Thursday, October 11, 2012

Finding a Little Peace and Hope

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October 11th, 2012

What am I doing? I think I am trying too much, too soon. I don't know what I am trying to gain by taking on so much in so little time. Life shouldn’t always be so difficult. Deep down you know others are going through their own heartaches but when the heartaches are being thrown at you on constant bases you can’t help but think that a black cloud is over your head.

I try to see the glimmer of hope. You know that silver lining, in my cloud, but damn it where is it? I think whatever sins I have done in my life , I should finally be covered. Or, at least I thought I would be.

When my son was hurt on the very boat I bought to forget about life for a while, from all our recent heartache, I couldn’t help but cuss it out while I held my son on the dock waiting for the ambulance to come thinking, that I didn’t deserve such pleasure a boat can bring.

“FUCK! Fuck that boat!” I shout, looking at it like it had a clue.

“Sir,” a voice says to me out of the chaos of my own misery. 

“What! What! Did you call the ambulance? Did anyone call a God damn ambulance,” I shouted.

“Yes we called. Your truck and boat, let us take care of it for you. We’ll drive it all back to your house.”

“Man, I am sorry. Honestly I don’t give a shit,” I toss him the keys, “ take it all, all of it! I am done with it.”

In that moment of holding my son in my arms I did not think I deserve the peace and serenity such things should bring. Until I gazed off into the boat and saw my youngest son sleeping soundly on the back of the boats bench seat.  It gave me pause. Through the pain of one child and the peace of the other, I had to believe there was a happy medium. That in this life, there had to be a way to find resoluteness in something called a pleasure craft. 

But where do I find the peace? Definitely not through the trauma of my baby boy while cradling him in my arms. The memory of what I saw ingrained in my memory forever. How can I find the peace that my other son had as he slept through such disaster on the back of the boat? 

Do I close my eyes and ignore life's troubles? But who wants to go through life blind?

In our moments of great despair we search for hope that will allow us to tolerate such horrific moments. Whether it's tragic events, a loss of a loved one or just having a bad day, you hope that people understand while you seek it out. But if you haven’t lived it, then you just don't trust that people will understand why someone continues to try and look for the good that allows the bad to recede in your memory, so forgiveness can begin to seep in.

Like a dam, peace and hope can be held back forcing you to have to endure the pain long term while the rest of what life has to offer backs-up into your senses and overloads your emotions causing it to effect those around you thus eluding the peace you so desire.

And yet bad things happen to us all and most of us push through it. And even though we have proven to ourselves that we can accomplish acceptance through peace, we doubt who we are when tragedy revisits us. And there lies the demon: 

The continuous infusion of bad news and tragic events that compounds the bad that is held back until the dam breaks. It prevents us the peace we sorely need but yet never seems to come and that failure to release magnifies all the little things that seem to be the reason why we are miserable and leaves us only able to hope that eventually it will come. 

My boat was my savior. My window to some peace on the water so she could help me bathe my misery away in the oceans salty waves, cool breeze and beautiful sunshine. But I felt she disrupted my Nirvana by interrupting any discussions with God that I think I could have while I found relaxation in the ocean that would crack my shell, that is my dam, and begin to set me free. I felt betrayal as she took me down when I needed her the most preventing that dam from breaking. I couldn’t stomach looking at her as she waded in the water by the docks as I held my son in my arms while we both sobbed waiting for someone to rescue us. There is no peace in that. 

Until I really looked at the boat and saw the peace she was bringing to my youngest son as he slept in her while she lightly rocked him back and forth keeping him a sleep shielding him from the sight of his brother dealing with such pain. She brought him the peace and serenity that I desire, while I dealt with the sad and tragic unfolding events of the now.

As a parent I'll sacrifice all my peace to allow my sons to be shielded from the realities of life even when life decides to spill over my dam and enter their world. Hopefully one day this dam will break releasing the pain that is being held behind it and a little bit of peace will over flow into me allowing us to enjoy the true happiness that we all desire without hoping to only shield them. Hopefully this boat is still the answer for our quality time together.

After all there nothing wrong with finding a little hope and peace in the deep blue sea to set you free.






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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.


Monday, October 8, 2012

George Flew, Your Story

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Not everyone has the greatest high school time but sometimes it's fun to change that and get lost in a world that isn't normal for you. Here you go S.B.



October 8th, 2012

Try as he might George could never gain the respect from his high school senior class that he’d always hoped he would. The president of the Chess Club, he sung in the chorus, before Glee made it hip, and even skipped school with the rest of the senior class. Even though he had an early release note from his mom to leave that day, he didn't want to be rude to his teachers.

His last ditch effort to be cool was to join the Adventure Club with the other young studs in the school. When word got out that he would be joining the fun on the last great senior school run, no one wanted him to go.

“George,” Cindy asked in her snobbish tone in front of the entire lunch crowd, “I hear your going sky diving with the senior class’s Adventure Club.”

“Well, I thought it would be cool,” George said behind his book, protected by his thick glasses, and inside his protective shell. He never looked up.

“Well, it’s not cool if you go, so don’t,” Cindy said, and with that comment she turned her head and walked the route that would lead her to the EXIT door. Her walk and demeanor was much like a runway model. It was snobby in every way.

Hoots and hollering rang out from the lunchroom. The echo so loud it bounced off the white sterile walls, the thunderous roar headed into the halls, as it bounced throughout the entire school. But George didn’t move from his seat. He didn’t even grin, nor did he look beyond his book. He just sat in his seat and read, content, in his decision to be part of the class.  

After lunch George walked the halls as everyone gawked at him. This frail boy would be jumping from a plane. Some would joke in wonderment because of how light he was they would joke that he, "didn’t need a parachute because he would glide right down to the ground, because of his lightness," he may never come down or ever see the ground again.

He didn’t care, not in the least. George just walked passed them all without skipping a beat. What a sweet kid he was. But if you knew George it was no surprise how docile a creature he was. No matter what grade he was in, how old he was, or how many family summer retreats he went on, he would never speak negatively.

A quick flashback into yesteryear when he was even younger then he is now when George would try and play on the playground.

“George, get some balls and tell them to go to hell, and then say 'get out of your way,' you’re just trying to play.”

“Sorry grandpa,” George would say, “I’m just not made that way.”

George made it to the Chess Club where he would preside over the meeting. But no one cared; they just wanted to hear about Georges' soon to be sky diving adventure.

“George,” Karen started to ask, “Why the heck are you jumping from a plane. You’re not that way. Just stay here and play the game that we all love.”

“Karen,” George began to say, “I planned it his way. I’ll be jumping from that plane in just a few days and be back to preside over the next championship game.”

And with that George carried on with today’s Chess Clubs meeting, discussing important things like, where to calibrate the speed chess clocks. George had to finish the meeting early, so he could get to the Glee Club to practice the songs for graduation. He was running late because there was a debate in Chess about the accuracy of the movie Searching for Bobby Fischer.

“As we go on, we remember all the times we had together…” The Glee club sang their graduation song, better then Vitamin-C.

As he walked into music room the music stopped and the choir went silent midway through the song.

George didn’t flinch because of the awkward silence; he walked up the stairs and through the row where he would take up his spot to sing his Tenor low.

“Excuse me, pardon me,” George said until he reached his position.

The group stood still and watched George take his spot. Nothing was said, but the snickering in the group made it known where they all stood on George’s latest foray into his jump into the deep blue sky.

The day finally came. They went through their pre-checks and practice with their jumping buddies. The entire time George stood by and did what he had to do. He saw some members of his class taking side bets if he would even go through with it.

The plane took off and took half the club with it, while the other half waited below until their time would arrive. George went with this group to show them he had gusto to be one of the first to hit the dirt below.

“Go, go, go,” was shouted from the main instructor as the plane reached it’s altitude for the students to jump from the plane.

As each member of the senior class jumped one-by-one they were able to enjoy the feeling of free falling from 10,000 feet. The wind screamed by their ears at 120 miles per hour with such force it sounded like a million flags flapping in the wind. Their shrieks were no match to the air that ganged up on their screams by rushing into their throats and muffled them out before the air could escape their lungs.

George was ready. He was next to take on his big quest.

As the seniors landed they got to their feet and huddled around and looked up waiting for George to simply give up.


"George, doesn't have the balls to do it," said one student who knew George since grade school.

As quickly as he said his crude comment two people jumped out from the plane. It was right there and then the senior class stood in shock realizing the George had did it. As the two free falling souls landed safely on the ground they jumped then pointed and shouted in unison, "that bastard just threw us out and took plane!"


And for the moment the class stood shocked with the disbelief that someone so meek just did something pretty cool. Then the class did something they never do. They clapped and screamed as the reality sank in, they couldn't believe George did it; that George had the ability to fly the plane.


The plane flew on as George sat behind the controls proud he was able to throw them off and take the plane for the day. And for the moment he was so cool. The coolest of the class even know deep down he knew he didn’t know how to land.
 







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