Growing up my idea of a "Hero" was someone who I wanted to become. Someone everyone admired for what they could do that most of the public could not. My hero's growing up were Nolan Ryan, John Wayne and Steve Martin. They were what I aspired to become. I had no idea really what they were like in person, if they were nice or kind in addition to being Hero's.
When I was sixteen my parents offered to watch a fifteen year old Down Syndrome Boy whose mother worked for them at their office. We spent three hours watching him for her as she attended some meeting. This boy was a Whirlwind! My younger brother and I followed him around, telling him to be careful, don't touch, watch out! It was exhausting! I can't give a better word for how I felt that night. I was so thankful when it was done.
His mother was sixty five when she dropped him off at our door step. We watched him for three hours. Three Hours!! I was exhausted and I was sixteen. Now, at the tender age of fifty two, I can't even imagine how she did it or possibly still does it. He was not that high functioning of a Chromosome 21 diseased person.
When she left I told my dad that she was a "Hero." I don't think he completely understood what I was saying, but I knew. My dad's idea of a hero was Clyde Beatty the lion tamer or Doc Severinsen the trumpet player. This woman was a "Hero." She probably didn't think so, she probably thought she needed to get up the next day to take care of her son and do their routine for living. I can guarantee that she never thought of herself as a hero, only as a mother. My definition of a "Hero" has changed since I was a boy. Now I believe it to be "a person willing to put the needs of others above their own." I wish I could remember her name. His name was "Carl." Some "Heroes" are nameless, just like in Arlington Cemetery.
I remember the very first minute of high school. I was in a hall way when the bell rang. A kid about ten feet in front of me whipped around in response to the bell. As he moved so quickly he lost control of the forty pack of pencils he had in his binder. They flew everywhere. Students grabbed the free pencils without any thought of the pain and embarrassment that the freshman was experiencing. I just watched as the older students laughed and yelled, "free pencils." I was so worried about my own existence that I didn't think about his.
About a month into high school I can remember sitting on the practice field with Chris Hruby, Jim Mitzel and Kevin Sanders. We were just minding our own business when Charlie Hernandez and Don Ardanaz came up and started to make fun of us. They said, "Why don't you guys go blow your horns!" No one laughed as these guys and the other freshman football players thought they were being funny talking about how "gay" we were for being in the band. Finally Chris Hruby said something very amusing about their lack of intelligence that made Charlie Hernandez feel very small. Charlie told Chris "Go To Hell!" Chris's response was, "I did, but they kicked me out for selling you Ice Cream!" Charlie had no idea what to say to Chris. He was so angry, yet he couldn't give an intelligent response. He challenged Chris to a fight immediately. Chris said, "No Thanks, I'm busy." Luckily, Mr. Ickes came by just at that point.
Chris and I have been picked on, like so many other band members from so many years ago. We have learned to deal with the hatred that came with just being a little bit different. I wonder if this hatred made us select the mates that we ended up with. Perhaps that few minutes of hate--over and over again--made us think we were not worthy of a lifetime of love and kindness. Or just kindness? Chris and I have both had a very difficult time with our first mates. Each one has taken more than they have ever given to us. In each case, we thought that the nicer we were to them, the nicer they would be to us. Each time we were wrong. During our High School days, we would smile and try our best to please the other kids in our class--by blowing our horns and marching in an entertaining way. We didn't realize that we were only giving the other members of our class more reasons to make fun of us. We really thought we were trying to make friends.
That is what set us up for life.
I tease our friend Kelly Wilmot Cook about her throwing ice and eggs at me and my band mates during our games. She never did! But, other members of our school did this to us--often! Can you imagine your own classmates throwing ice and eggs at you because you performed for them???? If this happened in this day and age, you can imagine what kind of lawsuit would be attached to this school. How is it that I have this kind of memory and yet still want to come to our class reunion? How is it that Chris came to our 30th reunion? What ever happened to Charlie and Don? What do they remember? How many female classmates thought that Charlie and Don were dreamy and exciting back during the late 70's and early 80's? How would they feel about them right now?
None of us are perfect and none of us peak forever. At some point our balloon loses air. When it does will we be ready? Chris and I have already been at the lowest amount of air, we are ready when that happens again. Are you?
p.s. The fall of our senior year Mr. Seil (our school counselor) came into our classroom and was handing out forms telling each student what type of college they could apply to based on their grades and activities. He called out some folk and would say, "UC schools, Cal state schools, private schools or Norte Dame (that was Nirvanah.) As he called my name he said, "Lester you can go to any school you want!" When he called Don Ardanaz he said, "US Army!" Don walked up took the paper and went back to his seat with his head hanging low. He never looked up again during that class. I would like to say that I took the high road and didn't enjoy his pain. I would like to say that, but I can't. I did enjoy this moment. Some would say, "Karma"...? I don't know about that, maybe he made fun of me because he wasn't as smart and he knew it. Or maybe because I was just an easy target because I was smaller and in the band. No one likes to feel inferior, even if they feel this way in their own mind.
p.s.s. I hate to be so wordy, but here's another quick story. Padraic Brown was another athlete who liked to show how strong he was against a stuttering 120 pound trombone playing "A" student. I was walking down a hallway when Padraic wearing his Letterman Jacket leaned his shoulder down and "Checked" me hard into a locker. Him and his friend laughed as I picked myself up. Thirty years later my good friend Steve Pniewski was in charge of the reunion. Padraic was on the committee and we were going to meet at The Newport Rib company to discuss the menu for the party. This was the first time we would see each other in thirty years. I had prepared myself. I was going to boast about being a doctor (yes, Steve I am a real doctor!) I was going to boast about owning race horses, having a beautiful head of hair, being in great shape and three beautiful kids. Mostly, try and make him feel inferior to me.
When I got there he sat down right next to me and began to talk before I did. He started to confide in me about his life and how he got divorced many years ago and didn't see his son for years. I don't know why he felt comfortable telling me all this, but maybe he felt that I was a nice kid in high school and was a nice adult.
Well, I didn't make him feel inferior. In fact, I felt so bad about what he was telling me that I put my arm around his shoulders and said, "Hang in there, life will get better." I went from an old hate to a sincere concern about his well being in a minute. Unlike Don Ardanaz, I didn't get any satisfaction out of his misery.
Maybe between 18 and 48 I grew a little.
When I was a kid and was making my own lunches at home during the summer months, I loved to make a fish stick sandwich with a side of corn on the cob. Now I would use two slices of wheat bread (not realizing that there would be those today who would say, "Too much Gluten"), I would slather on some mayonnaise (that's right, not tarter sauce, my choice I don't know why, I like them both), lettuce to make it a little more healthy and a hefty dose of pepper. You may ask why pepper? When you are the smallest of three boys (notice I didn't say youngest) you learn to adapt to your environment to survive. When I was young my brothers and dad would constantly steal food off my plate (especially french fries.) One day I was experimenting with seasonings and added a little pepper to my tater tots. The reaction from my brothers was priceless. They couldn't imagine anything grosser. So unlike Pavlov's Dog I taught them to react to my bell (adding pepper to my food) with negative consequences instead of positive reinforcement. They never touch my food again. I learned to like pepper on everything.
The corn? Well, you just can't go wrong with corn on the cob in any situation (unless you have loose dentures.) This combination satisfied me every time. When I left home and went to dental school I stopped making this meal. I got married, had kids and spent the next three decades trying different wraps, burritos, salads, rice bowls etc, etc,...
Last month Julie went to New Orleans with her daughter for a weekend. I was alone and decided I would try that again. I turned on the television found an Angel game and made dinner. It was glorious!! I consider myself a self taught chef (my daughter Mary is a Culinary Institute of America graduate and way above me in any culinary competition, but I am pretty good!) I can make a Hollandaise Sauce that would make you believe you were wearing Dutch shoes, I can make a Cactus salad that would have you think you are in the state of Aqua Caliente and I can make a Canadian dish of Poutine that you would love to "Put In" your mouth.
All of this being said, why would such a simple dish from my childhood bring me so much happiness. I was literally moaning from how good it tasted and made me feel. As I reflected on my carbohydrate high, I started to realize how good I had life during the summers when I was a teenager. There was no school, if there was it was band camp (and you know what happens at band camp!)
I worked part time at my dad's office or at McDonald's, but it wasn't bad. Once I clocked out that was that. No one called me about a toothache or whether or not there was an employee issue, no call from an accountant. You get it, I had the least amount of responsibility and that was great. There was fun. I went to the beach every week, played intellivision with friends, saw a movie or went to an Angel game. Life was very simple and very good. I miss that feeling.
What I feel now is the need to be productive, to take care of others. I have that constant need to serve. I believe that once I became a father the needs of others became more important than my needs. Now that my kids are grown and independent I still feel the need to take care of other people and/or keep being productive. I would say that a good analogy is that I'm in the fast lane on the freeway and I don't know how to get off and slow down. I guess eating fish stick sandwiches is a way of taking my foot off the pedal!
About ten years ago I was driving down the main highway in Bullhead City with my kids and their mother. There was a guy standing on the sidewalk with his thumb out (trying to hitch a ride.) Now I am not a virgin to giving rides to strangers, neither have I made that a hobby, but this case was special. He had no shirt on, nor shoes and he was holding his only possesion (a very large chainsaw!) I started to slow down, not to give him a ride but to take a picture. The kids mother demanded I keep going (probably not the worst idea!) I don't think this gentleman ever took a "Dale Carnegie How to Win Friends and Influence People" course. If he had, the chainsaw may not have been involved in his repertoire.
When I was a kid the 4th of July meant fireworks! Our country celebrates the Independence from our sovereign oppressor (England), but really, fireworks and a little barbecue. Its a cute little holiday, but I think our country is so far from 1776 that we really don't understand the significance, at least not personally.
Can you imagine the feeling of celebration that the nation experienced in 1796? Twenty years after the signing of that Thomas Jefferson authored paper. People gathered and lifted up their cups of grog or whiskey and said thanks to those that fought for this independence. Faces that were still fresh in their minds of friends or family members who gave their lives. We can watch shows on television that remind us of those who fought and the sacrifices that were made. We can read a good book by David McCullough about the revolution that would make us feel as though we were there, but we weren't. That makes it a little bit hazy for us.
Do you realize that the actual tax rate on the average citizen was around $200 per year in today's money. The government of England was trying to recoup money spent on kicking out the French during the "Seven Year War." What you don't hear about is the fact that the French were getting the Indians to attack settlers and the English were fighting France on many fronts, but specifically to us here in America. The American citizens also charged excessive amounts to the English for natural resources (timber for forts, ships and wagons.) More than half of the settlers were loyal citizens (known as Toris.) They understood that England offered protection against other bullies (did you ever watch "The Godfather"? Don Corleone was loved by his neighborhood.)
Have you ever bought a car in California? How much did you pay in tax? Break out one of those receipts, you will be stunned at how much tax you pay. Yet, we are not close to revolution here. The closest we got to a revolution is when Time Warner bought the rights to broadcast the Dodger games. Even then, we all went on with our lives. How much does the government take out of your paycheck every two weeks? A lot!! What do we get for it?
Let me tell you, for all the money I have paid in taxes, I have lost more freedom than you can shack a stick at. When the "Patriot Act" was signed, we all said, "Goodbye" to our privacy. Do you think that your conversations are private? How about your emails? How is it to find information about your private activities. I know what you are all saying, "What about our safety? This way we catch the terrorists." Benjamin Franklin once wrote, " Those who would give up essential Liberties for a temporary safety deserve neither liberty or safety."
All that being said, " I'm going to watch some fireworks tonight and barbecue some marinated Lamb Chops." I also recorded the musical "1776." Julie and I will snuggle up together and celebrate the holiday this way. Oh, and if you are reading this blog and work for a government agency checking on my patriotism check out my photo below just for you!
When I was about ten there was an ad to buy a submarine in a comic book that me and my friends read. My next door neighbor Chris Ginnochio had a pool so we assumed that we could put the submarine in there and practice driving it until we were good enough for the ocean.
My friends and I collected our money together and gave the entire amount to my mother. We asked her to send away for this treasure, but never did see it. We would ask her if it came every week, until we forgot about it. Below is the advertisement. To this day, it still looks "Bitchin!"
One of my favorite scenes from Disney's "Secretariat" is watching Diane Lane as Penny Chenery in the barn frustrated that she needs money to save her farm, but does not want to sell the horse because she knows he will become the next Triple Crown Winner. Her dream is to fulfill her father's greatest dream. She is under so much pressure from family and friends to just give in and sell the horse. She looks to the heavens and yells, "I will not live a life of regret!"
She didn't. They were able to keep Secretariat theirs and sell breeding rights to a number of investors. She went for her dream and won. How great must that feel. How many of us have tried and failed? How many of us have never tried, too afraid to fail. I would have to say that I am one that does not want to ever look back and regret not trying. This has not always worked out for me, but I'm glad I'd tried.
If you ask Julie what her biggest regret is in her life she would say, "Not trying out for the lead in the Mater Dei Senior Musical." The powers that be had asked her to try out. She was the best singer and looked the part of Mairian the Librarian (we were doing The Music Man.) Her friends, family and boyfriend did not want her to do it. They told her it was too much time, it was for geeks and she would never think about it again. If you ask her not a day goes by without the thought of how this decision would have changed her life. This decision screams "Butterfly Effect." Her life would have been changed dramatically. She wouldn't have been a young mother, she would have gone on to UCLA after that who knows? I believe she would have been California's first female Governor!
When I was in high school I was very shy and stuttered very badly, so I didn't have much confidence in myself. That being said, I didn't date very much. The girls that I wanted to date were unattainable to me back then. The only thing keeping me from succeeding was me! My regret is not being braver and asking out Julie when we were in high school. She was in my homeroom the first day of Mater Dei and I sat behind her at our graduation. In between I saw her from time to time having fun with all of the popular kids. I was just to afraid of talking to her. If you ask her today she would tell you, " I would have loved dating Dave back in high school." Maybe, maybe not. We will never know because I didn't try. That is my regret. When I saw her at our 30th reunion I decided that I would not live a life of regret anymore. And I don't!!
