About Me

Page 3

White City, Oregon

This was a fun place for me.  I had a corvair in Santa Cruz (yes, in the 8th grade.  I wanted to rebuild an engine, and was fascinated with the concept of perpetual motion, and it was a great box to fit stuff in.  I had an idea of how to use solar panels to charge batteries ans use a windmill device on the back of the car to provide an additional charge.  After reading a little Buckminster Fuller and a whole lot of Popular Science and Mechanics over the years, I figured everything was possible if you wanted to do it.  I mean, nobody invented electricity.  It was there to be discovered.)

One day, before moving to Oregon, I came home and it was gone. 

So, when we moved to this place in White City, George bought me a calf and a truck.  I know you're not supposed to interact on a personal level with animals you're going to eat, but I taught Domino about 10 tricks before I came home one day and he was gone.  I didn't really think all that much about it, though I was annoyed no one told me or asked me any questions.  And nobody offered an explanation, as usual.  But, I was used to dealing with animals as part of the food chain, so that part of it didn't matter to me.

Strangely enough, though, I'm one of those people who can go out in the woods and attract animals.  I just talk and sing to them, and stay very still.   I don't kill animals unless I need food.  Like the Indians, I have always believed all life deserves honor and respect.

George was a farmer and dairy foreman and ranch hand and logger and mechanic and did all kinds of mechanical stuff I had never been exposed to.  That was very much the good side he had to teach me. I always loved the farming part.  He knew alot about taking care of soil and erosion, just like Al Gore talks about.  George only had a 9th grade education, and was barely functionally literate.  But he had a lot of practical wisdom.  Unfortunately, he didn't have any self-esteem.  I felt sorry for him.

We lived in a cinder-block shed, split up into 4 small rooms, and it was extremely cold in the winter.  The next summer, it was extremely hot.  I had alot of great memories about Oregon, and my parents.  I think Oregon is a beautiful place, even if it is on fire. All I'll say is that this is when I first developed ulcers.

We moved back to Santa Cruz, California, where I attended Soquel High School. It was an excellent progressive school.  I was recruited to play the lead in Mrs. McThing, then Patrick Dennis in Mame, and Ewart Dunlop of the Barbershop Quartet, and other roles.  I got a best actor award, and was a high-point member of the Thespian Society.  There are actually a million good things to talk about.  And a few that make a difference.  I was also in speech and debate, and our instructor had an international reputation as being the finest high school speech and debate coach there ever was.

He wa a tough old German coot who cared about people intensely and was about as gruff as sandpaper on an open sore... I think he always knew he didn't fool me.  We had alot of fun giving each other a hard time in front of the class.   People couldn't believe I had the guts to talk back to him like that.  But it really was a game for us.  They just didn't know it. What a kick.

This guy was so cool to me, he knew what was going on at home and so he'd set me up for all these speaking contests... I was good at original and oratorical interp... and then he'd come to my house, pick me up, feed me dinner, go over my speech, take me to the event, take me out afterward to coach me onmy performance... he was very direct but it wasn't personal... this guy was incredible... he was also on amphetamines 90% of the time.  That was also part of his reputation.  Other than that, he was incredible.

The first speech he assigned me to deliver was Martin Luther King's I have a dream speech. This skinny little white kid, delivering I Have A Dream.  What an honor.  I spent weeks research the life of Martin Luther King.  And the speech was so beautiful... so beautiful... it was so much a part of my being.  I know why my teacher assigned it to me. Because he knew I would respect it.  He gave me a real gift that day.

Life was pretty good, at least away from home, and I had alot of friends, and still was Pres of the class. In theatre the people really liked me, even though they knew I was pretty innocent. They weren't.

After the first play, we all went to some house and had a cast party... I had a beer like everyone else, just to be social... I really didn't like it, and already had an aversion to the idea of drinking... and I went outside to get some fresh air, and somebody offered me a joint.  I politely said "No, thanks" and proceeded to go inside the house to call the police.  Someone stopped me in the middle of dialing... it was before you could just dial 911.  They took me outside and talked to me for about an hour, and offered me a joint again.  I said no, got out of the car, and started to walk down the road to go call the police.  They convinced me to have a beer, spiked with whiskey, and when I was totally plastered, they set me out on the driveway, and woke me up later to take me home.

I  still did theater, and they had all their parties, but I avoided all that.  I didn't want anything to do with it. For about two months, they would follow me around outside and offer me stuff, and I just told them to stop it.   They flat out would tell me that they would stay on me and on me until I gave in. One day, about 6 of them cornered me.  They reminded me that they had never done anything to harm me, and I could trust them. They said they really didn't care if I smoked it, but they liked me and wanted me to come to the parties,  but they just didn't want me to call the police.  So I tried it.

I sat on the edge of the stage for about an hour, giggling.  My drama teacher, who also was incredible and put on high school plays that were rated better than all the semi-pro shops south of San Francisco... she just kept saying, "What are you so happy about?  I was usually pretty quiet, and she knew what was going on at home.

The thing is, it was fun. I wasn't all that impressed, but what hit me most was how much I had been lied to about what marijuana does and is. And my government did that.  That really was the day I started questioning authority.

So I started going to the parties, and sure, I'd have a hit or two, but mostly, I was saving the lives of the people who had od'ed, making sure they were still breathing and giving cpr when necessary.  Like JT says,  That's Why I'm Here. I admit I smoked it a couple times during school, but it was just a couple times. It messed up my concentration.

One week, the guys all decided to buy a bag of Acapulco Gold together. It was $10 an ounce.  I guess they decided I was the least likely person to be suspected, so they gave it to me to hold onto until the weekend. I had a coat that would easily conceal it.  Did I mention that when I got into high school, I always wore slacks and a sport coat with hard-soled shoes?  Michael J Fox had nothing on me. I was the only person in the school inthe Junior Achievement program. I actually created it there.

Turns out, my sister, who was on every drug you can imagine, found out somehow I had it.  I think someone told her she could get some from me. Instead, she turned it over to my parents, who were going to call the police, but my mom finally said, "No, we'll let him talk to the counselor at school."

So, the next thing I know, without warning, I was sititng in my counselor's office. I heard questions about whether I was in a cult or whether I had done other drugs, that they couldn't possibly believe I would have that quantity and not be a serious drug addict, every possible hysterical arguement you could possibly imagine that keeps it illegal to this day.  And none of it has anything to do with marijuana.   It was the most absurd banter I had ever heard in my life.  And nobody asked me the simple question "What happened?".

After about a half hour of this, I asked if I could have a drink of water.  He said, "If you try to leave the room, I'll call the police."   So I said "Call 'em".  And I left his office and got some water, and he followed me like a dog on a leash.

I sat down on a bench, and I looked him in the eye and said "Look, this is the only time I've ever had a quantity, I'm mainly just holding it for other people, I probably should have known better than to take it and be used, I'll smoke some at parties, but otherwise, it's not a big deal. And, I said, you need to understand. All of you people don't have a clue about weed, and you've lied to me all these years, and you need to know, I will never blindly trust you or any one else in power again."

And then I walked away.  He didn't like me anymore, even though I was one of the "elite" of the school. But nobody at school ever bothered me again. And I smoked a little at parties.  You know, the ones where I was saving lives.  And calling the police wouldn't have put an end to anything.  It was a cultural thing during the period at the end of the Viet Nam War.  And everybody thought the drugs and hippies and flower children started in San Francisco, but the fact is, it was in Santa Cruz, and I was living smack dab in the middle of it. And I was angry at the government.  Because I believed what they told me.  They were supposed to be trustworthy, after all.

Not too long after that, I was going to attend the moratorium march in San Francisco, but my parents were against it.  I couldn't figure out why.  I thought they would like me going to a moratorium on protests against the war. I thought they liked Nixon.  WhenI told one of my firends, they just chuckled, and talked to me for a couple hours.

Let's just say I truly joined the moratorium that day.  And I was even angrier, and less willing to trust my government.  In speech and debate the next year, the hypothseis was about Viet Nam.  And I did pretty well in my debates.   That's when I really got into John Lennon, songs like Power to the People, Instant Karma, and Working Class Hero.

It was truly the end of the inncocence for me.

I'll bet I never smoked weed again for 5 years.  I just didn't want to. And I've never suggested that anyone else should either. I always figured that was their business.

The other interesting thing at Soquel High and the Theater Group is that we were very into hypnosis, dream analysis, telepathy... when the group got into spirits, I kept messing up the Ouija board by asking questions about God and the devil.   Sometimes, it would fly ff the board. I'd just laugh and go home.

But we were actually very accomplished hypnotists and telepaths... while we kept the skill developed. One trick a couple of us used to do, until they figured it out and told us to stop, was to do a presentation in front of the whole class about hypnosis, and within a couple minutes, we'd have everybody out.  Then we'd go out and hang out on the lawn and wait for the bell to ring. We told them when they heard the bell, to wake up, cluck like a chicken ten times, (that was our calling card) and then they would be relieved of all suggestions, and they should go home.  Imagine that happening at 10 o'clock in the morning. Even the teachers would leave.

The telpathy part came in handy.  I could actually get George to stop arguing by planting an image in his mind about his favorite son, and I'd have to listenin to alot of boring stories, but it was better than fighting.

We moved around Santa Cruz 2 or 3 times in the next 1-1/2 years. Then, we moved to Arcata, California.

George was a logger, and that's when we moved to the Big Bend Ranch.   It was incredibly beautiful.  No electricity.  All propane, batteries, water from a spring... for me, it was a good fit, I felt at home. I played my guitar all the time.   Once a month we had a dance down at the one room school house where the elementary schol kids went.  I was the guitarist and singer, another guy played the drums... a Hoopa Indian, as a matter of fact... cool people.. taught me a lot... very humble and appreciative... respectful...

The bus driver for the high school was a great guy.  Before evading the draft and going to Thailand of all places, he had played with Crosby, Stills Nash & Young,  and he was good.  Most of the time, I was the guy shutting people down on the guitar by being a superior player.  This guy shut me down in about 5 minutes.  After I got over it, we had fun jamming.  Not much else to do when you're 40 miles out in the middle of nowhere with no tv.  But nobody complained.   We all felt lucky.  But this guy taught me alot. And what a beautiful voice.

We had to get up at 5am to make it to school by 9am.  All we did was play music and sing the whole way.  And once a week, the bus driver would pull over and play for us for 15-20 minutes.

One of my jobs on the ranch was to be a hunting guide.  I would lead people to where the deer or birds were, get them to hold still, and they'd shoot 'em.   One time, I got a 6 point buck to hold still, and they handed me the gun.  I didn't really mind shooting an animal for food, but I just hadn't thought about it.   I shot over it's head twice, and it still wouldn't run.  So, I handed the gun back to George, and he took it down in one shot.  It simply wouldn't move.

It was so remote, the game warden always asked permission before patrolling the property.   He told us he didn't care about us doing whatever we wanted, he just wanted to get poachers.  His predecessor had been missing 4 months before they found his car in a ravine, the officer with a bullet through his head.

I have a book dated 1963 that my father left me, tells you how to do practically anything with food with scratch.  I was making dandelion wine and beer for everyone, just because it was fun to do.  And, I collected all the beer cans from the camp... made about $20 per month off those... I also kept the plastic things out of the Seagram's whiskey bottles, because they made excellent cable reinforcers for the ends of video cables in the radio/tv class, where I was officially the engineer.  I fixed lots of stuff.  Had my first reel to reel at the age of 7. I could breath edit like a pro when I was 16.

I tanned all the hides and saved feathers for making moccassins and purses and slippers... I found a recipe for tanning using acorns... took 3 days just to make the "soup"... and another 2 weeks of processing after the hides were dry to make them soft and preserve them.  It was quite a process, but interesting.

I was really into radio.  I listened to the radio all the time.   Listening for tricks, formatting info.  The next year, I was program director of the station.  I loved programming the music.  They did an Arbitron there that year, which was unusual.  Our 10 watt radio station was the number 3 station in the market... when it was on the air.  The funny thing that few people knew, is that out of 12 stations, we were number three, to a 5,000 watt AM and 50kw FM... both of which I suplied the music play lists for.  One of the stations had a pd who was a jock from an RKO station in Fresno, and really hadn't figured out the PD job yet.  The other was just a friend.  In return for the playlists, I'd go down to the stations, and they'd let me hang out during the shows, use the production rooms, and teach me all kinds of stuff.

But I couldn't get a real job because of this birth defect... I sounded like a woman with a real smooth voice... actually like Pat Kelly of KFRE Fresno, the first west coast woman legend of night time broadcasting.  By the time I was 19, I looked like I was twelve.

And now I'm going to tell you what was going on with George and my mom. Just a little.  Just enough.

George was a brutally violent alcoholic. I thought of it like an allergy, a bad reaction people have to something that's not good for them.  From the day he moved in, our home life was hell.  I don't know what he did to my sister alone.  Remember, I was always in the extra room unattached to the house.

Some of the things he/they did.

My mom tried to poison my sister and I twice.  She tried to gas us once.  I know the feeling of being poisoned.  George, a 290 pound logger who used to be a sparring partner for George Foreman and Larry Holmes, used to sit on top of me with a hammer in his hand or his fist doubled up and scream and scream, and ask me questions that would only lead to more trouble... until I finally just him to either kill me or leave me the f_k alone.  One time, he came at me with the same butcher knife he used on the deer and I slipped out the window into the pouring rain... no lights or anything... and stumbled down the road a mile to the next house in the logging operation.   They knew something had happened, and they knew I was responsible, so I asked them for a gun, and they  gave it to me.  They knew George.

I went back home, dripping wet and still in my underwear, and I went into his bedroom and aimed the gun at him and said "You son of a bitch. You can do whatever you want with me, but if you ever do anything like this to my sister, I'm telling you, I'll kill you without even a second thought".

My mom said years later that he got so mad at me because I intimidated HIM all those years.

That was always my deepest, darkest secret.  Because I would have killed him.  I've only told that to one person before. And I hated the thought that that was how I had to interact with my own parents.

And my brother and other sisters. For the most part, they didn't believe any of this was going on.  We lived a Leave it to Beaver life until George came along. I survived because of my deal with God to teach me what I needed to know.   I clung to the idea that there was  a time to every purpose.  And I always had my music.

One other trick they used to do, back when we were in Santa Cruz, was to get out the 22 rifle and aim it at each other and threaten each other.  We'd leave the house, and go to the neighbors and ask them to call the police.  We'd tell them what was going on and they either didn't want to get involved or didn't believe us.   So we'd sit along the side of the road, a few blocks down, just in case the gun went off (so we didn't get hit), and would wait for hours for the arguing to die down or for the gun to go off.  It did a few times.  They never hit each other with it though.

And, finally, George wanted me to call him dad.  Frankly, I just wasn't going to do that.  My mother started yelling at me about it one night.   She thought it would make George happy and make him stop drinking and fighting.    I told her I wasn't going to do it, and she started to swing to slap me across the face and I grabbed her hand and stopped her, and told her to never even think of hitting me ever again.   She didn't.

I'm going to assume that gives you the flavor of it.

They wouldn't take me to the doctor about the birth defect.  My mom knew what it was, but George insisted I must be a late bloomer. So I waited until I was 18, got on Medi-Cal, and went to the doctor myself.  It was a simple fix for the rest of my life, a shot once  a month.  That's all it took.

Except for the going through puberty part.  They did that with weekly shots, a ton of pills, and I went from a high tenor to a baritone in less than 2 months.  The whole process took only 6 months. Most people do it over years.

Until High School, I'd had a girlfriend since before kindergarten.   I enjoyed the company of girls. In high school, though,we were in the middle of a sexual revolution that I didn't think was a good thing for people in high school... saw too many people getting deeply hurt and used...  and sex wasn't possible for me anyway.  I didn't want to be humiliated.  So I avoided dating.  I was popular, and a lot of the girls asked me out... I always had an excuse.  And it wasn't like I didn't want to.

The first day at Arcata High, going to my first drama class, I tripped over a girl's foot and fell at her feet and looked up and knew I had found my first love.  We hung out alot together, one time she even told me she loved me, and I told her it was good to have friends you love.  So our relationship was mainly like me being there to be her friend every time she was hurt or needed help.  I don't think she ever figured out what was going on.  But we touch base every couple of years just to see what's happening.  She never did get married.

What I got form all of that, my parents and all, was that it wasn't about me.  That what I had experienced was null and void and just not a good example, and should not use it as an example of how normal people act.  But that left me with one question.  What is an example of how to act?

I understood why they did what they did.  I could not condone it. For the most part, I disassociated myself from my relationship with them.  But there was this nagging question: if you can't trust your mother, who can you trust?

I left home at 19 (they needed the money I got from my fathere's VA benefits to survive.  George was drunk one day setting chokers in the woods, and got caught by a tree.  It broke his back, took out 5 discs, broke his pelvis... it was bad.  He just got meaner. He settled the claim one day when he ran out of beer... for $1000)

My sister has never been functional. For a while there, she tried to commit suicide twice a year like clockwork.  People ask me how I turned out so well.   I just tell them I'm a survivor. But, despite it all, in every other way, I really felt like I had a charmed existence.  Everything else always worked out great for me.   Everything. And I had my deal with God. And I read my bible.  And I learned.

All through that time, I looked everywhere but at home for role models.  We talk about how we need good role models, especially in a society of broken homes.  But when you get right down to it, it seems there are few on the air, in the community, all around us, to draw upon as replacements symbols for people to view and respect and model themselves after.

And It's interesting to think that some people would think of some kind of  label to put on what I'm talking about... loser, nerd, naive, lost... whatever... it's like blaming a woman for getting raped... but we talk about it like we all think there should be good role models... and then laugh at those who don't have them, and needed them, and end up criminals or having mental problems or at least have therapy for post traumatic stress... which I did for about 3 months when I was 25.

And it's not like anyone should expect perfection in the people we look up to.  That would make a bad role model too.  Because people need the room to be, and people need to see that, we are all fallible as much as we are good people.

And it's not angst about the phrase Who said the world was fair.   When I compare animal behavior to human behavior, many fundamentalist Christians go a little nuts.  They say we are better than animals, we have a soul, we have have a conscience, and so it makes us better than animals.

But, it's like abortion. I believe in choice because, if for no other reason, this society has no structures to empower those people we cast aside for doing something like getting pregnant. As for the rest, I'm actually still undecided what I think. To not have choice would mean sentencing more people to a life of disadvantage, poverty, illiteracy, bad things for people and cultures.  It's all part of this veil of the facade of righteousness. And I honestly believe a woman has the right to choose what occurs with her own body... just as I did, when I decided to take a medication and live a little less time, and have a better life, than live a few years longer and be ill.

I don't believe God wants young women, trained by their role models and parents and society to do things that the society itself claims to be bad, to be cast off like expendable problems. I can't believe a merciful God would want to perpetuate the suffering of poverty that will leave its trail through generations.

Even the police chiefs of America agree with Headstart, if nothing else, as a deterrent to crime.  Empowering children lowers the crime rate. It's a proven fact.  Head start, although under funded, in the long run, is an effective tool in building disadvantaged people's lives to become productive citizens.

And the concept of saying unwed mothers should work instead of become educated... a nice thought, but that just means another generation taught the skills of the poor, illiterate and angry.  For a responsible society, it doesn't look like we're willing to give what it takes to get the job done.  But, our leaders, for political expediency, say things like more people are off welfare and back to work... even though the job of empowering the people was not done.  And it's not really that they're necessarily even at work.  They're just off the welfare roles.  In the streets. Living lives most of us wouldn't want to live.  And we call that a successful program.

The only other thing I'll say for now about my life, is that I was married for nearly 10 years.  It wasn't that bad of a marriage, but there were a few issues.  Like, I didn't want to pass a birth defect like mine on to a child.   It's not that bad, I just don't see a reason to perpetuate it.  Even though I am the namesake of the family.  And I, too, had based my idea of the future on having children.

What probably ended it more for me was two things... one, after going through some troubles and thinking things were patched up, she made a comment that I know was intended as a compliment, but it was so not consistent with the person I had ever been.  She said "one of the things that attracted me to you is that I knew you would be wealthy one day".  To me, that was an insult, and had nothing to do with caring for me.  But that's not what ended it.

What ended it was going to a family reunion/Christmas celebration, and my sister, the one I went through hell with, took me out for a drive and blamed me for for all the times she had been brutalized and raped by my stepfather. I knew it was not my fault. She kept running away, and then coming back. Child protective services kept getting involved, and sending her back.  And no one ever asked me a single question.  No one told me a thing.  I really didn't know. But alot made sense about wht she told me.

Even my family says they tried to get us out of there, that they were desperate to help.  But no one ever asked me anything.  And so, for a time, I was lost, burdened by the guilt of not protecting my sister, and burdened by the knowledge that I would have killed him had I known. And a little angry that the systems and the people who so disagreed with the kind of thing that was going on did nothing... express their outrage... even call my sister an incorrigible... and did nothing as it destroyed her life... and most certainly affected mine. And finally, with that thought, to think that there are many people who had it worse than we ever did. It gives one cause to pause and reflect.

And we push these people into poverty and homelessness and then call it victory to get them off the welfare roles.  And we don't realize that as a society, these people are victims, not criminals, and need help.  And we leave them to their own devices, to take no responsibility for their well being, to just abandon them to die, either in body or in spirit.

See, I know God doesn't want me to suffer,  Do you think God would want you to suffer?  Why should they?  If you were starving, you'd pray that someone would feed you.  I guarantee you that you would.  If you were about to lose your home, you'd be more than frightened. You'd be frantic. Why should they be any different, worthless,  forgotten when they are a part of a society that we created, the conditions for their failure created by ouselves as a whole?  Why should our responsibility end? The recent stock market crashes an dthe fraud should inform you that you should not really take anything for granted.

I've been pretty successful, except when I've faced governmental and corporate corruption. Unfortunately, I've dealt with it time after time after time.To the point where I almost gave up. And I doubt I'm the only one who's ever felt that way.

And that's why I'm doing all this... so that those who have not faced hard ship can understand it. I mean real hardship, not just not getting a new pair of shoes.  I mean like starvation.

To get a glimpse at one of those people who have had to break through it, even though I say I have been given many advantages compared to most. And to show our leaders why it is so important that we really take responsibility, that we really care for the well being for all of the people.  Even though we say it's their problem, it haunts us with every crime, every murder, and every homeless person on the street.   And still, we say it's their problem.

Personally, if I was a loser, I would not be doing this.  But I am not a loser.  Like many Americans, in many different ways, I am a victim... having done nothing wrong myself, and feeling the legacy of others' crimes that continue to negatively impact my life.  And a judicial system that doesn't care. Doesn't even want to hear the complaint.

Let me guarantee you, in that situation, we are all losers. And we lose a little more each day.  Have you looked at your 401k lately?

But here's the most interesting thing of all for me about it?   What I saw was two people who really loved each other, who I know, desoite their problems and the pain they caused, they actually did love me.  But they were so impaired by the injustices that had been done to them, that they couldn't help but pass the same injustices onto my life.  That's the way it happens.  They said things and did things they never meant to do.  It's that unbroken cycle of  grief and injustice that's up to us all to resolve, because it affects us all.

And this isn't really about welfare... it's about the soul of a nation, and welfare is but one example of what we all would prefer to deny than have to look at and acknowledge and be responsible for.  We hear pretty words that make it sound like it's handled, but it's just a facade.  It's like this: next time you see a homeless person... remember that you're a person who allows this.  That's not about guilt, it's just the truth.

The next chapter, we get into the corruption, and more.