Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Laughter to Raise Me Up

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Nico (left) and Christopher observing the land on our train ride. 



September 26th, 2012

Man, I feel like I’m in a deeper hole then I have ever been in before. When the ground is eye level and your standing up-right, things can’t be good. It gets worse when you think you’ve hit rock bottom only to find out that you haven’t actually made it there yet. It just kills your morale ya know? You’ve only dug yourself further down beneath the rocks and gravel when finally figured out that "maybe you haven't gotten anywhere," well, that reality really sucks.

Mentally, it kills you. It makes all the strides you’ve been making seem like a fallacy because, you’ve been digging deeper down in that same hole the entire time.

When you reach this level of lowness. you look for the light heartedness  of life that will lift-up your spirits. But when the soil falls from the ground level and blinds you from the real sunlight or any light for that matter that would shed some comfort to your plight it can be difficult. 

Just the other day my youngest son was in the bathroom. Which is a big no-no in this house because the boys seem to flush whatever they can find down the toilet like, loose change (no problem), toothbrushes (we got three in there once), car keys (well that one was my fault, shame on me).

So the moment I hear one of them rascals in the bathroom, I know it can’t be good.

“Christopher! Are you in the bathroom,” I shout.

I hear the toilet seat slam against the porcelain base. I immediately run to the bathroom in the hopes to catch anything that might be ready to travel down the bottom of the toilet that isn’t the tidy bowl man. As I round the corner Christopher heads out of the bathroom, because he heard me calling his name, scratch that, yell his name, that boy was headed out of Dodge.

He either wanted to avoid my lecture or was running from the scene of the crime.

“What the,” I say flabbergasted, “Why is your head wet? Christopher, why is your hair wet,” I had to ask twice because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

I walk into the bathroom and notice the water scattered about the floor like dirty laundry. Yes, without being bullied he was filling a cup that was stored with the bathroom supplies that is used to rinse the soap off their heads and body and was dunking it in the toilet water and pouring it on him.

I move up a notch from this dark hole where I am stranded; the smiling is helping. The thought of the innocence of a child wanting to go for a swim, albeit a toilet bowl, is heartwarming . It makes me chuckle. I wish I caught him before he did it the dastardly deed.


My thoughts venture on to more mischief that the boys have been getting into. I mean not only did they just throw my new boat ignition keys overboard without any type of safety feature attached to the key ring; but Nico once locked Mimie, my wife, his own mother, out of the house.

“Hello? It’s hard to hear Mimie I’m on the gun range,” I shout into my cellular phone to Mimie who is on the other side of the call. I can hear Mimie frantically yelling from her end.

I was out training with the police department far from home, We were conducting an all day and night shooting qualifier that we must do each year.  Mimie had just stepped outside to go to the car and get some groceries from the back of her mini-van and in that brief moment Nico, our four old son, seized the moment and locked her out of the house with a simple twist of the rotating lock. He wasn’t being mean or anything; he just knew how to lock the door. He wasn't very good at unlocking it.

“Mimie,” I say trying to calm her down, “I think I understand what you’re saying. Let me call the police department and have an officer stop over and try and help you.”

At this time I’m on one knee just behind the firing line under a pavilion, trying to shield my head into my arm in an attempt to muffle the sound of gun shots in the background.  

“I’ll call you back in a minute.” I immediately call the police department. Luckily for us, it is the same department I work for.

“Hey Tiffany it’s Fusaro. Yes Fusaro” she asks again because it’s hard to hear me. I rise to my feet and yell into the phone.

[Author Note]

In any kind of military organization or organization ran on the chain of command system, we normally call everyone by their last name. I say normally because some day’s you can just be called "shit head." Depending on how bad you screwed up.

“Tiffany, can you send a cop to my house and assist with getting my wife in. My son locked my wife out!” I shout. “MY son locked my wife out,” I shout again.

I pause momentarily when I realize the quite around me.  I turn my body around and notice at the firing line the guys were done shooting. They all stopped to turn and stare at me and man were they enjoying the moment.

“My son,” I announce as I begin to hold the phone away from my ear, “locked my wife out of the house.” I remove my finger from my ear and my voice trails off.

Long pause.

I move a notch higher above the soil that is piled alongside my hole because my laughing lifts me up. That hole that seems to be defining who I am lately.

On a recent trip to Disney World in Orlando I let my boys loose. Trying to break them in, they ran around the park in celebration of Mickey Mouse or in jubilee of their father allowing them to do something so insane.  

“Boys,” I announce out loud in a restaurant at the Magic Kingdoms Future World. "Stay close guys. Stay close," I say like a broken record.

Actually, as long as I can see them I'm fine. I just say something to appease all the people around me who are judging me as my boys figure out what life is like beyond their stroller.

On our walk down to the seating area there is a stage set-up in the center of the eating establishment. Sonny, the creepy scary looking alien, is playing music and sings to the hordes of people that are ignoring the blare from his position on stage.

"Leave Sonny the alien alone guys," I say to my boys as I set up our table for our expensive feast.

The boys are enthralled by the singing alien as they crowd the barrier and move in close to the singing automation.

"Guys," I say with a chuckle, "I'm so serious leave him alone.

The restaurant is jammed packed. People are everywhere, enjoying the Disney magic. I even found myself tapping my toe to the music that Sonny the Alien is playing until...

The music stopped and Sonny the Alien was dead. I didn't have to look up to know what I already knew. My boys got on stage and turned Sonny off in the middle of his set. The crowd of over 500 people or more had gone silent.

"Excuse me. Pardon me, excuse me," I said as I walk through the crowd.

I climb on stage to retrieve my boys from their perch over looking the audience. I turn and look at the crowd, both boys in my arms.

"Sorry folks," I announce, "Sonny owed money to the space mob, he had to be taken out, but hey don't miss the Bear Jamboree just down in Frontier Land."

I laugh hard because I know my laughter is the best medicine. I’ll use the laughter to lift me up to where we all want to be and out of this hole. So I can be happy in life and high enough to see the suns light shine through.








© Copyright 2015 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. 

Monday, September 24, 2012

Judging Where the Wind Blows

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September 24rh, 2012

The wind is fierce. It can cause total destruction as it relentlessly pushes down upon its victim without impunity.  To be caught in its down force can be devastating to everyone in its path. The wind shears wreak havoc as it blankets large swaths of area under its canvas. 

I force my face into the gust of wind allowing the airstream to take my breath away in hopes it will pump new life into me. My lungs quickly fill up with nature’s oxygen stimulating my senses and arousing my life as it pours into my bloodstream reaching the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my toes. The air is refreshing to my soul. 

I decided that if I can’t win in my fight against the wind then I will go with its flow and travel the path of least resistance. Sailing away in its embrace, as its swift winds push me off into the waters of tranquility. Where maybe I may find peace in its twisting horror of destruction by floating in its current, entwining my mind, body, and soul into its warped sense of comfort that it brings to those who may need to be provided with wind for their sails, or a nice breeze on a hot summer day or just a straight out lashing to remind them exactly who is the boss.

I want to soar on the far reaches of the wind,  like I’m on a make believe surfboard being pushed across the sky as I ride the waves of clouds that reach out like white caps of an oceans wave. It appears so peaceful up here. Like staring out a planes portal and imagining if it’s as blissful as it appears out my window soaring from my seat at 30,000 feet as I think it is. And as I am finding out, it is and it’s perfect for me. It’s everything it could be and more. 

I’m brought back to life from the thud of turbulence that has jolted me back to reality.

The rough patch wakes me up from my wonderment of the winds heavenly drift. I realize not everything is what it seems as I beg for it to stop. But the violent winds are relentless in its attack, as if to punish me for thinking less of it. The constant flow of air chokes me as I gasp to keep it out rather than let it in. I can’t shield myself from it. I have nowhere to hide so I must take the pounding and pray for a miracle that the winds will slowly die. The once new air that revitalized my blood stream now pushing it out and draining me of my rejuvenation. 

I hunker down, button down the hatches, cover my face, shield my head, do what I have to do to survive this punishment, in the hope that a cloud will float by like a towel thrown in a boxers ring that protects the opponents beat down from getting worse. Just a little longer and maybe I will find my mercy. Weather this storm and see a brighter day. I must hold on. I have to survive its wrath as proof that I am strong enough to withstand such a clobbering. Where is that cloud that will sweep in and save me? 

It’s silent. 

The wind howls as it seeps into the creases that the weather stripping fails to cover as it echoes throughout the house. I stare at the wall and just listen to the wind. It’s talking to me. Am I listening to it now? The draft is chilly and I am cold. I grab a blanket to soften the winds touch as it lightly rolls across my naked skin. Goosebumps arise from my skin and it causes me to shiver. I curl up in the fetal position hoping that I will generate heat and it will assist me in my warmth and fend off the cool light breeze. But it’s not working. The breeze trickles in like a stream.  

Did I weather the storm? Are the winds dying down? Is this slight breeze finally the beginning of the end? Can I try to breathe again? 

So many questions in the air that can only be answered by which way the wind blows.






Creative Commons License

The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.