CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCE: RICKY JOE

My first two years of life were spent at my parent’s first house located on the western edge of the largest park in KC, Swope Park, which consisted of the Zoo and two golf courses and place where I would run many cross country races in high school.  I don’t remember anything of the place except that, as my mother put it, when we were moving into our new house of my home for the rest of my childhood she later told me that they were going to go back for some last things and I through a fit because I didn’t want to go ever go back there.  Something traumatic must have happened to me for a reaction like I had.  The only memory I have is of when I must have been taking a nap to wake to a shadowy figure coming towards me.  It has always spooked me and is still as vivid as ever.  Anyway,  my new home is where I eventually met Ricky Joe and we became childhood best friends.

Most everyone has a close childhood friend that they grew up with and had some great experiences while going through this phase in life.  Ricky Joe was definitely one of those childhood friends.  This post will share some of those experiences and I think most will agree that this might be unique and then again maybe not.  For me, it’s one that if I had it to do over, I wouldn’t in a million life-times.

The new house we moved into was located in the southeast area of a developing suburb town of KC.  Our neighborhood was a horse shoe shaped development with pastures on the north and south boundaries with woods surrounding that.  The  development had the main road of the town going by just east and our house was located on the northwest section of the horse shoe.  Just up my road about a block was the main road and across the street to the left was the grade school, where I would go, and on the right corner Ricky Joe’s house.  On the southwest side of the horseshoe was a baseball diamond and then more woods.  My parents definitely picked the right location for a kid to grow up.  Never a dull moment as you will read.

I met Ricky Joe when I started kindergarten which was located up the street across the main road in the basement of a small church.  His house was next door right between it and the grade school.  I think it was after western day in kindergarten that Ricky Joe and I started really hanging out as kids since his house would become the hub of many adventures due to its location in the realm of things.

Ricky Joe was the true definition of accident prone.  I don’t mean he was accident prone all the time but just some of the time.  When he had an accident, he really had an accident.  The first introduction to his unlucky ways was in first grade.  Ricky Joe showed up one school day with goop of some medical kind smeared all over one side of his cut and scratched up face.  He told me that he had jumped on their horse to go for a ride when he fell off and his foot got caught in the stirrup and was dragged down the street.  This was just the first of more accidents like this to come and we were just 6-years old.

The next was the fall season of second grade.  Another childhood friend, Mikie (lived next door), and I were halfway up our street heading for Ricky Joe’s to play when his older brother, Kenny (always the kidder), was running down the street towards us yelling that Ricky Joe had been hit by a car while crossing the main road on his bike.  We had heard sirens but knowing Kenny didn’t believe him until he led us back to where a car was stopped on the side of the road.  Kenny led us to the car and pointed to Ricky Joes’ smashed up bike underneath it.  Ricky Joe was lucky that he hadn’t been killed and only ended up with a badly broken leg that he had to be in a cast for six months.  He missed most of second grade and had to make it up with Mrs. Stewart (not good), his teacher, during the  summer months of tutoring to advance to third grade next year.  She lived in a close by newer development within walking distance and Ricky Joe would go for tutoring but for payment had to do chores which included pulling weeds which he hated with a passion.  We were only 7-years old.  Would Ricky Joe make it to adulthood at this rate?

The only other major castrophe for Ricky Joe that I’m aware of came when we were 10 or 11-years old.  As kids we use to get together and play hide and seek, especially without the presence of the moon.  On this one particular night of hide and seek I was “It” and had gotten Ricky Joe early in the game.  At the time, our streets didn’t have street lights so it was pitch black.  As I was looking for other hiders a car was coming down the road with head lights on.  Ricky Joe waited for the car to pass and stepped into the road when I heard this bumping sound and saw Ricky Joe laying on the street holding his head.  The car that had passed was towing a fishing boat that Ricky Joe had stepped into smacking him on the head.  He was lucky again to come out of it with just a bump on his head but was okay. 

How Ricky Joe survived childhood I’ll never know.  As we grew older into our junior and senior high years we seem to drift apart but always had our fun childhood memories to reflect on when we would sometimes be at the same place at the same time.  Childhood memories should be cherished and I feel lucky to have had a childhood chum like Ricky Joe.  He eventually moved into his parents house after they passed on and still lives there to this day.

Yes, he did survive to be an adult and there are more tales to tell of Ricky Joe with other neighborhood happenings that involved all the kids on the block that will be featured in a future post.

God bless and God speed

www.lifeexperienceswithjim.blogspot.com

THE APARTMENT

I had secured my new apartment through my former landlords that I had been with prior to my move to San Diego.  Due to the urgency of my situation I had contacted them first to see if they might have anything available for Ellie and I.  I requested my old apartment because of its location on the Independence square with a 3^rd floor view of the KC downtown skyscape and it was like living in the trees that surrounded the area.  It was occupied but I would have access to it when it became available. 

The landlord had informed me that this new apartment was much smaller but was the only one available for Ellie.  It’s a disappointment compared to the other but I have to make the best of it until later on.  I have a much smaller kitchen with very little cabinet or counter space. There was one lamp table but no other furniture so Ken gave me a tv stand.  I use my lawn chair as my only seat in the place except my air-mattress in the bedroom. 

Anyway, I’ve made the best of it and made do with what I’ve got to work with.  The first major problem I incurred was discovering a leak under the kitchen sink.  I discovered it when I noticed Ellie hesitate to enter for access to her food and even more when she started lapping up water from the floor.  That’s when I found a leak under the sink and realized that I had just washed the dishes before and drained the water when it really started to leak.

After getting everything as organized I as could I took the evening off for relaxation and watched the tube for entertainment.  I watched Ellie adapting to her new place as she found her place that likes to lay and watch me (especially for a treat).  I just feel good that Ellie and I have a place to live and be sheltered.  I’m sure I can make it livable for me.

God bless and God speed

FLIGHT TO KANSAS CITY

Ellie  and I loaded up  the rest of our things in the car and once again were off on our road trip to Kansas City (there’s only one KC and that’s in Missouri) leaving the beautiful northern California area of Dunnagin around 10am in the morning.

The planned route was to hit I80 east to hi-way 99 south route to miss any snow complications that had been dominating recently.  I never did run into the 99 south connection so ended up heading to Reno where I saw that I could connect to a southern route through Nevada to Arizona and I40 (Old Route 66).  That would put me on my trip back that I had come. It was a much more scenic view through the Sierra  mountains so all was not lost.

I had my gas money to get me back with about half of my rent needed to secure my apartment that I had been able to get so I would have a place to live when I got there.  That meant once again the dreaded standing out and soliciting for more money.   I was lucky enough to get close to that with a little more help from my friends.

We headed south on I-95 from Reno where we had to get our first gas fill in Hawthorn, Nev.. That’s where, stopping at the first gas station in town, I found out that I would pay  $.20 more for gas since there were two more stations on the south of town selling for less (go figure).  But the real stinger was when my engine light came on after filling-up with gas.  It was then that I became anxious that I may have major car problems and not get to KC.  There wasn’t anything I could do so I had to once again pray to big “G” for assistance which was answered with no complications.

It was night time and pitch black on the hi-way drive until I hit the neon lights of Las Vegas (a beautiful experience).  I got to see casinos I had been to in the past (Rio) as I drove through to my next route connection hi-way 93 south to my first destination lay-over, Kingman, AZ.  I got gas for a much better price this time at a truck stop where Ellie and I got a nights sleep in the car (around 10:30pm).  I had a sun-screen that I lined the drivers’ and half of the front window to block out most of the parking lot lights so I got a fairly good sleep considering.

I was on the road once again around 5:30am as were some truckers that were beginning their day of driving.  I passed through Flagstaff, AZ about 2-hrs later and continued through on the scenic “Old Route 66” drive to my next destination of Toucomcari, NM for another night of rest at a Flying J truck stop.  I arrived around 6pm and decided to get sleep with plans on waking around mid-nite to continue my journey to KC.  I awoke around 1am and was on the road again 30-minutes later.  I made KC around noon that day and spent my first night with my good friend, Ken, at his apartment.

Overall, the trip wasn’t too bad and my car didn’t give me any problems with the engine light still registering.  Ellie was great, as she has been, throughout my entire plight and homeless flight.  She seems to have that adaptability and resiliency that I’ve had to endure these past years and especially past months.  She would sit or laydown on her sheepskin mat during the drive but I began noticing more and more that she preferred the security of my lap which I complied considering the upheaval of her life going from a lease-free environment back to the leash.  So, here we are back in KC, Dec. 2, 2010.  “MEANT TO BE”

God bless and God speed

THE DUNNIGAN DISAPPOINTMENT: Flight of the Homeless

I’m into my second week of Dunnigan life and I’m preparing again to pack up my car for the trip back to KCMO and employment.  Things just didn’t turn out as expected with the job market among some other things which I’ll explain but the last thing I ever wanted to do was go back to KC especially during the winter months and the cold. 

In my first few days it was made clear to me that my best friends place was not a permanent solution which I knew from the beginning.  As much as his place is beautiful and has a great location my intent had always been to get my own place for Ellie and I.  I appreciate my independence of living as much as anyone and knew if I could get a job this would be the best solution for all concerned parties.  The only problem was that it might take longer than I had hoped for a job which I could see wasn’t a feasible consideration to a very good friend.

His girlfriend was the greatest driving force in the matter since my friend would have said stay until you find a job and get your own place but she had justification considering my first stay the time I found myself homeless.  But this time it was a very critical situation for my friend and the last thing I want to do is disrupt my friends independent living style and to come between he and his girlfriend.  The group of towns people that I had befriended the first time seem more distant this time which I’m sure goes back to my friends’ girlfriend or feelings I’ve only come back to impose again. 

Whatever it is, I have come to realize that you have to go where the job is to be had and I’ve been given the go-ahead by my former general manager that my job is there whenever I get back.  As much as I love it out here in this part of the country I guess it could be called destiny that I go back to KC.  Maybe it’s one of those “MEANT TO BE” times.

All in all, Ellie has gotten to experience freedom without a lease and I’ve gotten to enjoy the laid back style of life in the country for a couple of weeks.  I hope to come back some day under better circumstances and preparation.

In preparation for the trip I’ve gotten gas money for the entire trip back and will have to again try to get more for hopefully a deposit on an apartment back in KC.  Right now I’ve been made an offer to temporarily stay at a co-workers daughters boyfriends place, which I’m not very excited about, and my trucker buddie says there’s an apartment available where he lives that takes pets and it’s reasonable which is ideal.  So, as much as I dread the standing out and soliciting for money, I will have to endure this challenge again and depend on the generosity of those good Samaritans out there.  I’ve been impressed with the giving spirit of these great people.

God bless and God speed

FLIGHT OF THE HOMELESS: Personal experience

Early, early Tuesday morning loading the last of my belongings into my car to head north to the Sacramento area and hopefully find employment and a new life for Ellie and myself.  Twice yesterday I had stood outside my car with Ellie sitting quietly soliciting for gas money for the trip north.  The first in the morning rush hour with my  cardboard made sign which read, “NEED GAS 4 TRIP TO N.CALIFORNIA”,  and the second during rush hour traffic home (about 3-hrs each).  I made close to $100 from the good Samaritans of San Diego.  Enough for 2-gas tank fills plus and enough for 2-thirds of the trip.  I would have to stop and solicit one more time to get the rest of the way comfortably.  HOMELESS and UNEMPLOYED, again.

We were on the road about 5am after a fill-up of my tank.  I805 north towards L.A. bound with hopes of missing the notorious rush hour I’ve heard and seen on t.v..  Well, I got my rush hour experience and don’t ever expect to experience it again.  I got my second tank of gas around Bakersfield and began thinking where I might stop to solicit for my last tank of gas for the trip.  I thought Fresno might be the best but as I got closer I kept thinking of how much I really didn’t look forward to doing it again so I kept driving while keeping a close eye on my gas gauge.  I drove by each town debating on whether to stop there or go on.  When I got close to Modesto (about 50-miles south of Sac) I was dangerously close to empty so I took the last exit and put my last $10 in the tank. I asked the clerk for directions to the nearest Walmart since this was a good place to get a good flow of people but saw a Costco on my way and decided to go there (especially since I’m still a member).  I no sooner set up my location than I noticed the gas attendant looking at me while on the phone to someone.  Of course I knew he was calling someone inside about me so I continued my sign showing when an elderly couple pulled up and generously gave me $30.  Then 2-employees showed up and asked me nicely to leave because of policy.  They both sympathized with my situation but made me aware that it was against California Law to solicit like that even though the others are out there too, but to be cautious if I did it again.  Blessings and hats-off to those two elderly and understanding young men.  The $30 was enough to get me to my destination with a little left.  MEANT TO BE?  It’s sometimes amazing.

I arrived in Dunningan around 4pm and met my friend at “Bill and Kathys” small truck stop and hangout for a number of the local people that I had met the last time I was here.  It was a good and familiar reunion with a few brews of reminiscence and current life updates.  I got over to my friends place at dark so I didn’t get the full impact of how isolated he was in this many acre almond orchard until the next day with daylight.  I couldn’t believe the remoteness and peacefulness of this paradise between the Coastal and Sierra Nevada Mountains.  Most relaxing considering my circumstances.

God bless and God speed

THE EXPERIENCE OF FRIENDSHIP

In my previous posting on "MENTORS", I mentioned one of my mentors who gave me the inspiration to believe that I could do and accomplish whatever I wanted.  In many of our conversations the one that stood out the most was on friends.  He stated that throughout your life if you could count on one hand a true friend that you would be a lucky person.

I took that with a grain of salt in the beginning but I've come to firmly believe his wise advice as  true.  So far in my life I can, without reservation, count two on one hand.  At one time I had a count of three but he made a decision to turn his back on me when it was a critical stage of my life.  It was during these past six years of the greatest of challenges. 

My definition of a really true friend is someone who truly supports you and will go above and beyond the call to help you no matter what the situation might be. All others I would consider acquaintances that are friends but more the cordial type than the committed. I want to introduce you to those two great individuals that have come through and are now currently coming through again since the IRS has put me into financial devastation and challenge.

I'll begin with Richard, who I met my sophomore year in high school.  We were both involved in sports together and our personalities were alike enought that we hit it off immediately.  We've always maintained contact throughout the years since high school even though he went his career path and I went mine.  He did 6-years nuclear sub duty with the Navy and used me as a personal reference for his security clearance.  He, of course, didn't notify me of this so when I received a call from my employer that the FBI wanted to speak with me I was and my employer was a little surprised.  Everyone got a good laugh out of that and I had a great sigh of relief even though I didn't have any reason to feel guilty although it makes you wonder what the "H" have I done.

As I noted in my early posting of "Homeless Challenge" that friend who flew me out, provided a safe haven and found me a job was Richard.  The eight months I imposed on his gracious support was at great expense and sacrifice to him.  It was a humbling time for me not to be able to pay back this great friend and someone I call a true brother.  Due to my new situation, I had to rely once again on his friendship.  I've wanted to get back to that area for some time because of the great people I had met before.  I made some calls for employment and should be able to get something there versus here in San Diego so I called Richard and explained my situation again and that this time I should be able to find employment but needed a place to stay temporarily until I can get financially on my feet and get a place of my own.  The true friend he is, he said come up and stay at his place.  It's a great relief but on the other hand I feel terrible that I again have to impose on him.

The second person I can count on my one hand is Ken.  Ken is the trucker I met at the Salvation Army shelter after my second eviction by my mothers' retirement village.  I referred to Ken in my "Life in a Shelter" posting.  He is the type of person that will bend over backwards to help a friend in need and he's proven it on a number of occasions for me.  Ken has had his number of life challenges of being homeless.  He's one of the best at his profession but gets stuck in the never ending circle of life repititions.  This has cost him in finding employment but once he lands a job trucking he does an excellent job.  Then for whatever reason screws up and ends up struggling to exist until the next.

I had lost my drivers license (a future posting) a few years prior to my shelter experience and I had just finally landed a job as a dishwasher but needed to get my license back for transportation purposes.  Ken let me use his conversion van to take my drivers test and loaned me money for my car insurance.  I then had access to my mothers' car for transportation which made a big difference in getting around.  He was the only person that volunteered to help me move when I was ready to come out to San Diego otherwise I would have had to do it by myself which would have been a physical challenge in itself.  He called me this past week to check on my current updates for destination and I told him I had finalized it to N.Calif rather than back to KC because of gas cost differences.  He knew I was going to struggle with gas costs to even N.Calif so he's sending me enough money to get there so I don't have to stand at a truck stop entrance with a cardboard poster asking for gas money.  He's told me to pay him back when I get financially back on my feet.  That's the kind of friend he is.  As of this posting Ken begins another trucker position and my hopes are that he breaks that circle of repitition.

I can't say enough to have true friends like these two. As much as I dislike the thought of handouts it's friends like them that give you the hope in dire times.  I just hope that one-day I can repay them in the same manner that they've helped me, otherwise I continue to pay-it-forward to others that I can help in my own way.

God bless and God speed

LIFE WITH MOTHER

I know that I posted my "Last Farewell?" but I've been able to buy some time before I have to vacate so I am posting a few more experiences of the many others that I would like to post.



The last thing most siblings don't want to do at the age of 52-years is move in with their mother but as noted in a previous post my financial challenges came to a head with the foreclosure of my house.  With absolutely no place to go but a bridge embankment or city union shelter my mom offered me the safety of moving in with her to help with the medical and physical challenges she was facing while giving me a roof over my head and food.

It was touch and go initially but as we both became acclimated to each other and learned to give each other our space and independence things started working out much more smoothly than I ever thought would.  There were, of course, the times of frustration on both our parts but it was a win-win situation overall in the long run. I began to look upon it as a full-time care giving job while she appreciated the companionship of having someone around full time to talk and share her problems of depression associated with the aging process and gradual loss of freedoms.

My social life primarily revolved around her and the great people I met during my years at the retirement village.  When Ellie came into our lives I would walk her to a mall just a few blocks from the village and sit at the Starbucks where Ellie acted as the babe magnet for any opportunities (but never happened). One morning a long time retired friend came into Starbucks and he started bringing his dog so we would have double exposure to the babes.  The only drawback was a group of old retired guys who felt we were cutting in on there young babe time, so they eventually asked us to leave the dogs at home and join them on Mondays,Wednesdays and Fridays and so began my greater social mental health days of helping solve the problems of the world.

As time went on, I began to appreciate my relationship with my mom and looked at it as an opportunity to really get to know her unlike most siblings will ever do.  She would get in a never ending circle of telling the same stories of the past over and over.  When visitors would stop by she would get into these stories which I had heard at least hundreds of times over our years together so I would retreat to my room and let her tell whomever visitor might be there so they might hear it either for the first time or for the upteenth time.  They were good stories but the repitition could be overbearing but on occasion she would surprise me.

One such story was told to me on our way back from one of her many doctors appointments.  My son played soccer with Tom Watsons' (Pro golfer) son Michael and I forget exactly how we got on the subject (I think Tom was in a golf tournament and I mentioned Michael and soccer).  Out of the clear blue sky she says she was given a ride home from a prominent Plaza restuarant one time by Michael.  I thought she had totally lost her mind.  Concerned, I asked her how Michael could have given her a ride home from the restuarant when he was my son's age?  She impatiently replied, "NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!", Michael Sr.! you dope!  She went on to tell me that while my dad was involved with WWII she was talked into going to the restuarant by a friend at the apartment building she was living in off the plaza. She told me that she found out this friend was a floozie as she referred to her and that she only wanted to pick up men.  This, of course, went against all her moral grain and wanted to go home where Michael Sr. (a total gentleman) offered to give her a ride home with no strings attached.  I can confidently say that I totally believed her.

Then, there was the time she asked me if I would drive her to her 60th highschool reunion about sixty miles away since she wasn't really capable of driving herself.  I, of course, said I would but was a little reluctant knowing that it was going to be boring.  So I brought a book along to read while she enjoyed her reunion with the some 25-graduates left out of her graduating class.  I never got to break a page of that book once we got there and ended up thoroughly enjoying myself and meeting some of her highschool buddies.  One woman was a real hoot who tried to pick me up saying she wished she were younger. I responded that I could be up for adoption if she wanted to consider that option.  Too bad she hadn't been my age since she would have definitely been someone I would have liked to meet and get to know.  This classmate related stories of my mother and how she wasn't the miss goody two shoes I had always been told.  It was, by far, one of the best experiences I've had in my life.  We always had a good laugh about her 60th reunion.

The hardest part of our tenure together was watching her lose her freedoms, her independence to do the things that are everyday common to all of us.  When mobility and dementia issures began to emerge I always felt that the a patient approach was best.  It took her a year to finally begin to use a walker and even longer to face that she couldn't drive anymore.  I always encouraged her to do as much physical activity that she could to maintain physical strength but was there to take over when I noticed her weakening or getting dizzy.  There were those at the village (even my brother) who would have liked to see her go into assisted or long term care, especially during the times when I had been evicted.  My goal had always been to make sure that when the time came that she would pass in her own surroundings.  Among those things she cherished, loved and was familiar with.  It was a battle at times with those external forces but I won out in the end.  We had no problem speaking of that time and she knew as long as I was around that she wouldn't end up sharing some room with another person with one t.v. so she could enjoy one of her last freedoms, watching her favorite shows. I was there to assure her quality of life. A quality that she deserved and got.

I know this is long but there is one more factor in the equation that hasn't been addressed and that's Ellie.  Towards the end Ellie weighed heavily on my moms' mind and what would happen to her.  I assured her that I loved Ellie as much as she did and she would remain with me, which she does today.  My moms last few weeks were spent in long-term care with a bladder infection. The forces to be gave her an assessment evaluation after the first 2-weeks to ascertain whether she would be allowed to go back to her cottage. It was at this time that she was informed that if she were allowed to go back to her cottage that Ellie couldn't live with her. She responded to the group that they might as well just let her die.  I lived in a studio apartment where pets weren't allowed but after I informed my landlords that unless we could make arrangements somehow that I had no choice but to vacate and head to California.  They agreed to a non-refundable deposit that my mom was more than happy to pay.  My mom then knew Ellie was in good hands and I was able to bring her by for visits.  I really didn't expect things to happen so fast but my mom passed on a week later with my being at her side.  She left knowing that Ellie was taken care of and will be as long as I'm living.  A promise made and a promise that will be kept.

I'm so grateful that this opportunity to bond so close with my mom came about and never regret the years that I got to spend with her to the end.  There wasn't anything that couldn't be shared between us.  I knew and understood the battles of aging she was dealing with and she knew and understood the battles that I contended with.  As tough as it got she always maintained a positive outlook and always had that "meant to be" belief.

I miss her but know she lives on in my heart.

God bless and God speed