Dave the athlete?

Dave, Todd, and Bruce

Dave tried to run in Vans (fail)

I'm embarrassed to say it, but I tried to be a jock once. Camden- Rockport High School had a cross country running team. You need to believe me when I tell you that it wasn't my idea, but it wasn't. There was a girl. I know, say no more. A lot of you know the story. A guy likes a girl. The girl realizes that guy isn't thinking clearly. Girl gets guy to do "_______". Okay. Okay. I have heard it can go both ways, but girls are smarter than boys. They can get out before things get too bad. Two of my best friends, Todd and Bruce were on the team. They actually enjoyed it. As I was saying, there was this girl. She was on the girls running team and I liked her. She liked me too or so I thought. She liked me until she decided she liked another one of my friends. I tried out for the team. I was more of a sprinter than a long distance man. I could run pretty fast, but I got tired pretty fast.

Who's on your wall? Farrah? Evel Knievel?

Taking a slight detour. We'll get back to Maine later. Did you ever get to decorate your room as a kid? Paint? Wallpaper? Furnishings? I got to put up posters. That was about it. Not every place we lived but just at a couple. Now most people may have had posters of rock stars, sport stars, cars, and others. I had a couple of those black light ones. They were leftovers from some book fair thing we had at school. A neighbor had put a whole bunch of them out by his trash can. I mean boxes of them. I got a few of each one and shared them with kids in the neighborhood. I'm not sure if the fuzziness made the ultraviolet rays more favorable or not. I had the striking cobra, grim reaper on a chopper, and the black panther. I think everyone had the panther. I must have handed out about 30 of them to the other kids. My posters changed from season to season. A few weeks to a year. No set time. Just when you get tired of one it comes down. The new thing goes up. I never really followed trends. I didn't just get a poster because someone else did. As a matter of fact, one of my walls was covered with maps from National Geographic Magazine. In addition to reading about places, I would plan out places that I wanted to visit and chart my courses. A couple of posters were actually purchased and strongly recommended.
One of which was the famous Farrah Fawcett in the red bikini.

Farrah

I think everyone I knew had that one. I didn't really think she was worthy of my wall. Another thing was I didn't think Sheelah would be too excited about me  putting up posters of girls in bikinis on my wall. In sixth grade, I got busted for taking one of my dad's Playboy magazines to school. The school called home and Sheelah came to get me. She wasn't mad. She was foaming at the mouth, crazy with rage, ready to go postal. I got a high volume lecture from her and a beating from Bob. I thought having any kind of a picture of a girl on my wall would lead to a long and anguishing death. Latter, I covered up Farrah with a brunette wearing a tank top and daisy dukes. "HEY! WHAT HAPPENED TO FARRAH? WE BOUGHT YOU THAT POSTER!" I said that I just liked this other girl better. They were worried about me. Who didn't like Farrah? Everybody was supposed to like her, but I didn't really think one way or another about her. Bob and Sheelah were always asking me if I liked girls . I said yes.  I cant explain the logic, on a number of occasions they offered to buy me condoms. They wanted explain how they worked and everything. I declined the offer. Rather than being happy that I was now seeing girls for more than just objects d'art. there just had to be something wrong. I don't know why they were so set on this.

Evel Kneivel

Another poster that was recommended was Evel Knievel. I actually saw him jump a couple of times. Evel was a hero for the kids in  my neighborhood, but he just wasn't mine. I was greatly impressed by his jumping and sometimes crashing skills, but that was it. My dad thought I should like Evel more than everyone else. I had a poster of him jumping buses. Later for Christmas or a birthday, I got the Evel Kneviel Stunt Cycle. Just like the real thing. He'd go for a little bit and then crash. I used to crank that winder so fast I thought the wheels would fly off the bike. A few times, Evel(the toy) would just shoot out of the launcher rather than ride down it. I could get him to go about 12" before tires hit the sidewalk. The toy was still pretty cool.
We used to set up ramps in the street and jump our bikes off of them. Good fun. The ramps we made were thrown together without much thought. They usually broke or collapsed. We just made them with anything we could find. Old rotten plywood, milk crates, trashcans, etc. Those were some pretty good days. Just me riding my bike and being away from the house.

Camden, Maine #4

 Roy was a great influence on my life. He actually wanted to talk to me and we became very close. I'd go with him when he went to practice barbershop singing. I'd help out in his shop. He was the male influence that I was seriously lacking. He loved my grandma and I never heard him say an unkind word about anybody. I'm not sure how old he actually was. I just remember that he had tremendous wisdom. He always had a very calm demeanor. Nothing ever got to him. He never got mad. He was not as politically minded as Inez, but he did go to a lot of the stuff she did. He was very supportive of her. I like going with him to some of the events. I remember the day we went to this one house. It looked like a regular home, but the guy who owned the place did solar everything . He had some water system where he heated his home with pipes in the floor, but the water never lost its heat coming out of the tap. While people were talking to this man's wife, Roy and I talked to the man. He wasn't too friendly, but Roy chatted with him for a few minutes. The guy disappeared into house. He came out through the garage door and gave us the tour. He proudly showed off his homemade contraptions, carefully explaining how each one work. It was a very enjoyable trip. It demonstrates the type of person Roy was. He wasn't really expecting anything from the man. He was just being social.

Fouth of July

I really learned a lot from him. My dad's father, Ward was a man with many talents of his own. He was in charge of some extremely important projects with General Dynamics. He was a genius when it came to designing and engineering but seemed to have no use for people. I just remember Ward being very sick and irritated all the time. Roy was incredibly skilled at working with his hands as well, but he always knew people were more important. I guess that is perhaps the most important lesson I have ever learned. I remember my 15th birthday. We went to Nova Scotia and went swimming in the quarry. It was one of the best times of my life.
 

Camden, Maine part# 3

 My grandma loved talking my ears off. She wanted to make sure I was informed, but not just informed. It was more like actively involved. I went to local Democrat meet and greet things, marches for peace -(ban the bombs), organic farming, and other related stuff.  She was extremely passionate about these sort of things. As I said before she was very active in politics. She spoke at local meetings of MOFGA. That stood for Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association. She got me involved with some of the stuff. It was exciting, but a little too much to grasp. My family didn't even watch the news. I had never heard of most of the stuff she was talking about. She would have had a big problem with people who complain about the government. She would challenge them to do something. I didn't complain, but she wanted me to be 100% aware of what the government was doing. She didn't bad mouth the Reagan administration, but she wasn't very pleased with him either. Mostly she disagreed with the nuclear weapons talks. She turned her feelings into actions. Some of the pictures are from a march done by some Buddhist monks. I'm the guy in the blue beanie. The other pictures are from a Disarmament march in New York City in 1982. I heard that there was over 1 million people in this march.

Marching for peace

Camden, Maine #2

Things were going well in Camden. During the winter, there wasn't much to do. Actually, most people preferred to stay in doors where it was warm. I went outside in it. The first snow that I saw there was on my arrival. I went out and rode around on my bmx bike. It was in March, but there still were places that had snow on the ground. Snowdrifts were all around, averaging 2 1/2 to 3'. What does a 14 year old with a BMX bike do when he sees a snow drift? He rides his bike into it of course. Even though I had a jacket and proper cold weather attire, I decided to ride my bike wearing OP shorts and a light weight T shirt. I was from Cali and felt the need to represent. I guess this lasted about two, maybe three hours. I finally got cold, tired of sliding on the ice, and hungry. I burned up a ton of calories. I did this a couple of other days afterwards too. My grandma was worried that I might catch a cold strongly suggested that I dress warmly. It was either that or stay inside. Okay. A minor rule. No big deal. I went into to put on a big heavy snow jacket and some snows pants. I just put them on over what I was already wearing. My grandma stopped me and taught me the importance of layering. When you layer you clothes, its easier to adjust to the weather. You either remove something or add something. What I did was kind of going from one extreme to the next. 

Shoveling out the driveway

There was a few snow related chores. I wouldn't really call them chores

There were a few snow related chores, but I don't think I'd really call them chores. I mean chores are stuff that is hard, messy, and involves heavy labor. I was ask to keep the walk clear, clear out the driveway after the snow plows came, bring in wood, and a few little tasks like that. I usually did pretty good. Some days it would take me a little longer. I'd start the driveway, get bored, check to see if any wood was needed inside, see what my grandpa was up to in his tinsmith shop, go get a drink of soda of something and maybe a snack, go back outside, go back to shoveling, see one of the neighbors outside, go and talk to him, come back and "explore" around the house, if I found animal tracks find out where they lead to, and then go back to clearing the sidewalk and the steps. Have I mentioned that I get easily distracted? 

My aunt Patty lived with us. She had a room at the very front of the house. Many days, she would come and go as if she was the only one in the house. I tried to friendly enough, but I think I got under her skin on a couple of occasions. At least thats how it seemed. She had some tough days on her job and needed time to decompress. A couple of days she'd announce her arrival by slamming the front door and the door to her bedroom. My grandpa would say with a slight Texas drawl, "Patty's home". My grandma would call to her and go towards her room. "PATTY! PATTY! ARE YOU OKAY!" Then I could hear loud talking. Well my grandma was talking and Patty was yelling. Many times it was like having another teenage in the house. Usually Patty was okay. She was territorial over her food in the refrigerator. She drank Tab and used some margarine. I got chew out for using the margarine once. I didn't get a second to defend myself. She was let me have it. My grandma came in and I guess she used a bit it for cooking. Patty said "Sorry, but dont ever touch my stuff". Like I was saying,  two teens in the house. My room was upstairs. At first, my bedroom was over Patty's. Later, I was moved to another room. I think my walking on her ceiling bothered her. I just stayed out of her way as much as possible and she was nicer after that. I guess she thought I was occupying her space. Two of her kids were away at school and the third was married. She also had two cats that roamed the house. Somehow they always seemed to find me and hang out with me. One was a grey tabby and the other a calico. My grandpa was always coming up with snappy one liners and corny jokes. My grandma was pretty funny too. I think I developed my sense of humor from living with Roy and Inez. One of his favorites, and my aunt's least favorite, was when he asked me if I know how to make Earl Grey tea. I said, "Uh, no" He told me "Well,  you pick up that cat by the tail and you dunk in a pot of water". We'd both laugh. Patty would give him an evil look as she forcefully scooped up her cat, went to her room and slammed her door. I honestly think the cat would rather stayed with us. I guess we both gave it to poor Patty a few times.

Camden, Maine part#1

Living in Camden was really different. I didn't need to worry about waking my dad up for work, helping my brother get ready for school, or anything else. Just me. My grandma made sure I ate breakfast everyday. Usually started with half a grapefruit, then two eggs, toast, bacon or sausage. On a few rare occasions, I would make myself a bowl of cereal. I wasn't much of a breakfast eater, but this is how it was done. I enjoyed it because it was special. Roy was a breakfast man and well, I could be too. We'd talk about school, what I liked doing, and other stuff. It was weird to have someone actually listen and care.
The people in Maine were very friendly. It was strange to have strangers welcoming me to their town. "Hey, you're Inez and Roy's grandson, aren't ya?" I got this everywhere I went. For a little while, I thought I had done something wrong. When everybody knows who you are, you're usually in trouble. But this actually became a good thing. I quickly developed my own identity. It was nice to be Dave. Just Dave. No past, just present and future. Things were looking up for this kid.
My grandma wanted me to have good influences. She was concerned with the way I was being raised. She never knew anything that actually happened and I kept everything to myself. One of the first things she did was to introduce me to the Schmidtgalls. They had a son, Todd who was my age. They were also very involved with the local church. First Congregational Church of Camden.

As a matter of fact, most of my friends went to this church. The families had gone there for years and they actually liked it. I had been to a lot of churches off and on, but now I was actually a regular attendant. I learned the hymns. I learned where certain books were in the Bible. I was asked if I'd like to become a member of the church. My friends all went here so I said sure. I went to membership classes and even got baptized. I didn't really know what baptism was about. I just thought it was a requirement. I learned a lot about God, Jesus, the history of the church, when the different groups started and when they branched off, but that was it. I had believed that there was a God, but always felt as if He was unapproachable. He had favorites and I sure wasn't one of them. I wonder if He knew who I was. I remember believing that He created people, but I think I felt that He created people and then left them to their own resources. Maybe He was hoping the parents would do their parts and He could do the stuff He needed to do. Make new people, welcome people into Heaven, create new planets and other stuff. It kind of seemed like everyone else thought the same. Their lives were slightly different outside of church. They did the right things in church and for the most part, it helped to shape their lives. Some were better than others and they didn't put on their church faces. They were genuine believers. They scared me. I felt that I had no shot at getting into Heaven. If God did grade on a curve, I'd better do some "extra credit".
My friend Todd became a junior deacon with the church. We were both about 14 and he was working on becoming a full fledged deacon. I wasn't sure what that meant. He was also my drinking buddy. He knew people who had access to liquor and I begin underage drinking. I'd spent a lot of weekend nights at his house and we'd sneak out and meet up with some other church friends. A few times, we went out to the harbor and went on Tom dad's boat. The dad kept a little dingy with a motor on it that was always tied to the dock. We would take that and go on to the dad's fishing boat. He kept his good stuff on the boat. Tom's dad or maybe it was someone else's always had homemade brandies or other stuff. We'd stumble back home and sneak back in. We'd wake up in the morning, eat breakfast and wait for someone to take us into town. Later, when I got my bike I'd ride over to different peoples homes.
 Todd was kind of nerdy in some ways. He was a math whiz and a bit of an overachiever. He had some cool moments too. This town was kind of in a time warp. All the kids looked like it was the late 60's, early 70's. Everyone was listening to Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, The Who, etc. Todd was a big fan of The Doors and probably the only male fan of Adam Ant in Camden. I think only a handful of people knew who Adam Ant was. With his mom's help, he came to school like this one Halloween.
The girls went crazy. Some thought he was the real Adam Ant. The girls
thought he was the cutest guy in the school and their boyfriends wanted to beat him up. They thought he had come out of the closet, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. He even was talking with a fake British accent. The next day, everything was back to normal. Well, people still talked about it. I think for a couple of weeks, but then it was back to normal.
Other friends got into Dungeons and Dragons. I didn't. I didn't have the patience.

A well deserved break

I left California and headed towards Maine. I had mixed feelings. I didn't know what to expect. I just knew I was leaving the chaos behind. During the long flight, I kept wondering what it would be like. For starters, I didn't know if I was being welcomed or dumped upon my grandmother and her husband. I spent a summer with them, but I was 10.

 Camden, Maine was a lot different than Southern California. There were actually seasons. Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. There was a lot to see and a lot to do. It was a great place to get mind off of things and get my life back on track. It was very beautiful. Very peaceful.

view of Camden Harbor

The place the kids would go swimming

I went to finish up 9th grade here and thought I might stay for just the summer, but I stayed until the following summer. Actually made some friends here. The lifestyle wasnt as rushed. Gave me time to read, think , and reflect on life.
When I arrived, It was March and  there was still some snow on the ground. I thought it was the greatest thing I ever saw. We lived in a smaller town than the one I had come from and everybody seemed to know who I was. I was Inez and Roy's grandson. It took a little while for me to establish me own identity, but at least they didn't know the people I had just left. This really was a fresh start.
Roy had a tinsmith business that he operated from his home. He was a skilled craftsman. Most of the stuff he made were replica pieces from either colonial or civil war times. Everything from candle holders to multi light chandeliers. A large portion of his business way making metal quilting patterns. I used to work in the shop on some Saturdays and a little bit after school. I enjoyed watching him work. I also enjoyed learning how to work the big metal shear, the various shaping tools and forms, and everything else that went along with it. More importantly, I had a role model. Someone who I looked up to and trusted. Roy was a wonderful man. He treated Inez very well. Inez had been married to Bob's father for a number of years, but things didn't work out. I'm glad things worked out for her and Roy. Inez was very active in politics. She was always involved with some committee or something in addition to helping out in the shop. She was always going to events were the Democratics would be. Peace marches. She was concerned with the nuclear weapons stockpiling. Even up into her final years, she was still very active in politics.

Ontario High School

Things got weirder and weirder. Starting high school is hard enough, but I felt more awkward than I could have ever imagined. I started going to Ontario High School. Some of my friends went to Upland High and other schools. I took the standard, required classes for a 9th grade student. The first part of the year was so- so. The worst part was PE. I hated PE. This was the one class were it didn't matter what you knew. It mattered who you knew. It seems like if you played Little League or Pop Warner football, then you did okay in PE. You knew how the games were played. You usually knew which team you'd be on. Well, I didn't even play any sports and everybody knew it. I got picked last every time. Yelled at when I wasn't able to leap 30 feet in to the air to catch a baseball. Laughed at when the guy who was on the varsity football team "knocked " me down playing flag football. Okay it was more of a tackle. I soon learned that it was possible to avoid this. It was actually easier than I thought. The PE teachers were also fashion police. If you weren't wearing proper school approved PE clothes, you would be reprimanded and forced to walk the track. Ontario's colors were maroon and gold. They had to free of logos other than the school's logo. If you wore anything other than maroon and gold, it was a major offense. If you wore burgundy and gold, you might skate by with a warning. If you wore yellow and red, it was called a half suit. Anything beyond that, you took the hit and went to walk the track. Well, this sounds ridiculous but it was. I was already thinking the school was a waste of time and now this was just stupid. Well, my parents didn't care whether or not I needed maroon shorts and gold T shirts. So I wore whatever I had. Blue shorts, Black shorts, Red shorts, etc. Got yelled at all the time. To push things a little further, I would wear the gold shirt but only after I had gone after it with a razor blade. Looked like I got into a fight with a wolverine. "WILLCUTT!! WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?" I told them, politely that it was my PE clothes. "WELL, YOU JUST EARNED ANOTHER NON-SUIT!" Now I'd be directed to the track to done time for my crime. Then  it was off to the next class. Things were going okay.
Back at home, Bob and Sheelah's problems were escalating. The previous "Cold War" situation in the house took an ugly turn. Late at night, I'd hear yelling and glass breaking. Things were starting to get out of hand.
After the Christmas break and right at the start of the 2nd half of my Freshman year, my schedule was changed. I don't remember why, but all of my classes were switched around. One change that was really puzzling to me was my new history class. It was a bilingual class. The majority of the the class spoken only spanish and I didn't speak any. I tried to explain this to Mr. Vargas, my school counselor. He just said, "Sorry, there's nothing else available." I tried to stick it out, but man it was hard. I was the only non- Hispanic guy in the class and everyone was mad that I didnt speak spanish. I'd wished I learned it, but still I did understand. I tried to explain my problem to Bob and Sheelah. They thought I was lying about the ESL history class and matters just went from bad to worse.
It was about February when they had a wonderful idea. Dave is going to Maine to live with his Grandma. With Dave gone, maybe things would get better for Bob and Sheelah. 

broken promises, broken dreams, and lies

In the beginning, school was pretty easy. You learn the routine and you fall in line. You do what needs to get done. That is pretty much how things went for a long time. Some pretty bad stuff happened to me, but I just stuffed it down and moved forward. "Keep calm and carry on". As a real result of some of these things, I begin to stop caring about school. I think it started about third or fourth grade. I'd just do the bare minimum. I just didn't care. My folks tried yelling at me. That didn't work.My dad try to bribe me and it worked. All I needed to do was to bring my grades up and keep them up. If I did my best, I was going get a brand new Honda dirt bike. I don't remember the size. I would guess it was an XL 75 or an XL100 or something in the middle.

 I remember going with my dad to the Honda dealer and sitting on a couple of bikes in the showroom. We left and took one of the brochures. When we got home, I put it on my wall as inspiration. I looked at the bike every day. We also went back to the Honda dealer to sit on "my new bike". We went in there so much, the guy knew our names, asked when we were picking it up, how my grades were doing, etc. Well, during the fourth grade I went from being a C & mostly D student to being an almost straight A student. I think I had two B's, but there were really close to being A's. I mean a couple of points. I did all the work plus extra credit. I wanted that bike. My Trisport had bit the dust awhile back and I hoped that this would start us back to when we used to hang out with Ron and his kids and go riding. When the final report cards came, I could hardly wait. I pulled that flyer off the wall and put it with my report card. I asked when can we get the bike. My dad said, "Uh. What bike?" "My Bike" I said pointing the flyer. I reminded him of the agreement we made. My  birthday( I think my 9th or 10th) was the following month so I thought this thing was in the bag. I was totally floored when he said that he never made a promise like that.
I remember not too long after this being told that I need to start planning because when I hit 18, I would be moving out. He said it didnt matter what I was doing. I could have been in college, the military, or working, but when I was 18, I'm out the door. This started when I was 10 or 11. Thanks for making me feel so warm and fuzzy inside, dad. Are you sure I can't go sooner?
I only managed to raise the bar. Since I was capable of getting better grades, I was expected to ALWAYS get good grades. I went to so many different schools and sometimes right in the middle of the year. I was expected to do whatever it took to catch up. I began to hate school. I endured it, but now there was just one more thing. I mean the actual school work came easy enough, but what was the point? Was it for me or so the folks looked good?
Most of the time I went to public school. One year, in sixth grade I went to a private school. I did okay, but didn't fit in there either. I wasn't one of the rich kids. Interesting school though. I learned a lot about people and history. One teacher taught history and french. She lost a lot of her family in one of the concentration camps. She brought in pics. All I can really say is that the images are still very fresh in my mind over 30 years later. Another teacher taught biology and I learned a lot about her family and the actual subject. This school wasn't too bad. But then I went back to the elementary school that I had previously attended. Things were weird. People thought I thought I was better than them after this. Nothing like more problems.
Then I had to get referrals from the teachers to apply at Webb School. Even so I thought School ,why bother? But Webb was such a wonderful place. Check this out:
"Webb is a college-preparatory boarding school with a challenging curriculum, so we seek students with demonstrated academic achievement. Additionally, as an honor-bound community, we welcome students with strong character and a desire to be actively involved with peers, faculty, and staff."
Well, I got the recommendations and the grades needed, but I didn't want to go. I knew that the family couldn't afford this and I wasn't one of the yuppies who attended there. I went through written tests and  I did just enough to not get in.  I guess I just wasn't Webb material.
There were promises that were made and then ignored, reversed, or whatever. You just suck it up and move on. There were also things that I wanted to do. I mean there things that I daydream doing.  I remember wanting to be an astronaut and a few other things. The usual stuff that boys want to do. But I really wanted to be a teacher. Those dreams were always crushed. I was always told that I was never good enough or smart enough. I'd hear that I would never amount to anything. This was an almost daily occurrence. Silly me. I thought kids were supposed to be encouraged. You may be reading the last couple of posts and wonder what happened to my mom. She was kept in the dark. Somewhere along the way, we lost touch. I was always told that she didnt call, send money, and basically didn't care. Little did I know was that calls and letters were being intercepted. She was told that I was too busy and didn't need her. So I believed the lies and just counted down the days until I hit 18. I honestly couldn't wait. 

just a personal note ( a break between posts)

I have been trying to do this blogging once a week. Some weeks have multiple posts and others go more than 7 days between them. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining about my life, but just trying to show what it was like, both good and bad. I also would like to say again that I have forgiven everyone.I can't stress this enough. Yes, even my dad. There is a lot more that I could write, but it wouldn't be beneficial for any of us. As the writer, I don't enjoy writing about myself and it does stir up some old feelings that have already been dealt with. That explains why some of the blogs are longer than others and some are a bit further between posts. I am afraid that some of you may think I'm writing to gain some type of sympathy. That would be a very pathetic reason to waste our time. I am writing to help. At least, I would like to think I might be helping. I desire that whoever reads these posts, even if all of you suddenly stop and move on to other things, will come to know that you are not defined by the past, present, nor the future. You're involved with it and are invested, but its not what defines you. I hope that my posts will encourage others to discuss hopes and dreams, fears and regrets, etc and so on. Please feel free to comment, but don't feel that you have need to do so. This is only meant to be encouraging. If you're a parent, think about your parenting skills that are being developed. Whether you done this before or it's your first child. Its a learning process. You're human and you make mistakes. Be humble and admit that. Love your kids and they will respect you.Talk with your kids, not at them. Listen to them. Demanding respect and keep changing the rules and boundaries, you'll find yourselves in an ongoing battle with many unnecessary casualties. If you are a child, love your parents. Talk to them. Let them know what is going on with you. Your parents might seem like they know a lot, but they aren't mind readers. Too many problems these days arise from poor communication or none at all. I am probably the worst communicator, but we still need to talk to each other. Your parents love you and want the best for you, but sometimes we make mistakes as parents. Sometimes you make mistakes. Learn from those mistakes and move forward. This life is very temporary. Make the most of it as you possibly can. I will try my best to do the same.