Chapter 7 Daniel

     When Daniel went to the apartment in Durham, New Hampshire, with his friend Chris, carrying their instruments, the other band members, who lived in the downstairs apartment of the two story duplex, were entertaining.  Three young women in their late teens to early twenty's, sat on the floor, Indian style, Ali and Todd occupying the only furniture, a futon and hammock chair.  There were also bar stools in the adjacent kitchen.  The bedrooms were off to the sides, of which there were three.  Daniel was well aware that he would be crashing on the futon, if not the floor.  He had his sleeping bag and backpack in the car still.  
     He immediately, specifically  noticed one of the girls, with dark hair and eyes, the one on the right, the petite one with shoulder length dark hair, dark eyes, and a
beautiful, heart shaped face.  Her hands were animated, he noticed.  She had a beer in one hand.  She seemed to be positively beaming.  His eyes became, briefly fixed on her. 
     When Ali began introductions, Daniel realized, to his embarrassment, that he had been rudely staring, but her bowed lips stayed in an upward curl, neither mocking nor smirking.  He nodded to them all, though deafened by his preoccupation with the one with the bowed lips and dark eyes.  His eyesight was poor in the dim lighting, but he still saw her eyes as being green to him, dark green, like the color of forests, the tops of trees on a New England mountain top in springtime.  They could have been gray or brown, but to his eyes, they seemed green now, as if magical somehow.  Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him, the way they sometimes did, it seemed.  His night blindness was only a part of the problem.  A large part of it was tunnel vision, and it seemed like Bethany was the focus in his central vision.  He supposed, in good humor, that her beauty was selective seeing, but being young he still had quite a bit of good central vision, relatively speaking.  The way one sees, in one's lifetime, is the only way in which one knows seeing to be.  How can one know what one never sees, and yet somehow it becomes somewhat disabling?  It was a strange phenomenon, he thought, something of which, no one but himself, alone, could relate to.  He did not know anyone else, who had a visual impairment.  Retinitis pigmentosa had been inherited by him, seemingly from a gene, that no one in his family knew of, which set him apart, and yet he accepted it, and felt grateful for all he did have.  It never bothered him, except the not driving part was a bummer, and he wished he could see in the dark better, so that he would feel less awkward at times, when he needed some help, but his friends were aware, and so were his family, his mother mainly, because Nicolas always seemed in a world of his own, although he adored Daniel. That was evident.
     "Hey you guys," Ali said to Chris and Daniel, "this is Brittany, Jessica and Bethany."  
     Daniel smiled, and nodded to all three young women, "What's up?" he asked casually, although more a greeting than a question, of course.  "Are you all students at N.H.U.?"
     "We're just visiting from Keene.  We go to Keene State," piped up Bethany.  She spoke with her eyes and body, subtle movements all at once.  "We met Ali and Todd at the Newport Folk Festival, last year.  We are going back tonight.  We just dropped by."  She took a long drag on what was left of her cigarette and put it out in the ashtray next to her.  She wore faded jeans and a thin black sweater, with a long, frayed, Mexican, hand made, woven purse, and brown, swede moccasin boots, which her pants were tucked into. 
     Daniel did not notice the other two girls much, except that they, as well, had a sort of hippie nouveau motif, modern day hippies into peace, love, new age ideology.  His mother, although forty-five years old, was similar, but she was a bit unusual, well not totally, because she had friends like herself.  
    "Chris said you guys would not mind if I crash here til I can get it together to get a place," Daniel appealed to Ali, and looked at Todd as well.
    "Sure, Man," Ali agreed.  
     Todd nodded, getting up to embrace Daniel.  "Yeah, no problem, Man.  Glad you're here.  We been needing you in the band, Man."
     Daniel felt relieved now, knowing he was not going to be out on the street, with no money, and no where to stay, not even enough money for bus fair, not wanting to bother his mother right now, trying to be a man, trying to be independent, work, and get on his feet.  He wanted to play music, but was very willing to do other menial work, as well, but he could not seem to find a job, back home in Vermont, so he thought he would try his luck in New Hampshire, get in a band with his old running mates.
     "Thanks, Bro", Daniel responded.
     "Hey, have a beer, you two, and come get to know everyone," Ali said to Daniel and Chris.
     Daniel sat down next to Bethany.  Todd was handing  him a beer, but it was a bit dark in the room, except for soft lighting and candles, so he did not see it at first, because of his eye condition, until Todd actually touched it to the back of his hand.  He felt its coldness touch his skin, like a slight shock to his senses.  "Thanks," Daniel said, taking the beer that Todd offered.
     "It's nice to meet you."  He looked at Bethany, nodding to Jessica and Brittany as well.   Something about her fascinated his eyes like glue.  You are a magnet and I am steel were the song lyrics that came to his mind, at that moment.  
     Her eyes were dark and endless, and yet seemingly green.  Her voice was childlike, and almost angelic sounding.  Her hands, when she spoke, moved like flowers' leaves, gently swaying.  Prana, or energy, seemed to flow through her every word, like a wave.  Every aspect of her spelled gentleness and vulnerability, being breakable.  And, yet she was not.  She was strong enough to hold her own in this world, and he could sense that. 
     He could tell that she was intelligent and cultured, perhaps more so than he was, and ever so often she asked him what he thought of the war, politics, the economy, racism, gay rights, quantum physics, music, his own forte, what was going on in Europe, in terms of trends in music and pop culture, such as house music played in clubs there, philosophy, and art.  He answered intelligently and freely, but he was intrigued by her
ability to articulate, her eloquence.
    "I don't care for the alternative rock of these days, as much as some of the older stuff, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and The Who," he said brightly.  "I mean, I like some of REM and stuff, but frankly I am not so into James Blunt.  He's good, I guess."  He did not want to sound like a snob in case she liked James Blunt.  You're beautiful, another song lyric came to mind.   
     "Beth," Ali piped up, "you got to hear this guy play.  Get out your guitar, Curt Cobain."
    Before he could protest, Chris had brought out Daniel's acoustic guitar.  He began playing an original song, which he had written three years ago, called Don't Look Back, which he had written for his mom, when things had been really rough, years ago, but he did not admit that now.  It just did not seem cool, in light of things.  
     Bethany remained in semi lotus position, with the most natural of expressions, no pretense, just innocent appreciation.  He felt like he had never seen, known or met anyone, quite like her.  She seemed so unique, and yet familiar too.  Brittany and Jessica were attentive, as well, and everyone in the room, listened as he played.  
     He sang and played the feeling filled, skillfully written song, with much feeling and completely zen-like concentration.
      "You wrote that?," Brittany asked rhetorically, yet complimenting, and enthusiastically.  
     Brittany was dressed similarly to Bethany, only she was wearing a long skirt with an Indian print, instead of jeans, and had very long hair.  Daniel sort of noticed that Chris seemed to have been talking to Brittany, quite a bit, that evening.  He thought, perhaps he should make sure neither Ali, nor Todd were interested in Bethany.  He had not even thought of the possibility that she might be involved with either of them.  He just had not gotten that impression, but he realized he should, at least out of good manners to the guys that were putting him up, and her as well, find out what the situation was.
     Bethany was smiling,  "it was beautiful.  I like the words.  I really like the chords too.  You are an amazing singer and guitarist."
     "Yeah, you're really good."  Jessica was lighting another cigarette, her blond bangs sweeping across her oval face.
     "Play more," requested Bethany.  "Play Stairway to Heaven.  Oh, just play whatever you want to."
     He played the song she requested from beginning to end.  When he finished the song, he put the guitar down.  He wanted to talk more with Bethany.
     "We really have to get back", Jessica announced looking at her cell phone for the time.  It's 2:00 in the morning."
     "It's the weekend.  You girls can stay if you want.  We have blankets and stuff, pillows, whatever you need," Todd suggested.  
     Ali and Chris agreed.  Daniel agreed, but did not want to overstep boundaries, it not being his apartment, nor wanting to sound too eager.  
     All three girls agreed that staying over would be cool. 
     He talked more with Bethany, and he asked, "so are you dating Todd or Ali?  I mean - " 
     "No, no, we're all just friends. I'm not dating anybody.  Do I act like I am?"
     "No, of course not, I just didn't want to be presumptuous."
     "You mean you didn't want to get thrown out on your ass?," Todd retorted, hearing their conversation.  
     "Yeah, Daniel?," Ali bantered on, "ya think I'd be sittin' here all night, watchin' you gawkin' and talkin' with my girl all night, Man?  I'd kick your ass, Man."
     He came over and play punched Daniel, and they play wrestled.  "Now, Chris," Ali went on, "you know he's got a thing for Brittany, even though he don't know her like me and Todd do.  She is trouble with a capital T," he bantered.  
      "What?," Brittany said, in a high pitched voice. "You!"
     Jessica and Bethany were laughing heartily, at that.  "Yeah, you're trouble, Brittany," Jessica teased. "I'm just messin' with you.  You know I love you."
     "Yeah, Brittany," continued Ali, "you know we all love you.  We're just messin' with ya."  
     Chris was not saying anything.  He tended to be the shy one, but he had a devilish cuteness, or impishness, and an innocence, at once.  He was obviously interested in Brittany, for sure, but not in pursuit of anyone right then. He was the type, that you could never read, never really know what he was thinking, mysterious, aloof. 
     Eventually, the three guys, who lived there, retired to their rooms.  Jessica and Brittany fell asleep on the futon, so Daniel got Chris's car keys, went and got his backpack and sleeping bag. He brought them up, unzipped his sleeping bag, all the way, and spread it out on the floor, so that he and Bethany would have a place to crash, besides blankets and pillows.
     They just lay there in their clothes, talking in a quiet whisper, until they fell asleep.

Shocking News on All Levels

      Today I found out, because my older son as I have discussed before has been sick and in need of glasses.  His were broken, I think in transit from one hospital to another, but the authorities often do not give the whole picture, for covering their a- purposes, no profanity here.  I sent him his old glasses  in the mail.  The social worker had contacted the Commission for the Blind, and they  are no longer paying for glasses for the blind due to budget cuts.  Get out of here.  I do not blame the president of the United States or even our governor.  I blame the past administration for draining our economy on a war based on a lie.  Actually I do blame the governor, because it was not this bad under Mark Sandford.  At least the blind got some help from the state.  Of course they still get help, but glasses is not a good budget cut by any means.  However, the hospital is taking my son to the eye doctor and going to get him either these fixed or new glasses with the frames, so I am grateful for this, that another agency picked up where the commission failed.
     I am not a conspiracy theory believer.  I believe in fact that you can show me.  However, it was tangibly found that there was not cause for the suspicions that originally led to the war.
     I wish I could understand why the Commission for the Blind is not paying for glasses for the blind anymore.  They payed for my glasses.  Medicaid pays for children's glasses only if they have it and even then do not get envious, because they or their guardians have to pick from charity frames and it has always been the same for adults, who must pick from the gift of sight frames and the commission picked up the tab for the lenses and with children Medicaid picked it up for the lenses as well.  
     I was always diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa but was never told as a child as were the ways in those days.  As cool as my parents may have seemed to everyone and they were younger than you guys remember them, much younger than the baby boomers now.  For example if you are reading this and met my parents when you were young at the Baba Center and looked up to them as older and yes they were older relatively, but the truth is you were about twenty and they were only forty three, and even if you came at thirty, they were only fifty three and I was already a sophomore away at college.  However I am sure my parents' parents were quite conservative, both on the wasp side as well as the Jewish side.  In fact I believe, although my paternal grandfather died before I was born they were all Republicans.  Never mind that.  Back to the Commission for the Blind no longer supplying the blind with glasses.
     This is insane.  If they cannot supply glasses, what the hell is going on.  They
gave me everything from oven mitts to measuring cups to pens to paper.  They gave me sunglasses, braille equipment, and they gave some computers, used ones anyway.  I did not get a computer from them, but I know people who did.           
     As far as what I was saying back to my childhood, Mother did not accept the charity glasses for me which I was not aware of, because she wanted me to be able to pick out pretty glasses out of love for me.  My parents not only were richer than I was as a single parent, but I never had a girl, and have not experienced too much vanity in my boys except when David was fourteen and blew dry his long auburn brown hair longer than any girl I ever knew.  LOL
     Well stay tuned for shocking news, with Leslie Walsh.

Money is Not What Matters

     Please do not take this the wrong way.
The essence of what I am about to say is that riches and fortune are not what matter.  Yes, I know this is not an original thought and perhaps even overstated, and there are always more ways of looking at the same thing.
     My kids grew up with me mostly in a very how shall I say, modest home in a modest neighborhood.  We only went hungry once, when our food stamps were stolen years ago.  It was not too bad.  We just had to live on Halloween candy for a few days.  I say this with a smile, because it is sad but funny looking back.
     All the while their dad and his new family were living like kings and queens with SUV's in a really fancy house on a lake in the country side.  Oh yes, he sent child support and all.  He is not a bad guy, although my son Ted once said, "I
helped my father build three houses and I don't have a house."  Still the kids were more at home with me.  This is kind of touching.  The truth is kids do not care about all the money in the world or big fancy houses.  They need food, shelter, love, fun, education, hobbies, etc..  
     I do not regret anything, at least I do not think so.  Hardship builds character and makes you stronger.  It makes you understand hunger when you have gone hungry.  It makes you understand homelessness, even if you have been homeless only briefly.  I have known for years what it is like not to have transportation and so have my children.
It is doable.  It is hard and frustrating and makes you have to be inventive in ideas.
     When I was at the Commission for the Blind, we had a little support group on Tuesday nights after supper.  The lack of transportation was brought up frequently.  Many of these people live in more rural areas than I do in my state, and some have zero vision, none at all.
When I took mobility, using a cane for the visually impaired to cross busy intersections, etc., Clint, my instructor asked me if I understood blocks, city blocks.  I was surprised.  I thought everyone knew, but some people have been on farms and rural areas their whole lives.
     When you think you have it bad, someone always has it worse.  I could tell you the saddest stories about people I met at the commission and how they became blind, but there would be no point in talking about it.  My point is that there is no need for me and most of us to feel self pity.  I do not think my kids felt self pity, but I think it was a little hard for them when their dad had more kids.
Although, my mom had two girls when she married my dad, and my brother and I were the new kids, but we were all closer in age.  We were all under ten years of age when I was born.  My brother and I are only two years apart. 
I have one brother and two half sisters.  I am closest to my brother.  I like my oldest sister, but I am estranged from the other one for reasons I cannot understand except that we are not close, which I accept and have less resentment about now as years have gone by.  It matters less and less.
     Back to why money does not matter in the big picture.  I really do not know.  I think in part kids sometimes are just closer to one parent and they want to be where their friends are.  Friendships, especially in the teen years and in early childhood as I remember my own, are incredibly important to kids.  Where there friends are they want to be, even if that be in the 'hood'.  Seriously, this is true.  
     I grew up isolated from kids except for school and the bus, but I did have one close girlfriend that I played with.  We are still friends.  She is a lawyer now.  I would have loved to grow up around a lot of kids.
     If I could have made things better for the kids, I really would have.  There just was no way to, but that was alright I suppose.  The past does not matter according to Eckhart Tolle and other philosophers of new age thought.  The future does not matter, but we still need to plan for it in my view, but I am an organized type person.  I like to have my ducks in a row as many of us do.

Yes Kids Should Be Able to Go to College

     I was going through the home page and came upon a poll asking whether you thought President Obama was a 'snob' for saying all American kids should go to college.  I think one of the Republican nominee's said this, I forget which one.  Well, I said no.  I do not think Obama is a snob to say that.  I think what he means is that all American kids should be able to go to college.
     Even with financial aid, college is by no means free, unless you have complete scholarships or something.  I realize too that some kids are not college material in an intellectual sense, but there are trade schools or technological schools and other training.  Even the Commission for the Blind offers some careers for blind people but frankly not enough choices, having graduated from the adjustment to blindness program and knowing the goings on of the campus.
     When Obama says all, I think he means that all kids have a right to a fair education.  I think he is standing up for the poor who have less options and opportunity.  It is about equal opportunity.  I think some of the Republicans really downplay the importance of education.  
     I was infuriated when the former vice-governor of South Carolina under Mark Sandford, before we got Haley who I think I like alright, said that feeding children school lunch was like feeding stray animals.  I, myself and others were completely appalled and I do not think he even gave a real apology.
     Some children literally and only get to eat one meal, the meal they get at school.  Some children are homeless.  Some have parents addicted to drugs and some are in negligent foster care or maybe just have crazy parent(s) or maybe are just extremely poor.  My kids had free lunch, sometimes free breakfast.  I was a poor single mother, doing my best.  None of these are reasons to blame the kids or even the parents in many cases.  
     So, basically no,  I do not think it is 'snobby' of President Obama to say that all kids should be able to go to college.
     Some may not want to go to college, which is alright in my book, although I certainly believe they should be able to go to college if they want to.  I think a lot of kids join the military because of a lack of options and opportunities and get sold on it by recruiters, but someone has to go to war.  Every country needs a strong military to be great.  This is a lot of what my novel American Boys is about.  My sons are both 4F because they are legally blind, but my younger son actually wanted to join the army when he graduated from high school partly because his best friend joined the navy and they had been on the swim team together and were strongly bonded.  Iraq was going on at the time.  I said "go for it if they will take you."  I was not being sarcastic.  I thought maybe he could have some sort of position, like clerical or something, but he changed his mind and did not try.  The thing about going to the army or other services is that they will help you go to school later on I hear.
     The condition that my kids and I have is retinitis pigmentosa and at one time before much was known about it, because in the early stages of youth, there can be fairly clear central vision, sometimes people could pass an eye test because the field of vision was overlooked.  Subsequently, I actually saw a show on 60 minutes, where these two twin brothers with RP who were candidates for the computer chip, which does not really work well at all so far.  Believe it or not, of these two brothers in their sixties I believe, who were totally blind, one had actually been a long distance truck driver in his youth.  Scary I know, because RP causes night blindness and tunnel vision even at a young age.  I have always been blind in one eye and I have always been legally blind in my good eye when not corrected.  However this guy must have had enough central clarity to pass the tests alright.  
      I also would like to mention that I 
taught as a substitute teacher in the Horry County school system for five years and teachers see more than anyone the hardships of children.  A lot of these children had rough lives at home.  School can almost be a refuge for some of whom life is unbearable at home.  I read both the biography of Michelle Obama as well as the biography of Laura Bush, who was a school teacher, was also a Democrat before she converted to being a Republican.  My point is that school teachers are more often Democrats, because they know how poor many kids are and the difficulties of their home lives.  Still I maintain that education is extremely important.  I think the president and the first lady know this very well.  Michelle Obama by no means came from a wealthy family.  Her father died of MS on the way to work.  She grew up on the south side of Chicago, and yet she went to Princeton as well as her brother Craig, and became a lawyer.  

Your Eyes by Leslie Sage Walsh

Your eyes went on like rivulets, like pools, more deep than clouds and rivers, tears that carry me to dusk.
  
You shine brighter than suns and stars into eternity, your smile beaming.
  
Your song carries on the wind I hear you calling, while all of this illusion is falling.

When I Think of Your Love: Lyrics to a Song I Wrote

when i think of your love, i can sing forever, i want to drown in your eyes,  
that's my endeavor, your love is more powerful than any other, my Lord.          
your love is forgiving everything,          
your blood the sacrifice to everyone      
of us.  so praise be His name my Lord          my Lord.                                                          

The Drum Circle

Tonight Tex Hightower gave an absolutely inspiring talk about meeting Meher Baba long ago at the center, when he was a dance student with Margaret Crask.
I always have enjoyed his stories.  I like the story about him making a blue jacket for Baba which Baba wore to Australia in '56 I believe. 
     Afterwards there was cake at the refectory, and chai as well.  Then Paul and I and other friends went to a drum circle.  I had never been to one before.  I brought my bongos but it was not necessary.  It was really beautiful.  I played one of their drums and lay down in the center.  It was an amazing experience, lying there with the drums beating like a heart beat.  I closed my eyes and emptied my mind, seeing lights all around.  I felt as though I were lifting off the ground and lying on a cloud all at once.  All thought had no meaning, no importance.  All I could hear and feel were the drums and singing and the violin, yet cognitively not registering these thoughts into words or concepts, no concepts.
     Afterwards I sang along, sustained notes as the drumming ebbed and flowed, quieted and began again in symbiotic harmonious flow of rhythm and notes intertwined effortlessly.
     It was a great day all together.  A great night.  I would love to go to a sufi dance if there ever is one around here.  I once went to one in Boulder.  Oh I do not want to get started about Boulder, too intense and very over.  All there is is now.  Now is eternal, beautiful and powerful.  I am here now.  Only now.

Hafiz Poem I Interpreted

I would like to post a Hafiz ghazel which 
I wrote a rendition of.  Some translations
are Do Not Grieve and another is Grieve Not.  Under the regime of the Taliban the poetry of Hafiz and Rumi were actually outlawed in the Middle East.
Here it is:
                Grieve Not
When freedom is gone and the heart is broken, grieve not,
When the soul is darkened and you taste the tears, grieve not,
When it falls apart, grieve not,
When no hope's in sight, grieve not,
When you've lost someone you loved the most, grieve not,
When darkness nears, grieve not,
And in all your fears, grieve not.
            Hafiz interpretation by Leslie Sage Walsh, February 25, 2012

In Question of Chopra's book, Ageless Body, Timeless Mind: Quantum

        I do not think it is fair for Depak Chopra to say that married people do not
age as much as single people because they are happier.  I do not think that is 
fair to the single people.  I agree that maybe married people are happier, but not necessarily.  Maybe if in a good marriage and never have cause for loneliness, but I think that is a bit general.  
     He says people with depression and heart disease age faster.  I have had both, but people often think I am a lot younger than I am.  Perhaps,  I am aging faster inside than outside.  Some of the things he says offend me, but I am trying to keep an open mind.  Like I agree with him that too much anxiety and stress can age you, because I know how much physical stress anxiety can have, that pain in the chest and sometimes stomach aches and headaches.  I have learned skills in lowering stress.
      I know that I have been known to have a temper in my life.  Knowing this, if I can remember it and be mindful, a Course in Miracles mantra will prevent me from getting mad, at least outwardly.
      Ironically, Depak Chopra is aging himself.  The talking books for the blind have braille and a turn around free matter for the blind mail card, but of course no pictures.  Recently a friend showed me a picture of him on a new age magazine.  I said, "he's aged!"
     I guess the pictures I have seen of him on bookstore print books are old pictures.  The book I am listening to is called Ageless Body, Timeless Mind:
Quantum....
     I admit he says a lot that makes sense, but some of it almost makes me have a resentment.  He is a doctor, I realize, but that does not make everything he says gospel.  According to him, if a person is inert in a hospital bed for a long time the body ages, because of muscle loss etc., but I think one can build oneself back up.  
      For one thing, I once became way too skinny and when I finally realized through counseling that this was not healthy and being caused by some need to control myself because I could not control anything else, through a change of thinking I was able to gain weight  and muscle tissue and become more fit than ever.  I ate healthy and exercised.
     I think the turning point for me was when Dr. Gibbs, who moved away, said to me about my skinniness, "you are not as beautiful as you used to be."  I did not take this as an insult, but rather something that touched my heart, because this was permission to eat.  This may sound insane, needing permission to eat, but I had been in an abusive relationship that distorted my thinking, my self image.  It was like in Sea Biscuit, when the millionaire, Jeff Bridges said to the jockey, "it's OK to eat."  Thus, he then was able to start to eat and gain weight.
      Perhaps I tell a bit to much about myself and my past and someone might think, what a screwed up person she must have been.  Well, they may be right, but if I was screwed up, it does not mean I am always screwed up.  Plus, who is not screwed up?  The most together seeming people have all kinds of neurosis and problems at various levels.  Some just hide it better.  There is a twelve step expression, "some are sicker than others," usually said in jest.
      The more I actually get into this book by Chopra, a lot of what he says is scientifically true and makes sense.  He also gives methods for relaxation.  He also talks a lot about free radicals and antioxidants.
     Meher Baba's, who passed away, dropped his body in 1969, 
birthday is today.  Happy Baba birthday everyone.  Much love.  Jai Baba.  Namaste.    
     

Mental Health

     I do not think I will read any more Jodi Picouldt after reading The Pact: a Love Story about two teenagers who are in love and the girl is severely depressed as well as pregnant, cannot go through with an abortion and also has been molested.  The only person she confides about the pregnancy to is the abortion counselor.  She commits suicide with no one knowing she has been molested which is a separate issue that happened when she either on a dare or accidentally went into a men's restroom.
     Her boyfriend is on trial for murder.  They find out she is eleven weeks pregnant through the autopsy.  
     It was a very frustrating and depressing story.  The boy knows she is suicidal, but they have an insular symbiotic relationship and neither of them know to seek help.
     It is unfortunate but many teenagers are very private and cannot talk to their parents or even boyfriend about something like being molested or being pregnant.  
     I felt the pain of it.  By the grace of God, I have never had an unwanted pregnancy, but I not being special in light of the Course in Miracles, which I study continuously, I in no way judge anyone who has and for that matter has had an abortion.  Like I have said it is a personal matter and a woman's right to choose, so I am in no way self righteous.  I could relate to her not knowing how to handle it being so young and having dreams.  I could also relate as many women can and some men too, about the other part of it.
     It would be nice if kids could talk to their parents about things like this.  Parents can be unavailable, busy, and preoccupied as well as not understanding. 
     I also think it is unhealthy for teenagers to be as wrapped up in each other as these two, but I suppose it is normal.  Well, I do not really mean normal.  I think the word I mean is it is probably more common than realized.
Teenagers can be pretty dramatic and emotional.  
     Suicidal depression is such a state of hopeless pain, that it seems like it is the only answer, especially when someone does not have any resources to get help.
     I have mentioned in other blogs, teen suicide due to bullying and have posted an article which I googled and uploaded to facebook.  
     I realize this is a whole other issue, but I wanted to address it as well.  Although, saying this, I must say that all of these matters consist of young people unable to confide in anyone or get the help and support they need.  It is hard for adults even to get help.  There is shame, misplaced guilt, lack of family support or close friendship or trust.  People gossip and that makes it even harder to confide in anyone besides a professional, but sometimes young people including adults of any age as well as teens and children do not always know how to find help.*
     If you have a problem or know someone who does, there are mental health centers for people without money or insurance as well as those who do.  I know that this country does not have the greatest public mental health system, and most of us cannot afford private counseling or psychiatry, there are options.  Schools have psychologists as well, although teenagers from my own experience as having them, do not like being singled out of class to go see a shrink.  
     The world will always be an imperfect place by far, but ideally we can offer love and support in whatever capacity we can, if our hearts move us to.
     *I am in no way a doctor or psychologist.  Everything stated in this article is merely from subjective and objective experiences as well as reading and research as well as personal experience concerning myself and a close family member and from raising sons, seeing them go through childhood and teen years as well as their friends into manhood.  We have all been children and we have all been teenagers at one time.  It only takes being human to understand such matters.

To Love a Pet

     To my great delight, I saw my sons 
yesterday.  I was able to go see them both and spent time with them, 'American boys', lol, for anyone that does not get it I am writing a novel, American Boys, which I discuss so much more than I actually work on, that I compared it to The Shining, by Stephen King, writing the same thing...
     My older son who is the one who has not been well, said he thought it would be a 'beautiful thing if someone did a painting of me and an animal I love.'
      Two years ago he, Ted buried my beloved cat Tiger who died of kidney failure.  With so much going on, I did not really have time for my third, first actually being the oldest, the black one I got first in 1997 when he was nine months old from the aunt of a high school friend.  She is married to a New York artist.  I was so wrapped up in my son's illness and my dog is a lot of work, and just keeping my head in check is a lot of work, I kind of did not realize that Bhaghera was not feeling well.  I mean I could tell he has been really skinny and
sickly, but tonight I checked his bad foot.  He has a bad foot.  It needs an expensive operation, etc..  I cleansed and medicated and dressed it and gave him a tiny bit of penicillin, which I had to push the other hungry cat, Simon, the light orange tabby one away from.  Rubin was asleep thank God.  I saved the rest of the food with a tiny bit of penicillin for tomorrow.  He has a sick smell, but not too too bad, but I think he is going to be much better in the morning.
     I am glad I got a chance to give him some attention.  I think Ted is right, that I should have my portrait painted with an animal I love.
     I got the info on Bhaghera when I worked at the health food store.  We had a bulletin board.  He is named Bhaghera after the panther in Jungle Book, the Disney book and film that my kids liked among many  others.

Making Things Bright

      I think I am funny sometimes because life is bleak.  Life can be bleak.  I was telling a friend that I was actually trying to make the situations in my book American Boys less sad than our life really was.  I am listening to Kurt Cobain, Nirvana and it so much brings me back to when David was twelve and Teddy was eighteen.  They adored Kurt Cobain.  Ted told me all the conspiracy theories about his death and David learned to play and sing his music. I used to say at my own small performances that we were fans, only we did not want to die.  Before David began playing the guitar which I taught him his first chords for, I used to accompany us both on One Last Breath by Creed, the former Christian band gone totally rock.  
      In my brief identifying with redneck period of militant toughness, I used to like Nickelback, believe it or not for their rawness I suppose.  My son David hated them.  I think Ted was indifferent.  He helped me order their CD before I ever learned to shop on line.  The post man brought it to the door.
     For the record we had some good times.  Vanilla Sky was our own cult film, following of three.  One Halloween, I actually made a mask and wrote cards with our lines and set up a video camera to record us act out the night club scene.  I played Sofia, David played David Aims and Ted played Bryan.  I actually made David wear the mask I made and I put on a shirt like Sofia wore in the movie, and Ted actually had acting ability.  He actually acted exactly like Jason Lee did as Bryan, even down to the looks and voice.  David did a damn good Tom Cruise part as well.  I played Penelope Cruz's part.
     American Boys, my novel is in essence my life with my two sons, growing up with me a single mother who tried to make things fun in good times and all went to hell in bad times.
     Yet, I kept on taking care of them and they love me unconditionally as I love them.  I have posted bits and pieces of my life and I wish I could say I was this perfect mother like in the movies, but I was not.  I was vulnerable and sometimes strong and sometimes weak.  To say I did my best sounds lame as does to say I did my best at the time.  Perhaps I could have done better.  In the Course in Miracles there is no need for all this guilt.  In fact it is a form of egotism in and of itself.  So, I will continue in the Holy Spirit thought system, searching for my way.  I hope that I can always be a vessel for light and love, for there is nothing more.

Life is Good

     I worked on my novel today, more about Nicolas, but I am not posting any more of American Boys, not now.  I will only tell you what is happening from time to time.
     Lizzy, the mom, took Nicolas to the specialist at the university in New Hampshire.  I think it is unreal in a way that this doctor is advising her to move, because Nicolas has no friends out in the country.  I should not be critiquing my own writing.
     I am all excited about the love triangle I'm planning for Lizzy, how she will handle it.  I think it will be a no brainer when Charlie picks up through the radar that she is seeing Jim from the bar where she works, because she never really liked Charlie anyway, although there was nothing wrong with him.  I think if she had really liked him, there might be some confusion and conflict.
I wish life were really so simple.
      I think it is funny that I am planning the lives and futures of these people who do not really exist.  I guess that is what fiction is, although there is their existence in a more universal way.
     Someone asked me yesterday how this would end.  Hopefully, happy, but not without some pathos.  We all have our own pathos of one kind of or another.  At least that is what my friend Dave at the Commission for the Blind said one night at Max on Main, a jazz club we used to attend for open mike, my friends and I from the Commission.
We lived in the dorm there and were driven back and forth on weekends.  Living communally and being mostly around the same age some of us bonded while there.  Dave was referring to us, the clients.  
     I used to sing on Wednesdays at Max on Main, sometimes just me and guitar, sometimes with the band.  One night my son David came down with his father, played with the band awesomely and his father played harmonica.  David plays guitar and sings.
      We also used to dance at Max on Main.  I almost fell down a stairwell I did not see dancing with one of the guys from the Commission, until the owner put something in front of it.  
     They specialized in soul food, fried chicken, collard greens, the best corn bread in the world, and the most incredible peach cobbler you ever tasted and sweet tea of course.  They were also a bar, but I was not drinking.  Dave was my non-drinking buddy who drank coffee.
     Well if you are not from the south, you really aught to explore it.  The south is really very charming.  I have always lived in the south, except before the age of four when I lived in Woodstock, New York.  I was never a hippy.  I was only four.  Actually I was a hippy in like seventh and eighth grade back in the early '70's.
     Well, such is life.  Life is good, I guess.

Chapter 6

     It was July, 2007, two months earlier.
Lizzy took Nicolas to his appointment at N.H.U. with a chief neurologist, Dr. Epstein.  
     Nicolas went through many tests.  He had an EEG with electrodes glued to his head, registering brain waves.  He had gone through a dark, frightening capsule, a cat scan and an MMR.  There were many technicians and staff members, employees, involved, and they were all very professional, and very nice mannered and upbeat.  
     He also went through a range of psychological testing, orally being asked many, many questions, some of which he could answer easily, and others not so much.  He was asked the meaning of words such as, compassion, empathy, equality, morals, devious, manipulate, and many others.  He could define many of them, but had to think for a while before answering.  Devious, for example, he had a difficult time with.  He basically defined compassion as, "caring about someone," which Lizzy who was present, thought was a good answer, but in all fairness, the words were somewhat advanced for his age, she thought.  He did well.  He was also asked some more involved questions about the meaning of phrases, and he did not do as well on those questions, and was quiet for long periods, as though he were racking his brain for answers, and then the questioning would just move on.  
Dr. Epstein asked the questions, and made notations.  His assistant was present throughout, also writing things down.
      Nicolas and his mother sat across the desk from Dr. Epstein at the end of the day, around 4:30 that afternoon.
     "Mrs. White-"
     "It's Ms White, but Elizabeth is fine."
     "OK, Elizabeth."  He stared at the test results, his reading glasses far down on his nose, graying hair.
     "There is nothing showing in any of the tests.  We see no brain tumor, or any strange or significant problems or abnormalities.  The cat scan was normal.  He is in good health.  His height and weight are perfect for his age range.  He may grow out of these seizures, but in the meantime, I will write you another prescription for valproic acid, which can be toxic and adults usually require regular liver checks, but with Nicolas being only fourteen, I do not think there is much to worry about.  It is sometimes prescribed for people with bipolar disorder or migraines, but it is an anti-seizure drug.  Of course, I agree with the diagnosis of pseudo seizures.  I do not feel that these seizures, as unpleasant and painful as they are, will cause any permanent harm, but we definitely want to prevent them as best we can.  I will prescribe depakote, which is a higher quality form of the pharmaceutical.  It is the same thing, but not generic, and I think it would be better for him.  Medicaid will still cover the medication, so don't worry about the cost.  Blood platelets should be checked regularly, because anemia is a possible side effect."
     "That sounds horrible.  He has already been on that a while.  He'll be fifteen next month."
     Nicolas was not saying anything, just swinging his foot, as well as wringing his hands a bit, wishing all this doctor business would end already.  He just wanted to go home and play XBOX or basketball with Daniel or watch Beevis and Buthead or Southpark DVDs.    
     "I really don't like the idea of keeping him on a toxic medication."  Lizzy felt annoyed by the fact that no answers had come.  She was glad there was no epilepsy, brain injury or anything worse, but wished there were some clear answers.
    "Nicolas, do you have friends?," Dr. Epstein asked, looking at him pensively.
     At first Nicolas said nothing.  He thought for a long time.  "Well - ," he began.  Pause, - "you can't really, um - where we live, - out in the country."  He was quiet for a long time.  Dr. Epstein waited patiently for him to finish talking.  "I'm friends with my older brother - and his friends."
     "What about at school?," Dr. Epstein looked Nicolas in the eyes, but this made Nick uncomfortable, so he looked away.
     Again, Nick had to think for a long time.  Lizzy was used to the way he spoke, so to her it was completely normal.  She knew he was unique, but she felt that was all. "Uh, no, not really," he finally began.  "Just don't really fit in.  Get picked on and stuff."  Again, he paused for a while, thoughtfully.  "Um, no - I guess I don't - have any friends," he finally answered.
     Nick was agitated and swinging his foot, and looking down.  Lizzy felt he was nervous, because he had no problem expressing himself at home, with her, Daniel, Daniel's friends, or Charlie, or the dog, Rusty, for that matter.  She felt like Dr. Epstein was interrogating Nick, and she felt the question was unfair and cruel.
     "Doctor, Nicolas is a straight A student, honor role.  He is very gifted with computers, technology, assembling anything, you name it.  I feel like you are putting him on the spot, and this line of questioning seems preposterous to me."
     "Yes, I am not surprised.  I know he is a very bright young man, and I'm sorry if I come across as being rude.  I don't mean to be.  I am just trying to find out more about Nicolas."
     He then turned to Nicolas.  "I am sorry if I upset you, Nicolas.
I just wanted to find out more about how things are going for you, with school and all.  Would you like to go out to the waiting room and watch television for just a few minutes?  I would like to talk more, with your mother, and I know you are tired.  Ask Jennifer at the front desk, for a soda.  You have had a long day here, I know.  I know you want to get going."
     Nick casually walked out and closed the door, saying merely, "sure, thank you," in his usual soft spoken way.  He was always very polite to everyone.
     Lizzy had a horrified look and was getting more worried.  What on earth would he want to tell her, that he could not say with Nicolas in the room?
     "Elizabeth", he began.  "Has Nicolas ever been diagnosed with any type of autism?"
     "No, of course not.  He is fourteen for crying out loud.  He's an A student, not nit picky either and he talks just fine."
     "Well", he continued, "sometimes there are mild forms and autism does not necessarily make one unable to speak and autistic children and adults can be extremely intelligent.  I am concerned about his fractured speech and not making friends.  I do not want to put a label on him by any means.  I may be wrong and at his age, it would seem highly unusual for something like this to be so delayed in being notable.  I may be wrong.  It is just some mannerisms.  I do not think it is connected with the seizures.  I think Nicolas has autism spectrum disorder, what is called ASD.  It often does not show up until  adolescence, but I can have him accessed by a team of doctors, but I think that this is the prognosis.  He is mostly just emotionally autistic, and does not respond emotionally, nor process things quite the way most people do.  It could get better, and he can live a perfectly normal life, drive, get married, have kids, go to college, have a career, everything.  Sometimes people put children and adolescents on anti-psychotic drugs, but in Nicolas's case, that is not necessary, since he does not have outbursts, and is highly functioning.  I think the seizure medication is enough.  I am for less medication and not more, especially if not necessary.  How is his behavior at home?  Does he get very upset at times?"
    "No, I mean, maybe once or twice when there were really loud noises, like a gunshot when his grandfather took them hunting when they were younger, a beeping car horn.  How on earth could something like this come about now?  I don't notice his speech being anything but normal.  I mean I know he is really quiet, but - "  she drifted off, thoughtfully.  She was confused and a bit indignant by now.
      "I think you have done a really good job with him, bringing him up.  He is a very polite, and a very intelligent young man.  Do you think it is normal for him not to have friends?"
     "That's my fault, Dr. Epstein.  I should not have rented out in the country.  I should live in a neighborhood with kids around.  Daniel is older.  His friends have cars and stuff.  Daniel is legally blind, you know, but his friends have drivers licenses.  No I think you are mistaken."
     "Did Daniel have friends at Nick's age?" Dr. Epstein seemed to be challenging her she felt.  She did not care for him or what she was hearing.  She thought he must be a quack, even if he was considered the best in all of New Hampshire and Vermont, Rhode Island and Maine.  These were small states.  She should take him to Boston.  'Screw this', she thought.
     "Elizabeth, I understand you being upset.  I might be wrong.  I just want to know if Daniel had friends before they were old enough to drive, his friends I mean?  Did you live in the country then too?"
     "Yes, we have lived near Vershire Center for ten years now.  I got a great deal on a lease on a big house, we could otherwise not afford.  Yes, come to think of it, Daniel did have friends come over a bit, and was invited places, but when Nick was little, he had some friends, play dates, birthday parties, you know, all that.  To be honest, Dr. Epstein, I am so busy working all the time, and with my kids, I don't even have friends.  I don't have time for friends, not to mention not having any energy."  She thought about the fact that she had Charlie.  Charlie was her best friend, she supposed, even though she did not love him the way he loved her. Then she snapped back to the reality that this was not about her, but Nick, and his well being.  
     "I think", began Dr. Epstein, "when children are younger, their parents are more involved in their social lives, making play dates, sleep overs, parties, etc., but for teenagers it is harder.  They have to fend for themselves, make friends on their own.  I am saying as a friend to you now, even though we do not really know each other, and not so much as a doctor, but a guy who happens to be a doctor, that I feel that Nicolas needs to make friends.  It is not healthy for him to isolate at this age, for whatever reason."
     'I suppose Dr. Epstein is my friend now,' she thought, sarcastically, perhaps a bit sardonically.  'I suppose he feels sorry for me.  Stop thinking about yourself, Lizzy.  It's about Nick,' she thought to herself, feeling guilty for her attitude about the situation, and for being so upset about all this, and at the same time feeling very skeptical, of this great, renowned doctor, but a part of her thought he might be right.    
     "Are you saying I should move to a town?  To the city?  I mean, Nick likes things to stay the same.  He doesn't like change."
    "I don't know.  Actually, not being okay with change is also symptomatic of this condition.  It could be difficult for him, so I am only suggesting it, not insisting on it.  It may be hard for him, hard for you.  That is up to you.  I think it may be helpful.  On the other hand, living in the country could shield him from bullying or later on getting involved with drugs, alcohol, or other things that kids get into, especially in urban areas."
     She thought, 'if only you knew, Doc.  Even the country doesn't shield kids from partying and alcohol, not with Daniel and the other boys.'  So far Nick had not gotten involved in any under age drinking or smoking, for which Lizzy had been grateful.
     "I will take that under advisement, Dr. Epstein."  
     She left his office with her son, Nick, feeling confused, not knowing what to do, except for getting his prescription filled at the pharmacy, on the way home, as well as some fast food, from the drive through at McDonald's.
She was not hungry, but she knew she had to eat, and Nick was starving.  Food would certainly help.  It always did, when she was feeling too stressed and foggy brained.
As always, it was, one foot in front of the other, one day at a time, baby steps.  Do what you have to do, the next right thing, and then the next, and the next, and the next, like an unending stream of responsibilities, things to digest, to take care of, to do, to take in, to deal with.  How much could one person take on?  How much before they broke, broke down?  She felt like she was at the end of her rope, one son diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, a congenital eye disease, which can lead to total blindness, at age five, and now Nick diagnosed with ASD, autism spectrum disorder, on top of the pseudo seizures.  


author's note: This is fiction and in no way representing anyone living.  Only bits and pieces broken up resemble certain experiences of mine, but certainly not to any exactness or sameness.  I say this so as not to create misunderstandings. 
     
   

Why I Post So Much About My Novel: Author's Note, Forward and Introduction

     I have been trying to write a novel since I was in high school, not on the same subject, because my interests and the times and my maturity, sophistication and intellect keep growing although I did read some very sophisticated Art critiques I had written in college as assignments that my mother had taped into a sketch book from one of several drawing and painting classes I took.
      I finally feel that I have learned to write, although I know I still have a way to go.  A few years ago I wrote a novella  which I have the manuscript for, called The Farm about a young single mother who inherits a farm in South Carolina which comes with a bunch of horses, so I had to research horses for that one.  
     Although my brother and I took riding lessons from one of our school teachers growing up, I did not know much about them in general.
     A friend critiqued my novella, a writer herself and although she liked the detail I went into, to her my story made no sense.  She suggested I write more about my own experience.  She had liked a piece I had written about my solo trip to India in 1996 when I had enough eyesight.
     American Boys and forgive me if I sound like the guy in The Shining who types over and over about "all work and no play...Jack a dull boy", and his wife freaks out totally because he is supposed to be a writer, but he keeps writing the same sentence.  I had an ex-boyfriend who used to get me really upset or I let him rather, and I used to write these lists of things that were bothering me about the relationship, but he said it was always the same list as before and like it never had been, like The Shining, he had said.  Well enough silliness.  
     As I was saying this novel is so much about reality, recent U.S. history, me, my kids, my life, but the process is tiring.  I posted chapter 2, 3, 4, and 5.  I really like 5, Daniel and 4 may not be complete, but it really delves into the characters Daniel and his younger brother Nicolas.
     I think Lizzy, the mom, is kind of who I wish I could be in combination with who I am and have been, but I think all in all she is a better person, more capable, has a really good head on her shoulders and do not get me wrong, I have handled a lot and been a strong person and held down jobs, but I have also been a bit fragile and have had the eye problem, so I feel that Elizabeth, Lizzy, is more who I would have and would like to be.  I do not know.  I have been told I can be too introspective.
     So if you like read chapter 5 or 4.  They are among listed reading on this blog.  I will not post much more of it on fb, because my political opinions come out a bit and I may have lost some friends, because of my beliefs, but I still maintain that I am not apologetic for these stands I am taking about recent history about such thing as Iraq, which is finally over as promised in 2011 it would be.  
     For now I will not be working as much on my novel but my blog itself, finding inspiration to share and working on my music a little more, perhaps write some new songs, although recording is not in the cards right now.
     Namaste and love to all.
     

i decided to share two more chapters: preface

     Although I know I said I was not going to share any more of my book, American Boys, but I shared, Chapter 4, Nicolas and Chapter 5, Daniel.
     The characters which I admit are autobiographical in some ways yet certainly universal in a statement of American culture and I will spare you all my statements about youth's problems, society and the war we finally got out of in Iraq.  
     It is my opinion that things have improved since President Obama has been in office, although the economic crisis for many of us may never end.  I do not want to get into politics, but simply state that I am proud, sorry if that is egotistical, I should say happy to say that my book is actually coming together and it being my main project and objective I am not resting on laurels for I have far, far to go, but I feel a certain sense of some accomplishment.
     I do not apologize for the opinions expressed in this novel, because for one thing it is fiction even if based on reality and my life and my children, poor things me writing about our life indirectly and for another these are the opinions of the young people who have surrounded me with their intelligence, bright wit, sensitivity and laughter.  I really owe a lot to the young people who spent much time in my home when the boys were young.  You can learn much from the very young.  I know too well that they can be sophomoric, yet they have a right to be.  I miss the days of teenagers being around.  They truly inspire me, and I love all the kids who spent much of their teen years in my home.  I thank them for keeping me young and for the laughter and if I did not have sons in my case, in some people's it's daughters, I would have missed all that.  Love to all.
Thanks for reading my blog.  I always welcome comments.

Chapter 5 Daniel

     Daniel lay sideways across Robert's single bed, in his dorm room, where Robert was studying to be a concert pianist at U.N.H..  Chris, who was playing a bass guitar, not plugged in, so that it made no sound, was sitting forward next to Daniel.  Robert was sitting in the only chair in the room.  His roommate was out so the other bed in the room stood empty.
     Damp towels and clothes, clean or dirty, were thrown over doorknobs and desks, anywhere they landed.  
      There was a case of beer, many of which the bottles were empty.  They all held beers in their hands.  Since Robert was already twenty-one, he had obtained the beer.  Daniel and Chris were still nineteen.  
     "Have you guys heard about Adrien?," Daniel asked.
     "No Man," Robert replied, "they don't let them call home from Iraq much.  His sister said his mom talked to him, and it's all in like code - like Baghdad is  'hell,' or at least, that's what Christen said, anyway."
     Daniel picked up his acoustic guitar, and began playing skillfully on it, practically still on his back, looking at the ceiling, thoughtfully.
     "If I didn't have this fucking eye problem, I'd be in Iraq.  I mean, I don't really know what to do with my life, right now, anyway."
      Chris looked at him, seriously contemplating what he had just said.  "What are you talking about, Dude?  You're going to do your music, aren't you?  Got to protect those hands.  No one can play like you do.  Everyone knows that.  Man, it sucks over there, from everything I have seen and heard.  I can see just fine, and I aint' goin'.  They're like killing people and shit.  I think this whole war is based on a lie.  There's no weapons of mass destruction, not that they have found, anyway."
     "I know like Iraq was like this peaceful country.  I mean I know Saddam Hussein was like this evil dictator, I guess, but in a way, was that really the answer to what happened on 911?  It's kind of like they started this war on the wrong country or something,"  Daniel added.  "I just feel like I can't go to college.  No one will give me a job back in Vermont.  I just don't know what the hell I'm doin', Man.  Sometimes, I think Adrien's dad pressured him.  He's a retired peace time general.  Busted up his leg pretty bad, got an early medical retirement.  But, like he was always really strict.  He's like a control freak.  I spent a lot of my childhood at their house.  He's like this drill sergeant.  Adrien felt like he didn't have a choice, like his dad wouldn't let up or something, and his mom didn't really want him to go.  I mean she's proud and all, but like, I know part of him, didn't want to go, but I guess more of him did.  Still, I feel like he got a lot of pressure from his dad, from what I saw and heard.  You know how military families are.  It's like a legacy they gotta keep goin'."
     "That's messed up," Robert agreed, "but I got that too.  Part of him didn't really want to go, but like part of him felt like he had no choice.  It kind of sucks, but the good part is, he'll have benefits for the rest of his life, and they'll pay for him to go to school, not that the Petersons can't afford it.  They're loaded, like the only people I know who are these days, in this economy.
In some ways he had it made, 'cause he got so much, like a nice car and shit, but he had so much pressure.  I mean his dad was mean, ya know?"
     "Yeah, definitely strict," Chris agreed.
     Daniel was thinking, 'at least he has a dad.'  Daniel had only had a father briefly, Nick's dad, and that had only lasted until he was about seven, and Nick, only about two.  He could remember him, but it all seemed like some faint and distant memories to him now.  Charlie was nice, but he wasn't exactly a dad.
     At that point, Daniel lit a cigarette.
     Chris turned to him, "can you bum me one?"
     "Yeah, but I only have two left."
     "I'll get us some.  I got a job now, waiting tables," Chris responded, reaching for the cigarette and lighter.
     "Can I stay with you guys, at your place, while we are getting the band together with Ali and Todd?," Daniel asked Chris, a little worried about what the answer would be, because he did not have enough bus fare, to get back to Vermont.  He was actually pretty broke, and he did not want to ask his mother for money, knowing she was struggling financially.
     "Yeah, sure.  Stay as long as you want, Bro, it's no problem at all."
     "Thanks", Daniel responded, and continued about his friend, Adrien, "but like what if some weird shit happens to him over there?  Or like he comes back different.  They see all kinds of fucked up stuff, ya know?  Like how do you come back the same?  What if he has PTSD or gets wounded really badly?"  
     The boys were slightly drunk, so Daniel found his mind spinning in all directions, not in a bad way, but he could not stop thinking about Adrien, his best friend, in Iraq.  He felt guilty for not being able to be there, himself.
    "Yeah," Robert continued the line of thought, as if reading Daniel's mind, almost, "I feel guilty going to college, and think about all the fucked up shit going on.  Man, I don't even watch the news anymore.  It's all so disturbing, and then I think, 'that could have been Adrien,' and the Iraqi people are getting injured and killed by the millions, as well, ya know?"
     "I know," Chris retorted, taking a long drag off his smoke.  "This war's been goin' on since 2003, and here it is, four years later.  Next year is election year.  Maybe the next president will get this country out of there.  They need an exit strategy.  Did you guys see Fahrenheit 911, by Michael Moore?"
     "Yeah, it had some good points, I guess, kind of disturbing too, I suppose, like you said.  I think they need to kill Bin Ladin," Daniel remarked casually, almost lazily, taking another swallow of beer.
     "Yeah, that's what needs to be happening," Chris agreed.  
     "Man, all this is getting so depressing, you guys.  You want to jam or something?  All this talk about Iraq and Adrien is making me depressed, ya know what I mean?," Chris changed the subject, which was getting intense.  
     "Yeah, Man, I know exactly how you feel, Brother," Daniel responded to that, and started to play a Pink Floyd number.  Chris had the bass plugged into the amp, and Daniel had switched to his electric guitar, but they had to keep it down because it was a dormitory.  Back at their apartment in Durham, they could play as loud as they wanted, so long as the neighbors did not complain, but they had the maturity, by now, to be considerate.
     Robert plugged in his portable keyboard, and they jammed for a good while, until Chris and Daniel became tired, and Robert said he had an early class in the morning.  
     "Adios Amigo." Daniel put his hand on Robert's shoulder, as he and Chris left, with their instruments and a few of the beers. "Peace," he added, on the way out the door. 
     "Peace.  See you guys," Robert told them, and shut the door, as Daniel and Chris left down the corridor, lugging their instruments.

Chapter 4

                       Nicolas

     It was September in Vermont.  Nicolas, now in the ninth grade had just come home on the school bus.  The whether had changed to a bit brisk and the trees were turning red, yellow, orange and gold as they do in New England in the Fall.  Leaves were on the ground.
      Tall, thin, blond Nicolas got off the bus wearing eyeglasses which he had worn since kindergarten, with his new jacket and backpack slung over his shoulders.  
     Rusty ran out to greet him.  He was no longer having pseudo seizures, so he was pretty sure his mother would be at work and that Daniel was in New Hampshire staying with some friends who were forming a progressive rock band.  This meant Nicolas was alone today.
     It seemed like he just did not fit in.  He felt different.   He hoped he would not get picked on like last year in eighth grade.  He was taking advanced classes in Mathematics and Science.  He did not like the idea of dressing out for Physical Education and he was afraid no one would choose him for their teem in sports like basketball, even though he practiced all the time at home.  A couple of the more popular guys had called him a geek and a nerd last year.  He hoped that since he had grown so much over the summer, he would be more popular this year.  It had started last year in eighth grade when he always had the answers in class.  Some girls had giggled at him and called him computer-head, which he thought was a lame comment.
     He missed Daniel, popular Daniel.  Daniel was the one with retinitis pigmentosa, only Danny did not have to wear glasses like Nick because he claimed they did not help.  Nick knew Danny could not see at night and that he had been singled out by a special vision teacher in school his whole life which made him feel different.  Still it seemed like Danny could fit in no matter what and the girls always liked him, maybe because he played guitar.  
     Daniel and Nicolas had different fathers.  Their mother, who had been dumped by Daniel's father, married Nicolas's father when Daniel was a very small baby, only a few months old, but unfortunately neither father had stayed in their lives, part of the friction from what he had overheard between Mom and his grandparents in Framingham, who he and Daniel had thought were pretty nice, although he had not seen them since he was about ten.
     Grandpa had taught him to play chess and taken he and Daniel hunting once.  He recalled they were formal, had a big house and had cocktails in the afternoon, a drink called a martini with an olive in these tall fancy glasses or sometimes scotch on the rocks.  He and Daniel had gotten into the liquor late one night when it had been left unlocked.  Bitter stuff it was.  It had been Danny's idea, who had been fourteen then.
     They had tried to hide the evidence but they were hungover.  Nicolas had vowed never to drink again.  He remembered how the smell of breakfast cooking made him sick that day.  In fact he had thrown up.
     He wished he had one friend, one friend to shoot hoops with.  They had a basketball hoop beside the house.  Sure, he could play with Rusty, throw him a tennis ball or a toy, but he wanted a real friend, a human being, not a girl friend, another boy, teenage boy to pal around with, actually he decided a girl who was just a friend would do.  Maybe he would like a girlfriend.  This led to fantasies about a girl at school with long brown hair and huge brown eyes and an olive complexion, named Susan.
     Nicolas went inside and made himself a sandwich.  The land phone was ringing.  He was going to let the answering machine answer, feeling lonely he answered it.  
     "Hi Mom.  School was OK.  No, I did not make any friends.  No, Mom, I don't have homework."
     "I won't be home til late.  I left a list of things for you to do.  Don't stay up too late and you know the number here and my cell.  Don't forget to feed Rusty."  
     "I won't Mom.  I know.  I'll do all that.  Yes, I know to call 911."  He was getting impatient now, because he wanted to eat his sandwich and have a glass of milk.  
     "There's microwave meals in the fridge and lots of canned stuff and macaroni and cheese in the cupboard for supper," she told him.
     "OK, love you," he told her.
     "I love you too Nick."
     Back to his alone time, he sat down to eat at the breakfast table, then washed, dried and put away his dishes, then went upstairs to his room, now that he was no longer in the guest room, to play his video games and surf the internet. 
     When Rusty followed him upstairs and kept looking at him with his tail wagging, he changed his mind, went down and fed Rusty, then took the dog outside.  The screen door swung in and out and they never locked the house, one nice thing about living in the country, although both Nicolas and Daniel always wished there were at least a store less than two miles away which was the exact distance to the nearest convenience store, which they had walked or biked to many times.  It was also the nearest place to get gas.
     The dog ran around chasing the ball Nicolas threw for him, and when he got tired out, Nicolas went to get the basketball and threw hoops until the sun was so far down he could no longer see.  It was then that he went inside to spend the evening in solitude knowing he would be long asleep by the time his mother came home from her work as a bar tender at the 'Water Well'.  
     Nicolas was actually looking forward to Thanksgiving.  They were going to be going to Framingham to visit his grandparents, and although Charlie, his mother's friend had offered to drive, his mother had decided that now that she was working at the bar and cleaning houses on the side, she had enough money to fix the truck, so taking the Greyhound was out.  He felt it was something to look forward to.
     He hoped that school would improve, but somehow doubted it would.  He thought he would just put his mind to his studies now that he was a high school student and maybe he would be some professional some day like a doctor.  That was it.  Danny could be the rock star and Nick could be the serious doctor or lawyer perhaps.  Of course he knew that Danny was very serious about his music and very talented.  He did not feel competitive with his brother exactly, just wished he was more like dark haired Daniel in some ways, that he had as many friends, that he took to guitar, that he was popular with the girls.  He had talked to Charlie about these feelings which he did not feel comfortable talking to his mother about.  That is when Charlie used to be around a lot, but for some reason they rarely saw Charlie anymore.  It seemed Mom had gotten tired of pushing Charlie and his advances away because she did not feel that way about him, so Charlie stopped wanting to be close to her anymore, and subsequently Nicolas felt guilty for feeling that this was a loss to him personally, because he felt he had lost a confidant.     

Fear as Opposed to Love

     One of the worst experiences I have had in my life is 
having had someone in my own family who is supposed to love and trust me, believe a lie about me.  
     I know that fear is the opposite of love.  That is what Depak Chopra and A Course in Miracles say and I recognize that when I get mad or lose my equipoise, I am coming from a place of fear, not necessarily of bodily harm but a feeling of rage stemming from a deep seeded abandonment issue.  A fear of abandonment which can begin in infancy of parents who do not pick up a baby when it cries or her or his needs are not answered in a timely manner, continues throughout a person's life and manifests in different ways such as clinging to inappropriate partners, low self-esteem, neediness, drama, wanting attention, difficulty maintaining relationships due to splitting, which means
seeing people as all good or all bad.  
    The rage comes from an ingrown feeling of dread of 
being left to fend for oneself in the elements, helpless and unable to survive, due to a lack of attention from one's parents or caregiver(s) at an early age as far back as being a new born.
     The ignored child has a lack of self worthiness, low self-esteem, and deep rooted insecurities.  If this infant grows into a child who is all the more neglected, she or he will more than likely be even more a victim, not necessarily by caregivers but more often by non-caregivers, friends of his or her family, of sexual abuse or abuse by teachers or schoolmates, because this child 
is like a target, somehow vulnerable.
     What I am describing is actually a mental illness which is more misunderstood by most people than any other mental illness.  Its label is misused to describe people that are not liked or considered bad, and this is a totally wrong misuse of the name of this illness.  What I am referring to is called borderline personality disorder or commonly referred to as BPD, often mistaken for bipolar because of the up and down mood swings, but it is not the same thing at all.  There are crossover symptoms such as risky behavior, severe depression and sometimes addiction in order to medicate one's mood disorder or emotional disorder.
     It is actually considered the most mentally painful mental illness, an analogy being a person with ninety percent of their body burned and every move incredibly excruciating.
     Here is the good news.  A person can actually grow out of this, and women who have stopped menstruation which can make it worse due to PMS, often get better.  A lot has been written about it.  I saw one lecture on my computer by a psychology professor who said that she had had a patient with both schizophrenia and BPD and they had told her years later, once educated, working and high functioning, that the schizophrenia was actually less painful than the BPD, because the psychosis was easier to deal with than the mental pain of depression.
     I think when I get angry, I am really afraid, frightened of abandonment, of not being loved, of not being believed, of being alone.  I suppose I am lacking love and forgiveness, but if I could only stop and realize that I am afraid, then love would prevail.
Unfortunately, I am far less than perfect, although I have worked on myself vigorously.  I think that these deep seeded feelings of self loathing and abandonment just cannot be wiped out.  Not completely.  Perhaps if one were to be God realized, or totally one with God, then that could be.  As Meher Baba said, die to one's false self to awaken to one's true self.  I did not put that in quotation marks because I am not sure of the wording and do not want to change Baba's words.  Shanti, shanti, namaste.