i was almost an abortion

Saturday, June 8, 2013

back on track

...around the middle of the next day, it was apparent that he had gotten a grip on himself, and was ready to take the next needed steps to get beyond the dark place he had been in for months. it wasn't actually dark, more like gray, but gray wasn't his color, he was more of a fluorescent kinda guy, and wasn't afraid of the bright lights he had grown accustomed to being in since he was a kid. it's hard to be a child prodigy, especially one that is given so much at such a young age, by people who were at the very top of their game. with that kind of permission from such higher ups, it was easy to take the reins and go faster than he should have, but he wasn't one to slow down...he loved running in the fast lane, and when he raced, he usually won...no one could catch up, or even give him any kind of competition...and the wind felt so good in his hair, when he had it, that he just ran, head held high, and let the path take it's course. but he had gotten sidetracked, gone down a wrong path a few years back, and that path wasn't one that he could run without stumbling, tripping or falling down. he had lost his breath going uphill, and had to stop many times, and try and catch his breath. but that path also taught him a lot about how to survive, how to pace himself, and how to give himself a break when he needed one. but the break had lasted longer than expected, and he had grown a little lazy, taken for granted his speed, and agility, and was out of shape to run any marathons right now...he needed to get himself back up, brush off the dirt he had accumulated from the spills he had taken, and get back on course.
he was ready to run.
he was ready to leap, soar and fly.
he was ready, and he knew that when the people in the bleachers saw him all of a sudden speed past the front runner and leave them in his dust, they would be happy to have him back...
it wasn't a comeback, for he had been there for years, but when he returned, to his glory, he felt sure that he would never look back.
only forward.
and from that moment on, when he felt the blood run through his veins and his heart race, he knew that it was on.
in his head, he heard the shot go off, and that very instant, a breeze came, blowing...
and he took off and didn't look back.

the day after

by the time he woke up, everything had changed.
the rain had stopped.
the sun was shining.
the sky was clear, a deep blue without one cloud.
his body wasn't aching,
his eyes weren't red from crying,
his heart was singing...
he was shocked and surprised,
and relieved.
what a difference a day makes, he thought,
hmm, i guess that old saying was true.

it was all in the past,
and now, he continue on his journey to a better place,
but the past wouldn't be forgotten,
just used as a "what not to do ever again" exercise in life.

lesson learned.
and learned...the hard way!

lessons in love...the Italian way.

no matter what he did, it all came down to the same thing...
he had made his bed, and he was laying in it...he knew he had fucked up in the past, but the fact still remained the same..he never did anything with vicious intent. people would think what they wanted anyway. and eventually they would see he had changed, had grown, cleaned up his act, and was a better person in a better place. he never meant anyone harm, but he never allowed them to take advantage of him either. apparently you give people the impression your insane when you fight back, because most people just lay down and accept being trampled on. maybe he didn't have to wear his heaviest boots when he kicked back, or his stiletto heels for that matter, but he did what he did, and he did it his way, and no one could ever say he didn't fight for what he believed.
he was raised by an immigrant Italian family who, although not mafia, still could still give the evil eye like no one else. his grandmother, Mom, was known to take her orthopedic shoes off her bunioned feet and throw them clear across the table and right at someone's head if they threw the wrong card out when they were her canasta partner...he knew that for a fact, and could prove it with the bump he still had on the side of his head. but no matter how hard the shoe was thrown, it was forgotten in seconds with the wise words..."If I didn't love you, I'd let you be stupid for the rest of your life..."
his grandfather, Pop, once told him one of the greatest lessons he ever learned (and the one that to this day got him in trouble) and that was that in life, some people NEED to be taught a lesson. and the only way they ever learned that lesson, was to be humiliated in public, made a fool of, and shown first hand that they in no way, at no time, should ever pull their stunts again. this had become his motto in life, and he never felt bad giving someone a well needed lesson. his buddy David was once dating a guy who, after meeting the guy for the tenth time, the kid again, on the eleventh, put his hand out and said "hi, i'm so n so..." to which he, without missing a beat, replied..."you forgot me? remember, at such n such a sex club, last saturday...i was fisting you and when i pulled my arm, which was elbow deep out, it was covered in shit!?" to which the dumb kid replied in a huff and shocked voice, "that never happened!" to which he replied, "no, it didn't but i bet you'll never forget who i am again, will ya..." and so, the kid never did. lesson learned. 
but that was years ago, and the constant outrageous behavior was apparently too much for most people, white people especially, ones who weren't raised by a family of loud crazy Italians who threw shoes and taught others how to behave...
so, what other way would he know than what he was taught by the people who loved him more than anyone he'd ever known.
were their ways wrong?
not at all, because he did learn his lessons, and he had grown up a better man.
no matter what the drama was at the canasta table, it never was even thought of as injust, only known as love. all would be better in seconds, just watch out for the flying orthopedics when you were playing cards.

that's how it was.
that's how i learned.
that's who i am, where i'm from, what i'm made of.
and in the end, it's what i trust.
lessons are never easy to learn, but once taught, they are never forgotten.
sometimes people need to be smacked on the head. sometimes they need to be humiliated and made to feel like the idiots they are. sometimes they need to be called out and reprimanded...
and so, moral of the story is;
if you do something stupid, don't be shocked when a shoe comes whipping at your head. just know that the only reason it's been thrown at all, is because the person throwing, cares enough to let you know you are not a fool, and you should learn this lesson, never do it again, and even...say "thank you for knocking me upside the head, i needed it."

cause ya probably did.

it's been a long time since i saw them. and i miss them so much. one of the last times I saw Mom alive, I was walking her home from our house, which was right next door. out of the blue, she said to me "you know Joey, not everyone gets married..." i said i knew. and then she looked at me and said "but that doesn't mean you can't have someone you love, be happy Joey, always be happy...because you deserve it, and you will find love. just make sure whoever it is, knows what a great man they have. don't ever forget that."

and i didn't.