Twenty-Eight Years Ago Today

Twenty-eight years ago today I was held-up on my way to pick up my cab and shot in the head at point blank range. The bullet remains lodged in the frontal lobe of my brain. This is not a depressing day for me, not at all. In fact, as others who have survived similar moments have said, today is a second birthday of sorts.

What is worth noting is that it would be 10 years after the shooting before I would hear the words, brain damage. My experience is not unique. I know people with brain injuries all over this country and many went years before hearing the words brain injury, traumatic brain injury, TBI. Many of us were left to deal with the effects of brain damage not knowing that brain damage was the force behind the problems we were grappling with. We were, in  a sense, managing life blind folded, hands tied behind our back. We did our best, but it is hard to be successful when you don’t know or don’t understand what it is you’re up against.

All this is why it is so important for any state with a brain injury program to make sure those who design an implement the program have a solid working knowledge of the brain.

But this is not my reason for writing this today. My reason for writing this today is to share some thoughts with you. There is little doubt in my mind that you too have faced or are facing challenges that feel as if they have total control over every aspect of your life. I am here to tell you they don’t. They really, really don’t. The truth-telling, right-sizing equation goes like this; because something feels like it has total control doesn’t mean it has total control. It simply means it feels that way.

Believe me, there were times the damage to my brain felt all powerful. There were times too that the idea of returning to life after the combined experience of some kid put a gun to my head and firing and then another guy puts a gun to my head less than nine months later had so much power I did not step foot out of my house for nearly a year.  Were it not for some close friends who were my neighbors at 286 East 2nd Street in NYC, I don’t know how I would have stayed clothed and fed. In time, and with treatment, and the support and love of close friends, I began to reclaim my life and leave the house. 

And then there is this, you have a relationship with life and all the elements that come with life. I have a relationship with my brain injury. I have a relationship with the the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that is, today, my number one opponent. There are still days I can’t get myself to leave the house. The point is, these relationships are no different than relationships  between two people. They can be healthy or unhealthy. The challenge is this. Don’t let the elements of life that look to impeded your freedom to be you of have decision making power. Relieve them of decision making power every chance you get. There may be times you can’t. Okay. Relax. Don’t worry. Get some sleep, wake up the next day,  do your best.

The last thing these life-impeding elements deserve is to be behind the wheel of your life. That is your rightful place.

Thanks for listening. Take care of yourself. Remember to live.

Wayne Allyn Root’s missing “gut instinct” found

As you are probably aware, former 2008 Libertarian Party vice-presidential nominee Wayne Allyn Root earlier this week released a statement acknowledging that his “gut instinct” is missing.

Mr. Root, who penned a soundly debunked essay claiming President Obama attended Columbia University under the name Barry Soetero, now acknowledges that his “gut instinct” was probably missing when he wrote the essay. Had his “gut instinct” not been missing, Mr. Root explained, he would have been aware that Snopes.com (among others) successfully documented, through what Mr. Root described as the unexpected and highly unusually use of facts, that the 1981 Columbia University ID card purporting to show Mr. Obama as Barry Soetero was, in fact, doctored. A blushing Mr. Root went on to say that if his “gut instinct” had been present and accounted for, he would have had his facts straight, a condition those close to Mr. Root say could well have been a first for the 51-year-old native of Mount Vernon, New York.

Mr. Root has yet to distance himself from Lew Rockwell who, according to several sources, authored the racist passages in Ron Paul’s newsletters, claiming that he will make a decision on whether or not to continue his relationship with Mr. Rockwell once his “gut instinct” (Mr. Root’s, not Mr. Rockwell’s) has been successfully located and returned.

However, Mr. Root did acknowledge there were indeed racist quotes in Mr. Paul’s newsletters. “I mean, hell, how can you not notice racists statements like, “Given the inefficiencies of what DC laughingly calls the criminal justice system, I think we can safely assume that 95 percent of the black males in that city are semi-criminal or entirely criminal,” or “We are constantly told that it is evil to be afraid of black men, it is hardly irrational.””

A December 2011 Atlantic Magazine article examining the issue  makes a salient point when it says racism and conspiracy theories are “marginal causes (that) attract marginal people,” some of them genuinely good and decent people, who are either terribly misguided, misinformed, or both.

Back to Mr. Root’s missing “gut instinct.” Before this missive went to press word came in that a team of FBI experts, archaeologists, sociologists, anthropologists and proctologists have indeed located and successfully recovered Mr. Roots “gut instinct.” 

According to Dr. Ben Dover of the KY Institute of Proctology, Mr. Root’s “gut instinct” was located in the upper reaches of Mr. Root’s rectum. The “gut instinct” was gently extracted, washed, and thoroughly debriefed by a team off psychiatrists, psychologists, and car wash owners. Asked why it had traveled deep into the rectum of its owner, the “gut instinct” offered a heartfelt and refreshingly honest answer: “Well, as a gut instinct I’m embarrassed to admit I had  a track record of getting pretty much every damn thing wrong. And so I wanted to understand why I kept getting things wrong and, once I did, try and make amends. Well,  I am proud to announce that the reason I was way up inside Mr. Root’s rectum… well…let’s just say it’s an emotional day for any of us when at long last we get to see where we were born.”

 

Blue Jeans, Robert Hall & Torture

I am baffled and awed by anyone who likes to go to the store and try on clothes. To say I’d rather run headlong into a brick wall is only a slight exaggeration. 

When I was a boy I would volunteer to mow the lawn (twice!) and clean every room in the house (including my sisters!) to avoid going to the store to try on clothes.

When I was a boy my mother would take me to Robert Hall’s to buy clothes. Robert Hall Clothes was a reasonably priced and very popular chain of clothing stores that operated from 1937 to 1977. Taking children to Robert Hall’s was also a widely accepted form of child abuse in those days.  Very popular among parents who liked to torture their children by bringing them into what were essentially large cafeterias with racks of clothes as far as the eye could see, parents who enjoyed wiping spittle from their mouths before looking at their young and saying, “And you will try on everything.”

Without question, the worst of all articles of clothing to try on were, and still are, blue jeans. Yes, I love jeans. Why? They virtually last forever because, in case you haven’t noticed, they are made from a combination of cotton and steel.  Most importantly, their durability reduces the number of times I have to go to the store to try the damn things on.

When I was a boy jeans were so hard and durable law enforcement agencies across the country were forever tracking down and arresting builders and contractors who robbed them by the thousands from large clothing stores (when they weren’t hijacking trucks loaded with them). The stolen jeans were used in place of more fragile materials like wood two-by-fours to frame the walls of the houses. I can’t be the only one to notice older houses are a lot more durable and last a helluva lot longer than the newer ones.

Today, jeans are only a tad softer when new. Many have  labels claiming they’ve been pre-washed (a rare admission on the part of big business that there was a problem in the first place). Does the so-called pre-wash make them softer? Somewhat. When I was a boy it was a well-known fact each and every pair of jeans  had to be washed 642 times on average before they’d soften enough so you could bend your knees when you wore them.  A recent study by an independent consumer group, Keep Our Cotton Soft out of Spunky Puddle, Ohio, reveals that today’s jeans are  softer; they only need to be washed 347 times on average before they are soft enough to  bend your knees.

I am writing about all this because today, or maybe tomorrow, I am going to the store to buy jeans which means, God help me, I’ll have to try them on. A friend of mine who knows I am on a mercilessly tight budget was kind enough to send me some money and so, given that colder weather is just around the corner, I am going to buy  two or three pair of jeans.  I figure if I start washing them right away, and wash them daily, I’ll be able to bend my knees by the time winter arrives. One can only hope.

Take a Deep Breath Now

 

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Take a deep breath now and hear me

Don’t turn your lights off no not yet

There’s sunshine lifting on the rise

And betting on the clouds is a losin’ bet

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Take a deep breath now and see me

Smiling  at you all from the mountain top

Singing life kicks hard at times

But no hard blows should make life stop

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Take a deep breath now and give me

Some shuck and jive with fingers clicking

Sing out loud you’re glad to be alive

Don’t you think hard on no clock ticking

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