[Bull]

Those were beautiful sentiments. I can relate to only one thing though ...

Gary said ...

However, the pain of walking away from taunting words burning your ears will give you an understanding of manhood…and maturity.

Took me a long time to learn that lesson. "What's the matter McFly? Chicken?" Those movies held new meaning to me then, lol.

What I can't relate to, and probably never will, is that feeling of responsibility when your child is born. I'll never have that. I never want to have that for fear of actually turning into a cold, ruthless, heartless, self-centered son of a b**** .. just like MY father. And for fear that he or she will turn out just like I did. Looking at myself and seeing that destructiveness, that flawed human empathy, that struggle to feel love for anything or anyone including myself ... and making that decision that no child of mine will feel that. I'm basically cutting my bloodline out of the gene pool. To me that's what being a man means.

Sorry to darken the mood like that .... but I think somebody had to do it.

[Schultz1]

Hey Gary. Remember the old Boy's Market stores that used to be around? For all you young folks reading this, Ralph's Grocery used to be Boy's Market. Yes but anyways. When I was around some age I went there by myself with a small bundle of cash and looked around for peanuts and such, but this was a larger market than the others I used to go to. I would run around the store jumping at every isle trying to find the other end of the store. Run to first. JUMP. Run to other end of store. JUMP. Middle. JUMP. I enjoyed it very much. Some folks may of thought I was crazy, but I loved it.

[GaryO]

Sorry to darken the mood like that .... but I think somebody had to do it.........

Bull, you might re-think that.

Yeah, some folks should not have children.
However, most should just not have had them so damn early in life.
When that happens, the sons and daughters are just little beings in the way, wanting, needing, using your money that was targeted for your toys, taking your time, time earmarked for fun, frolic, using.
Yeah, too early.
Too early for the aging kid that happens to be adult size and age.

And, yeah, we have these gene traits.
But we are not them.
We are not our parents.

You may be fighting a war within…..existing in a lifestyle that is comfortable…but becoming quite empty.


The human primate has learned to lie.
We are the greatest of natural born liars…..to ourselves.

You have been thru much.
You underestimate yourself.
You have demonstrated your concerns and compassion for those you may have affected.
Those are some key traits of a good father.

From reading all that you have written, I believe you would be a great father, maybe one of the greatest.

I could be so very wrong………….or I could be so very right.

So, pick up your video controller, and try not to think about it…….for yet another day.

Or envision a little Bull, sitting in yer lap, patting the controller with his gooey little hands, wiping out the final stage of a game you’d been playing for days.
A game you’d finally mastered.
A game.
A goddamn game.
And you pick him up, and he wraps his slobbery little fingers around your beard with the death grip of Khan.

And you look him in his eyes,
and he grins,
and you laugh your motherphucking ass off,
cause he just taught you one of life’s great lessons.

Yeah, pick up your video controller, and try not to think about it…….for yet another day.

[GaryO]

Run to first. JUMP. Run to other end of store. JUMP. Middle. JUMP. I enjoyed it very much.

Schultzy, I used to think you were the funniest guy I ever read, cause you come up with the darnedest things so contrary to the current subject. And never fails to bash in my funny bone to the max.
But now I’m coming to realize that you’re just a free spirit.
Still, quite entertaining.

'I would run around the store jumping at every isle trying to find the other end of the store. Run to first. JUMP. Run to other end of store. JUMP. Middle. JUMP'

Jack Handey stuff, without a doubt.

I’m not sure what chain stores were in existence when I was growing up, cause our little town just had Dewey Adam’s. To me it was a huge store, with gigantic glass double doors that had these plate sized steel disks imbedded in the glass that was way outta reach for me.
And there was Dewey himself, all 450 lbs of him.
Tiny head with a dozen strands of carefully combed over hair. Arms that kinda stuck out at 22.5° due to his girth.
Loud, booming laughing, jovial voice.

Then there was the Penney’s store, with cables running from the registers to a mysterious room upstairs, magically sending little tubes zipping heavenward.

The barbershop was a twice yearly trip. Usually a requirement for an upcoming event that needed a cut a bit better than gramma’s bowl whack.

I have vivid recollection of this one time.
Dad plopped me on the booster board and Mr Sharp wrapped me up with his white serape and choke holding neck gauze.
Then this guy wearing a hard hat came in.
He doffed his hat, and sat in the chair beside me.
He had an overgrown burr hair cut that needed a trim.
But right above the left side of his hairline was a huge indentation.
You could’ve nicely fit half of a softball in there.
My peripheral vision became rather acute as I watched the clippers dip down into the crevasse, like an ice cream scoop.
I don’t remember swallowing, let alone breathing as the spectacle unfolded.
When he was done, he got up, paid the barber, did a little small talk, got his coat off the rack, and put his hard hat back on.
As he passed in front of me, he doffed his hat, and stuck the abyss side of his head right in my terrified face and said, ‘How’d you like to have a haircut like this?’
Seems I remember raucous laughter from everyone, but I was too wrapped up in my daymare to notice.

[5butjam]

I gotta' say Gazza... you're sort of turning into my adoptive Grandpa...

I've never had much family interaction outside my own little nuclear unit, I'm rather unfortunate in that manner. I don't have a lack of family... but things get in the way.

On the Mother's side I have a Grandmother who lives about 120 miles south of here... don't get to see her much. It sounds harsh but nowadays, I don't have time to go and see her, I work probably around 47 weeks a year what with school and then a holiday job getting in the way, no time to accompany my family on visits down to her. It's a real blessing when she visits and we have a few texts and phone calls to keep in touch. Her husband, my only real Grandfather passed away a few years ago, must be 8 or 9 at least... he was a gruff man. He wasn't hard or harsh, he wasn't sharp in tongue.... but he was a dark man. I've been told I resemble him in many ways, not in the most positive of manners though. He loved us, that was sure but he only ever really bonded to my younger brother. My sister and I were... not attention grabbing, but the brother has a heart problem, reminded of himself, brought him to our level again seeing his own vulnerabilities in another so young. At 59 he suffered his second heart attack, went into hospital and suffered. My Mother, his Daughter arrived at his bedside just as they turned the life support off, the myself and the siblings accompanied my Father to a Pantomime.

Along with my Grandmother, about 10 miles away lives my Uncle. We're pretty alike, this time for better reasons. He gave me my love of my crappy little football team and, though he'd never admit it, cares about me and the rest of us. Visits are infrequent now, hopefully the team will win promotion next year so there are more matches up my end, more excuses for him to pop up and visit. Last year, for my 17th birthday we celebrated it together by watching our crappy little team make it to Wembley. A coach ride down to London full of beer, my first watered down pub beer and a heart breaking loss in the last minute of extra time. We were never closer.

Finally the family stops with the Aunt, Uncle and three cousins, living about 235 miles south of us, very occasional visits because of this unfortunately. The Uncle had an accident 2 years, 3 weeks ago. Massive brain damage from coming off his motorbike and his helmeted head hitting a signpost. Unfortunate placement of the signpost. Poor man hasn't been able to uncurl his leg in 2 years, he's stuck in his bed and his body is a shell. The man was a very clever fella', worked his whole way through University to come out with a degree in Nuclear Engineering to become one of the most important people in a power station. Clever, hard working man... now sits in his bed in his rest home, not capable of speech or movement... just waiting for a chest infection to carry him away. The way his eyes light up when he sees you... you don't ever want to look away and yet it breaks your heart to continue. The man was deserving of praise, worked hard from the day he was born, still took time to care for his 3 sons. Accident came as distressing to everyone, the Aunt has only really just picked herself up, youngest cousin retreated into himself in a way, got himself mixed up with an evil, ego-stroking girl. Boy was 14 and passing out in baths covered in his vomit. He's better now, thank God, the lass is finally gone as much as she tried to hang around. The middle cousin puts a brave face on it but he's definitely changed. Out in public he's the same old joke spraying, story telling Carl... before retiring to his bedroom at half past 8 and then being gone. He's not at home much any more, I think it hurts him. Eldest cousin... well he truly lost his Dad in the middle of some of the most important exams he could ever take. He passed however, with flying colours. He got himself together and got accepted into Oxford University, pretty clever fella'. His Dad would be proud if he could understand the word University. He was the least affected, or at least he's the best at hiding it. I know him well enough to say it's probably the latter. We don't see each other much but thanks to this Internet malarky he's been there when I needed him the most and I've tried to do the same. Any time that we're together is, in our own geeky little way, pretty damn special. Usually consists of downloading old games, drinking a few beers and forgetting anything outside the room exists. He took me on my first 'silly' night out. Went out and wandered about with a few of his friends for a while before a few of them decided to pack it in, we were invited to Alan's farm. We hopped a lift in he back of Alan's van and off we went. There was only 5 of us in the end, cousin assured me I didn't have to drink too much if I wasn't feeling comfortable with it. He passed out in a bathtub (recurring theme in the family methinks) after a few... God knows what of Vodka. I stayed up with his friends, we danced, we made a mess, I had my first driving lesson sliding round a field in Alan's van... My first 'messy' night out. My family on my Mother's side... pretty damn important to me... not many of them though and I don't get to see them more than maybe 4 times a year if we're truly lucky. Suppose I should count myself blessed to be able to talk to them on the internet, for all its faults.

Dad's side is a whole other affair. Grandfather... was not a good man. Walked out and left my Dad to care for his agoraphobic Mum, my Nana, at a young age and hitched himself with a new Lady... got a few sons and a daughter out of her, they were his favourite. Sent my Dad down a few wrong paths, skipping school to go find work, falling in with bad crowds... picked himself up though, worked hard, grafted and although he's just a lowly betting shop manager he's damn good at it and I couldn't be prouder of him no matter what he did. He's a good man, despite his own Dad's example. Nana is the only close relation really, sweet lady but definitely not all there. She's fixated with money and yet wants to give it away. Offered to pay for God knows how many things for us despite her own frugal lifestyle. I expect she feels she owes my Dad. Yeah she's sweet but she's no Grandmother, she can't be there to offer advice or support you but she's never missed a birthday yet and we all care deeply about her.

The Granddad and Grandma on this side of the family.... well I'll be damned if I know where they are. They left for a holiday a few years ago saying they'd call when they get there. No phone call yet. We were waiting for my 18th birthday, thinking that if they were going to turn up at any point it would be to see what they missed out on that day. It has been 1 month and 1 day since my birthday and still no appearance.

The Aunt left for America a very long time ago. Saw her once... remember nothing but her Platinum blonde hair and the fact that she cared about my Dad. Would've been nice to know her... but she's gone now. Not even sure if it's an Aunt Doreen or Aunt Susan. Maybe they're both real. I dunno'.

That just leaves us the two uncles, Colin and Paul. They didn't get along with my Dad in childhood, made it up to him when they all grew up. Decent bit of camaraderie between them as they grew older... Colin moved to Austria at some point though, haven't heard from him since. Paul... stuck around for a bit longer, was always one of my Dad's best friends. He was a wealthy man, high in the employ of Microsoft in the UK. House was big enough to fit several of mine, I remember feeling amazed at the size of his wine cellar. He was not about throwing money around to show off but in private he was a generous fella'. Unfortunately his second wife didn't like our family, decided we only liked him for his money (despite the fact that we'd only ever accepted £100, total from him over the years, most of which was spent on clothes and toys for a young me) and cut us off. My Dad thinks he saw him on Facebook. He was holding what looked to be his new son. We didn't have the courage to message him.

I wouldn't say I have a broken family... just a small one, we don't exist much outside our core. Christmases are spent by ourselves, New Years with family friends. I've always sort of just replaced my lack of extended family with the people I know. The director of the charity that I'm a trustee of and his wife form a new set of Grandparents for us, another trustee acts as our jolly old Uncle... my friends are like my cousins and Gazza'... well you're falling into the surrogate Grandpa role like nobody else. I never had a 'Gramps'... a warm, endearing term for a parents father. I had a Granddad, he was just biological, he didn't care much, God knows where he is.... I had a Grandfather, a dark man who, like I said, I have a lot in common with, he didn't show his affection much and he never really had a chance to guide me... my surrogate Grandfather has filled that in... but a Gramps? A Grandpa is the guy who you gather round to hear stories from, the old fella' with the fuzzy beard that you look up to not for his achievements in life but his satisfaction in it.

Gary, I'd be more than honoured if you'd carry on filling that role in my life.

[GaryO]

Dammit, Jammaster, I got nuthin’ to say right now, just yet.
Maybe in a few minutes when I gather myself……

[GaryO]

I gotta' say Gazza... you're sort of turning into my adoptive Grandpa...


Gary, I'd be more than honoured if you'd carry on filling that role in my life.

OK, your story, these stories of late, are a bit more than what I’d even hoped for when I started this thread.
Getting talented individuals to talk about themselves, their families, their background. To touch the one behind the poster that you just faved.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised for things to become so profoundly personal, but some stories have deeply affected the core of my being.

Yours, Jammy, just now, like none other.

And that's something, coming from a lad that wishes he could write interesting stories.


I do have one regret.
I wish I would have been a High school teacher, but instead just immersed myself in the science of logistics and material movement, and nurtured my family.
Hah, ‘just nurtured my family’……….it’s a hell of a job, with sparse reward, but when those rewards come, they are enough to level you where you stand.

But if I had it all to do over, or rather if I hadn’t met the lady I did, when I did, I’d most likely have become a teacher, a childless teacher.
It sounds hypocritical, but for me to have been a teacher would not have been fair to a family, because it would have consumed me, day and night.

In the last few years I have satiated my vocational desires with speaking engagements. One’s that involve the audience, and……it…..is…..amazing.
So much fun I can’t wait for the next one.
Impromptu Q&A…..fast, furious, productive dialogue.
It keeps my mind as sharp as it'll ever be.
However, in my old fashioned ways, I’ve limited myself. Maybe it’s a treasured selfish desire to be sure to secure some alone time, some family time.

But the profound ability of electronic communication these days enables one to shed all constraints, and share thoughts with anyone, anywhere, even a lad that has the world before him.
A lad 5000 mi (8000 km) away.
A lad that has intense conviction of what’s right, of what’s just.
A lad on the brink of many a weighty decision.


No, Jammy, it’d be my honour to be your ‘Gramps’, your ‘Gazza’.

[Schultz1]

One year. Way back when I had my first job as a journalist. Pope John Paul II came to Dodger Stadium to give some speeches and what not. Since I was working for the Daily Breeze newspaper they gave me a pass and I was allowed to go to the V.I.P. room and go anywhere to write my story, get recordings etc. So after he was done he was leaving and shaking everyone's hand while going by. Going back a few hours....before I left home to see the Pope my father (Polish and proud he was) told me to say something to the Pope as he would come by. So as everyone was waiting for him to come by I could hear them all saying, "OH, I am going to say hello in Italian! What are you going to say?".. So as he walked up to me I shook his hand and said " Dobry wieczór"(Good evening in Polish)... then he walked a little ways to leave. Stopped. Turned around. And pointed to me. Then he said " Jesteś Polskiej." ( You're Polish) It was a great day. Can make me cry sometimes to tell this story.

[GaryO]

That, sir, is one helluva event.

[Schultz1]

1987 was the year.