The Manic Mechanic

It has been an interesting couple of days at the Interstellar Mayhem Command Station. Yesterday I had the opportunity to go with Jeff and experience something neither of us ever partaken in before. A Seder dinner. Yes, your favorite atheist sat among Jeff's boss' extended family and joined in one of their most sacred traditions. And despite the storm clouds that began to gather when I read some of the passages, no storm of measure arose, and I got to experience firsthand a religious tradition. Even popped on a kippah. While it isn't going to make me run out and convert to Judaism, I gained a bit of insight from the inside. While I was vaguely aware of what was involved and why it is done, it was actually interesting and rather fun taking part. It's a tradition as well as a history lesson that finishes with a lot of great food. I tried everything from gefilte fish to matzoh ball soup and more familiar fare such as corned beef and cabbage with potatoes as well as beef brisket and potato latkes (the familiar stuff being that which my Mom made quite often). Most of all I was honored to take part in a ceremonial dinner with their family. They treat Jeff and I like a part of their family.

Today I got an early call from Jeff telling me that he had forgotten his daily medications which he would take into work. Since he works in Ft. Meade, I have to go through the process of having my vehicle inspected to get on base. About a month ago I got to see first hand where Jeff works and have lunch with him after taking the full tour of the brand new facilities. This time I simply dropped off his meds and he surprised me with a little lunch at the car. He was too busy to take time for lunch with me, and I expected that. Why was today such a big deal, you might ask? Well, I was born at Ft. Meade just about 50 years ago. Mom and Dad were Army, and our world centered around Ft. Meade. All our shopping, medical care, recreation and whatnot took place in and around the base. I had not been on base for probably 20 years, and ever since 9/11 the base has had restricted access. I took for granted the ability to come and go as I pleased, and once the place locked down, I figured it was a done deal, no more little visits.

I had not been able to make use of most of the facilities since turning 18 anyway, though I had a friend that could get me into some of the places after my ID had expired. The first time I visited Jeff for lunch, I took a trip through a part of the base as I was leaving. I still remember the place like the back of my hand. Some stuff has remained unchanged, other facilities like the old troop barracks have disappeared, while some stuff is entirely new like Jeff's workplace. This time I took a different route and spent a bit more time around the places close to my youth. The movie theater, the park and lake where I spent my summers at day camp, and of course, the hospital, among other things. This time around, I broke down crying, since so many memories came flooding back of time spent with Mom, our earliest history is still there on that old army base. But I smiled and remembered all those fond memories. Hell, the place still has that "smell" that is impossible to describe, and I really felt like I had gone home again, even for the mere twenty or thirty minutes I spent driving around. I remembered so much, some of which had formed the core of my being. Even the one old pool where I went swimming twice to three times a day during the summer (and got tanned a deep brown and my hair bleached nearly white) is still there. The garage where Mom would take the car in for repairs, and where I would spend so much time begging for old parts to play with. I learned a lot there, but I remember the most how, even as a 7 year old, how I would completely baffle the mechanics with my knowledge of engines and cars and what have you. I got to take home some old part if I knew what it was. I'd come out of there with a box so full I couldn't carry it.

While it was an emotional trip, it was a good one. What really surprises me is how "small" the place feels these days. While I had been around the place well into my adult life, my absence for all those years coupled with huge changes in my life has obviously altered my perspectives. The long abandoned commissary looks like a tiny brick warehouse compared to even a modest grocery today. But all those years ago, it was so big and rambling. Mom's ID expired several years before mine, so I got tasked to do a lot of the shopping, and I did very well I might add. Likewise the old PX, the original building is gone, just an empty space with a couple newish little trees remains, the new facility has expanded since I was last inside. Just like so much of my life, I had to become "the man of the house" when Dad left us when I was only 5. I don't regret this at all, since the independent nature which defines me and my willingness and ability to make a life for myself and my loved ones came from those early days, was fostered in a relatively small "town" that had everything we needed, and, as a found out those two recent days, still holds my early life among its streets, fields and buildings. I'm glad it's still there. I was able to go back home again.

Gorgeous day today. I decided to make the best of it doing stuff outside. I climbed up on the trailer roof and installed the two Maxx-Air vent covers I had picked up last weekend. Now I can leave the two roof vent/fans open and not worry about the rain getting in. The latter was sometimes a bit of a humorous occurrence when it would rain in the middle of the night while the fan was running, since one of the vents sits above the foot of the bed. The rain would hit the spinning blades, misting us with water. This will no longer happen, and another bonus is the vents can be left open while towing, and the resulting airflow will keep the trailer much cooler for when we arrive wherever it is we are going. I have to replace the water pump and do some other minor fix-ups to get ready for the camping season. Plus it gets a serious scrubbing.

When Jeff got home from work we went for our weekly grocery haul. The cashier, in no urgency to check people out or bag their goods kept asking people about what they were doing for Mother's Day, including Jeff. Uh oh. Since I was also in line with a separate batch of groceries for Jeff's work to be billed separately, I was hoping against hope that she would not ask me. Luckily, she didn't. However, the gears were already set in motion, by the time I got home and unpacked everything, I lost it. I was trying so hard to get through the day unscathed, but it was not to be. My momentum for doing things and having fun with it all had come to a screeching halt, so I plodded through the rest of the day, taking a long nap after dinner.

Oh, well. I think I've improved over the past couple years. I will always miss my Mom dearly, however. Nothing will ever change that. Nor would I ever want to.

This will be a busy week by the looks of things. Jeff has lots of time to put in at work as he deals with state inspections and the loss of an employee. I hope to get some car work in during the evenings, as well as needed yard work. I have to rework my old lathe before I give it to Jeff's dad next weekend. If all goes well, I'll be making another trip up to the Grizzly Machinery store. My credit card will be shaking and cowering in my wallet for sure.

Hope everyone had a great weekend.

When I was a wee young'un, one of my prized possessions was my Panasonic cassette recorder. I had actually a few over the years, as I literally wore them out from the use/abuse I subjected them to. I would record music form the radio, or from my record player, often with these homemade direct connection cables for the highest fidelity I could muster. Not bad for an 11 year old I guess. Aside from all the music I was immersed in, I also used to record the world around me, as well as myself. I taped phone conversations with friends. Taped the sounds of company at the house. Took it to school and taped the sounds in the classrooms and concerts and field trips. When I was not playing my music (which even then was not your everyday Top 40 fare), I was inadvertently documenting the world around me. Over the years most of the tapes were used over for some other purpose or trashed after they had worn out. But still, the countless dozens of accumulated cassettes, though they had dwindled in number, remained in my memories as bits of the best parts of my life.

Just shy of exactly 20 years ago, after building this new house and moving things, I was cleaning stuff from my bedroom closet. A vent pipe stood inside this closet as part of the plumbing in the old place. When I had finally cleared out all the crap I noticed something shiny behind the pipe and below the floor of the closet. It was that first Panasonic cassette recorder. I thought I had lost it for good more than a decade prior, blaming it on someone walking off with it while outside in the yard or some such. I was reunited with my buddy, mostly intact and still around after several other tape recorders had taken it's place and fell aside after being worn out or broken.

The recorder found itself mostly in storage again. Occasionally it was dragged out for nostalgia's sake or for Mom to use for playing some of her language tapes in and around the house. But my old friend stayed in storage in these recent years.

Last month I was doing some major cleaning of accumulated cruft and junk, much of which was not touched in years. While clumsily hauling the crap from the basement, I knocked over several boxes, a couple of which spilled their contents on the floor. One of the boxes was full of those ancient tapes. I knew that one day soon, I'd have to try and see if anything was listenable. I did so a little while back. I popped four C-cells into the old Panasonic and started fumbling through the mess.

Those ancient mix tapes sounded pretty bad quality-wise, but it did not matter. To me, it was the same as a pristine first pressing vinyl copy being played for the first time. Memories came flooding in, to those days in my youth, the good and the bad. It made me smile. A tape of me and my friend on the phone talking together, watching the same Peanuts TV special commenting on how Lucy is going to yank that football away as usual. I tried to figure out in my head what the hell made me tape such things way back when. I found more crazy mix tapes, many others which were broken or tangled and not playable. I then popped another one in and heard myself talking, then another voice which I remembered to be one of Mom's co-workers. Then I heard her voice. It was Mom talking. A chill ran down my spine and my heart leapt. I was so not ready for that. It was scary, but welcome. I sat there with the tape running but not really listening. My mind was filled with images and feelings and emotions and I began to shake and cry. I was about to shut off the tape and then it stopped on it's own. The tape was fine, but the belt inside the antique tape deck had broken. I guess it was too much for the both of us.

Well, it's official. Jeff is back to stay, and we are trying our best to integrate all our stuff. Come springtime, though, there will be a big yard sale, and more than a few trips to the dump. And quite a few giveaways, I'm sure.

Time to get life in order, and get on with living. For me, that's going to be a tough road. In less than a month will be Mom's birthday, a week and a day prior will be mine. Mom's bday is going to tear me apart, for sure. Still, it will be a day to celebrate how she lived, and through all she has been through, she lived well. That definitely counts for something.

I dont know how much 'blogging' I will be doing in the upcoming days, it's going to be very busy around here. For the time being I am going to basically keep my big mouth shut (it's getting me into more and more hot water lately, on and offline), but if there's anything of note, I'll be posting. And for sure I'll be reading and perhaps commenting on y'all's entries. That's must-see PC here. You guys 'n' gals make me smile, laugh, think and feel.

Cheers.

Today after work I braved entrance into the belly of the beast and did the little bit of holiday (boooyaaah!) shopping that I needed to do. While a tad crowded, it was not insane (by Columbia Mall standards, at least). Even had dinner in the eatery as I watched the people do their thing. And in this sea of capitalistic, purpose-minded humanity, I felt that inescapable hollow feeling that has been accompanying me like Pig-Pen's dust cloud. I toughed it out, made the best of the opportunity, even escaping into the coolness of the Apple store for a while. Found nothing I needed (read: didnt already have) in the tool section of Sears. Spied a kiosk for Vonage, and I felt the urge to hurl boxes at stupid people. Resisted the pull of Cinnabon. Cast a derisive sneer to the Aberzombie and Bitch twinkdrone standing near the entrance. Could not even get near the pet store to pick up a little something for Kodi (shhh, it's a surprise) because of the crowd fawning over the menagerie for sale.

Tis the season, I guess.

I guess I will make it. Does not mean it wont hurt.

I can't wait until next year.