A Moment In Time Became A Memory

Originally Posted 28 January 2013

Remembering yester-year seems to happen to me more often than not in my life lately. I don’t think I am trying to figure anything out; I don’t think I wish to re-live any specific event, but something seems to trigger a lot of reminiscent memories for me. Perhaps, as suggested by my wife, I have too much “down time” and my mind begins to wander. Maybe she is right; of course I will never admit that she might be right, that would be marital suicide. Just so happens that this story I will be telling shortly has it’s memory sparked quite a bit from different sources and for different reasons. It happens when the subject is brought up directly, mostly brought up by my father, it happens when someone asks or talks about my dayglo orange Volkswagen Thing, or about when my ex and I were inseparable while dating. It is all true, I did drive a VW Thing and we did date 3 years of high school, dated 2 years of me being in college, and we did get married, stayed married for 12 years, divorced finally, and she is now my ex. We were together for a long time I suppose, some might say, myself included, that we were never really meant to spend our entire life together, some might say we should have never been together in the first place. But, those are not the answers I seek to share here today. I have made some promises to some friends, one who is even a doctor, that I would share my own personal story of a bizarre trip to the emergency room way back in the summer of 1984. Unfortunately, I do not have a picture of any sort to share. Even if I did it might be just a wee bit too graphic. So, anyway, here we go.


Back when my ex was my girlfriend it wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven. I knew of her, but one could say she wasn’t my type. My freshman year in high school I “dated” a few different girls on a regular basis. Part of this was because I had a car and a driver’s license. Both of which were unheard of for a freshman at that time. How I got both is altogether a different story. We will leave it at the fact that I had both and they were my ticket to having more fun than the average freshman. In fact, not to sidetrack from the story, I lost my own virginity on the hood of that VW Thing. Anyway, I met my ex while I dated her younger sister, younger by a year in case you are interested. She used to give me hell because she knew we were out drinking and doing things to each other that are better left unspoken at the dinner table or in church for that matter. Soon enough my sophomore year started and I was talking with one of my friends who happened to also be one of my ex’s friends as well, they have been lifelong friends, I was the new person to the “group”. My ex wouldn’t give me the time of day as girlfriends tend to talk about things and I have done most of those things with most of her friends. What can I say, I was addicted to sex, not love, not romance, just raw emotionless sex. No commitment, no flowers, no cards, and no bullshit strings attached. I always had two things at my ready disposal, alcohol and my car. From my gathering, I never thought any of them ever had a problem with my “arrangement”. Well, not until they started dating for real, then the things I got to do were their dirty little secrets. As I write this I remember always waiting for the “I am pregnant scenario” to unfold, but it never did. Then one day, out of the blue, I was trying to con my way into a date with my ex. I not only got the cold shoulder but I also was on the receiving end of some real choice words. Such a mouth she had! I never pursued anyone like I did her. It was way beyond lust, it was way beyond being told no, it was deep and I started developing feelings for her the more we talked. We actually became friends, in private of course, because in public and in front of her friends she was a complete bitch to me without warning. But when we were away from them, she was nice to me and I was nice to her. It was all but a very confusing game we played. To this day I still don’t completely understand it.


We did begin dating, very traditional dating. I would pick her up from her house, I would sit and talk with her parents, we would go to eat or to see a movie or go to the mall, always making sure she was home by 11 p.m. on Friday and Saturday nights, the only two days I was allowed to take her anywhere by her parents. Whereas I didn’t have a curfew, not even on weekdays. My parents had an unspoken rule about my curfew which was I continued to keep my straight A average in all classes and stay out of jail. I did both with little effort. We dated for a few months, 3 or 4, and our relationship really developed, she would even hold my hand in school and in public, she would kiss me no matter who was able to see it, and she was nice to me always. She alienated most of her friends because all of her spare time was spent only with me. Her sister had a softball game one night during the week, a late game, didn’t even start until 8:30 p.m. or so. Her mom said we could go see her since it was a play-off game and also because it was 4 blocks from their house. That night was misty with light rain on occasion but not enough to stop any of the games or delay them. I went to pick up my ex at her house. I had to wait for her to finish getting ready so I sat and talked with her mom for a bit. When my ex walked out I was knocked out with how she looked. She normally had a real “preppy” look, always slacks and a blouse of sorts or a long skirt with a blouse. I had never seen her in anything else, ever, never before did she dress it down. But on this night she chose to surprise me, she was wearing some skin tight Levis 501 jeans and a t-shirt with her sister’s team on it. Want to talk about impressed, that doesn’t even begin to describe it. So we get in the car to go to the ball park and she looked at me and asked if I liked her new look. She explained that it was because of me and a few comments I made about her dressing like an old lady all the time. It was never said to be mean or to actually be taken seriously, it was always me just joking around. She told me why we were driving that her jeans were so tight that she was unable to wear any panties. Yea, they were that damn tight. We parked, walked to the field her sister was to be playing at, got a couple soft drinks, and went to the top of the bleachers to sit. We sat there to watch her sister’s team wipe the field with the other team sealing the deal for their place in the championship coming up. Her sister came to where we were and told us that she was going to get a ride home from a team mate’s mom and for us not to worry about it. After a short conversation she went back down and left.


My ex and I sat up there on what had become cold and wet bleachers for a little while after everybody left. We watched the entire cleanup and the shutting down of everything as we just sat there and talked. We were making plans for the summer coming up since she knew I was going to be home this summer because my dad had died in his accident the summer before. It was a touchy subject with me so she didn’t bring it up much. Our plans included trips to the beach and the local lakes and such. She had mentioned that she wanted me to help her pick out a new bathing suit and how she was looking forward to me being there. She was talking about a few things that night, it was different, she was opening up to me and at the same time re-assuring me that our relationship was indeed sincere. By now they had turned the field lights off and almost everyone that was there is now gone. It’s time to go; I don’t need to get either of us into any trouble for being too late. We stood up and began to make our way down the bleachers. About three quarters of the way down she lost her footing and slipped. I was right beside her, had ahold of her hand, and when she fell her hand was yanked out of my own. When she fell, she landed in a fashion which she ended up straddling the bench seat portion of the aluminum bleachers. She let out an instant scream; she was in pain, serious pain. We both got her back on her feet so we could get off the bleachers all the way. She was bleeding real bad, the crotch of her pants quickly became dark with blood. It was hard to see, she sat on the last bleacher bench and guided my hand to where she was injured, when I pulled my hand back it was covered in warm blood. We still didn’t know exactly what got cut so we walked to the restrooms so we could assess what happened. By now the blood was very visible and it was coming on strong. Once we got her jeans unbuttoned it was still unclear where she was bleeding from. I imagined sliding her pants down one day, wondering what I would see then, but had no idea that the first time I slid her pants down that it was going to be to see where she was injured. It was very severe, she didn’t have a cut or slice, she had a “rip” in her skin, more specifically, she had ripped one entire labia majora and it was bleeding profusely to say the least. I pinched her bloody labia between my thumb and forefinger to try to stop the bleeding, she looked as if she was going to black out. I wadded up some paper towers to hold on it, gave her instructions to hold decent pressure on it, and I left to go get the car. Due to the nature and arrangement of the ball parks I could only get back so close to the restrooms. When I went back in to get her she was standing in a giant puddle of her own blood. I wadded up more paper towels, held them in place, and we tried to get her pants back up, buttoning them was impossible. When we got into the car it seemed like she was beginning to bleed heavier, so I took a towel I had rolled up in the back seat and we stuffed that down into her pants. The command decision was made to take her to the emergency room and go from there. It was a rough ride for her, every motion the car made caused her extreme pain.


When I pulled into the emergency room I helped her out of the car and we went inside. She was immediately taken to the back for assessment. I, on the other hand, got to stand out front where I got the 3rd degree. My story, for some reason, was beyond belief and I was all but called a liar and a rapist. Her parents arrived soon enough, as well as my own parents, and the deputy sheriff. Everyone had questions; both of us were talked too multiple times by multiple people. I was liar and she was covering for me somehow or another. That’s neither here nor there, but it made me feel very “low” as if somehow this entire situation was my fault. Her family asked me to leave because they didn’t want to deal with me at that point in time, I would be dealt with later and I wouldn’t like it. Meanwhile, the drama was happening at the front entrance. Seems the blood that had been dripping out the floorboard drain holes had begun to puddle up and became very visible, enough that cops were called to check it all out. My car was seized as evidence and towed off. I was taken into police custody for questioning. After all the paperwork was done I was released into the custody of my parents, who still didn’t believe what happened. The following morning, as I was being taken to school by my dad, we drove by the park, which at that point had police and crime scene investigators doing their thing. (Did I mention she lost a whole hell of a lot of blood?) Later in the day the story was in the local paper, which in the article asked the public to step forward with information on what had to be a homicide. My called the crime stoppers number, police came to the house, went to my ex’s house, and finally sorted it all out as being one long connected event that took place the night before. I was not allowed to speak with my ex by her parents for an entire week; my own parents were forbidding it as well, but for different reasons. The only reason I got to speak to her was because she had returned to school. We were able to talk then. She told me while she was in the emergency room that investigators ordered the rape test to be completed. When they figured out she was still an intact virgin then that too passed. She got 17 stiches total starting from the lower (anus side) all the way to the top of the labia majora ending inside at that point. (Sorry, it’s kind of hard to describe.) The stitches were done “neatly” by the surgeon yet she was told that one day she might have to have plastic surgery for cosmetic purposes as he did not know how it would heal or how it would scar in the end. She went thru a hell of an ordeal but she remained with me because we both knew that the rest of them were full of shit. What was told was what happened, nothing more, nothing less. Later that day, she offered to show me her stitches. Between the stitches and the bruising I was hard pressed to even think what I was seeing looked like any vagina I had ever seen. In due time the stitches came out, the swelling went away, and the bruising went away, but the scar was staying for life. After 30 days I got my car back. About the same time both sets of parents eased up and agreed to let us continue dating. From that point forward one of my favorite things to do was to simply trace her scar with my finger tip, she never seemed to mind, dressed or undressed.


Years went by and we were married and soon after along came my now oldest daughter. When she was born it was hilarious because the mid-wife had a lot of questions about the scar, still visible as an indention in the skin. For fun, I will share what I consider a “funny ha ha” about my ex-wife. When we were in the process of getting our divorce, she had moved in with her boyfriend, and I was packing up all of our personal belongings so I could give her hers. I came across a card, on the envelope was the word “Scar” and the paragraph written inside started with “Scar, blah blah blah……” and was signed by the jackhole she was now shacked up with. I thought to myself, wondering, as I have done on some other occasions since, with a simple question. Does she think of me each time someone sees her scar, does she think of me when someone inquires about the scar, does she think of me when another man touches her scar, does it still tickle, does she tell the story? Of course, I will never know, but I have always wondered. Anyway, that’s the story. Sorry I was unable to present y’all with a visual representation; if I had a picture I would sure share it.

Wanted: Dead or Alive

Originlly Posted 27 January 2013


This past Saturday evening I was out to my parents visiting after dinner and a long day of work on the house. This has been really common over the last few years, but that night was just a little different, on this particular night my wife called,  not to see how my day went or to tell me good night, but she wanted to tell me my face was plastered all over the television show she was watching. She spends her evenings watching stuff like Nancy Grace, unsolved crimes, and America’s most wanted. She explained she was flipping thru the channels trying to pick a show when she saw my face plastered on the F.B.I. Top Ten Most Wanted. My immediate reaction was that she had been mistaken and must be really tired. Now, she is really frantic and crying trying to tell me what she was watching and so forth. So, I found the show she was watching and about shit myself, it was my face, it was like looking in the mirror. Holy shit Batman! What in the absolute freakin hell is going on here, there is definitely some kind of mistake. However, the spooky park was that as they described his background history, it sounded allot like my background. Needless to say, I got sucked in and started watching, I couldn’t help myself.


I have always heard that each person has a “twin” and if you were lucky you would never cross paths with that person. Why that is I have no idea, its just something my late grandmother used to pass on as her pearls of wisdom. Anyway, I got hooked into this show. When it was offer on got on the internet and started searching and was very alarmed at what I found. There were many similarities and/or coincidences, enough to really make my head hurt. So, I found we are the same age, he is actually 3 whole days younger than me. We were both adopted under really scarily close circumstances. Both of our fathers died when we were teenagers in “freak accidents”, his was not disclosed and I have always thought my own dad’s death was a bit strange. We both married our high school sweetheart, except he liked to beat his wife into submission when he found she was cheating on him, I just divorced mine. We both spent time in the Air Force except he was dishonorably discharged because he tried to kill, thru beating, a superior officer. After that he had a hard time finding a job for obvious reasons. This is supposedly what led him into a life of crime. He started robbing banks and so forth. The last one he robbed was a few months ago in an undisclosed town in Idaho where he killed 3 people in a brutal fashion. After he took all the money he didn’t want any witnesses, so he kidnapped the 3 women, then he raped them repeatedly with things like a tire iron, a baseball bat, and an arm from a maniquin he had laying around. After all 3 of them died of their wounds, dehydration, and starvation, he dismembered each one a disposed of the pieces in various spots. Then, continued his life on the run. That’s where the information stops.


Needless to say, he isn’t a real nice person. I wouldn’t call him my polar opposite, but we are really that different. I spent the night very worried, I wondered what if someone I know confuses me with him and turns me in. What in the hell would I do. I mean, I know I am not the person for sure. Sunday morning, my wife tries to break the tension by making a joke: she asked how long I had been leading this double life. I didn’t see the humor and snapped off something pissy and stupid because she, for the first time ever, hurt my feelings. I can’t explain why because I don’t know why. I know she was joking and just trying to cheer me up. I called her back later and apologized and explained how my night went. I explained that I was wrong and shouldn’t have snapped at her. And, yes, I meant it. I find myself, even as I write this post, having many more questions than I have answers. Luckily I haven’t got no bizarre calls. My parents think it is “funny” and tell me I shouldn’t be too concerned since he doesn’t look exactly like me. Truth be told, he looks enough like me and that is too close for comfort. I wonder where all this goes from here. I will tell you like I told my wife, I will continue to live my life as I have been living my life. I have no reason to change a damn thing in my life. This is one of those weird coincidences in life, just this time it hit pretty close to home. And no, before any of you jokers get the bright idea, I am not going to just fess up and turn my self in.

Being A Practical Joker

Origianlly Posted 25 January 2013


Late yesterday afternoon I received a text message from my wife informing me that I had an ultrasound appointment today at 4:15. When I text her back she informed me that it was complicated and she would explain it all to me when she gets home. In case some of y’all haven’t read much here on my blog let me give a very brief background on my wife and what she does for a living. She is a medical office manager @ an affiliates doctors office, meaning she is the manager of all the personnel for 5 family practices, 1 orthopedic office, scheduling, billing, front desk, x-ray, ultrasound, physical therapy, the pharmacy, and so forth, she is the manager for around 90 people. Anyway, her and a few of her close friends at the office got together to formulate a grand scheme to have a “gotcha” moment for the ultrasound technician. Why? The story is that this technician does not like to do ultrasounds on a man’s penis, buttocks, or genitals. Digging a little deeper I was informed it is because she does not like it when men naturally “react” when there “business” is having warm gel applied to it and a wand going over the areas. She knows it isn’t flattery towards her because she is just doing her job. Around the office she complains a bit (alot) since she has no desire to see a man’s genitalia.So, after getting my “briefing” last night I agreed to participate in their practical joke. I went up to the doctors’ office 15 minutes early because my wife asked me to so we could talk before my “mock” appointment. Sure enough, I was on the schedule, got checked in, and the proceeded to go down so I could talk to my wife. She gave me the procedural run down at this time. She explained the technician would begin the examination with a series of questions and we would discuss why I was there. I was told at this point that I was suffering from a “penile nogile” about the size of a quarter, (a lump on my penis). Why we talked, my wife, her close friend, and I, they began to explain how this technician has been dreading doing this ultrasound as it was to be her very last procedure of the day and she wasn’t looking forward to seeing someone’s bent out of shape penis. Later in the morning, after reviewing the schedule, the technician realized the man on the schedule had the same last name as her manager with the letters VIP next to it. When she asked my wife if there was any relation, my wife kindly replied that it was her husband. Now, I have never met this lady, the first time I even knew she existed was last night. But, she knew “of” me based on what she could gather from other employees. She was told I was 6’8″ @ 265lbs. Others remarked how I dwarf my 5’1″ @ 110lbs wife. I was told she was nervous, more than normal because it was her boss’s husband.

As I sat in my wife’s office, the technician softly knocked on the already open door to ask if I was ready for my procedure. I stood up, turned to her, offered my hand for an introductory hand shake, and said sure. We entered the exam room where I was told to change into a gown so I could readily show her my trouble area so we could discuss what comes next. Ummm, what? She left the room for a few moments. She came back and I was still dressed. She asked how come and I told her I was a bit nervous due to the sensitivity of my problem and was a bit uncomfortable doing the exam since she works for my wife. I told her I was feeling a little tension in the air and maybe it would be best if we talked about the procedure first. So, we talked, she explained everything she was going to do to me right down to how it would feel for me. She also told me not to be “alarmed” it I got an erection because it is a normal reaction. With my straightest face ever I told her I was much better now and thank you. She left the room again for me to change. When she returned I was still dressed. She said it was ok and I could just unbutton and unzip my pants to show her that she can work around it. I told her I wasn’t going to show her my penis. She asked why not. Then I told her I needed to tell her something personal first. Frustrated, she asked what it was. I smiled and explained she had been set up and that I was supposed to her she had been “got” by her boss and her friends. The look on her face was, what they say on t.v., priceless.


She took off out of the exam room, only to be confronted by all the involved practical jokers. On the plus side, she took it all in stride, laughing with everyone, joking, and admitting that yes, she had been “got”. They all continued to talk while I listened, it was funny as hell to me since I actually know all the other people quite well. Then I left since I needed to get my son from chess club at the middle school. I kinda feel bad for her since they all conspired to getting her goose. I am very glad she appeared to be in good spirits. The last words I heard her say were to my wife. She explained she is really glad she did not have to examine the the penis of her boss’s husband, she may have been scarred for life. Funny. So, that was my afternoon, what did you do for fun today?

Finding Things That Were Not Lost

Originally Posted 23 January 2013


Late last week I finally caved in and upgraded my cable service to HD. This in itself isn’t blogworthy but the events following that mere decision guided my entire weekend. Changing was a breeze. The only pain in the ass about the whole thing should have been the fact that I had to go to the cable store to get the new HD boxes and switch them out my self. In the end, the place is on my way home for work, so it was just a matter of sitting in line at a different light to turn. My only disappointment was that they were out of HD cables, so I had to go to Wal Mart since it was the closest place. Luckily, I was in and out in record time and I even browsed around a while in the electronics section. Homeward bound now. Took a little extra time, the traffic I usually avoid was is full force now. By the time I got home it was dark, good thing because I noticed that one of my gate lights was out, it is hard to know that in the day time or when not paying attention early in the mornings. My goal right now was to get these boxes switched out. I had also bought, on black friday noless, a bigger, better, more powerful WiFi router for the house. As time has progressed it has been noticed that the current equipment wasn’t cutting it any longer. So, I figure I will do that installation as well while I am messing with everything else.


Switching out a cable box is pretty easy, unhook 3 wires, and plug in three different wires. That is where it stopped being easy. Four boxes switched and now I got absolutely nothing. I know a few tricks and even those were useless. I called the cable provider and we spoke for about an hour, doing much of what I had already done. Still, nothing. I spent all Saturday morning waiting for the guy. He gets there, goes thru his routine of troubleshooting and come to the conclusion that its the cable in my house, not the equipment, causing the problem. It is a signal strength issue. With digital it was no problem, but going to HD needs better cable than what I have. He leaves, still no cable. I contacted my Home Depot to find out what they had to offer and prices and then ascended into the abyss of my attic. The guy was right, the cable that was installed when my house way built 5 years ago was the cheapest crap known to mankind. Well, I am not paying the cable company to re-wire my house. So, I calculated what I needed and set off to get it. I spent 7 1/2 hours pulling new cable throughout my house, re-hooked it all back up and like a freaking miracle, it all worked great. For $323.19 and some of my time I was able to get things going.
When I was cleaning up, taking everything to my shop, I got to thinking. I am a person who does not like complications in life. I avoid them and try not to be in situations that cause them. Sure, I could have paid that technician price x to come back a different day to do what I did. But why? This way I know that if something is messed up it is my fault and now I don’t have to wonder what was actually done. It was really not a big deal, it was however, tedious and time consuming. I had the time. Really I did, I have a boring life. As I put my tools away I remembered that light that needed some attention. I hopped on my four wheeler and took off for the front gate. Again, seeing it up close, a simple switch with a new bulb and it was good as new. Get the mail and head back to the shop. I was reminded in my rambled thinking that I don’t even watch that much on the t.v. and that I could personally care less if it worked or not. But, being the husband and father that I am my family depends on me to keep things in working order so their lives are not interrupted. I get it. Since my chores are done I think I will work on cleaning up my shop a bit.


After we ate dinner we all dispersed our different directions. Kids went one way, my wife another, and I was left sitting in the kitchen. There weren’t that many dishes to do so I went ahead and squared that away. As I wandered around the house I see my daughter laying on her bed watching the t.v., my son doing the same, and my wife was in the bathtub soaking while she listened to her show. I went back to the kitchen, finished my glass of water, then I sat in the living room staring at the t.v. that I never turned on. It had a beautiful picture. As I sat there I realized there was so much more I could be doing besides what I was doing, but the peace and quiet was real nice. I decided while I was on the couch staring out into space that I didn’t like the attic stairs I had, nor did I really care for how my attic was finished. I am thinking I want to seal up that hole in the ceiling and put in a stair case in another location. Perhaps even finish off the attic space to be used for something different than just being a void space. I wonder how long this will take. Matters not in the end, seems my time is always my time. This is good, I was looking for another big project for my son and I.
Its hard to miss something when you don’t hold it so dear. I found what I was looking for and it was never lost. I have a happy family and I know I had a little bit to do with it. Its good to find those things which were not lost.