does God give bread to those without teeth? Your
Prodigious memory no longer allows you to recognize me. I was the last person you forgot.

But even now when you cannot have a conversation in any language, Sometimes your eyes sparkle, and
You call me “neniño” (my little boy in Galician) and I know that for an instant you are no longer alone.
But too son the light fades and the darkness returns. I can only see you a few hours one day a week.
My life circumstances do not leave me another option. The visits are bitter sweet but I’m grateful for them.

Someday I won’t even have that opportunity to spend a few hours with you. You’ll have no
Monument to mark your passing save in my memory so long as reason remains. An entire
Life of incalculable sacrifice will leave behind only the poorest living legacy of love
In your son who lacks appropriate words to adequately honor your memory, and always will.


*          *          *

The day has come, too son. October 11, 2018. The call came at 3:30 am.
An hour or two after I had fallen asleep. They tried CPR in vain. There will be no more
Opportunities to say, “I Love you,” to caress your hands and face, to softly sing in your ear,
To put cream on your hands, or to hope that this week you might remember me.

No more time to tell you the accomplishments of loved ones, who I saw, what they told me,
Who asked about you this week, or to pray with you, or to ask if you would give me a kiss by putting my
Cheek close to your lips, to feel joy when you graced me with many little kisses in response,
Or tell you “Maybe next time” when as more often than not the case for months you did not respond.

In saying good bye I’d give you the kiss and hug Alice always sent you,
Followed by three more kisses on the forehead from dad (he always gave you three) and one from me.
I’d leave the TV on to a channel with people and no sound and when possible
Wait for you to close your eyes before leaving.

Time has run out. No further extensions are possible. My prayers change from asking God to protect
You and by His Grace allow you to heal a little bit each day to praying that God protect your
Soul and dad’s and that He allow you to rest in peace in His kingdom. I miss you and Dad very much
And will do so as long as God grants me the gift of reason. I never knew what it is to be alone. I do now.

Four years seeing your blinding light reduced to a weak flickering candle in total darkness.
Four years fearing that you might be aware of your situation.
Four years praying that you would not feel pain, sadness or loneliness.
Four years learning to say goodbye. The rest of my life now waiting in the hope of seeing you again.

I love you mom, with all my heart, always and forever.

ACT I

DAD: in his late 50's.
TRISTAN: around ten or eleven-years old GLADWIN: in her early 40's.

TRISTAN Dad?

Scene 1
Interior of a cheesy, unkempt motel room. DAD
channel-surfs the cable television, the remote in
his right hand, a cigarette in his left. He's
sitting on the edge of the bed. TRISTAN is on the
bed behind him, crying.

DAD
Yeah bud?

TRISTAN
     Is Mom gonna **** herself?

DAD
     Well, I hope so.

TRISTAN Dad!

DAD
     (Chuckles). What?

TRISTAN
     Stop! I'm scared. What if she does?

DAD
     Why are you worried? I'm not that lucky.

TRISTAN
     (Screaming). C'mon, Dad!

DAD
     What? (Chuckles again, longer this time). I'm not.

TRISTAN
     Dad, stop. What if she really does?

DAD
     Trist, don't be stupid. No one who's really going to
     **** themselves tells you like that. They don't sing it
     out loud. She's whistling Dixie.

TRISTAN
     (Sobbing at this point). Dad, I love Mom.

DAD
     (Pause). I know, and I-
               (DAD'S cellphone rings. He answers
               immediately)
     Hold on, Trist. It's your fat mother.
     Hello? Yeah. Yeah, you have this kid scared to death.
     Would you just tell him you're--What? Alright, Glad.
     Well enough's enough. (Pause). Okay. (Reacting loudly).
     Oh, quit screaming in my ear! Trist, (extends the phone
     to TRISTAN) here.

          spotlight comes up on GLADWIN, who is stageleft,
          lying in bed and on the phone.

GLADWIN
      Trist! Trist? Say goodbye to Mama. I'm going away.

TRISTAN
     Wait! Don't do anything bad, please.

GLADWIN
     I'm gonna swallow my pills, Trist. I'm gonna take them
     all and I won't be around anymore, honey...

TRISTAN
     No! Mom, don't!

GLADWIN
     ...so just say goodbye to Mama and don't ever...

TRISTAN
     Mom! Stop. Please, stop, just don't!

GLADWIN
     ...forget that I love you.

           Spotlight goes out on GLADWIN.

TRISTAN
     No! (Looks at DAD). Dad, she can't!
               (He drops the cellphone)

     Oh my God!
               (Leaping off the bed and fumbling with
               the phone in his hands, he hurries it to
               his ear)

Hello? Mom? Mom?
               (He closes the phone and quickly reopens
               it. He dials GLADWIN'S cellphone)
DAD
     Trist, take it easy. She's fine. Stop calling and go to
     bed.

TRISTAN
     She won't answer! (Breaking down). She won't answer.
     (Lets out a piercing cry). Dad!

               (DAD lights another cigarette and pulls
               TRISTAN onto the bed and under his right
               arm)
DAD
     (Rubbing TRISTAN'S back gently). Go to sleep, babe.
     She'll be there tomorrow morning.

TRISTAN
     But--

DAD
     Ah, ah! What did I just say? Everything will be okay.

TRISTAN
     (Calming, but still anxious). You promise?

DAD
     Promise, kiddo.

Shane Page made a quick call to his daughter, LeAnn, as he waited in the hospital lounge. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? You sound kind of upset.”

“LeAnn, Grandpa had a heart attack…”

LeAnn’s dark brown eyes grew large. “Is Grandpa dead?”, she asked. She was fourteen years old, and a wise, sensitive girl who cared a lot about her grandpa.

“No, not that, hon. The doctor says he will recover, but he had some blockages and he needs some fixing up.  He’s resting right now, pretty comfortably. I just wanted you to know where I was and that I’m okay—so don’t you worry. Look out after your brother…” He sighed in exhaustion and ran his fingers through the top of his dark hair. “It’s going to be a while before I’m home.”

“Well, wait a minute!” she protested.  “Why can’t Trevor and I go with you? Maybe Mom can drive us up there.”

Shane started to raise his voice, “Leave your mom out of this!” Then he realized his tone was a bit harsh and said more calmly, “You two got school tomorrow and there’s no need for you to be here now. Anyway, I don’t want to involve Mom.”

Shane and his wife, Megan, have been separated for four months now. It would be more than likely that they would be getting divorced. LeAnn, and her brother, Trevor—who was eleven-years-old—were staying with their father. It worked out that they remain in their home.  

“Dad”, LeAnn insisted. “She’s still our mom…”

“Just look out for Trevor. Ok?”

Shane got off the phone, and just sat there staring at the television but having no real desire to even pay any attention. That was the farthest thing from his mind. Around him were a few other tired people, looking about as frustrated, tired or worried as he was.

It has been a trying year for him. Still struggling with his marriage issues and now he was dealing with his father’s health problems. At age thirty-six, Shane was a young father when he married Megan. He felt it was the right thing to do considering she was pregnant at the time. The odds were against them remaining married, but they made if farther than anyone would have expected.  He certainly remained married longer than his parents—who were married for seven years—but he blamed his parent’s divorce on his womanizing, cheating father, a man he did not want to follow in his footsteps.

Dr. Bakkal had spoken to Shane, earlier. “Your father’s fortunate he made it in when he did. He was in requirement of two stents, and he was resistant to having them put in. I told him if he wants to continue to live, he’d be wise to get them. Otherwise, he’ll be in the same boat, but now we can prolong his life.”

“So he’s refusing?” Shane asked. That was his father, alright, stubbornly pigheaded to the bitter end.

“Thankfully, he signed for consent and he’s allowing you to be included in conversation over his medical issues. But really it is a good idea for him to have a power of attorney. You are his only son? ”

“Right.—I’m it”, Shane responded. “Well, that’s my dad for you. He thinks he’s got it all under control. Anyway, I’d be okay with being power of attorney, but who knows if he’d even have me. I don’t need to tell you he’s a stubborn man. He’s a proud man—too proud.”

“That he is”, Dr Bakkal agreed. “He doesn’t have a wife who can step up to the plate?”

Shane laughed a little. “He’s had four wives. My mom was the first. The lady he has been seeing now I’m sure saved his life. She was the one who demanded he go to the hospital and she drove him here. But she called me up and says she’s done with him.” The strain was obvious, as it was written all over Shane’s face. “He’s a headache, Doctor. He drinks too much. He smokes. He has yet to meet a vegetable…”

The doctor stated, “But things don’t sink in until we are forced to face them, sometimes. And he thinks because he looks alright on the outside, he’s okay on the inside—a fairly handsome man—a ladies man—who is, one used to being his own boss.”  

Shane agreed, but his face was grimaced. “That he is, Doctor. That he is. Yeah, but when the ladies get wind that he ends up treating them pretty shabbily—well, I’m not going to fill in the details. Four wives should tell you the answer.”

Dr. Bakkal put his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Ah, but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. I’ve no doubt you have some sense.”

Shane nodded.

Nodding his head—drifting in and out of sleep—Shane continued to wait in the lounge. Soon, Shane’s dad, Carl, had been able to get into his own room. Shane was able to go in and see him. Like Carl had told one of the nurses, he was “all wires, tubes and coils” and he had “enough numbers lighting up on fancy gadgets to keep the place busy” as his vitals were constantly monitored. Soundly sleeping, he seemed much smaller in his hospital bed with his face half shielded by an oxygen mask. What a strange sight it was. He hadn’t seen his dad in the hospital since his gall bladder surgery several years ago.  It was a bit unsettling for Shane to see him this way.

He didn’t want to wake his dad, so Shane just grabbed up a chair and sat by the foot of the bed. Before long, he had fallen asleep, too. When his phone range, he was entirely confused as to the time, even to what day it was.

“Hey, Dad, how’s grandpa doing?”

Looking at his watch and then peering out into the darkness out the window, he answered, “What’s that I hear…in the background? LeAnn, is that your mother there?”

“Yeah, Dad, I told her. She felt like we needed her and she’s making dinner for us.” Megan could be heard in the background talking with Trevor.

Shane frowned. “Oh, great! Didn’t I tell you not to involve Mom? You are perfectly capable of cooking, LeAnn. You do a good job, and—“

LeAnn abruptly handed her mother the phone. “Shane”, Megan said. “You can shut me out from helping you, but you can’t shut me out from helping my kids. Don’t act like you couldn’t use a hand.”

“I’ll be home soon”, he insisted. “It’s really not necessary. I’m not trying to be a **** about it…”

“You stay there as long as you need to. I can call Uncle Sal and tell him you might not be into work tomorrow.”

Shane worked as a manager and mechanic in his maternal uncle’s car repair shop. “Megan, I am quite capable of doing this kind of stuff, you know!” He hesitated and gave in to what he saw as interference.  Perhaps, guilt compelled her to come over. After all, she was the one who walked away. She was the one who was unfaithful, the one who strayed.  He added, “You want to look after the kids—then fine. I’ll worry about me”.  

“Well, you got it! I won’t interfere too much in your life, Shane. You’re just a chip off the old block,” she remarked, referring to his stubborn father. “The kids and I are doing just fine. I got it covered! Okay?”

“Hi, Dad! Love you!” Trevor boomed out from the background.

Megan laughed. “You caught that, didn’t you? I think the whole neighborhood did”.

There was no use trying to resist Megan’s help. “Tell the kids that their grandpa is comfortable, sleeping like a log. They can see him soon enough.” He stopped as a nurse came into the room to check in on his father. They briefly smiled at each other.

“Give them each a kiss and a hug for me”, he said, lastly, almost choking up. He wished it was like it was before—the four of them under one roof. But that was not going to happen.    

Shane met Megan at a party. She was a college student learning to be a teacher. He was working for his uncle in his auto repair shop. The plans were set for Shane to take over that shop one day. Uncle Sal had three daughters, none of them the least bit interested in taking over the business. When he met Megan, he was doing well for himself.

It was love at first sight for him. He was attracted to her fun loving personality, as well as her beauty. Her blue-green eyes would light up the room. At first, Megan wasn’t feeling the same way. Shane did slowly grow on her, this “grease monkey” with his serious nature and beyond his years. They would talk about their future together, for they really did enjoy each other’s company. But then reality hit them in the face when Megan became pregnant with LeAnn, and they married very soon. He wanted to marry her anyway, but now it was a matter of integrity. Shane wanted his child to have parents who were married and for his kid to know him better than he knew his dad.  

Megan gave up on her schooling, not becoming the teacher that she dreamed of. Shane often wondered if she resented him for this—like it was entirely his fault—though Megan never expressed that to him. A few years later and Trevor came. Plans to go back to school were put on hold. That light in those eyes seemed to grow dim, but he didn’t really notice that she was unhappy. He seemed to lose focus.

Such thoughts were punishing at this time, and he tried to bury them deep down. It was amazing that he was able to have a sound sleep in the hospital, resting in the chair in his father’s room. Next time he opened his eyes, the sun was shining. He looked up, disoriented a bit, as he noticed his dad looking at him, a small smile on his face and no more oxygen masks.

“Hell, Son”, Carl said in a gruff voice.. “You look worse than I do”. Carl’s thick head of grey hair was disheveled, and his usually, neatly trimmed mustache was invaded by surrounding ****** stubble.  

Shane got up and stretched and said back, “Thanks, Dad. Good morning to you, too.”   He looked at his watch and added, “Glad you’re alive. You scared the hell out me. You got your grandkids worried.”

“Well…get me out of this ****** hospital and I’ll show you I can get around just fine”.

“Whoa! Whoa! Superman—you are not! Just lay back, relax a while, and do what the doctors tell you.”

“Like what?” Carl asked with a furrowed brow.

Shane was careful not to lose his temper. “Well, for one, you can quit smoking. Two, you can give up the *****. Three—take your cholesterol medicine…”

“Ok….ok….you sound like your mother now”.

Shane knew it would go in one ear and out the other. He stood by the window looking down in the parking lot. “Yeah, Dad, Maybe I do sound like Mom, but someone’s got to tell it to you straight. Put some sense into you. Stop just for once and think of someone else besides you. If no one else, think of LeAnn and Trevor.” He paused and added, “Think about me for once.”

Carl laughed and mocked him, “Poor, little Shane’s got it so bad. I’m not against you, Son, okay? You’re a big boy, so man up! I’m sixty-nine years old! My old man was gone by fifty.” He started having one of his coughing spells, his cough like an old smoker’s cough.

Shane shot him a sharp look. “I guess I’m a fool to expect any better. Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—as mom always says. Obviously, just wasting my time here!” He went to grab his jacket to leave.

Carl boomed, cheerfully, “Well speak of the devil!”

“What?” Shane asked, unaware of what was going on. He turned around and there was his mother standing in the doorway. He smirked and said, “Mom, I’m surprised to see you! LeAnn, right? ”

Rosina smiled and nodded as she entered the room. With salt and pepper hair, and an olive complexion, she commanded the room with her presence. Carl always referred to her as “Queen Bee”, for she had that quality—regal like a Roman statue when he first laid eyes on her—though she was down-to-earth in reality.

Carl groaned at the thought of her coming. “Is it safe for a person to be in here?” she asked, in her grand entrance.   She whipped Carl a stern glance. I’m not here for you!” Then she gave a look of concern her son, and told him, “I’m here because I’m supporting you, my dear. And yes, LeAnn called me.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and a quick hug, and he returned the loving gesture.


“Mom, you didn’t need to drive over an hour to come up here. But since you are—have a seat.”

“You sure as hell didn’t, Rosie”, Carl echoed.

“Oh be quiet!” she ordered Carl, putting him in his place. She dismissed the offer of the seat, and told her ex- husband. “I’m worried about my only son, but I also am interested in how you’re doing…if my grandchildren will still have a grandfather. Take better care of yourself and maybe they will.”

Shane comments were sardonic. “Maybe miracles still happen…like quitting smoking, boozing, and maybe doing some walking and healthier eating…but since when has Dad ever listened to you or me?”

Carl attempted to sit up and get out of bed, but the effort was ridiculous. He groaned in pain. “Give a poor guy some rest, already! You two are just a couple of nags!”

Rosina sneered. “Old nag—old hag—*******—say what you want about me, but you know I’m right! Anyway, you are outnumbered. Or am I, Shane, and the nurses and doctors all talking out their rear ends?”

Carl made a face. If only he could just get out of here.

“Honey”, she said to Shane. I’ll be downstairs in the cafeteria. I’d like some coffee. You can join me down there if you’d like and we can talk.”

“In a little while, Mom, thanks”, he replied.

Rosina walked up closer to Carl and put her hand lovingly upon his chest. “I really do want you to get well, old man. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”

“I know you do”, Carl admitted. “That is one of your faults. You don’t stay ****** forever.”

Carl was more scared than he would let on. He hated hospitals. He would do anything to just be back home in his recliner, watching a football game and having a few beers. What he wouldn’t do for just one puff on a smoke, too. Anxious, he tried to hide his fear, but it was just a smoke screen. He didn’t want anyone to know how he truly felt, nor did he want anyone to feel sorry for him.

There was silence for several minutes. Shane had said all that he should say. After all, he knew his dad probably wouldn’t listen. “Hey, Dad”, he finally said. “LeAnn’s going to her school dance. There’s a boy that likes her, but I’m really not ready for that.”

Carl grinned. “She’s a pretty girl, alright. Takes after her grandma when she was something else—way back, you know. The girl looks more like your ma than you do, though always felt you took after her look instead of me”. Carl’s background was English, Scottish and Welsh, and Rosina was full Italian. To Carl’s side of the family, he looked like his dad. To his mother’s side, he resembled her. Trevor took very much after Megan, with light brown hair and those blue-green eyes.

“Yeah, she is growing into quite a beautiful young lady”, Shane agreed “I got to still go dress shopping with her…and, oh, let the fun begin!  Can’t think of anything more enjoyable than a day of running her all around the malls.”

“Well, let Megan take her, for God’s sake! Or let your mother do it.”

“Dad”, “It’s fine. It may not be my thing, but all the stuff I do with Trevor—going to his baseball games, soccer, to karate. Well LeAnn was more into that stuff but she’s getting more into girly things.”

Soon, a young woman came in with Carl’s lunch, and placed the tray in front of him on his table. “Cute, huh?” Carl remarked about her after she left. Shane did not say a word.

“You need to get back out there. Get out and meet a nice girl”, Carl said, picking over his food. Jell-O, apple sauce, broth, a roll and juice—he wanted a hamburger. But how could he get a good one here? There were too many “spies” as he called them watching over him.

At the moment, Shane seemed miles away from his dad. Whatever he was saying made no impact. He made it a point not to speak of his problems with Megan to his father, and he liked it that way.  By Shane’s expression, he felt his son was holding back on something. But the truth was, so was he hiding something.

“I got myself into this mess, I know”, Carl declared about his heart attack. “I came close to saying, ‘Sayonara—that’s all, folks!’” His remarks were typical—just blow everything off. He joked as if he wasn’t fazed by it all.

Shane had now closed his eyes, and kicked back a little, “Uh huh”, he agreed, though he was simply responding without thinking about what Carl really said.

Carl didn’t want to be tuned out. He had something to get off his chest. He said, “ Well, all that’s done and said, maybe this is the right time to tell you. Got plenty of time here with my own thoughts.” He hesitated, for it wasn’t easy for him to say it. “ It’s bout time you know”, he said. “I think with me almost bitin

I didn't want to go to band camp!
You didn't listen did you mother?
Where's dad? Where is my dad?
He's living with a ***** who isn't my mother.
Wake up! He cheated on you stupid mother.
Such a dumb mom to believe dad.
Who's condoms were on the car floor?
Did you and dad have *** and you didn't know it?
He lied mother!
I'm on his facebook and yours.
I see dad's long list of women with **** pics.
***** to be his 18 year old daughter.
My dad the ******* with a string of net lovers.
Dear old dad if I had a string of guys what would you do?
Dad wants to play with women's ***** who are not my mom.
I'm 18 and messed up in the head.
I've got dad posting he wants to touch parts of women.
I've got a mom to dumb to know he's touching parts of women.
Dad stop posting you want to kiss *****.
I'm 18 and I'm feeling messed up in the head.
Dad and you shipped me off to band camp.
Didn't want to go mom and cheating dad.
I know you are sad mom and dad hurt you.
Mom you to be young again and date your friends.
Facebook is messed up place to be for me.
I am thinking of unfriending both of you.
I feel messed up in the head.
I didn't want to go to band camp.
Dad said go he wants to play with lady ***** not my moms.
Mom said go she wants to be young now that she knows dad cheats.
I am never getting married.
Met a boy and we did what was natural.
I was 18 and camp ended and I was going to be a mother.
I never want to be a dumb mother like you.
Thanks for nothing mother!  
You were upset for one day then wanted to adopt my baby.
You were namma not mother to my baby.
Hope you happy I made you a namma before you were ready.
I did not want a baby and did not want you raising mine.
I don't want a baby I grew in my stomach calling me sibling.
Baby got adopted and you wont be the mother.
My child will never have a mother like you.
This ain't no I got a friend story or a fairy tale.
Dad took off and he had another kid with a lover.
Thanks for not telling me dad!
Thanks for my scars seeing your kids birth announcement on the internet.
I feel messed up in the head thanks to you dad and mom.
I saw a news story about open marriages and that's what I want.
Marriages don't work so we wont get married.
Marriage is a fairy tale told wrote by preachers
to make people not want to have premarital ***.
If marriage was so great dads would not cheat.
If marriage was great mom and dad would be happy.
Marriage is a prison me and nobody else wants.

A quiet man
who does all he can
for his family,
That’s my Dad

A gentle soul
who dedicated his whole
life to providing for us,
That’s my Dad

A tower of strength
who would go to any length
to ensure we do not want,
That’s my Dad

Never says much
but his manner is such
that we heed every word
That’s my Dad

A guiding light
teaching us wrong from right
through his words and deeds
That’s my Dad

Extraordinarily gentle
not one bit judgemental
yet gets his message across
That’s my Dad

A gentle giant
forever reliant
always there for us
That’s my Dad

A reassuring voice
a great source of advice
when life proves challenging
That’s my Dad

Steady as a rock
when life gives us a knock
always getting us through
That’s my Dad

Never thinks twice
is quick to sacrifice
his own needs for ours
That’s my Dad

So full of fun
loves to see everyone
making each of us feel special
That’s my Dad

Worked hard for all he’s got
seems content with his lot
now he has finally retired
That’s my Dad

Now a Grandad
at which he isn’t half bad
the grandchildren all love him
That’s my Dad

Sharing his life
with our Mother, his wife
for many happy years
That’s my Dad.

Not always appreciated
we often left him frustrated
during our childhood years
That’s my Dad.

I can only aspire to be
half as good a Dad as he
there’s only one true hero for me
That’s my Dad

A fantastic Dad
none better could we have had
we are all so proud to say
That’s my Dad

A man I love
and thank God up above
every day for the man
That’s my Dad.

He would come home from work with Shel Silverstein poems and candy cigarettes.
My brother always took the fake cancer sticks and left Shel for me.
I would make origami swans out of MASKS,
and paper hats out of The Giving Tree.
All the windows were always open in the house,
and the breeze would stir up the wind chimes hung both indoors and out.
Mom was always painting in the dining room or on the porch,
and dad would bring a new canvas home for her every week.
At night we would all eat dinner in the living room and watch Jeopardy,
and mom and dad would sit really close to each other and try to answer the questions on the TV.

Sometimes he came home from work with roses for mom because she was pregnant,
and we got our first family photo taken,
and we hung it above our fireplace like rich people did.
One day dad didn’t bring a new canvas for mom so, she painted the couch,
and they argued,
and my brother and I began to build blanket forts in our bedroom,
and we drew signs that said no moms or dads allowed,
Mom started getting too tired to cook dinner, so
dad would make everyone quick meals,
and he would sit on the lazy-boy instead of on the sofa next to mom.

Sometimes he would come home from work with bags.
Not shopping bags, but bags under his eyes from working two shifts.
At home he would fall onto the painted couch and sleep most of the day.
Mom began visiting my grandma by herself,
and while dad was asleep my brother and I would chase geese in the yard,
And sometimes we would catch one and we put it in dads room.
It started getting colder outside so we closed all the windows in the house,
but the outdoor wind chimes kept dancing in their music through the fall.
Mom and dad started yelling at each other more and more,
and mom was getting really big.

Sometimes dad would never leave for work.
He stayed inside all day and played video games on the TV,
and mom was still sour about dad not buying her new canvas boards,
and she painted the TV screen when dad was in the shower.
They yelled for a long time,
and my brother and I stayed a few nights at my grandmas with mom.
Mom went into early labor,
and my brother and I sat in a hospital waiting room for eight hours.
Dad showed up to see my new sister be born,
and things were okay again for a little bit.

Sometimes he would come home with big hugs and a last minute fishing trip,
and mom asked him to stay, but he wouldn’t.
Grandma came over to babysit my brother and I so mom could go to a party,
and we built another blanket fort, only this time it was in the livingroom,
and we rented The Passion of The Christ,
and I dreamt that dad was going to sell me for thirty silver pieces.
Mom came home really late and wobbled in a pair of black stilettos towards her bedroom,
and dad came home two weeks later,
and mom and dad screamed at each other,
and mom flushed her wedding ring down the toilet.

Sometimes he hated coming home,
and the neighbor with eight fingers started flirting with mom,
and  he would pretend that he was gonna cut my fingers like his,
and for some reason mom laughed at that violent gag.
My brother and I sat by the door at night in case dad came home,
and the new baby liked to cry a lot.
And one day I snuck up on mom to scare her, and
she was holding broken glass from the family photo to her face.
I told my brother and he thought that maybe she was just trying to shave,
like dad use to.

Sometimes he stopped coming home,
and mom lost the house and moved us into the car.
The eight fingered man got into a fight with mom,
and he syphoned our gas twice.
One day I saw dad in the Meijer parking lot,
and he was with a blonde woman,
whose **** were literally bigger than her head.
I woke mom up and told her,
and she drove to a different lot.

Sometimes he never called me or my brother,
and mom met someone new,
and the new guy had baggy pants and an obsession with football.
And mom got pregnant again,
and the new blonde hair blue eyed baby looked nothing like his dark skinned father,
and we moved into a house again.
My brother and I stopped mentioning our dad to each other,
and the windows in the new house were nailed shut.
Mom was always tired, falling asleep on the toilet or while cooking dinner.
I noticed that gradually we began living with more and more painted furniture.

Sometimes he would write a letter to us,
and mom said if it were a letter then it’s probably from the jail,
and no one ever told me why he went to jail.
My brother and I never wrote back to him,
and I caught my new step-dad burning the old family photo.
One day dad called the house,
and he said he wanted to see us,
and talking to him felt like talking to a stranger.
Mom and the step-dad began collecting small orange bottles,
and at night they locked themselves in their room.
My brother and I would make beds in the livingroom,
and all my siblings would sleep on the floor together.

Sometimes I think about my childhood,
and I’m okay with how things turned out.
I know to fully appreciate the calm of an open window,
and I often write people letters now.
I don’t have the time to see mom and dad much anymore,
but I often feel sorry for them and their aimlessness.
I visit my siblings on weeks when I can,
and I try hard to love them the best that I can.
I’ve forgiven the things that might seem unfair,
I’ve moved on to a new life,
It’s better, I swear


*
My brother and I found a box of candy cigarettes at the supermarket last week,
and before bed last night I read aloud Shel Silverstein's,  A Boy Named Sue,
and everything was good again.

briano alliano at venus party trap




hi dudes and welcome to the party of the universe and when i was a teenage boy i drew pen drawings on my arm

and the picture was a triangle with a line through the centre which means, i am into raging, and those drawings are

right for today up in  venus, here is a song about my pen drawings on my arm


you see i was getting teased by other young dudes oh yeah

and it was driving me nuts, i needed to do something oh yeah

my mum and dad were worried because i took my frustrations out on them

saying dad has aids and i must keep away from him, but i was messed up yeah

so i took a pen from my pencil case and drew a triangle

and stuck a line through it, dad started to get worried

i didn’t care, i needed to find a way that i am not a freak

just because i am a bit different to others, who was very weak

the triangle was a sign of partying , the line meant add some fun

you see it’s easy to just sit and watch, like i did once

but it’s better to really party, and the line meant party all night

in the nite clubs and on new years eve, yeah it was so great

dad was really worried, like all parents i guess

i sang 3 6 9 dad drank wine and i drank bourbon and coke

you see i vomited on that, but i don’t worry because i am raging in the club

you see i had these cool mates who i got drunk with yeah

you see i went out and raged with them dad said, no, go to bed

i said no to my dad, i am showing you what my drawing on arm meant

it means i want to be cool man, cooler than the rest of my family

i squeezed my way through drainpipes and i partied at the private bin

i was showing off my raging skills, saying LET’S PARTY MAN

you see i was a cool kid mate, who really loved to rage

every day i turned around there were more girls partying with me

and i was getting drunk reminding mum of her father

but i didn’t understand this, i just raged anyway

because partying is my middle name my first name is cool

my surname is raging and watching rage the next day

reminded me of my next day

i still want to show young dudes though

that partying is great and raging is fun, oh yeah

just remember to not bring it to the family oh no


thanks dudes and now here is a christmas party son called getting tipsy

you see i put the christmas tree up and drink some beer and get drunk oh yeah

and sit down and watch your family happily playing how cool’s that

you see i like christmas it is all so fun, but i have to watch that i don’t get all tipsy

getting tipsy dude getting tipsy dude, from wine and beer and bourbon and coke

and losing breath from my packet of smokes

yeah yeah yeah yeah, i was getting tipsy

while the barman watched me all night, as he sat behind the bar

the angel of the lord came down and said i have a car

how about we drive you home, you look drunk to us

i said no, i feel alright, i rather get the bus

come on barry allan drink some methane for your next life betty campbell

you have now got a red hat on oh yeah

and we can party all over the solar system, yeah that sounds so fun

and bon scott came up to me and said your on the highway to hell, ya see

i said the only highway, i am on pal is the highway to party dude heaven

or nirvana, of which buddhists call it

dad is poking me and saying, i am not ya dad anymore

i said we can still party up here, though

because you need to understand what i like about partying

all through the ****** night

i tipped methane all over my old dad and macauley culkin did as well

you see macauley culkin is clarry allan and he dropped methane all over my old dad

to make his next life cool, cause dad hated christmas carols ya see

but he said, his next life will try oh yeah

i sang to dad who had methane all over him

we wish you a merry christmas

we wish you a merry christmas

we wish you a merry christmas

let me live on earth dad

i know i teased you

i know i teased you

i know i teased you

but i deserve to be left alone to deal with my mental illness

and now here is a party anthem as i leave here, it’s called i am in party heaven

you see i only like people who party

or go out to fun events

i am not the type to be a total,and utter dense

please buddha, i know i am cronus but let me party on

let me get past this business of my drawing on my arm

dad hasn’t got aids, i was young and dumb

and i didn’t mean to provide bad memories of the father of my mum

you see i like to party dude, and party all day long

so buddha, don’t give me my old shy brian allan body

send him to space junk, because i am cool man

buddha buddha buddhs please let me do my art

i know i put my dad through hell

but i misunderstood him yeah

i thought dad was ready to give me a job on TV

but in hindsight my past might stop me from succeeding oh yeah mate yeah

you see i used to say to my dad ya say ya say ya say

dad just said, one main word, yes, your majesty

because probably i sounded like the ****** old queen

ya say ya say ya say, yes your majesty

so please buddha, let me do my art, don’t try and send me off to my next life

i am not ready to go yet, i want the world to know that brian allan ain’t evil

i want the world to know i am a party dude who has made silly mistakes

PARTY BUDDHA PARTY BUDDHA PARTY BUDDHA

THE WAY TO ****** BE, oh dude

ok everyone, i have to go, but i will hang around to throw methane over all the old hags

ya know tease the old hags dude

CATCH YA LATER PARTY HEAVEN

MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY: A Dreadful Tale about a Dead Anglo Mother, A Dreadful, Avenging Syrian Aunt, A Stolen Baby Sister, and a Hateful, Unfaithful, Defaulting Father.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With people, people who hardly know
Your vices, your intrigue, your lies, and so,
You’ve ruined lives, and now I will show

How demonizing you are, with just your thinking
About your “slemly” self,  just linking [Nice in Arabic]
That self to your own, and not us--no one else
You belong in no company, your old-time thinking.
Adopting my sister, without any inkling
Of what it takes to challenge the motherless
And seeing we ended up, also, being fatherless.

Travesties galore made this woman happy
You won hearts, but you seemed quite daffy.      
Childhood, telling us we’d never be as good
As your Syrian daughters - such a strange brood!
This kind of “teaching” by a Syrian mom was kinda lewd.

She verily and surely became our ISIS
She thought who could ever, ever be like us
She raved for hours so very against us
To that red-headed family so she could easily best us!
Humiliating us at every stop
We really, really got a lot
From her, the decadent Queen of ISIS
No, she’d never, ever be like us!

Twenty years to a guileless young person
Is a forever herstory an eternity…
A lesson, an identity…
Carried on secretly, destroying our Syrian identity.
She stole that connection, filling it with confusion
She with cruel humor would **** our loving illusion
Stopped it in its growth,
Forever unseating that family oath.
To care - without any rejection.
It was She that was The Great Defection.

Mary, Mary how does your hatred grow
Picked on those who had no Syrian power
But you didn’t see yourself becoming lower
To the ends of the earth, heartless black flower.

In her mind she’d be our Mother
But as this poet, I did not know it
Things would be better if we like sheep
Worshipped Mary, into the deep
Quite similar to the rest of her Keep
Then mayhap we’d enjoy their fully undeserved sleep.

Taught my dear baby sister like her to hate
Would I had the power to shut up her pate
Her mouth was evil to the core
I never, never could stand more.
Her hatred entered me, made me sore.

Screaming at us to keep us out
Stupid Daddy joined her in this falling out
She, successful -as any lout.
By God I thot I must be evil
Their strange behavior was not legal.
Would that she’d accept me, that dangerous eagle.
I lost my sense of self and ‘came very sad
Would that I could be like she so glad.
‘Tis fifty years now, and I can’t stop crying.
No one ever heard this “mother” sighing.

Hell, Mary, full of Face
Recognizing only your Syrian race
Did anyone else matter? Just your primitive face?
Everyone one was hurt, except you and your nace
There’ll be no one, ever, that could take your place.
Laughing to destroy our wanted Arab destiny
Which you did, and did, successfully, with your fantasy.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
Like plants, you lined us up all in a row
One good, two bad - you did the choosing
And what did you leave?
Only us, who did the losing.
You didn’t water those two plants.
Treated us two as if we were ants.
Watered sissa so she would grow
Your dreaded deeds no one would know
Judgement is left only to God.
But you and Dad should’ve returned to your sod.
Your behavior to the motherless seems very odd.
My sister and I two tossed peas in a pod.

Deserting us suddenly knowing only this hateful group
There’s nothing to which she wouldn’t stoop
Her sick obsession to hurt the powerless
Speaks of a very worst yes, cruel foulness.

We lived at a convent school very protected
Visiting weekends this aspiring ****,
Two sisters know she made a very strong mark
She was not our blood, we couldn’t take part
Of this constant coldness on her part.

And another Aunt with two daughters, good
They were always with us, always stood
The opposite of this wicked would-be aunt
This family, Americanized and very sane
Never did play the ancient Ottoman game
These Aunts were our world - our windowpane.

Two aunts - endowing us with a Syrian heritage,
One, the bad one, with too much leverage
The good one to teach a cheerful Syrian beverage      
With balance, love, and the length of days
Not like the other, the one who dismays.

We represented that bad woman’s target
What it came from. Could it be her precious Margaret?
No, not at all her peaceful daughter
But the other, gladly joined in on the slaughter
Making serious and even much more, fodder.

We had no tools to breach this hate
I guess that it would have to be our fate.
To live our lives just disenchanted.
Our hearts broke, as if forever lancets.
With Syrians there’d be no more dances

Taking my sweet sis turning her against us
She did truly give strong heed to finally fence us.
What ever could we find for our defenses?

Dad, real Dad, inebriated dad,
Fell in with them: became this negative father
Sought their pity--likening me as a foreign daughter
He was in love with them, weakly turning
But in turn, the two of us, spurning
Back to his Syrian fold back, not farther
Unwittingly, unrepentedly, uncaringly, joining the laughter
Discarding his American daughters to a mental slaughter.

At his picnic - family there - he called us foreigners
Foreigners we were, surely, when with them
They couldn’t ever believe in us,
Dad influenced them, peeved at us.
Made us feel like little fools.
No, we never had the tools
To fight this ignorance - Change these mules?

Punishing, punishing us as wedded women
Accused of all that they gossiped about
What did they say? And this truant dad a lout
Speaking of us in downing tones
I’d feel far better had they broken my bones.

Closing his relationships to his
Two lesser liked non-Arab sisters
Would there would be a better mister
He considered us two a mere sinful blister.

We ran away from this horrible drunk
He hated his daughters and he stunk
And then we suffered the worst of any they would dunk
Uncomfortable at their Arab-speaking home
We stopped visiting long before their moan
We were “no good”  said our Syrian family
Would that we knew that we’d be anti-Family.

They had something to hate and did they do it
We had no idea we were just a joke
Their words, their disgust, far more than a poke.
Their anti-American provincial views
Made little sense - such perverted mews
All we loved, we would really lose.
There was never any right to choose.

That Family didn’t speak, avoided us
At sissa's Syrian wedding. It was all mined
That scene returns to me all of them lined  
Winding its way into my unbidden mind,
They were so, so truly unkind
We always would be to them the “Other”
Yes, us, us, us, without a mother!

We lost three mothers, our real one gone
Also our good step-mother quickly on
Add Mary to that three, glad she is gone
Perhaps Dad guilty of the first two deaths
I shan’t continue - you’d lose your breaths.
  
But Hail that Lady, she would change our world
Sending us suddenly into a whirl.
How to change the young with screaming?
She’d not change but destroy our dreaming
Waking horribly from our Syrian dream
We just didn’t fit their shady crème de la crème.

Everyone was fooled by this greedy witch
She and her daughters I’d deem as *****
What was in them, caused their making?
Taking away, taking, taking, taking.
Good cousins now, have seen an awakening
My work of writing revealed Mary’s faking.

Hail Mary full of Face
Only using her charms to erace
The sisters she wished not to embrace
With threads of lies an unrevealing face
Syrians’ acceptance of her goldarn place  
No one ever will she replace  
In every way she used her mace
A clever poison to keep her place
Successfully, she’d snidely hid her dreams
Wearing a mask to hide her themes.

She’d always hated us through and through
We didn’t know it till she did what she’d do
Her masque did work, from dusk to dawn.
Hatred of us was what she would spawn
She would definitely **** our spirits
Would that I could reveal all her lyrics.

Our Syrian sissa’s wedding put us in place
That even there we could have little space.
No other family events could we be included.
Engagements, baptisms, we would be excluded
Their intentions now were completely nuded.   deluded!

You stole our little baby entering the world
Through our Mom’s Death
You stole my Dad’s affection
He also her straw man, worshiping Mary‘s fiction
Her stand could only be that of affliction.

Hail Mary full of Face
Face that faced nothing exçept winning the Ace
Did no one ever tell you - you were a case?
Using your screams to stuff our mind
And even more shrieking to clog our mind
No other Syrian family could be so unkind.

Always filling us with her delicious food
Only to turn against us, trussing our good mood.
I’d like to regurgitate all that poisonous food
Anything about her became totally lewd.
She bragged of her daughters - were they really that good?
When we were children, told us we’d never be like them
We never wanted to be like those hurting us.
Took our Dad’s affection, he also deserting us
We never but finally saw that they were into hurting us.

She has attacked us screaming, screaming on end
Never an explanation, never to end
She took money, stole sister too, not a lend.
With this cruel treatment, we were not able to fend.
I’ve never heard such venom in any human voice
It seared through both my ears, such an odious noise
Those first twenty years were so very splendid
But later with her actions - all was ended
With her allotted time this is how she would spend it.

Sister, affections stolen, obeying by fear
Couldn’t counter - with a mere
Stand up to this fraud of a Mother Dear.

Our baby sis had became her clay
She would remake her through many a day.
She owes us much, this lying thief
No family tree would know, not even a leaf
She stole and changed our beautiful blood
Returned nothing except a bad bad flood
Of making our names into family mud.

She then gave out inimical messages
The taunting that came from her mealy mouth
From Damascus, that lousy mouse.
Couldn’t discuss, but only scream
What ever, ever, did she mean?
This Family into which father bought.
Their apathetic “reasoning” I was never taught.

Her daughters conscripted to the Mary core
Following her words, her iron ore
Inflated us with much heavy criticism
To fill our sissa with a lack of witticism

Lying, lying she always, always hated us
For twenty years, she consistently slated us
For slaughter, just like little lambs
Motherless, she took our little lamb
She won, didn’t she, in her sham?
Mary & dad really fated us with their sick flim flam!

She’d tackle anyone, anything in her path
And she did, with her oh so dreadful wrath.
What powered this extremely devilish mind?
She had never, ever, been really kind.

Our sodden father turned to her
She was Goddess, he deemed Something
While we were nothing, nothing, NOTHING!
It didn’t happen till twenty years after
From kindliness to hypocrisy
One would not believe.
Our real selves never to retrieve.

A sweet child, sissa, full of love
Knew they were cold and she let us know
After those years, sadly though
Turned into another hateful *****
Forced to be like them, else be ditched.

Dad, dad, the precious Syrian lad
Embraced the family gatherings that they had
Youngest of the Ikmuks - he was mad
Allowed them the desecration of our pad
They could say anything--made it their fad.

He wouldn’t speak to them of their travesty
Worshipped them, and ever drastically
Wanted to be Them, lest he be
On the Outs from the Family Tree
Ousted, married out of the Tribe
Hardly now, when this happened, few are alive.
He refused to tell them we both should be here.
He would never, ever, play it fair.
“Dad, if you go, I’ll never be the same.”
He would never, never take the blame.
Of his paltry stabs at being a human
Go stuff him in a jar with more rotten cumin.

Never defended us, never, never
Always took their part like a mismatched lever.
Usually a Dad with a daughter would stay beside her
But then, he gave Mary a far wider rider.

Gatherings went on, by the family Mare.
All our lives had been spent with them before
But Iron Lady with Iron Ore
Came through later and before.
She would win, so well connected to her vile kin
Change, girl, change, you’re just an Anglo fem.
Don’t, please, don’t pay much attention to them.
Sudden hate - my thoughts now were dashed.
I changed - they took all I had and then they smashed.

They brought us into their sickly Ottoman lives
But all of them acted as if we had the hives
They, centuries‘ habit, it was the mid-1950’s why so bold?
They were too much, too much very, to behold
We were stricken, treated as in days of old
We would never be part of their unhealthy mold  [Mould?]

Regular at Church. What kind of God could she worship?
You know who should have been told? The Syrian Bishop!
The She-Devil not even relishing the Church script
Eternally, she would always, rip, rip, and then grip!
Instead looked to those after Church who would serve her!
She did just this with a total fervor.
No Communion, no worship, but her only feats
To seek and add to gossip in the streets
Afterward. When-Where everyone meets.

Se enjoyed the Devil of Power over those she knew
Verily, she should have been thrown in the loo.
Few new. Only the rejected two.

Mary, Mary full of Mace
You never did achieve much grace
Wish you could have finally
Fallen on your ignorant Face
There’s really not going to be any space
To explain your bad translation of a very good race.
The Syrian families I always know very well
Would never have made this kind of hell.

The Syrian race is good, except for this “mother”
I speak from my place as the dreaded ”Other”
You are and were a terrible, mother
You’re a crude example of this Middle Eastern  race.
Very few of them did see through your face.

In that family I barely gleaned this toxicity
But, never, ever, did I witness much felicity.
They llaughed and laughed about any Other
Played well their acts as if they cared
They knew Syrian-like we would not fare
We, Dad, all sisters three - fell for her snare.

What think you, God, of these poor children
How il-ly this Family thoroughly tilled them
Two non-Arab daughters’ given bad repute
Their shocking beliefs really made us mute
All that came from her demented mind
All that encountered Mary’s “kind”
She destroyed our conception of self
This hypocrisy would make one melt.

She infiltrated us, her daughters, and my Sissa
That we were not as good as she - but she lost her mister
Had Uncle [our blood] lived, this would never have occurred.
But Auntie [not our blood] surely had demurred.
Her hooked-nose criticizing, and simple daughters,
Psychologically--against us-- they joined in on these slaughters.
Kindness for two decades to rent, later they spent
Hell on the motherless, but hiding that intent
Taught her daughters: “Don’t be involved with them”
We really do know some of what she did, or said,
This is the kind of meal that she constantly fed
Her masque nearly hiding her evil bent.
Too bad she wasn’t forced back into her Syrian tent.

Mary, Mary quite contrary, How does your world work?
You won, you won, you ignorant, piece of work
You demanded respect from all of us, treacherous,
She got it, didn’t know it, then she brought down the two of us

Sneaky, low-life, hypocrite witch
We always thought we had a niche
But lost kids like us did never snitch
We wouldn’t, didn’t open up about that *****.

We had a twenty-year comfort zone with her
Deserted at last by her flying fur
Stolen, deserted at last by Dad--that foul mister
Stolen, deserted, lastly by our pretty baby sister.

This left us changed by this She-Devil
Would that there’d be a way to counter her evil
We couldn’t - she was always far too strong
An ISIS for us - this would last too long.

After these years, I could not grow
Was I a real woman? -  I didn’t know!
Being a mother couldn’t show
That this Family created a list of woe.

When Sissa had babies & a mom to help
We did this alone - all this we felt.
Her faulted hatred never did melt.
I didn’t know how to take a stance
Nor could I find out how to advance.
We had to oppose Aunt Mary’s dance.

That Sissa could not bo

The retainer where she was put
Was made of concrete. My father told me they had
Dug the grave first, then poured the concrete in, waited for
It to dry and harden, then hammered in six
Circular spikes in the four corners, two on either side
Of the middle. They lifted the concrete cast out with a crane.
My dad was going to be charged 300 dollars a day for the rental,
But because of the circumstances, Home Depot let us have it for free.

-

Where was she?
Where had she gone?
Would I see her face again?
Would she want me to
Meet her on the other side of the river?

-

I answered my cell phone.

"Make sure to bring flower's."
She had been crying. Her voice wavered the way sun light
Does on moving water.

"Make sure to bring flowers," she repeated, "And
That you wear what your father and I bought you."

I nodded my head with the receiver pressed up against my ear.
We both let out a sigh. My mom hung up. I put my phone in my back pocket.

-

Lately, I had been seeing a shrink about repetition. He liked to use the word cycle.

"Everything is repeated," I would tell him.

"Life is a cycle," he'd disagree so to get me talking.

"Can cycles be identical?"

"Technically not. Some cycles are extremely similar, but no two cycles are
Completely the same. Are two people's lives ever exactly the same?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't know that many people. Maybe."

"You know lots of people, Camden. You have told me about many of your friends."

"Are we talking about the seasons?" I asked, changing the subject, "Like fall, winter, spring, summer? We are born, we live, we die, and we are born again?"

"That's a very natural way of looking at it."

"I know it is." I inhaled deeply, swallowing air and wondered what time it was.

"If you are so sure, why look for validation from me?" He liked this one, I could
tell. I imagined him shopping for clothes and then exploding in aisle 16 because of a sale on jeans.

"The word cycle is used by people too afraid to use the word repetition. Everything is
Repeated for the next generation, the next group, the next of the next of the next. We shift things
Around, give things to one another to shift life to make it look different, but, things remain the same. Everything contains the primal function we were all doing and living from the very beginning, only now, there is more of a separation. Music is still music, words are still words, paintings are still paintings, love is still love, death is still death, only done differently and more intensely."

"We are talking about man furthering technology because we, as people and creatures, are
Statistically more prone to flee than fight?"

"Why do you think it has caught on so quick?" I touched both
Corners of my lips with my tongue and suddenly realized I hadn't eaten breakfast.

"It is a theory," the psych nodded, "A theory with, I am sure, many
Palpable facts you could make a very nice report with to prove...something." He
Was at a lost for words and I felt guilty that my mom was paying him $75 an hour.

"We are very split. There are too many of us. Too many hands spinning the china."

"Who is we Harry?" The psych hadn't looked up from his pen and pad of paper, until now. I could
Tell he was annoyed with me either because he was making no progress or because the session
Had just begun and I was already digging into him.

"Culture. The government. You, me, my dad, my mom, the taco bell cashier, the geniuses at Apple computers, a paper weight, my dead sister. We're all apart of these shifts, all putting in a certain amount of energy and lies to keep the protection of the projection going. The question I keep asking myself is: do I want to use my strengths to be apart of this cycle or not?"

His eyes flared open for a moment like he'd swallowed a firefly, not at the question I had posed for myself, but from what I would soon see was from the mention of my sister. He had something.

"I was notified by your mother that you may not want to talk about your recently deceased sister. Is It O.K. if I ask you some questions about her?"

I was leaning forward on the couch with my hands clasped in between my legs. The psych had looked up at me now. He was sweating at the top of his thin hairline. Observing that I was staring at his building perspiration, he, trying to be nonchalant, took out a thin, white napkin from his grey shirt pocket and dabbed the top of his head. The napkin looked like cheap toilet paper. I'd have offered him some water, but I had no water to give and I didn't know where the sink and cups were to give him any. I figured he did - it was his office - so I asked him for some. He pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. I got up and found a stack of paper cups. I poured myself a cup and went back to the couch, but instead of leaning forward, I sat back, relaxed, and let the expensive leather couch take the weight I had been carrying away.

"So," the psych maintained cooly, "Would it be alright if we were able to discuss your sister?"

I lifted the paper cup over my head and the psych's eyes, after I poured the water over my hair, my face, and clothes, was a mixture of what my mom's eyes looked at the funeral, defeated, confused, and with a loss of faith and hope. My father's eyes had only held hate, anger and the need to lash out at someone, but the only someone that would have fit the bill would have been God.

"Sure," I answered, "Let's talk about my sister."

-

I finished drying myself in the car. The psych had let me keep the towel.
I leaned out the window to look at myself in the side mirror. I looked fine.
Presentable. Accountable. Like I had been through something where I had
Faced my soul. Like I had used and abused my emotions. There was comb in my glove compartment, so I took it out and rushed it through my damp hair. Slicked back. The sun
Was out, no clouds, burning up the inside of my car. That taste that comes after
Finishing something that's supposed to do you good didn't come. I was left with an unsure hand.
Putting my keys in the ignition, I turned them, and felt the engine rumble in front of my legs.
The sun sat in the sky like a lazy hand and I had nowhere else to go but home.

-

"Let's go to the river today," my dad said over coffee and two over easy eggs on top
Of burnt wheat toast. "I'll drive and you and your sister can sit in the back and sing."

I looked over at Ally. She was gazing into her fruit bowl she had prepared for
herself because dad didn't understand the concept or how to make it. The lamp light above us
reflected in the smooth apricot yogurt and the flecks of granola scattered on top
looked like beige, jagged rocks. My dad's offer hung in the air and neither
of us bit the lure. I had just woken up and was unable to speak clearly, a decent
excuse. Ally was simply choosing to ignore him.

"What you think there Ally?" I asked her. I sipped my coffee. It needed more cream. I got
U, got it and brought the carton to the table.

"We can take the truck down there and load the back with the fishing poles and tackle
And inner tubes. We haven't...done that...in a long time," he said, chewing his food as he spoke.

Ally poked her fruit bowl with her spoon, silent.

"What you think, Cam?" My dad was desperate. He knew I'd say yes.

"Sure. I've got no plans this weekend."

"No schoolwork?"

"It can wait till Sunday. Only math and some reading."

"Ally, what do you think?" my dad asked, leaning over to her. I could see he was
Trying to be as courteous and gentle with her as he knew how to. I felt bad for him.

"Sure," she muttered, "That sounds like fun." I could barely hear her, but somehow,
I could tell she sounded happy.

"Perfect," my dad smiled, "We'll pack the car up Friday,
Drive up Saturday morning early, camp one night, then get back Sunday afternoon." He
Took a long sip of his coffee and swished it around in his mouth, then dug
His fork into the dry toast and ran his small steak knife over the eggs. A silent pop came from
The egg and the light orange yolk spilled out. "Perfect," he repeated, "Just great."

Ally poked a grape from her fruit bowl and dipped it into the yogurt.
I took another sip of my coffee and looked up into the fan, spinning above us.
We were going to the river.

-

"Your sister turns five today," my mom told me, "And that means
I want you to be on your best behavior."

I nodded, unsure what the point of a birthday was. I had had one before, or at
least I thought I did, and all I remembered was that I got presents and the colorful balloons
and the cake we all ate with fire kind of floating and burning above it. Somewhere
in that moment I remember thinking that the cake was going to catch on fire, then they, everyone,
some that I knew and some people I had never seen before, yelled and shouted to
blow the fire out, so I quickly did, but not because it was for a wish, which I later found out it was supposed to be for, but because I truly thought the cake was going to catch fire and they wanted me to take care of it. At that point, I was unsure what it meant to be alive or why to celebrate it all.

"This is her day, Camden," my father told me, "So I want you to be happy for your sister."

"I am," I said. I was wearing my favorite white and blue striped t-shirt and
New shoes that my mom had bought me for the party.

"Sometimes you have to think of other people," my mother continued, "And today is one
of those days. I don't want any crying because you didn't get any presents or that none of your
friends are at the party. There are going to be a lot of Ally's friends there, but not many
of your's...do you understand?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Do you understand, Cam?" My father repeated. His skin was the color of a burnt
pancake and he smelt like stale sugar and sun tan lotion. He was in front of me and was
holding a thin magazine with a man in a boat holding up a fish on a line on the cover.  

"Yes, Dad," I said again. I was hungry. I wanted mac n' cheese, my favorite food.

I had been on the floor, laying on my stomach watching Ren and Stimpy. They were standing in front of the television and I remember trying to wish them out of the way. Behind them were two, large bay windows where three palm trees stood in a row like tropical soldiers. I could see there was no wind because the three of them stood still, as if posing for someone. Their leaves were bright green, a mixture of the neon green Jello I used to love to eat and the orange Jolly Rancher my dad would always have in a tiny tray in the middle of the dining table. My mother hated having them there because it always tempted Ally and I, but he never moved it until he moved out.

"Do you like your show?" my mom asked, turning to see what I was watching.

I nodded, absently. Ren was licking Stimpy's eye because he was complaining about having
an eyelash in there. Stimpy was completely still and smiling like he does - dumb and content.

"Interesting..." my mother trailed off. She walked to the kitchen behind the couch and
Opened up the pantry for something. "You hungry, Camden?"

"I'm starving," my dad said, "Let me go check on Ally in the bedroom. She should be up
from her nap."

I got up from my stomach and sat back on my legs, "Do we have mac n' cheese?" I asked.

"Let me check."

She reached up for the cabinet over the stove where I could never reach and
Opened it. I rose slightly up from where I was sitting to see if I could see the glorious dark blue and orange package, but wasn't able to see over couch. I hovered there, still like a humming bird.

"You're in luck," I heard her say, "We've got one box left."

"Yay!" I screamed and got up, running into the kitchen.

"But," she smiled, stopping me, "You'll have to share it with your sister."

"No! I don't want to! I always have to share."

"What did we just talk about Camden?" she said, lightly stamping her foot.

I tried to remember, but couldn't. I shrugged.

"You need to learn to share, Camden. You also need to listen better when your father and I are talking to you. You and your sister are going to know each other a very long time and I want you to learn how to share now, so you two can be happy in the future."

"The future," I asked, "What's that?"

She paused, then said, "It's a time," she paused again, "Ahead of us."

"Do we know where it is?"

"Not exactly," she sighed.

"What's it look like?"

"No one really knows. People can only imagine it."

"Is it very far away?"

She opened the top of the blue and orange mac n' cheese box and poured the dry macaroni into a large silver ***, lifted the faucet, and let it run inside for five or seven seconds. She placed the *** on an unlit burner and turned to look at me. Her eyes looked far away and right there with me.  

"Closer then you think," she said and turned the burner on.

-

I turned into the taco bell parking lot. There was something I was trying to remember that was in my trunk, but I couldn't recall the picture. A haze blew over the windshield that was a mix of heat and wind; I wished to be somewhere else, someone else, someplace else, but, there I was, sitting there underneath the sun, like everyone else. If I was able, I would have unlocked the door to my car and opened the door and walked out - but - there was something else lingering underneath my fingernails, something I couldn't name.

"Two tacos," I said into my hand, "And a water."

"Pull to the window," the voice buzzed over the muffled speaker.

"Yes," I said through my split fingers.

In front of me, over a patch of clean cut green grass and a yellow, red, and orange Taco Bell signature sign, was a fresh gas station with a willow tree *** near the front entrance. He had a sign that hung around his neck that read Juice Please - Very Thirsty. How I knew this was because I had seen it every time I had been asked to fill up my dad's car every other Sunday. I had never given the tree a dollar, yet, I felt that I owed him something. I tried to pull up to the window, but my clutch was grinding and a cloud slunk overhead. I was tired and only wanted to eat.

"That'll be a two twenty-five," the voice said through the thick, clear glass.

"Yes," I said to myself, digging into my wallet for three dollars.

I ****** the three onto the thick plastic platform. A quick sweeping plastic brush pushed the bills toward the asker, and the bills were gone. I had no food. I had nothing. My money was gone and all I had was a gurgling car in front of me and an empty front seat beside me. A pair of clouds waded by my front shield window. A shadow drew itself out in front of me like a **** model. A beep. Sudden and behind me. There was sound. I looked over my shoulder and a black  2013 Cadillac was sitting there, windshield tinted grey, the driver a shadow. I was unsure what to do...so I pulled forward six inches, hoping the offer would be enough. I wasn't in the best neighborhood.

The window to the left of me slid open. An arm erupted forward with a plastic bag,
"75 cents is your change."

The hand dropped three quarters next to the plastic bag. I grabbed the bag with the two tacos and three quarters and quickly wound up my window. The face in front of me was a dangerous blur: smiling, frowning, not caring either way what happened to me next. The hands had gobbled up the three dollars and I was happy to see it go. Who needed money? I tossed the plastic bag onto the passenger seat and sped off two blocks for my grandma's house. Salvation. The holy land. A place with free hot sauce and two dog's that were stolen without paper's. Eden.

-

"What are you learning right now?" I asked Ally.

She hesitated, then said, "Something to do with science." She paused," Lot's to do with rock's."

"Rocks?" I stammered, not remembering a time when I learned about rocks in school, "What kind of rocks?"

"I don't know," she grinned, looking up at me, "All kinds."

I laughed and kicked a stone into the river. The sun was out and reflected on the water like an unpolished diamond. We had grown up a quarter mile away, but still, it felt foreign to us.

"I like it. There's some things you could see that you would never think to read about it in books."

I had read plenty off books. Most, I took little from, but Ally, I could see, had taken plenty.

"What are you doing in school?" Ally asked me.

"What do you mean?" I

hi dudes


i wanted to be a hooligan, or was it a young dude who wants to party

you see i would go out at night, and be a real smart, you see my mates

would say, i was like their mob, but i hated my father saying, he hated to

be like my mob, so i called him a great big old fogie ,because that is what

he seemed to be, you see i don’t think dad can understand why his own flesh

and blood could tease him like this, i never really wanted to be an adult to him

no, please don’t make me, you see at present people are saying i am still a young dude

i am still an old fogie, because they wanna get me back, i hated being treated like

a yeah mate yeah kid, ya see, i would prefer to be treated right, you see i know my dad

is saying i am a fool, but my mates liked the way i used to tease my dad, so they joined right in

but i wanted to tell them that i wanted to tease dad all by myself, and when someone called dad

a great big old fogie in the club, i looked at him and said quietly to myself, way to go buddy

you see people are trying to get me to do what i used to do, like if i go into an expensive hotel

they will say, shut up, your still a young dude, buddy, and i said, yeah the young dude that enjoys

5 star hotels, yeah, and dad would try and get rid of my man and take him for a wander, and

some people are taking my cool kid for a bit of a wander, you see, i feel like i am being kidnapped

by the men saying as they tease someone, and then they say i might tease him in a minute

but he is still a hooligan or a friend to the poor, you see i also hear my friends try and be a street kid

so i can get teased by the families, and i don’t want to get teased by the families, and every time i be a

cool young dude, i see my old mates treating me like a shy person, as i am watching the very brave

**** fanning, about to do a press conference, **** he is brave, you see my mates are trying to reach in

to me and play with my itchy skin, you see maybe i was trying to be a street kid back then, so i don’t get teased

and maybe i was trying to be a poor person so i don’t get teased, but i don’t want to go back to the psych ward

you see i wanted to be a hooligan in 1989, and my mate called me dude, and i got voices in my head saying

hang on yeah little cool dude, and my mate said, yeah enjoy yourself man, and i tried to be like his brothers

he went yeah man enjoy yourself, and i ran off, you see i hear voices of people treating me like a little young dude

because when i was young i used to stay up till 11.30 pm on weekends and i used to watch the young ones and

the fast lane, and i watched neighbours and beavis and butted and e street and i remember my mates saying

i think brian doesn’t want to do this, but i want to be a cool kid to the TV, and i would say, you talk to me, i watch the TV

and my mates turning out to be the adults who want to go out and experience life, my version of loving life is watching TV

and teasing my dad, saying he is a great big old fogie and i feel like people are treating me like a roughneck young dude

trying to take my little cool kid to the family credits away, but i don’t want to be a little cool kid to the family, i prefer to be a big young

dude who enjoys calling dad a great big old fogie because dad always said, i don’t know who he is, i said **** malone is going well

dad said, who is **** malone, i said i watched good times last night, and i saw jj and dad said, who is jj, what a ****, i thought

everyone knows about jj, he said, oh dyna—— mite, maybe i was treating dad like me, ya know treating him like a **** of a man

but that was because i thought jj was popular and so was **** malone, i got in a lot of arguments with dad about his ******* comments

ya see now i fall asleep on the couch as i go up to space to try and reform my young dude, because i still want to stay up, i hate going

to bed early, i am not doing what i did in wood berry for anyone, you see i will drink my soft drink and say a bottle of soft drink knocks you out

and i wasn’t a woosey, i was a basketball star, i was a cool kid to the basketball people, yeah i made mistakes i grabbed kids on the mouths

as occasionally i was trying to trap myself, but i was a sports kid, ya know very good at sports, and i want dad to treat me like a man, because

dad can’t protect me from up there, so i want to be treated like a man who enjoys the finer things in life, like eating pizza and drinking coke

and anything that makes me into a real party dude, i don’t want to be a shy person, mind you, i like the idea, of teasing dad from down here

looking at dads next life’s latest pictures on the computer and dad is now in jimmy barnes’s family as betty campbell, but dad is at peace in that family

but he died with everyone thinking he doesn’t want to be cool, and betty campbell is going to be cooler than her last life, baz boy allan

you see i remember when my brother treated me like a little spaz boy, like saying my brain was chopped off and i am totally spastic, yeah like a

little spaz boy, like mum called dad baz boy, my brother called me little spaz boy and i felt very weird because i wanted to be like the TV people

like ***** hogan and ricky stratton or even bart simpson, forcing my brother to be lisa simpson, you see i take my medication to make me feel

better because back then i felt like a koomarri man, and i heard voices of people saying, your still a young dude brian, and i said i am a young dude

ya know, i stay up till late listening to music talking to my brother about his favourite music and favourite TV shows, it was really cool

and when i was young i said i wasn’t a cool kid, i am a big man’s kid or a big young dude who listens to cool poison and twisted sister, **** i love that video

and i got on very well with my family, including the great big old fogie in dad