So I actually did write a Mindbarf on "me" part 5, but it was crap. I'm not motivated to finish that story yet... In fact, I had intended to write on things in order of precedence in my life (after the bio of course...). Which would be, family things (Tina, Sam, the littlun forthcoming...), music, teaching, religion, and then after that I was just gonna coast and write MUCH shorter essays and thoughts on whatever the hell came to mind... But at this damn Army course this is pissing me off right now, and dammit, I'm going to write on it.
I recently read this book called Mastery: The Keys to Success and Long-term fulfillment, by George Leonard. It's a quick, easy read (sorry the citation is not correct APA format...whatever, I don't HAVE to do that now), but lends some perspective and thought on society and our laziness. His specific experience was with Aikido, a martial art, and the process of learning Aikido. Getting the basic concepts, getting the intermediate concepts, putting them into use in a martial situation (in combat, or in a bar fight if you will...), then more advanced concepts that are all completely and absolutely dependent on how well you did your basics. If you did not do a good job on basics, then your advanced concepts will suffer significantly. I see this in music now, clear as day. It's so obvious to me that I sometimes wonder WTF people are thinking when they don't practice their basics. Actually, the thought goes more like this, "If you want an example of what happens when you don't practice your basics, HELLO!!! HERE I AM!!!" I'll probably write on that later when I talk about music specifically, I don't want to get distracted too much (that's why I'm not writing part 5 yet, I don't really know how I want to present the normal part of my life in such a way that someone will actually read it, and not just because you're nice people that like me and feel that you should read it for me, that's like beginning band concerts...you go because it's your kids, not because of the musical experience! Here I am digressing again...), and music, obviously, distracts me quite well.
So Mr. Leonard wrote about Aikido, we'll come back to him... I'm currently learning how to play racquetball. Mostly because I'm sick of running and doing workouts because I have to maintain Army standards. I want to have some fun to do! Running on your own with no specific goals (or goals that you say "screw that" after 2 weeks, I'm sure I'll have more to say on that someday) gets tedious and boring. Really, I just need to run another marathon, but parenting is more important right now. ANYWAY!! Focus Tyson! I'm learning racquetball and I've been playing at a different location these past few weeks than I normally play, with people I'm not normally around. What I mean to say with that, is that I don't give a ladybugs turd what they think about me, imma be gone in 5 days now! Back to where I don't want to make an ass out of myself! =) So while I'm in this new location, I'm asking for tips, drills, and advice on what these racquetball bad asses see me doing wrong.
Okay. Teachers! Did you see it? I asked for 1) Factual information: How is this game played? 2) Technical information: How do I play this game and win? Meaning techniques, and 3) What am I doing wrong, or what do I do consistently that you took advantage of that I should fix. A great conductor told me this in much simpler terms than that: Analyze, Diagnose, Prescribe. Analyze: this piece sounds like poo in this part (speaking of a piece of music). Diagnose: It sounds like poo because the flutes are out of tune. Prescribe: Give the flutes several different options for playing more in tune (or if you follow musician jokes...shoot one!).
You may be wondering why I even talked about Mr. Leonard now right? (you don't have the patience to be taught do you!? Haha!!) Well, if you don't know how to keep an audience in suspense, I'll tell you in a second...
So as I'm playing with the racquetball studs of Yakima, they have drills they tell me about. They can tell me what they did to get better, but none of them can really put into words what it is they saw me doing that the could take advantage of to win. I figured out my racquetball "nemesis" in town here won't tell me because it's how he beats me, but he's a teacher too... But out of town, even when I asked, they couldn't tell me. There was no analysis. In music, you get private instruction so you can have an expert on your instrument tell you what specifically you are doing that will inhibit you in the future, and what you should fix if you want to get better and maybe eventually work in this field. Granted, I wasn't paying these people like I paid my trumpet teachers, but I honestly don't think they knew what I meant when I was asking them if they saw something that I could do, and I wasn't going to push it with people I didn't know.
All this to say that I think that the vast majority of people don't understand the difficulty and action of delivering instruction. George Leonard didn't! (There it is haha!!) He wrote about mastery of anything, but when he talked about instruction, he talked about finding a teacher that could work with you individually and personality would mesh, and blah blah blah... Mr. Leonard, that is in fact, NOT GOOD TEACHING!
Public secondary school professional teachers, in general, have to see on average 100 to 300 kids a day. Obviously it can go lower, and it can also go higher (but not much). It is impossible to match a personality to every one of those kids. It is still possible to deliver them instruction in such a way that they will gain knowledge and skills that they may have not wanted at all.
I would argue that delivering instruction is a skill that takes mastery. It takes practice. It takes patience, it takes more introspective honesty than ANY other profession (even music!). If you're not honest with yourself about your faults especially, kids will eat you up. They will disrespect you, they will be defiant because you can't deal with yourself and are not worthy to deal with them, and you get paid like crap for it! (I knew about the pay going into teaching, so I have no intention of dwelling on it, but if the salary was commiserate with the training and stress, you would see MANY more excellent teachers in for the long haul).
Teaching well, and doing it for 3 decades is near impossible. You know those "bad" teachers that we're hearing so much about? They didn't start that way. If they started poorly, they would have left after 1 or 2 years. In fact, about half new teachers do that anyway. Bad teachers (off topic real quick, I watched the Cameron Diaz movie of the same name, I wanted to Falcon Punch the people that made that movie. F. U.) are teachers that did wonderful things early in their career, then eventually figured out a reason not to do that much work. They didn't get paid more every time they reached a kid that no one else could, their friend from college was working a corporate gig making 3 times as much and they got weekends off, a principal found a reason to harass them (that's my story), parents that are incapable of listening to an objective, professional, adult about their child, and on and on. The point is, if someone gets 10 years in, and find that they can half ass it and get the same pay, the path of least resistance my friends... I was on that path. I left. I miss the act of teaching A LOT. Especially when I'm at an Army training and the instructors are HORRIBLE. Nice people, but they couldn't teach a dog to shit in a park. But I don't miss the adults. You ever met a person that says "trust me" a lot? Do you trust them when they say that? I don't. In teaching, if someone says "it's what's best for the kids." Generally, it's what's best for their career, and not the kids. If you want to keep your teaching job, generally you shouldn't call them out on their decisions... Hold teachers accountable, but not principals... bad idea folks... Thus, I now work for the Army.
In summary, teaching is an art and profession that most people don't understand and are incapable of actually doing to the degree of a pro (that's why they're pro's people!! Do you send ME in to play QB for the Seahwaks?! HELL NO!!!). I have racquetball and Army instructors as my immediate evidence, and finally, don't piss off your bosses, they'll make your life hell. =) A happy post today! Anyone got that sarcasm font yet?
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Me (high school)
So I've procrastinated, wrote, deleted it, and procrastinated it again... The rest of my life just isn't that entertaining, but as I've said, I'm doing this for my own purposes and to try to kinda' jog my memory and notate what I do remember.
By the time I get to jr high/high school life was pretty normal. As I've procrastinated I've thought about how I want to go through the later bits of my life... (if a family of idiots from Jersey can get a reality show, mine isn't THAT boring...) I think the most effective way of doing this "for historical purposes" (by that I mean it's the easiest way to write...) is to just go through by school year and summer and tell my best stories from that year. With that said, here we go!
8th grade - Don't remember much, band band band. Get in trouble with Lonnie. We'd drink a 6 pack of Jolt Cola at lunch before band. Freeman LOVED us. Maybe... We locked his daughter in one of the instrument cages at one point, so maybe he didn't. Lonnie also made it a point to drop his tuba mouthpiece every concert. As a band teacher now, I'd want to punch Lonnie. Sometimes I want to punch him anyway. Hi Lonnie (as if he'd read this much of my BS)! Anyway, we broke into a concession stand that year thinking we were gonna raid the candy. Someone saw us and called the cops, Lonnie talked us out of it and we ended up not stealing anything, and not getting in trouble. Probably a good thing... whew!
Summer of 8th grade I worked at a Horse ranch for my Dad's cousin Andy in June. Cleaning horse stalls, feeding horses cleaning after the cows that were used to train the horses (it was a cutting horse ranch if you know what that is. If you don't, google it cause I ain't gonna 'splain it). Cows are friggin' disgusting. Their pen got up to my hips deep in their shit. Yuck. Anyway... I spent most of July at Anderson Island in the Puget Sound at my Aunt Tonja and Uncle Jeff's cabin. Good times. Girls. Wow. Girls in bathing suits. Oyve. Anyway...girls are gross... =) I learned to water ski, knee board, had some fun on the 4th (although Uncle Jeff didn't let me blow stuff up like I did in Renton!) and in all, good times were had. I was less awkward with girls after that summer, that's for sure...
9th grade - This was still Jr high in Marysville at the time. Again, not much to do in the Ville... I did wrestling, baseball, and band. I tried cross country, but didn't like it. I've since gotten into running a bit more, but as a 14 year old, running sucked. Probably the most important thing that year was meeting a gentleman names Rod Stubbs. He came by our school recruiting for the Seattle Cascades Drum and Bugle Corps. I won't go into that too much now, that's a post all in itself! But I will give a summary as we go...
That summer was my first with the (then) Crashcades. We did a field show based on the Musical "Showboat." Ooooold maan Riiveeeer...." Whatever! A crappy marching field show meant I got to get away from home for 2 1/2 months (while life was normal, it wasn't pleasant by any means... for more on that see my sisters blog...True Accounts of a Single-Mom). I grew up a lot that summer and learned a lot about playing music, and trumpet. Foremost being that high notes are cool
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UxdCqOWVcA .
10th grade - So this was my first year at Marysville-Pilchuck High School. Once again, band band band. I did do other things, Spanish Club. I guess that counts as other stuff right? I did do baseball and wrestling, but I wasn't that into it. Drum corps kinda' made me think "If I could just do band all day, that'd be cool" and I started getting my trumpet player attitude of "Wow, if I were in charge, I could do way better." Not of my band director, he was great, still is! More in the drum corps scene, and honestly, I probably could've done better...but I loved it, so I kept with it. I kinda' got sick of high school that year and applied for Running Start through Everett Community College. I also had my first real girlfriend, Heidi A.. We started "going out" in October or so, and she dumped me on an all night New Years teen party thing sponsored by a church. At 10pm. The event ended at 7am. Not my best New Years Eve... ahhh teenage love! Anyway, I met other girls that year too. So that summer (1994)the Cascade's show was "La Vien Rose" The best part of the show was the car wash scene, well, it was supposed to be a carousel... but our execution was less than stellar. I also auditioned for the jazz band at MPHS. I figured it was the best was to get better at trumpet for drum corps. Our jazz band at the time was one of the best in the state of Washington. Up there with Garfield and Roosevelt, and I was right, I got better at trumpeting! Fun Fun!
11th Grade - I started college that year. I didn't waste any time! My first quarter was chemistry and algebra. I learned that 1:30 is a bad time for me to take a class. I could NOT stay awake. I ended up having to withdraw that class. Chemistry I BARELY squeaked by with a D. Learning how college works early (I still didn't figure it out until my 3rd summer at Northwestern)! I only took one class the next quarter, I should explain too that I was only going to college part time so I could stay in band. I've had kids try and drop out of band to do running start as a band director now... I tell them this story =) Sometimes it keeps 'em in, sometimes it doesn't. But it always makes them think I'm a bigger band geek. Close Enough. I'd go to morning classes at MP then walk off campus (wave to the security guard who let me go, that worked in my favor as a senior!) and catch a bus to ECC, then hang around campus listening to music (Miles Davis Bitches Brew!) in the library or attempting to do homework, usually failing miserably at the HW. I took night classes there so I would be on campus for 5-6 hours. Another way of getting away from home for long periods of time...
Anyway, hangin' out on a community college campus got old pretty fast for a 16 year old, but Dad wouldn't let me drive until I had a job. In April of that year I got sick of the Community Transit (CT) and found a job at McDonalds. Ironic if you know me and how anti big corporation I am now, but I hadda get a job! Unfortunately, that also meant I had to cut my hair... the best way I attracted girls. Bummer! Eventually, I had to shave it all off anyway...but that's YEARS away still. So I started juggling work, drum corps, high school band, college, and dating! I was pretty happy with what I was doing back then, but looking back now as a parent, it was cake...
That summer (95 if you're following), was the beginning of the beginning for the Cascades. We were growing up and moving out of the little kid crap. Elton John was the beginning of the "Butt Rock" years for them. I honestly think the Cascades should've kept that going as their "thing," there's SO much opportunity there, but whatever. When I suggested that as a 20 year old, I was told "That concept is pretty limiting" by someone who lacked any creativity whatsoever. That was when I wrote 'em off and decided college was a higher priority. I digress! I also decided I wanted a little more responsibility playing and I got a solo (actually trio, but close enough). Good times! Every year with them made me want "it" more. It, I know now, was musical experience. I eventually achieved that goal, I'm still a junky but it's a lot harder to come by these days. My expectations are a little higher I guess.
SENIOR YEAR!!!!
I went from 4th trumpet to lead trumpet in jazz band, I wasn't ready for it, but there wasn't any other choice. Every festival that year the clinician that worked with us said "and who's the lead trumpet? You're almost there!" Again, looking back, I achieved a LOT in a short period of time, but as my wife would tell you, I'm not the most patient with myself, and I wanted to be Arturo Sandoval NOW!! Still working on that... I was the back up date for all the drum corps girls so I went to about 5 homecomings and 4 proms. That jazz band tux came in quite handy that's for sure! I even went to my own prom!! Which was kinda' weird actually, I was at MP for band and spanish. I didn't actually know anyone outside of those classes at school. So anyway, I skipped my first class that year, but it was after I got my final grade from my final class (junior english, I though I covered that with an english class at ECC, but it didn't, so I took it as a senior). That's when knowing the security gurad came in handy...once. So many people I know that got caught by him watched me drive by and wave... They were pissed! Anyway, what else is there to say. Senior year...I didn't party (if you read parts 1-4 of me, I'd seen enough of that for a while) so I didn't really belong anywhere, and high school was not the end of my education, not by a long shot! OH THAT!! So I applied at the University of Washington a week late, which meant I had to write an essay and why I should be accepted (later that became their SOP, but it wasn't for my year...). I got my letter while working at Precision Tune (an oil change place on state street) and Toni dropped it off for me. That was a HUGE relief because it was the only school I applied for!! WHEW!
Graduation! Mr. Hawke stepped aside as I passed the band and told me to conduct. Procession of the Nobles is in 3. I didn't know that then... oh boy... =)
So that summer was the Beatles summer for the Cascades. It was a hot mess at the beginning of the season, but something clicked that summer. We all got it together and achieved something new. Music! So fun!!! The ballad for that summer is now the corps song. Imagine. We made a peace sign and halted for some ridiculous amount of beats... cheesy, and awesome. It was a good summer for me personally too. I had a girlfriend on tour for once. 'Nuff said there! I was 18, graduated high school, ready for college, had the best summer of my life, and it was time for moving on! That Alice Cooper song comes to mind...
Next up. College! GO DAWGZ!!!!
By the time I get to jr high/high school life was pretty normal. As I've procrastinated I've thought about how I want to go through the later bits of my life... (if a family of idiots from Jersey can get a reality show, mine isn't THAT boring...) I think the most effective way of doing this "for historical purposes" (by that I mean it's the easiest way to write...) is to just go through by school year and summer and tell my best stories from that year. With that said, here we go!
8th grade - Don't remember much, band band band. Get in trouble with Lonnie. We'd drink a 6 pack of Jolt Cola at lunch before band. Freeman LOVED us. Maybe... We locked his daughter in one of the instrument cages at one point, so maybe he didn't. Lonnie also made it a point to drop his tuba mouthpiece every concert. As a band teacher now, I'd want to punch Lonnie. Sometimes I want to punch him anyway. Hi Lonnie (as if he'd read this much of my BS)! Anyway, we broke into a concession stand that year thinking we were gonna raid the candy. Someone saw us and called the cops, Lonnie talked us out of it and we ended up not stealing anything, and not getting in trouble. Probably a good thing... whew!
Summer of 8th grade I worked at a Horse ranch for my Dad's cousin Andy in June. Cleaning horse stalls, feeding horses cleaning after the cows that were used to train the horses (it was a cutting horse ranch if you know what that is. If you don't, google it cause I ain't gonna 'splain it). Cows are friggin' disgusting. Their pen got up to my hips deep in their shit. Yuck. Anyway... I spent most of July at Anderson Island in the Puget Sound at my Aunt Tonja and Uncle Jeff's cabin. Good times. Girls. Wow. Girls in bathing suits. Oyve. Anyway...girls are gross... =) I learned to water ski, knee board, had some fun on the 4th (although Uncle Jeff didn't let me blow stuff up like I did in Renton!) and in all, good times were had. I was less awkward with girls after that summer, that's for sure...
9th grade - This was still Jr high in Marysville at the time. Again, not much to do in the Ville... I did wrestling, baseball, and band. I tried cross country, but didn't like it. I've since gotten into running a bit more, but as a 14 year old, running sucked. Probably the most important thing that year was meeting a gentleman names Rod Stubbs. He came by our school recruiting for the Seattle Cascades Drum and Bugle Corps. I won't go into that too much now, that's a post all in itself! But I will give a summary as we go...
That summer was my first with the (then) Crashcades. We did a field show based on the Musical "Showboat." Ooooold maan Riiveeeer...." Whatever! A crappy marching field show meant I got to get away from home for 2 1/2 months (while life was normal, it wasn't pleasant by any means... for more on that see my sisters blog...True Accounts of a Single-Mom). I grew up a lot that summer and learned a lot about playing music, and trumpet. Foremost being that high notes are cool
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UxdCqOWVcA .
10th grade - So this was my first year at Marysville-Pilchuck High School. Once again, band band band. I did do other things, Spanish Club. I guess that counts as other stuff right? I did do baseball and wrestling, but I wasn't that into it. Drum corps kinda' made me think "If I could just do band all day, that'd be cool" and I started getting my trumpet player attitude of "Wow, if I were in charge, I could do way better." Not of my band director, he was great, still is! More in the drum corps scene, and honestly, I probably could've done better...but I loved it, so I kept with it. I kinda' got sick of high school that year and applied for Running Start through Everett Community College. I also had my first real girlfriend, Heidi A.. We started "going out" in October or so, and she dumped me on an all night New Years teen party thing sponsored by a church. At 10pm. The event ended at 7am. Not my best New Years Eve... ahhh teenage love! Anyway, I met other girls that year too. So that summer (1994)the Cascade's show was "La Vien Rose" The best part of the show was the car wash scene, well, it was supposed to be a carousel... but our execution was less than stellar. I also auditioned for the jazz band at MPHS. I figured it was the best was to get better at trumpet for drum corps. Our jazz band at the time was one of the best in the state of Washington. Up there with Garfield and Roosevelt, and I was right, I got better at trumpeting! Fun Fun!
11th Grade - I started college that year. I didn't waste any time! My first quarter was chemistry and algebra. I learned that 1:30 is a bad time for me to take a class. I could NOT stay awake. I ended up having to withdraw that class. Chemistry I BARELY squeaked by with a D. Learning how college works early (I still didn't figure it out until my 3rd summer at Northwestern)! I only took one class the next quarter, I should explain too that I was only going to college part time so I could stay in band. I've had kids try and drop out of band to do running start as a band director now... I tell them this story =) Sometimes it keeps 'em in, sometimes it doesn't. But it always makes them think I'm a bigger band geek. Close Enough. I'd go to morning classes at MP then walk off campus (wave to the security guard who let me go, that worked in my favor as a senior!) and catch a bus to ECC, then hang around campus listening to music (Miles Davis Bitches Brew!) in the library or attempting to do homework, usually failing miserably at the HW. I took night classes there so I would be on campus for 5-6 hours. Another way of getting away from home for long periods of time...
Anyway, hangin' out on a community college campus got old pretty fast for a 16 year old, but Dad wouldn't let me drive until I had a job. In April of that year I got sick of the Community Transit (CT) and found a job at McDonalds. Ironic if you know me and how anti big corporation I am now, but I hadda get a job! Unfortunately, that also meant I had to cut my hair... the best way I attracted girls. Bummer! Eventually, I had to shave it all off anyway...but that's YEARS away still. So I started juggling work, drum corps, high school band, college, and dating! I was pretty happy with what I was doing back then, but looking back now as a parent, it was cake...
That summer (95 if you're following), was the beginning of the beginning for the Cascades. We were growing up and moving out of the little kid crap. Elton John was the beginning of the "Butt Rock" years for them. I honestly think the Cascades should've kept that going as their "thing," there's SO much opportunity there, but whatever. When I suggested that as a 20 year old, I was told "That concept is pretty limiting" by someone who lacked any creativity whatsoever. That was when I wrote 'em off and decided college was a higher priority. I digress! I also decided I wanted a little more responsibility playing and I got a solo (actually trio, but close enough). Good times! Every year with them made me want "it" more. It, I know now, was musical experience. I eventually achieved that goal, I'm still a junky but it's a lot harder to come by these days. My expectations are a little higher I guess.
SENIOR YEAR!!!!
I went from 4th trumpet to lead trumpet in jazz band, I wasn't ready for it, but there wasn't any other choice. Every festival that year the clinician that worked with us said "and who's the lead trumpet? You're almost there!" Again, looking back, I achieved a LOT in a short period of time, but as my wife would tell you, I'm not the most patient with myself, and I wanted to be Arturo Sandoval NOW!! Still working on that... I was the back up date for all the drum corps girls so I went to about 5 homecomings and 4 proms. That jazz band tux came in quite handy that's for sure! I even went to my own prom!! Which was kinda' weird actually, I was at MP for band and spanish. I didn't actually know anyone outside of those classes at school. So anyway, I skipped my first class that year, but it was after I got my final grade from my final class (junior english, I though I covered that with an english class at ECC, but it didn't, so I took it as a senior). That's when knowing the security gurad came in handy...once. So many people I know that got caught by him watched me drive by and wave... They were pissed! Anyway, what else is there to say. Senior year...I didn't party (if you read parts 1-4 of me, I'd seen enough of that for a while) so I didn't really belong anywhere, and high school was not the end of my education, not by a long shot! OH THAT!! So I applied at the University of Washington a week late, which meant I had to write an essay and why I should be accepted (later that became their SOP, but it wasn't for my year...). I got my letter while working at Precision Tune (an oil change place on state street) and Toni dropped it off for me. That was a HUGE relief because it was the only school I applied for!! WHEW!
Graduation! Mr. Hawke stepped aside as I passed the band and told me to conduct. Procession of the Nobles is in 3. I didn't know that then... oh boy... =)
So that summer was the Beatles summer for the Cascades. It was a hot mess at the beginning of the season, but something clicked that summer. We all got it together and achieved something new. Music! So fun!!! The ballad for that summer is now the corps song. Imagine. We made a peace sign and halted for some ridiculous amount of beats... cheesy, and awesome. It was a good summer for me personally too. I had a girlfriend on tour for once. 'Nuff said there! I was 18, graduated high school, ready for college, had the best summer of my life, and it was time for moving on! That Alice Cooper song comes to mind...
Next up. College! GO DAWGZ!!!!
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Me (part 4 now? Good Grief!)
I finished my last day of 6th grade at Ridgecrest elementary with I fight. There was this kid there that I was kinda' friends with, but he kind of annoyed me. We've all had those friends... I brought my skateboard to school and he said "Wouldn't it be cool if you could velcro your shoes to your board." I knew what he meant, but he'd been bugging me for the last few months, and I already knew that I could push his buttons and that I could beat him. So I said "____ that's dumb, and you're stupid." He took the bait and we had a fight. Like I said, I already knew I could beat him... I learned a lot being a white kid in the projects, foremost is don't fight with a kid you can't beat. Or his friends! Anyway, principals office on the last day! "Waddya gonna do boss? Send me home now? Ok!" I never said any of that to the principal's face, but that's what I was thinking, and I'm pretty sure he knew it and still couldn't do anything... He sent me back to class. Damn. =)
So we (Heidi and I) packed up (I actually had to make my bed at Grandma's, so I did it one last time), and went back to live with Dad and Toni up in Marysille, WA, the "Ville." That summer was the most boring summer of my life. We had just moved and I had moved so many times that I had given up on making friends, and I was a 7th grader. 7th graders are mutants. So I was a mutant in a new place with new social rules (again). I found the library, read a lot, rode my bike a lot, and found a creek to go wet my feet in. By September, I was a little more prepared for the middle school experience than I was the first two weeks of school in 6th grade (at the same school). Worst of all... Those glasses. ----->
The haircut is only horrid now, it was in style in the Ville back then (doesn't mean it SHOULD have been, but it was), but the glasses. Oyve. Thanks Heidi for posting that on the Facebooks... I am comfortable nothing else like that will show up these days...
So 7th grade started a more normal part of life for me and Heidi. Dad and Toni were a little more prepared to be responsible parents. They were buying a house now, they were engaged (it didn't happen until that dorky ass kid was 17, but it was a little more serious now), they had steady work. In short, they saw the writing on the wall, and grew up (assisted by the motivation that Grandma and Grandpa were the mortgage holders on their house, and could essentially make their lives pretty crappy. Some people need a little more help, i.e., coercion, to grow up). That doesn't mean there wasn't still lots of problems... I'm a smart kid. The experiences I had prior to 7th grade forced me to be more mature than most 12 year olds, and the way I dealt with it, if I may be a bit of a trumpet player for a second (meaning I'm pretty proud of it), was better than the vast majority of other 12 year olds. I'm saying this because Dad's general philosophy of parenting at the time was this: "Tyson, don't do that." Me: "Why? You do?" Dad: "Do as I say, not as I do." Me: "That's no fair, and it's not right." Dad: "I'm the parent, I'll tell you what's right. Don't do that." Usually he got pretty angry when this conversation and it's thousands of variations happened, and I'm sure there are a lot of Heidi's colleagues out there that would poop bricks if they saw him in action back then, but here's the background. Before I moved to Chicago, Dad and I went fishing for a weekend and had a heart to heart (he fell out of the boat into alpine lake water too, that was Freaking. Hilarious.). He confessed to me that he screwed a lot of stuff up as a parent, including in Marysville. In his head, he was doing for me what he wanted for himself as a teenager, boundaries, structure, discipline, and a swift kick in the ass to get him motivated. What I got out of that was that he thought he was raising himself. Remember that point, "raising himself," we'll come back to that... I want to also be crystal clear that he never resorted to any physical abuse. Ever. A wise person once told me that all parents do the best they can at any given time. That doesn't mean it's good. It simply means that was the best they were capable of at the time. Dad and I are actually pretty close now. I'll leave that for another post (blog, whatever) another day...
Remember I said something about Dad thinking he was raising himself? Well, Toni did that too. She superimposed how she behaved as a child/teenager on Heidi. Now, Heidi, that's your story and I don't want to steal your thunder if you get to the point where you write your story, but I do need to say that this, eventually, did not work out well.
So through these secondary school years, things were mostly normal. Yeah Dad was overzealous and yeah Toni felt jealous of her step-daugher, but they cared and did the best they could at the time. They were focused more on being parents than they were in Richmond Beach, and they were getting better at it. As an adult, I especially feel for Toni. She never had children of her own and to this day, I don't think she understands the care that's necessary from day 1. I'm not supposed to have that sort of knowledge that one of my parents does. It doesn't seem right... But it is what it is. Toni got us when I was 10 and Heidi 5 and these days, she doesn't really know what to do with Sam when we're up there.
So I'm going to get back to the bio part of this bio... About this time, let's go ahead and say 8th grade now... I started to really get into band. It was close though! I spent the summer of 7th grade with my Dad's cousin Andy at a horse training ranch in Monroe. It was fun, I got pretty strong (for a scrawny 12 year old), I got paid for cleaning horse stalls, and I could have easily slipped into that scene. Something else came up though...I'll get there in a paragraph or two. Most of the popular kids in band were figuring out it was hard to be good and dropping out for easier things like sports. I got new glasses (and then broke 'em goofing around in PE and had to wear prescription sunglasses for the next two years, but they were still better than that damn picture!) and I started actually meeting people in all my new normal activities. In particular there was Boy Scouts... I didn't really make many friends in my troop, but I do remember seeing another new kid (this was back in 7th) at Marysville Middle school with one of those red wool boy scout coats. I asked him what troop he was in and was he new at MMS. He was new, and his old troop was in Everett. His name was Lonnie. We actually were Beavis and Butthead. It was that bad. I think this is going to turn into a part 5...jeebus...So much happened before Lonnie and I started causing trouble, mostly for ourselves...
The summer after 8th grade Heidi and I spent a few weeks with Mom. She had been living with my Uncle Tony and Aunt Tonja. They were keeping Mom on the straight and narrow. They had (have actually, it's still there) a "cabin" on Anderson island. It's in quotes because it was a brand spanky new house on a lake. Frikkin' Rad. Mom took us out there. This my first summer of "Oh! Girls! WOAH GIRLS ARE COOL." It was about that bad. I think I was getting more normal. Except for those damn sunglasses...
In 9th grade I broke my glasses for team try outs for baseball when I threw off the catchers mask. I didn't make the team because I missed a day of try-outs. That got Dad motivated to FINALLY get me contacts. After two years of being called "shades" by everyone in the damn school. That was attention no middle school kid EVER wants. That year, I also discovered Drum & Bugle Corps. Now it was on. I found what I was going to do. The Seattle Cascades was when I discovered what I wanted to do in life. Lucky for me, I was 14 when i found it. I remember my first camp at the Bingo hall in Shoreline. The building housed about 150 old people that smoked like chimney's that were on fire every weeknight, and then we went in on the weekends to play brass instruments. Nice. As and adult and music educator I look back on this and say WTF WERE YOU THINKING to the adults that were leading the group. I also remember an instructor telling us we were going to learn to march backwards. I said "why do we need to march backwards?" He got this look of "Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into by taking this job." That was good times! Seattle Cascades 1993 "Showboat!"
I'm getting into the normal stuff now, so it's probably not as interesting =) I don't care! It was my life and I'm writing it for myself and my kids! I have to keep that in mind so I don't make my autobiography into a crappy soap opera... My recollections of my life. It's also easier to joke about and make fun of when it's not so damn serious! I said I wasn't going to write a book...I think I did lie. Next stop, high school... ah crap... Girls. =)
So we (Heidi and I) packed up (I actually had to make my bed at Grandma's, so I did it one last time), and went back to live with Dad and Toni up in Marysille, WA, the "Ville." That summer was the most boring summer of my life. We had just moved and I had moved so many times that I had given up on making friends, and I was a 7th grader. 7th graders are mutants. So I was a mutant in a new place with new social rules (again). I found the library, read a lot, rode my bike a lot, and found a creek to go wet my feet in. By September, I was a little more prepared for the middle school experience than I was the first two weeks of school in 6th grade (at the same school). Worst of all... Those glasses. ----->
The haircut is only horrid now, it was in style in the Ville back then (doesn't mean it SHOULD have been, but it was), but the glasses. Oyve. Thanks Heidi for posting that on the Facebooks... I am comfortable nothing else like that will show up these days...So 7th grade started a more normal part of life for me and Heidi. Dad and Toni were a little more prepared to be responsible parents. They were buying a house now, they were engaged (it didn't happen until that dorky ass kid was 17, but it was a little more serious now), they had steady work. In short, they saw the writing on the wall, and grew up (assisted by the motivation that Grandma and Grandpa were the mortgage holders on their house, and could essentially make their lives pretty crappy. Some people need a little more help, i.e., coercion, to grow up). That doesn't mean there wasn't still lots of problems... I'm a smart kid. The experiences I had prior to 7th grade forced me to be more mature than most 12 year olds, and the way I dealt with it, if I may be a bit of a trumpet player for a second (meaning I'm pretty proud of it), was better than the vast majority of other 12 year olds. I'm saying this because Dad's general philosophy of parenting at the time was this: "Tyson, don't do that." Me: "Why? You do?" Dad: "Do as I say, not as I do." Me: "That's no fair, and it's not right." Dad: "I'm the parent, I'll tell you what's right. Don't do that." Usually he got pretty angry when this conversation and it's thousands of variations happened, and I'm sure there are a lot of Heidi's colleagues out there that would poop bricks if they saw him in action back then, but here's the background. Before I moved to Chicago, Dad and I went fishing for a weekend and had a heart to heart (he fell out of the boat into alpine lake water too, that was Freaking. Hilarious.). He confessed to me that he screwed a lot of stuff up as a parent, including in Marysville. In his head, he was doing for me what he wanted for himself as a teenager, boundaries, structure, discipline, and a swift kick in the ass to get him motivated. What I got out of that was that he thought he was raising himself. Remember that point, "raising himself," we'll come back to that... I want to also be crystal clear that he never resorted to any physical abuse. Ever. A wise person once told me that all parents do the best they can at any given time. That doesn't mean it's good. It simply means that was the best they were capable of at the time. Dad and I are actually pretty close now. I'll leave that for another post (blog, whatever) another day...
Remember I said something about Dad thinking he was raising himself? Well, Toni did that too. She superimposed how she behaved as a child/teenager on Heidi. Now, Heidi, that's your story and I don't want to steal your thunder if you get to the point where you write your story, but I do need to say that this, eventually, did not work out well.
So through these secondary school years, things were mostly normal. Yeah Dad was overzealous and yeah Toni felt jealous of her step-daugher, but they cared and did the best they could at the time. They were focused more on being parents than they were in Richmond Beach, and they were getting better at it. As an adult, I especially feel for Toni. She never had children of her own and to this day, I don't think she understands the care that's necessary from day 1. I'm not supposed to have that sort of knowledge that one of my parents does. It doesn't seem right... But it is what it is. Toni got us when I was 10 and Heidi 5 and these days, she doesn't really know what to do with Sam when we're up there.
So I'm going to get back to the bio part of this bio... About this time, let's go ahead and say 8th grade now... I started to really get into band. It was close though! I spent the summer of 7th grade with my Dad's cousin Andy at a horse training ranch in Monroe. It was fun, I got pretty strong (for a scrawny 12 year old), I got paid for cleaning horse stalls, and I could have easily slipped into that scene. Something else came up though...I'll get there in a paragraph or two. Most of the popular kids in band were figuring out it was hard to be good and dropping out for easier things like sports. I got new glasses (and then broke 'em goofing around in PE and had to wear prescription sunglasses for the next two years, but they were still better than that damn picture!) and I started actually meeting people in all my new normal activities. In particular there was Boy Scouts... I didn't really make many friends in my troop, but I do remember seeing another new kid (this was back in 7th) at Marysville Middle school with one of those red wool boy scout coats. I asked him what troop he was in and was he new at MMS. He was new, and his old troop was in Everett. His name was Lonnie. We actually were Beavis and Butthead. It was that bad. I think this is going to turn into a part 5...jeebus...So much happened before Lonnie and I started causing trouble, mostly for ourselves...
The summer after 8th grade Heidi and I spent a few weeks with Mom. She had been living with my Uncle Tony and Aunt Tonja. They were keeping Mom on the straight and narrow. They had (have actually, it's still there) a "cabin" on Anderson island. It's in quotes because it was a brand spanky new house on a lake. Frikkin' Rad. Mom took us out there. This my first summer of "Oh! Girls! WOAH GIRLS ARE COOL." It was about that bad. I think I was getting more normal. Except for those damn sunglasses...
In 9th grade I broke my glasses for team try outs for baseball when I threw off the catchers mask. I didn't make the team because I missed a day of try-outs. That got Dad motivated to FINALLY get me contacts. After two years of being called "shades" by everyone in the damn school. That was attention no middle school kid EVER wants. That year, I also discovered Drum & Bugle Corps. Now it was on. I found what I was going to do. The Seattle Cascades was when I discovered what I wanted to do in life. Lucky for me, I was 14 when i found it. I remember my first camp at the Bingo hall in Shoreline. The building housed about 150 old people that smoked like chimney's that were on fire every weeknight, and then we went in on the weekends to play brass instruments. Nice. As and adult and music educator I look back on this and say WTF WERE YOU THINKING to the adults that were leading the group. I also remember an instructor telling us we were going to learn to march backwards. I said "why do we need to march backwards?" He got this look of "Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into by taking this job." That was good times! Seattle Cascades 1993 "Showboat!"
I'm getting into the normal stuff now, so it's probably not as interesting =) I don't care! It was my life and I'm writing it for myself and my kids! I have to keep that in mind so I don't make my autobiography into a crappy soap opera... My recollections of my life. It's also easier to joke about and make fun of when it's not so damn serious! I said I wasn't going to write a book...I think I did lie. Next stop, high school... ah crap... Girls. =)
Me (part 3)
Ok I said I wasn't going to ACTUALLY write a book, but maybe I lied... So my Mom drops us off with Dad and Toni in August of '88. The next year I was in 5th grade. I have to honestly say that I have NO idea how things went for Heidi that year, because it was pretty horrible for me. In Renton, I had figured out to not get made fun off, I had figured out who and when to fight (and who to NOT fight), where to stay away from, and all those things you learn as a kid, but don't really realize you know. Street smarts is what I'm saying. So Dad lived in Richmond Beach and my school was Syre Elementary in the Shoreline school district. So the first syllable of my neighborhood, it was "Rich." I went from a pretty rough neighborhood, to normal, intact, well to do, upper middle class kids. They acted fairly different, to say the least. I did NOT fit in well. Even my teacher had problems with me, and even not knowing how to adjust, I was a smart kid. I didn't like him much either, but not because he was generally a bad person, but because he didn't know what to do with a ghetto kid. Dude needed some professional development as we say in the teaching field! That's all, and I can forgive that. The kids there however, were ruthless!! I got made fun of for new things, learned about gossip (and not in a good way), got suspended once for my potty mouth, had other kids parents ban me from their house... etc etc... but honestly, I was confused as hell why I was getting in all this trouble! It was all bizniss as usual for me...
So school was traumatic, but that's the same for every kid. At home with Dad, it wasn't much different. So imagine if you will that you have two kids that you do love, but don't get to see very much. Then imagine that you find them on your doorstep one morning. It's a little different than seeing them every other weekend. Dad and Toni were NOT prepared. Our house was a 2 bedroom shack, with half the house made from the bodies of two buses. At one point later that school year, Dad was in the living room doing some re-modelling, we were in our room. He yells "TYSON, HEIDI GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW!!!" We run through the living room and he's on a ladder holding the ceiling up!!! We got out of the house. He came after the ceiling fell down, NOT on him. Whew! But that's the house we were in... Back to when we got there... Dad had a dealer friend living in the back room, and Dad kind of had to kick him out, so Heidi and I could have a room. I'm not sure exactly the sorts of activities that Dad and Toni were up to, they hid it a bit better than Mom did, but I'm suspicious that it still involved drugs. Dad pretty quickly decided that if he had his kids, he should probably stop dealing and bringing that danger around us, to his credit he did at the end of the school year.
On the path to being parents there were still mistakes that Dad and Toni made. Toni is also a very passionate person who has some childhood issues of outright physical abuse from her step dad. The way she deals with her problems, at least back then, was not the healthiest and the way her and my Dad fought (and still fight!) make's me REALLY uncomfortable. The added stress of two kids that they were expecting in a year or two did not help them. It was a responsibility they weren't ready for. There was one time Heidi and I went to see "The Land Before Time" at a movie theater a couple miles down the street. We went by ourselves and when the movie was over we were supposed to call on the pay phone and dad would come get us. We did that. No answer. Again. No answer. We snuck into "Ernest Saves Christmas" I thought Dad would be mad that I hadn't called and finally come get us. No answer. We watched Land Before Time again. Phone was of the hook. Ernest again, off the hook. I can't remember what finally happened, but obviously, we did get home. I think I called my Grandma Pam (paternal Grandma) and she sent Grandpa Danny to sober Dad up. I'm betting it wasn't a pleasant conversation...
Near the end of the school year, Dad got a bug in his bonnet about not having us grow up around gangs. Like I said a few paragraphs ago, I realize now as an adult that he was starting to make an effort to get us away from his past life. I thought it was silly at the time, my cousins dealt with gangs in Renton, there weren't any (at the time) in Shoreline... "What's Dad all weird about" (maybe his drug buddies? Maybe?)? Whatever the case, we moved to Marysville, WA. Dad bought a house that was pretty trashed and we cleaned and fixed it up quick. So in Marysville, I found that white trash is not very different from ghetto, they just speak a different language and listen to different (but just as crappy) music. Oh! I forgot! It might not seem important yet, but Syre had a GREAT beginning band program. Praise Bob.
Anyway, school starts in the "Ville." 6th grade at Marysville Middle School for me, Kindergarten at Shoultes elementary for Heids. Toni had a trip planned to see her friend in Florence, OR the second weekend of September. It seemed like the pressure was on for Dad to not screw up a weekend with us alone. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?) he did, screw it up that is. Grandma Pam told us if anything happened to give her a call. So Friday when Dad didn't come home, I did.
So this is where I started to learn that things hadn't been right for me and Heidi for a LONG time. Grandma came up and made a big deal about Dad being gone, about us moving again, and about how I've done a good job with Heidi. She made us "Kid Coffee" and brought us back to her house. In retrospect, I think this was the opportunity she had been waiting for for a few years. Her and Grandpa Danny had given Dad an ultimatum to get his shit together in this move, and if he didn't, she would be taking us for the school year. What's ironic about this whole story is that when I got up in the morning and went out into the backyard (for whatever reason a kid would do that...) I found Dad sleeping on a hammock in Grandma's backyard. I went back in and told Grandma that I found Dad in the backyard. I've never actually made my Grandma angry, but I bet she "ripped off his arm and beat him with the bloody end of it." That was her joke way of saying she was gonna let someone have it. I think Dad got there that day. Proverbially, of course... So Heidi and I lived with Grandma Pam for a year. We had easy rules (Grandma tells me now that I was afraid to break any rules at all because I thought she might get rid of us, probably pretty accurate), we had consistent bedtimes, a routine, schedules... no chaos is what I'm saying. Grandma tells me I finally felt comfortable enough to get in trouble (like any normal 12 year old) around February. Whatever the case, Dad finally had the time and motivation to get his shit together and prepare mentally and financially to be a parent, and we moved back in with him in July. Toni didn't know what she was in for, still. So it was a little bit more difficult with her, but I'm getting ahead of myself now.
Back to Marysville we go!
So school was traumatic, but that's the same for every kid. At home with Dad, it wasn't much different. So imagine if you will that you have two kids that you do love, but don't get to see very much. Then imagine that you find them on your doorstep one morning. It's a little different than seeing them every other weekend. Dad and Toni were NOT prepared. Our house was a 2 bedroom shack, with half the house made from the bodies of two buses. At one point later that school year, Dad was in the living room doing some re-modelling, we were in our room. He yells "TYSON, HEIDI GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW!!!" We run through the living room and he's on a ladder holding the ceiling up!!! We got out of the house. He came after the ceiling fell down, NOT on him. Whew! But that's the house we were in... Back to when we got there... Dad had a dealer friend living in the back room, and Dad kind of had to kick him out, so Heidi and I could have a room. I'm not sure exactly the sorts of activities that Dad and Toni were up to, they hid it a bit better than Mom did, but I'm suspicious that it still involved drugs. Dad pretty quickly decided that if he had his kids, he should probably stop dealing and bringing that danger around us, to his credit he did at the end of the school year.
On the path to being parents there were still mistakes that Dad and Toni made. Toni is also a very passionate person who has some childhood issues of outright physical abuse from her step dad. The way she deals with her problems, at least back then, was not the healthiest and the way her and my Dad fought (and still fight!) make's me REALLY uncomfortable. The added stress of two kids that they were expecting in a year or two did not help them. It was a responsibility they weren't ready for. There was one time Heidi and I went to see "The Land Before Time" at a movie theater a couple miles down the street. We went by ourselves and when the movie was over we were supposed to call on the pay phone and dad would come get us. We did that. No answer. Again. No answer. We snuck into "Ernest Saves Christmas" I thought Dad would be mad that I hadn't called and finally come get us. No answer. We watched Land Before Time again. Phone was of the hook. Ernest again, off the hook. I can't remember what finally happened, but obviously, we did get home. I think I called my Grandma Pam (paternal Grandma) and she sent Grandpa Danny to sober Dad up. I'm betting it wasn't a pleasant conversation...
Near the end of the school year, Dad got a bug in his bonnet about not having us grow up around gangs. Like I said a few paragraphs ago, I realize now as an adult that he was starting to make an effort to get us away from his past life. I thought it was silly at the time, my cousins dealt with gangs in Renton, there weren't any (at the time) in Shoreline... "What's Dad all weird about" (maybe his drug buddies? Maybe?)? Whatever the case, we moved to Marysville, WA. Dad bought a house that was pretty trashed and we cleaned and fixed it up quick. So in Marysville, I found that white trash is not very different from ghetto, they just speak a different language and listen to different (but just as crappy) music. Oh! I forgot! It might not seem important yet, but Syre had a GREAT beginning band program. Praise Bob.
Anyway, school starts in the "Ville." 6th grade at Marysville Middle School for me, Kindergarten at Shoultes elementary for Heids. Toni had a trip planned to see her friend in Florence, OR the second weekend of September. It seemed like the pressure was on for Dad to not screw up a weekend with us alone. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?) he did, screw it up that is. Grandma Pam told us if anything happened to give her a call. So Friday when Dad didn't come home, I did.
So this is where I started to learn that things hadn't been right for me and Heidi for a LONG time. Grandma came up and made a big deal about Dad being gone, about us moving again, and about how I've done a good job with Heidi. She made us "Kid Coffee" and brought us back to her house. In retrospect, I think this was the opportunity she had been waiting for for a few years. Her and Grandpa Danny had given Dad an ultimatum to get his shit together in this move, and if he didn't, she would be taking us for the school year. What's ironic about this whole story is that when I got up in the morning and went out into the backyard (for whatever reason a kid would do that...) I found Dad sleeping on a hammock in Grandma's backyard. I went back in and told Grandma that I found Dad in the backyard. I've never actually made my Grandma angry, but I bet she "ripped off his arm and beat him with the bloody end of it." That was her joke way of saying she was gonna let someone have it. I think Dad got there that day. Proverbially, of course... So Heidi and I lived with Grandma Pam for a year. We had easy rules (Grandma tells me now that I was afraid to break any rules at all because I thought she might get rid of us, probably pretty accurate), we had consistent bedtimes, a routine, schedules... no chaos is what I'm saying. Grandma tells me I finally felt comfortable enough to get in trouble (like any normal 12 year old) around February. Whatever the case, Dad finally had the time and motivation to get his shit together and prepare mentally and financially to be a parent, and we moved back in with him in July. Toni didn't know what she was in for, still. So it was a little bit more difficult with her, but I'm getting ahead of myself now.
Back to Marysville we go!
Friday, February 24, 2012
Me (part 2)
Ok... I did a little bit of editing on that last one so it might be a little easier to understand now. I remember reading Stephen King's non-fiction book "On Writing" (yes, I've read EVERYTHING by Stephen King, most of it twice) where he talks about the "work" part of writing, and something about how he doesn't do it at night. I see why... I couldn't sleep for a couple hours after writing all that yesterday, my brain was just going and going and going... but I don't get much choice here & now, so there it is! Hopefully 5 hours of sleep last night and a couple beers tonight will assist with sleeping... Maybe I should write that as a disclaimer? I had no more than three beers in the process of writing tonight's blog post. There. My claim is dissed. =)
So I left off at Kennydale and in the Tiffany housing projects. I was getting old enough that I was starting to understand that what was going on wasn't really right. Some of the specifics I remember are cleaning up large puddles of vomit off of 26 stairs after a big party night. Another party night I came down to several nekkid people passed out on the floor of the living room surrounded by some nasty party leftovers... pipes for several different smoke-able drugs, booze bottles all over, a funky smell that I now associate with middle school boy locker rooms and the bathrooms at dance clubs. In general though, I enjoyed that time of my life. It was exciting there! Cops arresting neighbors weekly, the blatant segregation of ethnicities into different blocks, running into blocks where you didn't belong and upsetting the neighbors, 4th of July was BLAST (haha I'm punny!). The whole neighborhood would save up for the entire year to throw away hundreds of dollars on the beer and fireworks that night! The next day all of us kids would go outside and find all the leftovers, what the Army calls UXO (unexploded ordinance). We'd gather it up and light off what we could and jury rig the rest to blow up. We all got our rotten fruits from the fridge and blew things up, one year I remember someone left a TV on the street for a garbage pick up and we could NOT blow that damn thing up!
I think if you're a normal functioning adult and/or a parent you might understand my slight, yet scathing sarcasm here (HOLY SHIT I'M LUCKY TO HAVE ALL MY DAMN FINGERS!!!!!!!!!!). I would NEVER allow Sam to do the things I did there. In fact I would probably actually beat the crap out of him and ground him for a month!! Better that than blowing off two fingers (no, I probably wouldn't beat the crap out of him, but I sure would want to! Scaring me like that!)! So needless to say, while I may have enjoyed myself, the potential for things to go horribly wrong was there on many different levels. I don't know why, but I always made the choice to do what was right or what was challenging, and not necessarily what was easy. I do that even today, much to Tina's dismay =). I have so many students that I remember that didn't make the same choices I did, and now when even a nice, hard working guy like me (with a Master's Degree!) finds it tough to get a job, they regret their decisions.
Back on track there Sterne... So these good times came to an end when my Mom started dating this fine gentleman named Dave Pudwill. I was in 4th grade and that year I got straight A's in school (and my pogo stick record was in the 700's)! Pudwill. I say "fine gentleman" with that scathing sarcasm again. Pudwill was a prick. I tend to generally think positively of most human beings and find what good I can and do my best to accept the rest of that person without judgement. I do this consciously and often with much effort. There are few people that I generally and wholly dislike. With that said, I did not like this person. So there are some things that I am not comfortable sharing, because it's not really about me, but suffice it to say that eventually, it came to this, Mom woke up me and Heidi late one night and told us to grab a bag of stuff, we were leaving in 5 minutes. This was summer after 4th grade, before 5th. I was old enough to stay up late and watch late night Cinemax (pirated, of course...) and know what it meant (Cinemax in the 80's, c'mon...you know what I'm saying right?), old enough to tell Mrs. Taclay, my 4th grade teacher, that my Mom was doing drugs. Old enough to call CPS on my own Mom, and old enough to get up everyday make my own breakfast and get to school (everyday, on my own, you damn Fort kids). I was old enough to know that when Mom woke us up, something was SERIOUSLY wrong. She didn't think anything of it about making me clean up her vomit, her party shrapnel, do the shopping on my own, put myself to bed and get myself up in the morning, catch the bus to school, decide of my own accord to go to church and bible study, those weren't big things. If this woman is waking me up, some bad shit just went down. Dave Pudwill was shot in the head multiple times outside of our apartment. Heidi and I didn't see this nor did we suffer any immediate consequences. At the time, I thought it had to do with drugs. Now, as an adult, I know why, but then, it was just more chaos. That night we stayed at one of my Mom's ex-boyfriends apartments a couple miles away. I woke up the next morning to this dude completely nekkid passed out on his floor while my sister and I slept on his couch. All I could think to do was to keep Heidi asleep, cover him, and then wake him up when Heidi woke up.
Wow I'm getting really angry right now. I guess I hadn't processed this as much as I'd thought.
I hadn't planned on making a part three, but I think I need to finish this chapter and stop for the night... That week my Mom dropped us off for our weekend with Dad and his soon-to-be second wife Toni. When she dropped us off, Mom said something to my Dad to the effect of "I can't do this, I'm going to rehab, here are the custody papers and they're yours until I can handle this again." That's not what Dad tells me she said, but I know how that dude can exaggerate... So that's my best guess. Whatever the case, Heidi and I got out of the pan into the fire. It was summer of 1988. I was 10 and Heidi was 5.
Time to finish beer number three tonight. Sheesh!
So I left off at Kennydale and in the Tiffany housing projects. I was getting old enough that I was starting to understand that what was going on wasn't really right. Some of the specifics I remember are cleaning up large puddles of vomit off of 26 stairs after a big party night. Another party night I came down to several nekkid people passed out on the floor of the living room surrounded by some nasty party leftovers... pipes for several different smoke-able drugs, booze bottles all over, a funky smell that I now associate with middle school boy locker rooms and the bathrooms at dance clubs. In general though, I enjoyed that time of my life. It was exciting there! Cops arresting neighbors weekly, the blatant segregation of ethnicities into different blocks, running into blocks where you didn't belong and upsetting the neighbors, 4th of July was BLAST (haha I'm punny!). The whole neighborhood would save up for the entire year to throw away hundreds of dollars on the beer and fireworks that night! The next day all of us kids would go outside and find all the leftovers, what the Army calls UXO (unexploded ordinance). We'd gather it up and light off what we could and jury rig the rest to blow up. We all got our rotten fruits from the fridge and blew things up, one year I remember someone left a TV on the street for a garbage pick up and we could NOT blow that damn thing up!
I think if you're a normal functioning adult and/or a parent you might understand my slight, yet scathing sarcasm here (HOLY SHIT I'M LUCKY TO HAVE ALL MY DAMN FINGERS!!!!!!!!!!). I would NEVER allow Sam to do the things I did there. In fact I would probably actually beat the crap out of him and ground him for a month!! Better that than blowing off two fingers (no, I probably wouldn't beat the crap out of him, but I sure would want to! Scaring me like that!)! So needless to say, while I may have enjoyed myself, the potential for things to go horribly wrong was there on many different levels. I don't know why, but I always made the choice to do what was right or what was challenging, and not necessarily what was easy. I do that even today, much to Tina's dismay =). I have so many students that I remember that didn't make the same choices I did, and now when even a nice, hard working guy like me (with a Master's Degree!) finds it tough to get a job, they regret their decisions.
Back on track there Sterne... So these good times came to an end when my Mom started dating this fine gentleman named Dave Pudwill. I was in 4th grade and that year I got straight A's in school (and my pogo stick record was in the 700's)! Pudwill. I say "fine gentleman" with that scathing sarcasm again. Pudwill was a prick. I tend to generally think positively of most human beings and find what good I can and do my best to accept the rest of that person without judgement. I do this consciously and often with much effort. There are few people that I generally and wholly dislike. With that said, I did not like this person. So there are some things that I am not comfortable sharing, because it's not really about me, but suffice it to say that eventually, it came to this, Mom woke up me and Heidi late one night and told us to grab a bag of stuff, we were leaving in 5 minutes. This was summer after 4th grade, before 5th. I was old enough to stay up late and watch late night Cinemax (pirated, of course...) and know what it meant (Cinemax in the 80's, c'mon...you know what I'm saying right?), old enough to tell Mrs. Taclay, my 4th grade teacher, that my Mom was doing drugs. Old enough to call CPS on my own Mom, and old enough to get up everyday make my own breakfast and get to school (everyday, on my own, you damn Fort kids). I was old enough to know that when Mom woke us up, something was SERIOUSLY wrong. She didn't think anything of it about making me clean up her vomit, her party shrapnel, do the shopping on my own, put myself to bed and get myself up in the morning, catch the bus to school, decide of my own accord to go to church and bible study, those weren't big things. If this woman is waking me up, some bad shit just went down. Dave Pudwill was shot in the head multiple times outside of our apartment. Heidi and I didn't see this nor did we suffer any immediate consequences. At the time, I thought it had to do with drugs. Now, as an adult, I know why, but then, it was just more chaos. That night we stayed at one of my Mom's ex-boyfriends apartments a couple miles away. I woke up the next morning to this dude completely nekkid passed out on his floor while my sister and I slept on his couch. All I could think to do was to keep Heidi asleep, cover him, and then wake him up when Heidi woke up.
Wow I'm getting really angry right now. I guess I hadn't processed this as much as I'd thought.
I hadn't planned on making a part three, but I think I need to finish this chapter and stop for the night... That week my Mom dropped us off for our weekend with Dad and his soon-to-be second wife Toni. When she dropped us off, Mom said something to my Dad to the effect of "I can't do this, I'm going to rehab, here are the custody papers and they're yours until I can handle this again." That's not what Dad tells me she said, but I know how that dude can exaggerate... So that's my best guess. Whatever the case, Heidi and I got out of the pan into the fire. It was summer of 1988. I was 10 and Heidi was 5.
Time to finish beer number three tonight. Sheesh!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Me (part 1)
So now that I've established my reasoning for writing, mostly for myself and my family, I suppose the next logical step is to give something of an autobiography. This won't be complete like a book, I hope, if you read the first one, you probably get the idea that I named my blog "Mindbarf" for a reason. My wife also requested that I use paragraphs...SIGH. FINE.
I will try to explain my life sort of a timeline fashion (I was thinking of doing this in a subject manner, ie, parents, relationships, sports... but I won't be able to get my stream of consciousness going like that, so basic timeline it is), and I guess I should also say that this is what I remember. One of my favorite quotes about history is "History is Bunk!" from Henry Ford, what I mean to say with that quote is that I was a kid for most of it, and some of it was a little traumatic. Like seriously. I had some crazy shit happen in my childhood. So it might be difficult to read if you're my family. It's not meant to be that way, it is what it is.
(brief break for a goodnight video chat with Sam and Tina! Technology is really friggin' cool sometimes. Sometimes not, like with Powerpoint in the Army. Not cool man. Not cool.)
I was born January 28th 1978, my mom was 23 and my dad was 22. They had been married for approximately 6 months at the time of my birth. Yes, I was an "oops." My mom once told me that my cousin Matt and Jason were so cute, that she wanted her own. Silly her! As a child I had constant ear infections, which meant many long days of me screaming at her cause my damne ears hurt. My Dad was working as a surgical technician for Harborview burns unit. They met at work. Dad was having a rough time at his job because he was essentially peeling burned skin off of people as the healed. They weren't happy to see him and he had an especially rough go with younger kids that would scream at the sight of him. Overall, it was pretty rough for him and there wasn't the support there for him like those positions have now. So he quit and started working construction. Which then meant we moved a lot to accommodate where he worked. Oh, I didn't mention that my Dad took solace in mostly some good Mary J, Mom thought that was just fine and went along for the ride. Actually, later in life I was told that I was conceived while they were high on LSD, and I was named after a species of Marijuana called Thai Stick. Thai Stick: Tyson. Ya' Dig? Ok moving on... So may parents are/were both passionate people, both prone to exaggeration, and both ridiculously stubborn, and in their younger years more reactionary than communicative. All this to say that the marriage didn't last long. This part is fuzzy for me, but I think they officially separated when I was 2 or 3, but that didn't really mean the end of things... No way! Not by a long shot. Dad got into dealing, Mom got into some heavier stuff and they "rolled" in the same circles back then. I remember once driving over the ship canal bridge in Seattle and my Mom did a line (of Cocaine, through a rolled dollar bill, how cliche?) off of the steering wheel. I said "what's that Mom?" She said "It's my medicine." I was 3 or 4 at the time, so, ok. It's Mom's medicine. Good 'nuff.
Not too long after that my sister was born. I was 5. I know what you're thinking... "Tyson, you said they separated when you were 2 or 3, and your sister was born when you were 5?! Dude, you're math is effed!" Nope. They divorced and then decided they wanted back together, then realized they didn't, went apart, then missed each other and got together, pissed each other off and split apart... etc etc... rinse & repeat. Now! Here's where it starts to get interesting! Heidi was born and for about a year things were going well. I don't know what happened but I remember a tiny house we lived in down the street from my cousin Jenny's, I think it was Benson Hill road, Dad wasn't dealing at the time and he was working construction. Everything was going well. One day I went with him to my Grandpa Ernie's and we installed an air conditioner there. I was with him the entire day. We got home around 7, so kinda' late. Mom was LIVID and accused him of being with another female for most of the day, but he had me with him that whole day! So we came in, and Mom grabbed a bowl by the sink that had a knife in it and threw it at us, well at Dad, I was just next to him. This precipitated the last night of my "nuclear family." At one point after I had gone to bed Dad yelled "Ty come look, your Mom is trying to stab me!" And she was. They calmed down after that long enough for us to go back to sleep, but started it up again later that night and Dad ended up going to the hospital with bleach in his eyes. Now, I'm writing this like it was just my Mom that was the aggressor. As an adult and knowing my Dad, I'm 100% positive that was NOT the case, but all I can speak for is what I saw.
After that, Mom moved with me and Heidi. I believe we stayed with Grandma Bev (maternal Grandma) for a few days and then started moving around and around. I remember it by the schools I went to that year. I was in second grade so about 6-7 I think, second grade for sure. Sierra Heights Elementary elementary to start the year (I was there in first grade there too, Mrs. Balka, talk about a battle axe teacher! WOW). Cascade Heights, elementary (when I was at Grandma's house) Benson Hill Elementary was next, then Talbot Hill Elementary, and then Kennydale Elementary is where we settled in when we moved into the Tiffany housing projects in the Renton Highlands. Yes. Housing Projects. So as an adult when I've said to students "I've got more ghetto in me than you have in your left foot." I actually meant it. At least at FV. Chicago they had me, and my school in Seattle was actually pretty close to the projects I grew up in...a blog for another day...the teaching one that I'm planning...Anyway! Back on topic here...
I don't remember all the places that we lived necessarily, but I do remember one house down in the swamplands around where I-405 and hwy 162 intersect. This house was built on stilts and it felt to me like it moved quite a bit. QUITE a bit. I had a metal bed frame that I could hear and feel rats chewing on the mattress underneath when i was trying to sleep. I got a stereo cassette player that christmas and a Journey tape. I listened to it as I went to sleep every night to cover up the sound. A couple other places that I don't remember, and then the projects and Kennydale Elementary. One of these days I'm going to have to go back and find the addresses to all the places I lived...Anyway, back on topic again. We stayed in the projects for I think 3 years. C2629 Sunset Ave, Renton, WA 98???. I was old enough that I didn't care about being ignored by Mom, but I was old enough to remember the crazy shit that was happening in my life, but still young enough to not know that it wasn't normal and what was happening to me and Heidi is now legally considered child neglect, and abuse.
I think with that cliffhanger (for the two people that stumble upon this) I'll stop for the night. As I've said, my plan for this is to have something for my kids to read about me when they become curious. If anyone else sees it, I don't want pity or anything. This is what happened. That's all. I'm a big boy now and my problems are normal now. I'm unique, just like everyone else! More next time, same Bat time, same Bat channel.
I will try to explain my life sort of a timeline fashion (I was thinking of doing this in a subject manner, ie, parents, relationships, sports... but I won't be able to get my stream of consciousness going like that, so basic timeline it is), and I guess I should also say that this is what I remember. One of my favorite quotes about history is "History is Bunk!" from Henry Ford, what I mean to say with that quote is that I was a kid for most of it, and some of it was a little traumatic. Like seriously. I had some crazy shit happen in my childhood. So it might be difficult to read if you're my family. It's not meant to be that way, it is what it is.
(brief break for a goodnight video chat with Sam and Tina! Technology is really friggin' cool sometimes. Sometimes not, like with Powerpoint in the Army. Not cool man. Not cool.)
I was born January 28th 1978, my mom was 23 and my dad was 22. They had been married for approximately 6 months at the time of my birth. Yes, I was an "oops." My mom once told me that my cousin Matt and Jason were so cute, that she wanted her own. Silly her! As a child I had constant ear infections, which meant many long days of me screaming at her cause my damne ears hurt. My Dad was working as a surgical technician for Harborview burns unit. They met at work. Dad was having a rough time at his job because he was essentially peeling burned skin off of people as the healed. They weren't happy to see him and he had an especially rough go with younger kids that would scream at the sight of him. Overall, it was pretty rough for him and there wasn't the support there for him like those positions have now. So he quit and started working construction. Which then meant we moved a lot to accommodate where he worked. Oh, I didn't mention that my Dad took solace in mostly some good Mary J, Mom thought that was just fine and went along for the ride. Actually, later in life I was told that I was conceived while they were high on LSD, and I was named after a species of Marijuana called Thai Stick. Thai Stick: Tyson. Ya' Dig? Ok moving on... So may parents are/were both passionate people, both prone to exaggeration, and both ridiculously stubborn, and in their younger years more reactionary than communicative. All this to say that the marriage didn't last long. This part is fuzzy for me, but I think they officially separated when I was 2 or 3, but that didn't really mean the end of things... No way! Not by a long shot. Dad got into dealing, Mom got into some heavier stuff and they "rolled" in the same circles back then. I remember once driving over the ship canal bridge in Seattle and my Mom did a line (of Cocaine, through a rolled dollar bill, how cliche?) off of the steering wheel. I said "what's that Mom?" She said "It's my medicine." I was 3 or 4 at the time, so, ok. It's Mom's medicine. Good 'nuff.
Not too long after that my sister was born. I was 5. I know what you're thinking... "Tyson, you said they separated when you were 2 or 3, and your sister was born when you were 5?! Dude, you're math is effed!" Nope. They divorced and then decided they wanted back together, then realized they didn't, went apart, then missed each other and got together, pissed each other off and split apart... etc etc... rinse & repeat. Now! Here's where it starts to get interesting! Heidi was born and for about a year things were going well. I don't know what happened but I remember a tiny house we lived in down the street from my cousin Jenny's, I think it was Benson Hill road, Dad wasn't dealing at the time and he was working construction. Everything was going well. One day I went with him to my Grandpa Ernie's and we installed an air conditioner there. I was with him the entire day. We got home around 7, so kinda' late. Mom was LIVID and accused him of being with another female for most of the day, but he had me with him that whole day! So we came in, and Mom grabbed a bowl by the sink that had a knife in it and threw it at us, well at Dad, I was just next to him. This precipitated the last night of my "nuclear family." At one point after I had gone to bed Dad yelled "Ty come look, your Mom is trying to stab me!" And she was. They calmed down after that long enough for us to go back to sleep, but started it up again later that night and Dad ended up going to the hospital with bleach in his eyes. Now, I'm writing this like it was just my Mom that was the aggressor. As an adult and knowing my Dad, I'm 100% positive that was NOT the case, but all I can speak for is what I saw.
After that, Mom moved with me and Heidi. I believe we stayed with Grandma Bev (maternal Grandma) for a few days and then started moving around and around. I remember it by the schools I went to that year. I was in second grade so about 6-7 I think, second grade for sure. Sierra Heights Elementary elementary to start the year (I was there in first grade there too, Mrs. Balka, talk about a battle axe teacher! WOW). Cascade Heights, elementary (when I was at Grandma's house) Benson Hill Elementary was next, then Talbot Hill Elementary, and then Kennydale Elementary is where we settled in when we moved into the Tiffany housing projects in the Renton Highlands. Yes. Housing Projects. So as an adult when I've said to students "I've got more ghetto in me than you have in your left foot." I actually meant it. At least at FV. Chicago they had me, and my school in Seattle was actually pretty close to the projects I grew up in...a blog for another day...the teaching one that I'm planning...Anyway! Back on topic here...
I don't remember all the places that we lived necessarily, but I do remember one house down in the swamplands around where I-405 and hwy 162 intersect. This house was built on stilts and it felt to me like it moved quite a bit. QUITE a bit. I had a metal bed frame that I could hear and feel rats chewing on the mattress underneath when i was trying to sleep. I got a stereo cassette player that christmas and a Journey tape. I listened to it as I went to sleep every night to cover up the sound. A couple other places that I don't remember, and then the projects and Kennydale Elementary. One of these days I'm going to have to go back and find the addresses to all the places I lived...Anyway, back on topic again. We stayed in the projects for I think 3 years. C2629 Sunset Ave, Renton, WA 98???. I was old enough that I didn't care about being ignored by Mom, but I was old enough to remember the crazy shit that was happening in my life, but still young enough to not know that it wasn't normal and what was happening to me and Heidi is now legally considered child neglect, and abuse.
I think with that cliffhanger (for the two people that stumble upon this) I'll stop for the night. As I've said, my plan for this is to have something for my kids to read about me when they become curious. If anyone else sees it, I don't want pity or anything. This is what happened. That's all. I'm a big boy now and my problems are normal now. I'm unique, just like everyone else! More next time, same Bat time, same Bat channel.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Showering
Hi. This is an experiment, as I'm sure most first time bloggers claim. I titled this "Mindbarf on Showering" because I think in the shower. It's not REALLY about showering you dirty people (that could be phrased way differently! I'll get to that...also, wow! A pun! I didn't plan it that way, but hey! I'll roll with it...) it's about my thoughts. So here's my thoughts about blogging... I have lots of things that I think about, and I like to believe that I think about them deeply and carefully, and I make my decisions in life thoughtfully, when given the chance of course. I once thought that being a teacher, I could share my thoughts with younger folks that could benefit from my life experiences. What I learned from that is that most people don't give a shit what I have to say. So what I used to think about blogging is, if no one gives a shit about what I have to say, why would anyone give a shit about what I have to write? Why waste my time doing that?! It's not that I wasn't a good teacher BTW, I was damn good at it. It's that many of my students didn't have the mental/emotional capacity or physical means to logistically commit what I wanted them to commit to my cause (that being music). I taught in some rough places and I have some stories about that! Maybe another time on another blog (assuming I keep it up, of course...) when I figure out how to tell those stories without sounding like I'm complaining. Do you see why I'm calling this Mindbarf yet? =) So some of my thoughts on blogging now are, while no one else may still give me a second thought, or first for that matter, on what I have to say, I can do this for myself. I can do this for my son and second child (gender unknown still). They will one day want to listen to me, and to hear my story. They'll be in their 30's most likely. That's when I started wanting to listen to my Dad again, with some exceptions of course... (another blog again) I also got very interested in my personal history, and if I do keep this up, I'll have something concrete to send down with me. I might have to print some of this at some point I guess... My grandparents generation had letters to track their history. My parents generation doesn't really have anything as far as I know, but we have this opportunity and maybe I should take it?! Ok. So I decided to do it. Now here's my questions: Do I write like this particular mindbarf? Where it's generally stream of consciousness writing (literally, mindbarf... ya see...?). Do I write about my thoughts on things that might upset people close to me? I feel strongly about things like religion and politics and while my thoughts are nothing monumental or groundbreaking, if I write my words precisely to what I think and/or feel, they may upset my close friends, family, and even my wife! Do I write with no regard and publish publicly or do I write for myself privately? Do I soften what I have to say and keep it public? Do write in such a way that I'm giving advice? I've read a couple blogs that were about parenting and written as advice columns and frankly, I thought those guys were full of poo...there's the other thing! Do I use my potty mouth? I did earlier, but just then I used "poo!" I am a Soldier, I can swear like one... I also have a master's degree in education (music education) and I know how to write with a more scholarly tone as well. My sister Heidi suggested blogging to me. Do I write on my memories of childhood knowing that it might upset you Heids? I don't want to do that. That year when we weren't talking really sucked. A lot. But I had some very intense experiences as a child and writing about it (finally) could lead me to realizations and growth, as well as give me a place I can send people when they question my reasons for doing things or don't understand me. That sounds pretty cool actually, "I don't have the time to explain this to you, go read my blog!" That would be nice... Then there's even more important questions! Do I use Paragraphs!?!? Nah.... I can be pretty unforgiving with politics too. If I see a big picture thing, such as: It's not the government that's screwing you (I'm a Teacher and a Soldier, it's ME they're screwing!), it's large corporations that bought the government in the 80's and 90's and if you're too ignorant to see that, I might offend you. I probably just did. Oops. Obviously, there's more to that statement then the little bit right there, again, another blog for another day. My adult life has been pretty "interesting" too, a failed career a lost house... Do people really want to hear about my depressing career decisions? I don't really post about it on the facebooks because, "laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you're on your own you wuss." On the other hand, my marriage is really strong. Very strong (Until I blog about religion... Oyve!!! I will be in trouble then!). I'm also a damn good Father. Bad career but great family. I feel like that's a win for me, and my working days ain't over yet! BTW, losing the house may sound bad, but in the end, it was lucky for us that we did, and I'm glad to be free of that place. I still have a chance to make a career work. Maybe this Army thing will work out! So! In summary, lots to say, lots to think about, lots of people that I will potentially offend, Is this really a good idea?! I'll have time to do it for at least the next two weeks. I could tell you where I am, but then I'd have to kill you =) (Army training away from the Fam, but always OPSEC which = operational security). Good night y'all.
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