I left off in my last post with the highlights of my summer and in reflecting what I started to share the story won’t be complete with out the rain so to speak. The thought behind the title of this post actually was my stepsons although I think of him and love him as my own I even call him son. While sitting at his house sharing my story of the challenging situation I was in he commented that the cloud following me for the last couple of years had been relentless and dark indeed.
My car didn’t sell; I had to make a deal with a rather shady car dealer for a car and 1,200 dollars. The first car he gave me a 96 Ford Taurus Wagon died on its first voyage. My son and I had taken a trip to Idaho for a lottery ticket as my luck was just getting a bit better… So I thought, the transmission went as I pulled into the gas station/lottery shop. Not only did it go there was a gallon or so of transmission fluid all over the parking lot. It took six hours for help to arrive so my son and I enjoyed our time together took a walk and made the best of our situation.
I had picked up work from the temp place I had been working for then the checks started bouncing and well let’s just say that things didn’t go as planned. I held my head high and walked away seeking other employment. Luckily I got my first real decent prospect in a long time and after a six or so page application and a five page essay I landed a job at the VA hospital in Salt Lake. It’s a temporary position for around a year and pays better than I have been paid since being laid off as a carpenter in NY. This gift also has its price as now I am still far away from my children. It almost feels like a challenge to me my kids or this job, a hard choice after two years of temping just to eat and stay alive.
The car deal landed me a 1999 Chevy Cavalier a little hard on the eyes yet a solid car or so it seemed at the time. After a test drive with time growing short I loaded up the car with some clothes and my son with his clothes a “ghetto grill”, (a portable grilling device usually one pre loaded with charcoal) a cooler and no AC. We departed in the evening headed for Mooresville, North Carolina my son’s brother and his family lived there. We stopped in Fruita, Colorado for a nap and woke up with a tire almost flat there were at least three nails in the tire and the tire shops were not open for another three hours. I filled the tire with air and drove on knowing if worse came to worse I had a spare. An hour to Grand Junction or four hours to Denver we were on our way.
To some and even me for a wavering moment would ask why not just put my son on the plane and send him with three or four hundred dollars for school clothes for his sister and him. Sometimes we make promises that we are not meant to break for me this was an opportunity and a gift. My last few years I have learned to see things differently. I encourage everyone to stop and smell the flowers enjoy the beauty around them see what we have and what it brings. Flowers come in many forms as do treasures and treasured memories.
The Rocky Mountains are one of the planets true treasures; most never see them except in photos and as they fly over them. One place I like to stop is a rest stop called “No Name“it is in the bottom of the canyon along a bend in the Colorado River. A beautiful place to be indeed a place where Eagles fly and the fish leap out of the water sometimes so clean you can see them swimming here and there. The trees the majestic mountains and the peaceful feeling I get there make it one of my favorite places to think of while meditating. I have many such places and it is a gift to share with my son the places that bring calm to my sometimes stormy days. In fact by sharing these places they become brighter and more special through the memories. We stopped at several places like this along the way smelling the flowers and sharing the love between a father and his child.
Since my children were born they have eaten the majority of their meals grilled. One of my daughter’s first words was “MEAT” and not much later she would let you know if you were making the wrong meat. With a very loud and not so happy “bone Meat”. I add this to explain the ghetto grill we have for the last couple of years adapted to a grilled dinner at the park when we are together rather than fast food. It costs less and gives us time to chat and learn about cooking in any situation they will have a choice how they eat. We have had many a magical moment around the ghetto grill and my childrens friends sometimes want to come along not just for the food but the fun and love shared.
That is going to have to be it for part two so for now thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts and I hope we can all make positive changes and help make our world a better place.