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Rewind this memoir back to my first foster home.   I’m reclining on the couch in the living room watching Superman, a whatever's-on-tv-saturday-afternoon-movie.   "Give A Little Bit" played from the soundtrack.  The Supertramp song reached out from the screen and into my own complicated teen-aged life.  Oh the words of that song blindsided me, hit me hard in the chest with a sad yearning, an emotion I had ignored forever like that elephant in the room too big to push out the door.  Because life was so hard, too hard, and lonely on and on, and the world gives only just enough that you keep breathing, but you wonder why.  Yes, please  someone  give just a little....
But at the time I hadn't known anything else and I just stuffed that overwhelming sad lonely feeling.  Too much need wears out a welcome in someone else's home.  It seemed most everyone else had family, security, some money for perhaps things like a pair of cleats to run in school track if you have the desire. Its called belonging or opportunity and I was acutely aware I wouldn't have it.

Fast forward 25 years; business for my glass art studio is rewarding.  I live in Cleveland, or what I called Purgatory.  I like the city though; I think the motto should be "Its Not That Bad."  A tough steel town, unpretentious to a fault, tenacious, it inspired the Clean Water Act because the river was so polluted it   caught   on   fire.  People who live there just don't quit, except that the biggest export is young people. The streets are eerily empty, the quiet steel mills are epic sculptures of rust.  But its not that bad.  Now they make a tasty beer called Burning River.  Sometimes they gamble on unconventional ideas because they've reached the end of status-quo.  One can even surf there, when the wind blows a Nor'easter in the fall, just before the lake freezes. The wave break is nicknamed "Sewer Pipe"; one can imagine why.

I biked with a club there; cycling part of my life-blood.  Life was pretty good, blessed with measures of contentment and happiness and family, even through so many challenges.  Except I'm stuck pedaling a trainer in the basement most of the long winter.  It was during an endless, gray February that I was inspired by an idea: a Velodrome.  Its one of those banked tracks people in America only see during the Olympics.  Cover it, and people could have a bicycle park all year-round with palm trees in the winter, in Cleveland.  Its a blast of a sport with serious American heritage.  A velodrome is a place where all a kid has to do is show up and with enough heart he or she can make it to the Olympics.  They wouldn't need money, just 100% heart.  It would be the kind of opportunity I didn't have when I was a kid.

So I decided to take on the responsibility to build one... not to be afraid of the price tag, or how to do it, or let a label like "disabled veteran with a head injury" daunt me.  I figured my role was to get the project started and motivate others to do other parts.  I decided not to discuss my shortcomings, introduce myself with that label, or use it as a disclaimer.   As many times as I wished I had a chalkboard sign around my neck saying, Please excuse the mess, I had to tell myself it was not an excuse.
There would need to be many others; but the fact that I knew only a dozen people on the planet didn't stop me either.  Two people inspired me.  Kyle MacDonald had a dream to barter a paper clip for something better, trading that for something else, anything else, until he had a house.  I thought I could start with an old laptop, a couple thousand dollars, and my idea. I'd work to leverage each bit of progress, not knowing what they were yet.  Thats how anything gets done, right?  Erik Weihenmayer is a blind alpine mountain climber, conquering even Everest.  He didn’t let anyone convince him what he couldn’t do, and didn’t let impairments keep him from his goal.  He didn't let blindness, the fact that he couldn't see the top as well as others, make the goal any less enjoyable for himself.  Also, there’s no way he could have done it without help.

There are no business plans for a Velodrome or someone else would have built more of them already.  I'm good at figuring things out, what with having to relearn things all the time.  I don't quit because that has never seemed to be an option.  Resourcefulness is my middle name, having to put my life back together every year or so.  Certainly the project was eccentric but as an artist I've never really cared about what others thought.  I certainly didn't have a reputation for sanity to maintain.  Professionally, I’ve had experience with so many factors of development: from paperwork at the back end as a Project Assistant, to designing it as a Mechanical Drafter, to constructing it as a Steel Detailer.  I understood this project.

Every time I discovered something needed to be done, I'd figure out how to do it.  I took an online tutorial and put together a website, attended communication seminars for better speaking skills, learned how to recruit a Board of Directors, took classes for fundraising, won a few grants, and started a non-profit.  I had to buy a couple of suits for meetings.  I kept hoping someone who knew what they were doing would take over, but that never seemed to materialize.  What I thought would be a few months turned into several hard years of work, learning new things on the fly like politics, business etiquette, computer programs, how to understand and write financials and business plans for stadiums.

It felt like cramming for finals, taking exams for classes I never attended.  I didn’t just burn my candle on both ends, I was torching it in the middle too.  Every challenge I had ever gone through seemed like it was a preparation for this one.  Many times I wondered if it was all for nothing; so many dead ends and frustrations and years where the project was barely on life-support.  Mistakes and wrong turns making people mad, losing faith in me.  Would it ever really happen?  I kept imagining what my bike wheels would look like under my handlebars as if I was ridiing on the track, listening to the same particular songs on my ipod for motivation.

A small tangent here, a digression back to the fifth grade and my favorite teacher.  He was about as tall as his students.  Mr.A (our nickname for Mr. Anderson) was a barrel-chested little person but I didn't notice it till years later because he was so cool.  He was the first teacher, the first person actually, who encouraged me to be myself.  I was a little kid, a couple years advanced and bright enough to be skipped again.  Tthat would have been ridiculous since I was already too small.  I would get my work done early in class, and he would let me spend time doing whatever, encouraging my creativity.  I distinctly remember making little scale models of parks out of construction paper.  I would start by making a rectangular tray, and then fill it in with ponds, benches, and oval or figure-8 tracks for bicycles, elevated roller-coaster paths for walking.  It was my way of creating a whimsical place that felt good in my difficult life.  No lie, I was building bicycle tracks when I was 9.  That memory faded away until I was several years into the actual Velodrome project, trying create a light-hearted park on the edge of a ghetto.  This was my life's ultimate Art Project; made with wood, steel, and tenacity.  It made me wonder about a life's purpose... still just a what if... but cruel if there wasn't anything to it.

There is a necessary role for the dreamer.  Visionaries help to break status quo, introduce new solutions.  Sorting through the banal with unique perspective, the random is reassembled into intriguing newness.  What is creative nature?  Is it obsession to improve things, the need for approval, resourcefulness within limits, or perspective outside boundaries?   Is it tenacity to the point of obsession, focus to the point of selfishness?  

Thankfully, a few devoted people did take over after a few years and worked hard to raise the serious money.  In 2012, Phase 1 of the Cleveland Velodrome opened to the public.  Presently they are raising funds for Phase 2 to cover it.   By chance I was there the day the track was finished and got a chance to ride it.  All I wanted to do was one thing: listen to those songs on my ipod and see my wheels under the handlebars on the track... in reality.  I didn't want to race or be recognized at some celebration.  I just wanted to ride a few laps, happy just to have a role in building it.  In less than a year there are already training programs, youth cycling classes, and teams competing.  Through community grants and volunteers, its all free to anyone under 18.  

Not to be forgotten, some thanks should go to one supportive teacher who helped a scrappy kid dream.    Schools measure math and science so valuable, for good reason.  But this favors one brain’s side of thinking.  Initiating and working for the construction of an urban renewal project and improving a neighborhood is traceable to the exact same idea assembled with clumsy school scissors, white glue, and construction paper, during 5th grade free time.

I can't wait to hear the news of some tough kid from East Cleveland getting to the Olympics.
Aditi Sharma Aug 2013
When people bound you down,
when things look dull,
when your face is devoid of laughter,
kick some ***
dance your *** off.
dance and sing..
sing and dance your soul out..
dance like it is your life..
dance like your soul is hooked to it..

**

when people tell you
that it can't be done..
show them the finger and
tell them they you can kick some ***.
may be you ill fail..
may be you will fall..
but tthat moment when you kick
the society in the face...
that's the moment...


Listen to music this world has given to you..
Listen to the energy inside you.
Listen to what it is saying..
listen to Queen..
listen to Beethoven..
listen to Macklemore...
inspire yourself..
inspire from the creative energy
creative energy of these creative souls..
kick some ***...
Seriously.
Nobody has the power to bring you down.
Nobody.Nothing.Not even time.
Not even God.
Not your parents..
Not the ******* society..
Rune amergin Feb 2010
want to know whats worse than being "owned" by someone? knowing that at
any
given
momen
tthat very same person can disown you.
relationships arnt a secruety blanke
ttheyre a tightrope
and im afraid of hights.
why in the world would i want to be in that posistion
to frolick after
one person
out of the BILLIONS of different people
but why would i want to frolick
after anyone?i have myself, my art, my own world
that i love
why should anyone else have the self proclaimed
rightto share my world with me?i dont want to be
that girl
on a mans arm
i dont want to belong to
to have to rely on
anyone.
i dont want someone elses feelings
that responsibility
weighing medown
down
down
into the guilty depths below that tightrope.
jyotikamarine Oct 2016
cry,cry
my little girl
from the depth of your heart
and the bottom of my soul.
to the tears tthat speak,
to every lie i told,
to every love of yours,
i thank.
now,THE FIREFLY RETURNS.
ANJALI,I AM BACK
Jay-Z (Feelin' It (That's Life) Instrumental)
Check it

This for all of the spiritual tears
that fell down
Through out the weapin' years
No respect to our
peers pressures heard in the
ears
Of the youth I spit the realist in
The booth
So what I gotta chipped tooth only
Speak truth
It's the language I only
understand give the fans
Something they need to hear so forget yall demands
Watch my enemies hands
crossing swords
Clashing iron I ain't lying trying to
Tie in
My self back into the community embraced the unity
Cuz it's so many
of us abused used and
unvalued
** the news crews they bruised our neighborhood avenues Misled
Golden values
And money comes in revenues so
How you
Gone hate on my hustle when I'm just tryna make a muscle
Without flexing no plexing everybody hands
Stretching
Once they see the blessing
goes up I Bump
Out the corrupt my minds finna
Erupt
Frown upon the madness no
gladness
As the game crashes head on they say I'm dead wrong
The weak or the strong man who got it going
on?
Sip German brewery with a chase of
greenery
Keep a packed sub-machinery cuz
Jealousy
Keep me strapped **** shame
How I gotta watch my
back
In my own hood it's hell destiny is set to
fail
No bail only if I see my own casket
Sail
Out the churches driveway unto the
highway
It's a brighter day as I reach for the
cemetery
My flesh destroyed but I live on
Spiritually
My heart will always be with thee
trust me
To infinity and beyond I got wisdom by the
ton
They donned and stunned on me
Since day one
My only one son Solomon I'll always love
ya
No matter the sh*tthat comes my
way
You'll always have my love
The closest
Even when I'm far away
ryan parrington Oct 2016
Every one 8s a couple
And it's just me my self and I
Waiting for tthat hand to hold
So bold I live life alone
No one to please no one stays
everyone leaves with a peace that lays
In side my soul with in my heart
I stand alone and always apart
I wish for something
I can never have
It's always a ttaste the makes me sad
Denis Martindale May 2018
I met a poet who was poor…
No money to his name…
Yet he kept writing more and more…
For sharing was his aim…
No payment offered or received…
No aid, grant or support…
But he had faith, for he believed
Tthat God would bless each thought…
And I believe that when he died…
God sent two angels down…
To wipe away the tears he cried…
And then give him his crown…
If not, then there’s no justice, friends…
For poets still on Earth,
Who write with love… till each life ends…
If no-one sees their worth…

Denis Martindale March 2018.
Zane Mar 2021
what's on my mind?
well i'm glad that you asked
as always, more than i can explain easily
it all started when i thought of a friend
whom i haven't spoken to since i turned 19
i remember her saying she moved far away
and then we just lost contact as i see that many tend to do
i'm lamenting about how those you used to know
only exist in your mind like a snapshot
a picture of where and when they were
not who they are now
maybe you know some about what they're up to
and well, maybe you don't
all that's for sure is they aren't them anymore
they've molted the skin of what they were
despite all you want
you can't change who they are in the present
back to whom they were when you knew them the best
and there's a sad truth to that
tthat everything eventually will become memories
some happy, some miserable.
but if you can learn to separate the pain
from the ones burned into your skull
maybe you can then learn to move forward with you life
and your car won't always be stuck in reverse.
yeah you won't always be staring through your rearview mirror.
When the snow covers the hill tops ,
and turns to ice the mountainous springs ,
when angels wings covet the skies ,
when all that can be seen are these things .
For only  mountains split when  God is near ,
only then I shall  fall into you’re arms ,
because you are so dear .

So let  snow covered   mountains then  tremble in you’re sight ,
above the earth ,
where perfumed goblets pour out amugst the stars ,
and crows that once gathered ,
are now scattered near and far .

Then  statues of you and I will rise in marble and pure gold ,
their metals will glisten by the fountains of Bairn                           tthat     told by scribes that have long since died .
Passed  down though time bybirds with heads of maidens ,
for so black are their bodies ,
as we grow  old  ,
their faces gaunt and pale.
But our hearts grew strong in love and grace ,
even as our bodies grew weak and frail .

O then for  it is it not you’re beauty I await .

Now the song birds have fallen silent to this fate ,
so then do the stars and the moon await ,
and shadows in the garden now appear ,
now you are near .

And so when morning comes I shall await for the sun ,
it’s bitter cold winds now that mornings begun ,
on clouds carried by Nymphs of the earth
when Gods holy messengers cover their wings ,
for even they can’t look on such beautiful  things

For by this gate I wait for you’re return ,
where you’re Father lays buried  beneath the wings of the sun .

Then I hear the pounding of hooves ,
far away in the distance .
O now you are near ,
as my horse gains pace o so many the year,
as our hearts beat faster for now they are one,
two lovers together ,
their joy hath begun .
together forever ,
now you are near ,
by the grave of you’re Father how bitter you’re tears .

— The End —