Hoping for a Little Peace and Hope

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October 11th, 2012

What am I doing? I'm trying too much, too soon. I am trying to figure out what I am trying to gain by taking on so much in so little time. Life doesn't always have to be so difficult. Deep down, you know others are going through their own heartaches. Still, when the heartaches are being thrown at you constantly, you can't help but think that a black cloud is over your head and every moment will be dreadful for the rest of your life. It makes one feel very morbid.

I try to see the glimmer of hope. You know, that silver lining in my cloud, but damn it, where is it? Whatever sins I have committed, I should finally be covered. Or, at least, I thought I would be. Is my glass half full, or is it half empty?

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. At the same time, I held my son on the dock, waiting for the ambulance to come, thinking that I didn't deserve such pleasure a boat could bring. Forget that it was a tragic accident. I can't fault myself for ensuring the boat locks in place properly.

"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. Let us take care of your truck and boat for you. We'll drive it all back to your house."

"Man, I am sorry. I don't care," I tossed him the keys, "take it all! I am done with it."

In that moment of holding my son in my arms, I did not think I deserved 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 boat's 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. In this life, there had to be a way to find resoluteness in something considered 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 was 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, the 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, 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 endure the long-term pain. At the same time, the rest of what life has to offer backs up my senses and overloads my emotions, causing my wild emotions to affect those around me, thus eluding the peace I desire.

And yet bad things happen to us all, and most of us push through them. 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 compounds the lousy crap that seems to occur over and over again. I attempt to hold back this emotion by building a wall, but the lack of relief creates cracks until my feelings are backed up like a dam break. Strong, reckless emotion sometimes prevents us from achieving peace. We sorely need peace, but it never seems to come. That failure to release my vulnerability magnifies all the little things that make me miserable and leaves me relying on the hope that peace will eventually 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 ocean's 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. At the same time, I found relaxation in the ocean that seemed to crack my shell and set my emotions free to flow without restriction. I want to be vulnerable. Please, set me free. However, I was betrayed as my Diety took me down when I needed her the most. Preventing that emotional dam from breaking. I couldn't stomach looking at that freaking boat as she waded in the water by the docks. I held my son in my arms while we both sobbed, waiting for someone to rescue us. There is no peace in that. 

I looked at the boat and saw the peace she was bringing to my youngest son as he slept in her. He was in her womb, and she carried him with grace and compassion as hell rained down upon me. I received no comfort at the same time she lightly rocked him back and forth, keeping him asleep, shielding him from the sight of his brother dealing with such pain. She brought him the peace and serenity I desired while I dealt with the sad and tragic events unfolding before me now.

As a parent, I'll sacrifice all my peace to shield my sons 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. A little bit of peace will overflow into me, allowing us to enjoy the true happiness that we all desire without hoping to only shield them. Hopefully, this boat will still be the answer to our quality time together.

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

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© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

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.

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 sang in the chorus before Glee made it hip and even skipped school with the rest of the senior class. He didn't want to be rude to his teachers even though he had an early release note from his mom to leave that day.

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 join 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 you're 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 were much like a runway model. It was snobby in every way.

Hoots and hollering rang out from the lunchroom. The echo was so loud it bounced off the white sterile walls. The thunderous roar headed into the halls as it bounced throughout the 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 chair and read, content with his decision to be part of the class.  

After lunch, George walked through the halls, and 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," and he may never come down or see the ground again.

He didn't care, not in the least. George just walked past them all without skipping a beat. What a sweet kid he was. But if you knew George, it would be 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 than 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 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 jump from that plane in just a few days and return to preside over the next championship game."

And with that, George carried on with today's Chess Club meeting, discussing important things like where to calibrate the speed chess clocks. George had to finish the meeting early to 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 Than Vitamin-C.

As he walked into the 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 practiced with their jumping buddies. The entire time, George stood by and did what he had to do. He saw some class members 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 the gusto to be among the first to hit the dirt below.

"Go, go, go," was shouted by the primary instructor as the plane reached its altitude so that the students could jump from the plane.

As each senior class member jumped one by one, they could 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 muffling 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, huddled around, and looked up, waiting for George to give up.

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

As quickly as he said his crude comment, two people jumped out of the plane. It was right there, and then the senior class stood in shock, realizing George had done 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 the plane!"

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

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

1,126 words

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© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Your Story by The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.