Our House, a quasi "Chronicles" entry

Shortly before lunch, Dakboy and I were talking about his WIP (work in progress), aka as Casa Dak. The subjects changed a few times from my job and his to the "villiage" he lives in and the suburbia where I currently reside. Finally we started chatting about our parents home and that made me think of some interesting"fun facts" about my neighborhood. Some of these may have been mentioned in my "Chronicles", but in case they are not or you don't care to read them, I will mention them here.

The neighborhood I grew up in was well established. Some of the houses were over 100 years, but there were some that were much newer...those were built in the 50's 60's, and 70's. The old homes were hard to spot. They had been renovated so many times they scarcely resembled the original design, which in many cases was a basic 4-5 room home used to house coal miners...a popular, albeit dangerous profession practiced at the turn of the 20th century in my home town.

Being that my home town was the base camp for coal miners, it never really became affluent. The neighborhood was set far on a hill and the elderly or poor of health had trouble navigating it at times. While there were several older people that lived on the hill, most were born there or moved there when they were quite young. Native West Virginian's tend not to move for the sake of moving. My parents lived in the same home for over 30 years before they decided to get off the hill and move to a home on flatter ground.

The houses in my neighborhood were rather close together. This was not the grand plan of some money hungry developer...it was that way to make the most use of the hilly space that was available to build upon. Our lots were rather large as far as neighborhoods go, but they were long and not very wide. My guess is that most lots were three or four times as long as they were wide. This tended to make houses with large back yards, small from yards and not much space on either side. The space on each side of most homes was about the same as what I see today in the North Texas area.

As previously stated, most of the older homes were pretty basic four and five room dwellings. As families grew, so did the house. It was very common to go out and play on a Saturday morning and see you neighbor adding room on to the back of the house, which was about the only place to add one with the lots laid out the way they were. Moving into a bigger home was an expense most in my neihgborhood were not willing to incur. Our house, in the 30+ years my parents lived there had 2 rooms added on A utility room and my sister's bedroom) as well as a back deck. This of course does not count the constant remodeling my father did to every room in the house. One of the more unique features our house had (a HUGE closet that sat in between the master bedroom and my room) was divided up into three smaller closets. One for my mom, one for my dad, and one for my sister, who inherited the room after me and my brother left home.

Interiors were replaced in each room while I lived there, each time going from plaster walls (the original covering from the mining days) to wood paneling, my father's wall covering of choice. Paneling was so popular where I grew up it was not until I was 24 that I recall seeing a home without it.

The biggest change for the house came after I moved to NC. My father decided to finally put a hallway in to allow access to the laundry room in a normal manner. You see up until the hallway was was put in, you had to go through my room (later to be my sister's) to get to the laundry room. To remedy that, my father move the kitchen sink to another wall and the open area where the sink was became the hallway (after the wall was opened up and the old doorway was closed up). It was a big project for my dad and mom. He was in his early 50's and not in great health. I was impressed with the workmanship of the final product. The diagram to the left is an idea of what was done. I know it is not very good, but it will do until I can get a better one up.

There were other houses in the neighborhood that went through interesting transformations. The most ingenious one that I can recall was performed by my neighbors on the street above us. They had a small house that was in very bad shape that they inherited from a deceased family member. They did not know how bad off it was until the decided to renovate. Once they started tearing out walls, plaster and flooring, they noticed that the whole house was in very bad shape...as a matter of fact, too bad of shape to fix. This posed a problem since they had already sold their old home and were planning on using the money to fix up the current one. Then the father got an idea. He moved the family into one half of the house as he tore down the other and rebuilt it. While the living arrangements were cramped, it allowed them to remain in the house while completely rebuilding it. One of the other benefits of him doing it that way was he only needed a building permit to do this. Tearing down the old house, hauling away the debris, and building a new house required many more permits and a lot more red tape.

One of the most spectacular transformations was the house right next to the ingenious one mentioned above. The home of the "cute as a button" Denise Palmer was pretty much like many of the others in the neighborhood until her father, a local contractor, got started removing the raised front porch, pouring a concrete front patio, installing columns, lowering the door and making the steps going up inside the house instead of out. It was truly one of the most interesting things I have ever seen. The man had talent. He and his brother (who lived a few doors down were both pro's but Howard, Denise's father was clearly the better of the two, if you compared homes. Donnie's house looked like little more than a mobile home. As a matter of fact, he rented it from the elderly couple who lived in the house below them.

My buddy Knightmare Duck (of "30 Days of Linux" and "Pictures From West Virginia" fame) lived in a house that used to be two separate apartments. Back in the 20's through the 50's, it was common to see a larger house divided up into two or more apartments. Many times this was done when children moved on and the houses were too big for the older couple to take care of. KD's parents bought the fixer-upper when I was a tweenager and gave the upstairs to their two kids. It would have made a small apartment, but cozy if not for the room that used to be the kitchen. It had fallen into a state of disrepair and if memory serves, had a bad leak in the roof. The room was closed off and that left 3 bedrooms, a TV/game room and a non-working bathroom. Many of the families were poor and could not afford to make some repairs and since KD's dad was not much of a handyman (though he had many other useful skills) they were never completed. Once KD's family moved out KD moved in with his girlfriend and some repairs were completed, although not all of them.

Thanx to Dakboy, I have really enjoyed this trip down memory lane. Maybe this will prompt others to think back a few years to their childhood homes.

Chronicles, "Room (Mate) With(out) a View"

I have never lived in a house or an apartment by myself. I have always had someone living with me, be it family, wife, girlfriend, or room mates. I am not sure I could deal with being alone once I left the office...I need the ambient noise of a person going about their business. A empty house, even if the TV or stereo is on, unnerves me.

I have lived with 1 girlfriend, 2 wives (obviously at different times), and 7 different room mates. I wanted to expound a bit on previous "Chronicles" entries by telling you about some of my "bad" room mates (the ones that didn't work out so well) so I decided to make a separate chapter about them in "Chronicles". You are now reading some of those experiences.

After my (then) wife left me and moved to NC, I was not able to make ends meet on my own, so I asked a former class mate, JR, if he wanted to move in. He had just gotten out of the Navy and was working at a local steak house as a bus boy. JR and I did not make good room mates. I can tolerate a lot when I have to but his habits were a bit over the top for me. I once came home from work and found him and his new girlfriend in the throws of passion on my couch. I never sat on that couch again.

JR also liked to party. One night he decided to host a little get together at our place and bought a keg and invited a few people. Like most parties, those people invited people and it got a little out of hand. I am so glad that my neighbors did not call the police. Had they, the city jail would have had a few new residents that night. Just about anything that you would expect bad to find at a party was there (drugs, alcohol, underage females). When all was said and done, I told JR that he was NEVER going to host a party ever again. When my (then) wife wanted to reconcile a couple of months later, I jumped at the chance and moved to NC. I gave JR a two weeks notice and moved. All his stuff was placed on the front porch on moving day (since he rarely showed up to the house anymore) and a note was left with telling him that if he went inside, he would be trespassing. My father helped enforce that.

After 18 months of attempting to make things work with my wife, I moved my stuff into "The Axe Murderer" and Roy/Ray's (I could never remember which it was) apartment a few miles away. I was very happy that they let me sleep on their couch for a few weeks until I found a place of my own, but it was a hard 25 days.

My first or second night there, I woke up with the strangest feeling I was being watched. When I opened my eyes, a strange, rough looking young woman was sitting with her back to the wall staring at me. I jumped and she screamed. I found out that she had been beaten and raped by her husband/boyfriend and was hiding out with Ray/Roy. I felt sorry for her so I took her to the corner store an bought her a sausage biscuit and some juice. We talked (I had to make her feel comfortable enough to let go of the HUGE knife she had with her) until she was tired and then I walked her back to tghe apartment. I slept with one eye open until morning. The girl worried me.

A week or two later, I fell asleep on the floor watching TV. When I woke up, a completely different girl was cuddled up beside me. I rolled over with a start (waking up to a couple of women holding knives makes one a bit nervous as well as a light sleeper) and she woke up. "I was only trying to keep warm", she said in a sleepy voice. Not being able to get back to sleep, I got ready for work. Sarah (I do not recall her real name) decided she did not want to go back to sleep either. She followed me around the apartment while I was getting ready for work and even stood in the bathroom while I was showering, chattering away (the bathroom lock was broken). I sincerely believe all she really wanted was someone to listen.

After I finished with my shower (she finally left so I could get dressed) we chatted a bit more and found out (among other things) that she was a runaway Ray/Roy had taken in. I was beginning to feel like this was a homeless shelter. It was not long after that more people started spending the night, sleeping in any available area. These guests would stay up late and keep me awake until 2-3 in the morning. I had been looking for a place to move into but so far nothing was materializing. I needed to step up my search.

Since I had not paid the guys anything since I arrived, I decided to go to the store to buy some groceries. I always ate out (I lived on $5 a day...seriously) until that time and thought it would be nice to have some stuff around the house. I bought $50 worth of staples (bread, milk, lunch meat, cereal, apples, bananas, etc) and it was gone in 2 days...I am not even sure I had one meal. They also got a notice that the electric was going to be turned off so I bargained with the electric company to keep it on for a week longer if I paid them $50. At least I prolonged the power until I left. Selfish, yes...but I was not in any financial shape to do more.

My last night in the apartment with Ray/Roy and The Axe Murderer some limo driver spent the night on the floor in the dining room and I noticed when I got up the next morning that he was packing heat. I was very worried and decided that I picked a good time to get out. I borrowed a truck from a colleague at work and moved all my stuff into my next residence, Fredville.

The first real "official" room mates were Fred and Patrick. Fred, a NMT (Nuclear Medical Technician) at Duke University Medical Center and the owner of the house, rented rooms to me and Patrick. Fred lived downstairs and and Patrick and I had rooms at opposite ends of house upstairs. Fred was a bit of a neat freak and was always on our case about something. He was also very nosy and searched my room on more than one occasion. Fred was also gay and his overtly effeminate mannerisms were quite humorous to Patrick and me (up until this point I had not known many if any openly gay men). Every other week his "partner" would drive up from Atlanta to spend the weekend with Fred and Patrick and I would make sure that we were not home. Say what you will to or about me, but I do not have to be in the vicinity of behavior I did not believe in. I did not care if I had to sleep in my car at a rest stop, I did not stay there unless I came in very very late and left only after they did.

Fred also had cat that freely roamed the house, upstairs as well as downstairs. I do not like cats, so I kept my bedroom door shut all the time to keep the furry, shedding little beast out. Fred did not like that (telling me to leave my door open when I was not home) and it soon became obvious that his cat would be a major source of conflict between us. It was only one of many things that caused me to leave.

Once I came home (Fred was not home yet) and found some cat vomit on the living room carpet. Me, not wanting it to stain, did my best to clean it up, but the damage had already been done. I had to leave before Fred came home so I did not get to tell him about it. The next day when I saw him, he accused me of spilling soda on the floor. I told him the cat had puked and I attempted to clean it up and he gave me the third degree about it. I was a bit miffed but bit my tongue. 2 or 3 weeks later, I came home and found another puddle of pussycat puke in the carpet, so I left it. Patrick came home and almost stepped in it. "El, did you see that puke? We better clean it up". I told him that I was not going to and when he asked me why, I told him. His eyes lit up and then he told me that he had been blamed for the stain as well. "Okay, we'll leave it", he said and that was that...until Fred came home.

Patrick and I were in the living room (we rarely went downstairs to watch TV after the "video tape incident") watching something mindless when Fred came home and He saw the puke. He asked Patrick and I why we didn't clean it up and I told him bluntly, "I learned my lesson last time, Fred."

"Last time? What last time?" he asked.

"Oh yeah...the last time your cat puked and I cleaned it up it left a stain and you blamed me. Later you blamed Patrick for the same thing. I don't like being blamed for things I did not do." With that, I left. Fred never blamed me for stains again...even the ones I did create. However I bet that his cat, Kyrie was not so lucky.

There was one other major issue that Patrick and I disagreed with Fred about and that was the bills. Fred told both of us that every month, we would get an itemized bill of our share of the utilities. We never actually saw the bills, just a total...it was far from itemized. The first month I got my bill, it seemed high, so I asked Fred to let me see the originals. He got very defensive but finally agreed. Fred had made a mathematical error of about $20 and had included some items that were not mine (some long distance phone calls, charges for the cable box in his room and one other that I cannot remember). I paid him what was due and he took it, but he was not happy. The next month, the same thing happened. So again I asked Fred to see the bills. This time he refused. I told him either show me the bills or he was only going to get the amount that I had paid last month. He was not happy. About that time Patrick walks over and asks what the problem was and he says, "Yeah, I thought last month's bill looked a bit off." We all discuss it and Fred finally gets out the bills. I told him that if he would just leave the utilities out for us we could pay our share now questions asked and if he had any issues he could come to us. That was not acceptable to him and needless to say he never gave us itemized bills...only a sticky note on our door with what he said we owed.

Before I moved in, Fred ran an ad in the local paper offering a room for rent. I called the number and Patrick answered. I felt like I was being interrogated as we discussed the availability of the room.

"Yeah, I am calling about the room. Is it still available?"
"I think so...I really am not sure...Fred, the owner is at work, I am the other room mate, Patrick."
"Nice talking to you Patrick. I find myself needing a place to stay...kinda quickly. I am recently separated."
"Oh, you are married? To a woman?"
"Uhhh yeah..."

I later found out that the last upstairs room mate (across the hall from Patrick) was a gay Iranian college student who had a thing for teen boys and Patrick was hoping that the next tenant would be straight. When Fred got home, Patrick put in a good word for me. He told Fred, "You gotta rent to this guy...he sounds very dependable." Thanks Patrick.

Patrick was a good guy. Like me, he was having marriage issues, but unlike me, his were alcohol related. We never hung out much (he liked to play golf and I didn't) but we did watch TV and talked once in a while, that is until the "Video tape incident". After that, I was afraid to push play on a VCR for a long time. Let me explain.

Patrick and I were home at the same time one day...a rarity for both of us. He had a date later with a cute thing he met at one of his AA meetings and had some time to kill, so he turned on the TV to catch some baseball. He noticed that the VCR was on, but not recording anything, so he pushed play to see what it was. Big mistake. I have seen pr0n before...I am not proud of that but I have. However gay pr0n is not something that I ever want to see again. I must have gone through a case of mental floss and a thousand hours of Sesame Street to rid my mind of those images. I guess that explains the party Fred had the night before. After that, I rarely left my room when Fred was home.

Patrick decided to give his marriage another shot about 5 months after I moved in. Fred wanted to find another room mate and I told him I knew someone who was looking for a place. I told him about Ken, a former co-worker at Circuit City. I called Ken and he interviewed with Fred. Ken wrote Fred a check and he moved right in. Like Patrick, I wanted some say in who would be sharing the upstairs where I lived.

Ken and Fred did not get along at all. Ken was a messy guy and Fred could not stand clutter. I knew that Ken and Fred not get along, but I wanted to make sure no gay Iranian college students moved in. I decided to take the initiative to have Ken meet Fred. A couple of weeks after Ken moved in, I moved out of Fredville and moved in to Landshark's old room at Rob's house. Fred immediately pulled out the homosexual activist mantra, "It's because I am gay, isn't it?" I told him that while I did not approve of his lifestyle, it was his ethics (the bills, him coming into my room, the cat issues) that was the primary reason and that A better situation was to be had with another group of room mates.

My timing was good in many ways...Fred had planned on moving to Atlanta and selling the house...and not tell the tenants until it was too late. Ken was able to find a place but what Fred did was low, even for him. To make matters worse, 30 days after I moved out, Fred called me to tell me I owed him money for the last months utilities. I just told him to take it out of the security deposit I had already paid and he refused. He told me that I would pay him the utilities and if he thought I deserved my Sec Dep back, he would mail it. Right...and I am the king of England. He had no plans to give me my money back. I was happy for Ken that he never paid Fred a deposit like I did. I really did not lose anything. My deposit was just about enough to cover my last months share of the utilities.

I am so glad I do not have to deal with that any more!

Chronicles, "Home Sweet Home"

As hinted at and mentioned in previous entries, I had a rather modest upbringing. We had an average sized house (for our neighborhood) that my father altered many times before he finally decided to get "off the hill" and move to lower ground. That home in Adamston was the first house I can remember living in even though I had lived in another (On Glenwood Hill) from birth until almost 3 years of age, when dad and my pregnant mom moved into a house on the hill in Adamston (there we go with those hills again). Since I do not remember anything about the house on Glenwood Hill (except that a little girl we lived next to attended high school with me...and remembers us playing as babies) I shall start in Adamston (see below, house in center. This photo was taken in 2007).


The house was small by some people's standards...probably less than 1000 sq ft (half of todays "average" home) and was already old when we moved into it...50-70 years old if my sources are correct. It had originally been used as housing for the employees of a mining company near the turn of the century. My father had told me that when he bought it, it had no insulation and it was very drafty. It had 2 bedrooms and 1 bath with a medium sized kitchen and living room. It had a small pantry that was only accessible via the second bedroom. This second bedroom was occupied by my older half brothers until I was 6 or so, when they moved to Ohio to live with their bio-mom. Once they moved out, I moved in with my younger brother. Later on my father added a laundry room (an oddity in my neighborhood where most people had washers/dryers in the basement or in the kitchen...some people even had them in their bathrooms) that was still only accessible via my bedroom, but it had a back door...a feature I made use of in later years. The old pantry was used as a hallway to connect my room with the laundry room.

When my sister was born 7 years after we moved in, my dad added another room on to serve as her bedroom. It was added on to the very small dining room and it was not heated...instead her room relied on the heat from the rest of the house to keep it warm. It was very small (8 x 10) but served my sisters needs until I moved out when I was 21.

The house had a medium sized front porch (something not seen often in todays homes where "stoops" are more common) and a little concrete pad for a back porch. After my sister was born, dad built a patio between the laundry room and her room. It was actually pretty nice and provided a lot of shade during those hot, humid WV summers.

The yard was a terraced slope with a parking pad near the top and a tool shed right below. There usually was a small vegetable garden somewhere in the yard unless dad was too busy to start one. Originally the shed was only 10 x 10 but dad was a pack rat and decided to expand it out 10 more feet to make it 10 x 20. I loved that shed. It was like a gold mine of junk. If you needed something, dad most likely had it "in the shed".

Dad was always making upgrades to the house. Aside from adding 2 rooms and a patio, he paneled every room, did his own wiring and plumbing, painted, and put up siding. Later on he even re-arranged how the kitchen was set up, blocking off one doorway, moving the sink, stove, and fridge to different walls, and opening up spot in the wall to go directly to the laundry room...like it should have been from the start. I think my dad would have replaced the roof himself if he would have had the time and the help. I was not very good at that sort of thing and to be honest, I was not very interested in it, either.

After I married my (then) wife, I moved out from that house and bought a house of similar size and design across the street and "above" mom and dad's house. (remember, WV = every thing is either above or below you). It was a fixer-upper, but I did not mind. I had a pregnant wife and I needed space...quickly. That house was not terribly bad but it needed a lot of TLC. It needed painting on the outside, new windows, some sort of wall covering (paint, wallpaper, paneling, etc), insulation...the whole nine yards. The big difference between the two houses was mom and dad's had a small dining room and mine did not. Our kitchen and living room we a touch larger and we just put the dining room table in the kitchen. There was small back room that I considered wasted space that we used as a "mud room" ... a place where you took off your muddy shoes not to track up the living room floor. The bathroom was in the back of the house off of the mud room and had two doors. One door was off the mud room and the other went into the master bedroom. The mud room also had a door into the small utility room.

My father and I worked on the inside of that house and while it was passable, it was far from professional. I ran out of money before I ran out of projects, so we had to put the rest of the repairs on hold until I could get more money. Needless to say, that never happened.

When wintertime rolled around, I found out just how cold a house could be. My house was so drafty that the furnace ran all the time. Back when natural gas was much cheaper than it is now, I still had one winter where I paid a $200+ gas bill...that was 20 years ago. I have a lot of bad memories of that place...mostly connected to my (then) wife, but that is another chapter...

I lived in that house until the summer of 1989 when I moved to NC with my (then) wife. We rented an apartment (750 sq ft I think) that was not too bad (the complex had 10 or so buildings) considering it was the cheapest one in the area. I had 2 bedrooms and 2 baths, a large living room with connected dining room and a galley kitchen. It was in the basement of the building we lived in but only part of it was underground. Being partially underground kept it much cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter and that meant we saved money on electricity. The apartment was very convenient to both my (then) wife's work and mine. The area had a mall and a shopping center just across the boulevard and that meant almost anything I needed was within walking distance. The biggest problem we had with that apartment was with the neighbors beside us. While the people were nice, they had a very bad roach problem and the roaches eventually decided to take up residence with us. I had never seen a roach before I moved into this apartment and I was beginning to freak out. We called the super many many times, but they never were able to get rid of the roaches. We moved out 18 months after we moved in.

At this point my (then) wife and I parted ways (that story to come at a later date) and I stayed with a co-worker for until I found a place of my own. At the behest of Landshark, I moved in with "The Axe Murderer" and his roommate (I think his name was Ray) who was the son of a preacher (that should have been my first clue). Those 25 days I lived with those two (I slept on the couch) were very...interesting.

Almost 4 weeks after leaving my (then) wife, I found a room to rent about 2-3 miles from my work. It was a newer home and the guy who owned lived downstairs while he rented out the two upstairs bedrooms for extra cash. He interviewed me and accepted a security deposit in exchange for a the key. Being that close meant I could walk to work if I needed to (I was riding a 12 speed bicycle to work at that time) but not so far out of the way that I would have trouble bumming a ride now and then. I got moved in without a hitch but ended up only living there about 6 months. A lot of things contributed in my choice to leave and maybe at some point I will elaborate on them. During the time I lived there I bought a car so biking was as a means of transportation was dismissed. I was then free to bike for fun rather than by necessity.

While I was renting that room, my good friend Landshark informed me that he was moving in with MFLS (Future Mrs. Landshark) and his room at the home of the "2 Live Jews" was going to be available. He (re)introduced me to the owner, "Bob the Slob" and his brother, "Dr. Dave". We chatted for a bit then Bob says, "When can you move in?". I told him that I had paid rent at my old place until the end of the month so I could move in then. Bob then told me that if I moved in right away, he would not charge me any rent until the beginning of the following month, about 2 weeks way. Sold! I went home and told my landlord/house mate that I was moving out immediately. A lot of drama went on but, again, maybe I will expound later.

I moved in with the "2 Live Jews" on a Saturday and made that house my home for over 2.5 years. I have nothing but fond memories of that house and the living arrangement we had. It had plenty of room (3 big bedrooms, 2.5 baths, TV room, formal dining room, an open, connected living room/kitchen, a utility room and a garage) and privacy and it was located far enough way to make me happy but close enough I did not have to drive forever to get to work. The only thing that mars that period was when Bob's girlfriend, Jenny, moved in. On a Friday or Saturday night, Bob asked us if we minded if Jenny moved in. Dave asked when she planned on moving in and Bob said, "Monday". Wow, thanks Bob.

That leads me to the story of when Jenny moved in. Even though I was not there, the story Dr. Dave told me (and later confirmed by Jenny) is hilarious. Dr. Dave had just gotten back from a long shift at the hospital (he tended to work 24+ hours at a time). He did not bother to go upstairs to his room, rather, he took of his scrubs and laid down on the couch and was soon asleep. About an hour later or so he heard someone trying to unlock the front door. Thinking it was me trying to get in (Bob usually came in via the connected garage where he parked his MR2 ), he got up yelling, "Hold on LG, I coming." He then opened the door to be greeted by Jenny. Dave looked at Jen, Jen looked at Dave (in his underwear) and said, "Oh, you must be Dave" to which he replied (in a voice I imagine sounded very much like Eeyore at the time), "...and you must be Jenny". He then proceeded to lay back on the couch while she moved in her stuff. When I got home, Dave is up, Jenny is gone, and Bob is not home yet. Dave said to me, "LG, find us an apartment. You know what we need. It is time we moved out."

About a month or so later, Dave and I move into a rather nice 2 bedroom/2 bath apartment in a complex off of Guess Road in Durham. It was not too big (900 sq ft or so) and since I was getting ready to move in 6 months (I was getting remarried) this would work out well for both of us. Dr. Dave was planning on moving as soon as he graduated med school, so this was going to work out very well. I think the only complaint that I had was during the winter a water line broke and flooded the apartment. There was not a lot of damage, but it made a mess. If I remember correctly, the heating system was not overly efficient and did not keep my bedroom very warm.

After Mrs LG and I tied the knot, we moved into her small 700 sq ft apartment. We did not plan on staying there because we both desired a house, even if we had to rent. We found one about 6 months later and were all prepared to move in when we were told that the house was no longer available. This worried me since we had already gave a vacancy notice to the company we were renting from. The landlord to be told us not to worry, he had another house he wanted to let us rent for the same price. The drawback to the place he wanted to rent to us was that it was right on a busy highway. It did however have a huge expanse of woods behind it which made up for the noise of the highway. We reluctantly agreed and moved in.

The house was about 900 sq ft and had 3 small bedrooms, 1 bath, a large living room with a connected dining room, and a small kitchen. It did not have a utility room and the hook-ups for the washer were in the kitchen. Even odder was that the dryer hookups were in the open dining room. It had a covered front porch (8 x 8) and an uncovered back stoop.

It turned that the woods behind our house was one of the best features of the place. My wife and I hiked together on warm days and when the pressures of life go too much for me, I would take Little Man (back when he was a pup) and walk for hours. At some times of the year you had to dodge the hunters and every now and then a motorcycle or ATV would interrupt your hike, but it was mostly good.

We stayed in that house near the intersection of Miami Blvd and New Raleigh Road for 4 years. We wanted to stay until we had enough money saved up (and I was making enough money) to buy a house. A few of eerie events help motivate us to look for a house quicker than we would have liked, one being my son's bio-mom tracking us down and demanding that I give my son to her for a "visit".

It took us a year and a few false starts before we found our first home. We had initially went to look at the house across the street but when it turned out to be in worse shape than we had hoped, we looked at the other. While it did not win any awards for style or looks, it was roomy (1900 sq ft). It had a HUGE kitchen, formal dining room, small living room, utility room, 3 bedrooms and 2.5 baths. 2 of the 3 bedrooms were big (13 x 17) and the house sat on a wooded lot with trees all around it. Our closest neighbor was over 100' away and we had off street parking. We sunk every dime we had into the closing of that house so we did not have any real money to fix it up. We had to have it painted so we hired a guy from church to paint it for us (we borrowed the money) and when it was dry we moved in. Over the next three years we did a lot of yard work to help even out a scraggly looking lot. I cut down a couple of trees to even the lot up, cut down a lot of undergrowth, moved tons of rock, had 8 loads of dirt dumped to level out a slope, and transplanted more flowers and shrubs than a man should ever have to.

We stayed in that house for 3 years before I was relocated to Texas. My employer made me a great move offer so I jumped on it. At first my wife was not thrilled with the idea, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was the best move. We came down on a "house hunting trip" (paid for by Ericsson) in July of 2001, and after we decided on a place, my wife flew back to NC to start getting the house ready to sell. I was put in a corporate apartment (left, we had the bottom unit) in Richardson for 60 days until we closed on our house in Allen. The corporate apartment was not bad, but it was too close to the tollway. Inside it was nice, but outside it was noisy. I don't miss it at all. I like owning a home.


We closed on our house in Allen at the end of July and moved in early August. It is not a big house (1650 sq ft), but it does have a garage (something we have wanted for a long time) and a fenced in yard. It has 3 bedrooms/2 baths and was only 3 years old when we moved in. It has a very open floor plan with a built in entertainment center in the living room. It is the nicest and the newest home we have ever owned to date...God has truly blessed us.

Since moving in we have done a little work to the house to make it more "ours". My wife has started painting (inside and out), and I put up new ceiling fans in every almost room. I also installed new hanging lights in the kitchen and foyer and replaced all the bathroom towel racks with nicer silver and brass ones. Since the yard did not have a sprinkler system when we moved in, we had one installed a couple of years ago as well as new cedar fence to replace the old white pine one that was falling apart. I had a concrete pad poured to extend our rear patio so I could put my shed on a flat surface. We have lots of plans (tile floors, more painting, a master bath remodel) but we are going to take our time...Rome was not built in a day.

Chronicles, "Head Out To The Highway"

Would a trip down memory lane be complete without a page or two about cars? Of course not. Every young man anxiously awaits the day that he turns 16 so he can finally get his license and start driving. Even if it is just to the store and back, the thrill of getting behind the wheel in our younger days was incredible.

I had to wait until after I was 17 before I got my license. My father was none to eager to turn me loose on the roadways, but once I had enrolled in Drivers Education my senior year of high school, he had no choice. Getting my junior operators license was a requirement to pass the class and no child of my father's was going to fail a class if he had anything to do with it. Pops was not too happy with me for tricking him into letting me have my license, but he eventually got over it.

Even before I had my license I kept my eye open for a car. Even though I had no idea how to do it, I knew I wanted to get a fixer-upper and make it my own (as of 2007, I still have not done that...maybe that will be my retirement project). On the bus heading to school one day, I saw exactly what I wanted. Propped up on blocks in front of a junk yard was a 1963 split window Chevy Corvette (image for reference only...the one I saw looked like crap). It had a sign on it that said "For Sale - $500". It looked horrible but even then I knew that $500 for a 1963 split window in ANY condition was a bargain. Alas when I told my father about it he told me I was foolish for wanting it. He did not realize that I could buy it and do little to it and get 2-3 times my money back. Easy come, easy go.

Undaunted, I kept my eyes open and found a 1966 GMC stepside pickup in very good condition. While it did not look like much (it was rather plain), it ran well and it was easy to work on. The guy selling it was going to let it go for $600. Working up the courage to go ask for my money once again... my father (who had the keys to my savings) said "no". I was beginning to get a bit frustrated, so I just kept looking. I had big dreams, but the keys to my dreams were being held by a man who didn't want me to waste my money on something that I would soon regret. While at the time I was pretty angry at him, later on I realized he was only trying to help. Dad's do that.

My dad had two cars when I got my license, a 1972 Chevy Nova and a 1977 Buick Skylark. He drove the Buick everyday back and forth to work every day and once I got my license, he started letting me drive the Nova. He let me drive it to and from work but if I wanted to go anywhere else with it, I had to ask for permission. Most of the time he let me take it, but he would tell me "no" every now and then and I would either walk or ride KD's 10 speed bike, which he let me borrow quite frequently, where I needed to go.

I drove that car for a year or so, but I failed to perform most of the required routine maintenance. To be honest, my dad never taught me much about cars so I grew up ignorant about what to do and when to do it. When he found out that I drove it for a year without changing the oil, I thought he was gonna explode.

"The BSM" as it was known to me and my friends, was featured in at least one BSOB film, was put in a ditch by Ellen (who did not know how to drive at the time) out on a lonely country road, and was slid into a guard rail, scratching the fender and blowing the left front tire. The car was beginning to rust apart (it was in pretty bad shape when I got it) and I wanted something a bit newer...also something that was mine. I was getting tired of asking my dad to drive a car that he never used.

I did not have much money of my own but I had some money in a savings account that my father started when I was a kid. I figured it was about $400-500 dollars or so...plenty for a down payment on a used car. So one day I asked my dad for that money and he then told me he did not have it. HUH? He then reminded me about something that happened a few years prior that I had forgotten about. Back in the late 70's my dad was forced to take a pay cut just to keep his job. He took my money out of savings to repair our leaky roof but he kept track of what the amount was. He told me that when it was time to buy a car he was going to give me the Nova in place of the money he owed me. I was not very happy because I really hated that car. It was ugly and the body was rusting through. He agreed to sell it and use the money as a down payment on a car I would buy myself.

That money was used to by my first car, a burgundy 1978 Pontiac Phoenix. It had a v6, versus the straight 6 the Nova had, and had cloth seats unlike the vinyl seats that the Nova had. It needed a bit of work, but it was generally pretty nice for a first car. Dad used the money from the sale of the Nova to put a down payment on the Pontiac. I applied for a loan for the remainder, but since I did not have any credit, dad had to cosign the note. He was not happy about that but he soon learned that I was not going to default on the loan. That car provided my freedom and I was not going to let that slip away.

The Phoenix, dubbed "Broken Wings" by the gang due to it always breaking down, got me to and from work for almost two years. I have a lot of fond memories of that car. While I drove it a lot, most of it was local. I think I only took it on one road trip and that was to Ohio to visit my half brother. I did take it to Audra Park a couple of times, but other than that it was driven just in the county.

"Broken Wings" met her demise one night when I was at the mall with John and Rob, the Saltwell Hardcore Brothers. We were driving around the mall at night after it had closed (I was going to meet my HSS there) when I drove over one of the curbs at 30+ mph. Needless to say it really messed up the front end of my car...enough that the insurance company totaled it. I took the insurance money and started looking for another car. The car I chose was by far the worst car I have ever owned.

I put the insurance money down on a white 1981 Ford Escort station wagon. I did not have the car very long before it started exhibiting problems. Less than one year after I bought it, the head blew. I was pretty frantic because because a) I had a pregnant wife, b) cold weather was approaching, and c) I did not have the funds for a new car. My dad came to the rescue by selling me his tan 1977 Buick Skylark. he had purchased a pick-up truck a couple of years before and was going to sell his Buick. I sold all my computer equipment (a C-64, monitor, floppy drive, printer, and a ton of software) to pay for the Buick. Sometimes life can really suck. I miss that C-64. I still held on to the Escort for a year or so, trying to get the engine rebuilt, but it never did run right, so I gave it to my half brother.

We drove the Buick for about a year or so before it began to show signs of failure. I knew that we had to get rid of it soon so we took it it to a car lot and traded it in on a white 1984 Pontiac 6000 LE coupe. That was one sweet car. It also was a very rare car...very few coupes were made...a fact I was not aware of until after it was totaled. I initially did not want to buy it (it was more than I thought we could afford) but my (then) new wife/mother of my child would not take no for an answer, so we bought it. From the very beginning that car was more my (then) wife's than mine. I walked, she drove. While there are a lot of bad memories associated with that car, it was a great car for a while. When my wife and I split, she took the car (refusing to make the payments) and tore it up. By the time I got it back, the drivers door would not close properly and it had several large dents. I managed to drive that car until I was in an accident near Duke University west campus. The car was drivable, so I did not make an insurance claim. Instead, I opted to trade it in on a white 1991 Pontiac Sunbird...the first new car I ever owned. I hated getting rid of the Pontiac 6K coupe...I wish I would have had the time, money, and space to rebuild it. It was one of the most dependable cars Pontiac ever produced.

I had the 1991 Sunbird eight years before I bought another. It had been to WV more times than I could count and was one of the most dependable cars I have ever had. It became like an old pair of jeans or sneakers. It was not the best looking thing, but it was comfortable. Letting go of that car was hard.

By the end of 1999 I found myself in need of a new vehicle, thanks in part by an A/C repair man who decided to pull out in front of me one evening as I was on my way home. The bumper of his van peeled back the passenger side of my little while coupe like a sardine can, doing enough damage to total the car. While the process to get reimbursed appeared cut and dried, it wasn't. The driver gave me inaccurate insurance information, which sent me on a wild goose chase for several days until the real insurance company could be idnetified. Once located, they fought tooth and nail against giving me restitution for the damage the driver inflicted. It was not until a lawyer, who attended our church and was also a family friend, got involved that I finally was compensated. I only got about 3/4 of what the KBB value of the car was, but our friend told us she had pushed as hard as she could without going to court and if it went to court, the costs would be more than the settlement. I begrudgingly cut my losses and accepted the cash, but I insisted on keeping the car. After a few weeks, I was able to sell the car to a man who was going to use it for parts. Everyone was a winner.

I took that money and eventually found a slightly used 1999 Dodge Dakota pickup in Fayetteville, NC. Since I had been looking at Dakotas for a long time, I was very happy to find it. However, I learned my lesson about having my heart set on something and buying it without seeking wise council, so I asked my wife to be the thinker in the transaction. We took it for a drive and gave it the once over. I had done some pricing on line for used 1999 Dakotas and this one was well within the price range we were willing to pay. After some discussion, my wife told me it was the right vehicle for us. As of March 2007, I am still driving that truck. I find it simply amazing that I have only had two vehicles in the past 16 years. While getting something a bit more fuel efficient (the Dak has a 5.2 liter/318 CI V8 engine) is appealing, the cost of owning a new car versus keeping this one just does not make sense at this time, especially since we still have 10 months left to pay on my wifes van. The van makes her 4th vehicle in 16 years and marks the first new vehicle she has ever owned.

Thinking about my vehicles over the past few days has jogged some memories about the vehicles that the BSOB gang had. Holmes has been a lot like me in the fact that he has a love of Pontiac's and he keeps them until the wheels fall off. His first car, a red Pontiac Ventura (he seems to think it was a Chevy, but the only Chevy that it could be is a Nova...and he never owned a Nova) that he acquired from a relative. It had a very leaky exhaust system that very nearly gave us carbon monoxide poisoning before we returned home. Needless to say he did not have that car too long before he got his next gem, a gray 1979 Dodge Omni. I don't remember much about that car other than the fact that it overheated...a lot. The only real memory I have of it was the day that we coasted it home because it was spouting smoke and was over heating...I guess having four full grown young men in a small car with a weak motor will do that.

Holmes decided to give Pontiac's another try when he inherited a white 1972 Pontiac Catalina from a family member. As far as I can remember, that car ran very well, but it drank a lot of gas and would not fit into Holmes' garage. I used to chuckle when I drove by his house and saw the back end of the "USS Land Yacht" sticking out of his tiny garage. Sadly, no one seems to know what happened to the old girl. We do know that she exists by this one grainy still from a BSOB outing, courtesy of Knightmare Duck.
In 1992, riding the euphoric high of owning a reliable Pontiac, Holmes' purchased a burgundy 1991 Pontiac Grand Am. I think that is the car he owned for about 10 years...running it until she screamed for mercy. I only was in it a couple of times but from what I remember, it was a good car.

After the Grand Am had given her best years, Holmes' decided that it was time to let her go. He thought long and hard about what to buy to replace her. With 2 of his last three Pontiac's being winners, there only seemed on logical choice...another Pontiac! Holmes decided on a red 2002 Sunfire (the replacement of the Sunbird) and he says he has been pleased with her and plans on running the wheels off of that car as well. What will his next car be? Holmes smiles as he says, "Oh most likely another Pontiac." Figures.

Knightmare Duck drove an eclectic variety of cars during our younger years. While I personally did not get the privilege of riding in too many of his autos, I do remember a few of them.

The first vehicle he had access to was an old VW bug. KD learned to drive a stick in that old thing and his mom was kind enough to take me, KG, and Jeff's cousin Cammie along for the ride. Packing 5 people in a VW bug is an intimate affair that only gets funnier when Cammie sniffs the air and comments, "Smells like somebody is cooking out" just after KD lets out a quiet burp.

The next vehicle I remember was a 70's model Chevy...I think it was a Malibu. It was Butane Blue and more than a little banged up. KD, Carp, and I drove it up to Audra State Park on a gorgeous, but hot afternoon and cooled ourselves in the river for hours. I remember that car well because that day KD was soaking wet and he asked me to drive the car around to where we had decided to rest. I took of my shoes and waded across the river (the Middle Fork River was very clean then), picked up the car and drove it over to them. It was one of the first times I had driven a car since I got my license.

I do not remember the Vega (his first car) very well. All I can remember is the stop sign welded into it as part of the floor. I really do not think he had it very long, but I honestly cannot remember. I remember his white 1985 Renault Alliance much better but nothing stands out about it except that it always was having trouble.

The last car I clearly remember KD owning was a black 1987 Ford Mustang. It had a 4 banger in it and was not a fast car, but I think it was one of the nicer ones he owned. It was definitely more dependable than the other cars he had.

After he lost custody of his Mustang, KD owned a couple of 1979 Pontiac Trans Ams. KD always had a soft spot for those cars, much like I do for Corvettes. I am not sure what ever happened to those Firebirds, but I believe one caught fire and was totaled.

KD used to let us do most of the driving (actually Carp did the most) so I guess that is why I have trouble remembering much about the times he actually did drive. I cannot blame him..why drive if someone else will?

Stupid Bill had access to three cars when I knew him. Most of the time he drove an early 80's red Chevy Citation coupe. Although I do not know why, we nicknamed it "The Red Baron". It was one of the fastest cars I had ever seen at that time with a six cylinder engine. A 2.8 liter V6 with front wheel drive, The Red Baron would fly...maybe that is why we gave it that name.

Once in a while SB would borrow the family car, a white mid 80's mid sized Buick/Oldsmobile that was actually a very nice car...much too nice for the likes of us. SB did not take it out often, but when we did it was special. the cloth seats were comfy, the A/C worked and it had power everything.

The first car that SB owned was a black 1983 Ford Escort GT. It had a 5 speed and it handled pretty well. SB pushed that thing as hard as it would go anytime he could. He liked to drive that car and he liked to drive it fast. Once SB bought that car, whenever it was just him and I, he opted to drive. It did not matter if it was North View, the mall or Stealy...any place with twisty roads made him happy.

Carp had a few cars during the time we ran together, but none of them stick out in my mind quite like his primer black 1972 Ford Mustang 2+2. Carp ran the life out of that car, jumping it over railroad tracks, racing it up and down the unpaved and pot hole riddled Wolf Mountain Road and hitting fences as well as other inanimate objects as he parked. He never needed to change the oil because it leaked about a quart a week. He considered cars as disposable for the longest time...never taking any real care of them.

The nicest car that he owned that I could remember was a early to mid 80's Chrysler Laser... which I think was light Butane blue. That car has several memories attached to it for all of us, but the most memorable event tied to that car was when Carp, KD, and Holmes were in an accident and totaled it. Both Holmes and Carp sustained injuries but I think Knightmare Duck escaped pretty much intact. I am not sure why I was not with them that day, but my guess is that I was at work. I missed a lot being at work...sometimes that was a good thing!

I know that Carp had another car but I cannot remember what it was. KD seems to think it was an Escort, but I have trouble believing that that many of us would have owned Escorts during our late teen / early adult life. However, I have been wrong more than once as I have discussed these stories with KD and Holmes, so being wrong again would not be impossible.

Mwonga, the last core member of the group had the fewest number of cars during this time. He never owned one. He rode the bus most of the time, walked when he didn't have bus fare, and took a cab when he was in the mood to splurge. As a matter of fact, knowing how Mwonga is, I cannot imagine him behind the wheel of a car at all.

Chronicles, "The BSOB Years"

In 1984 Holmes, Knightmare Duck, Mwonga, Stupid Bill, Carp, and myself started a project that consisted of video taping parodies. That project was an extension of the radio shows Charlie and Holmes used to produce a few years prior. Having a new and different medium (we previously used 8 mm and audio tape) gave us greater freedom to express (and on at lease one occasion, expose) ourselves in a manner that was fitting for us at that time. Holmes seemed genuinely happy with this and since he had a ton of material in his head he now had a way to unleash it. Lucky us.

If you go to www.youtube.com and look at some of the video parodies people have posted there, you will see what BSOB would have been like had we had access to the Internet and real computers back then. Heck, the only major difference between those and the ones we did is the technology. If we would have had access then to the technology those people have today...I shudder to think what the outcome would have been. I think that our acting was better but that is a biased opinion. I know our writing was just as good (if not better -- Holmes really is a genius) than any of the parodies I have seen on the web. Eventually the entire movie list and info about each one (hopefully with a video still) will be available on the BSOB blog. For now you will just have to be satisfied with this.

In regards to the filming, what we did was unique in many ways. First we had a VHS video recorder. Back when we were filming, video tapes were pretty expensive (well $3-5 each I think...it was pretty high for several unemployed teens), and the camera had to be connected to the VCR. Luckily for us, the unit was portable (if you call 30 lbs of plastic, glass and steel costing over $2000 portable) and we were able to go as far as we wanted, providing the batteries were charged and we had a long enough extension cord.

It was also unique because we knew of no other group of kids doing anything like this at that time. Of course nowadays with all the cheap technology available, everyone is doing it.

We parodied popular movies and shows (Ghostbusters, Rambo, The Spy Who Loved Me, Dr. Who, etc) but we also parodied 'SNL' and 'Fridays', two of our favorite comedy variety shows. We called that show, 'Night Lite' and it had everything you could want in a variety show...except talent. Lucky for our 'friends' we never let that stop us. Night Lite even had a sequel creatively entitled, "Night Lite II". Genius, eh? Holmes even started on Night Lite III (see a pattern forming?) but it was never completed.

The parodies and skits were recorded over a 2 year period (during the summer months) utilizing Holmes' apartment, his grandmother's apartment, his garage, and eventually the woods near by. Short battery life and limited amounts of extension cords kept the filming locations close (some people view this as a good thing). Some editing was done (digital graphics and sound) to give the productions a more polished look, however not all things worked according to plan. Some minor errors were made and some of the films have less than a polished look and feel to them. Not that it takes away from the overall feel of the film...NOTHING could do that.

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The BSOB years (to me) were less about the movies and more about the bonding that Carp, Knightmare Duck, Homes, and I did (Holmes, Mwonga, and KD may disagree...but this is my blog). It was a continuation and expansion of our "clubhouse" days with the focal point being Holmes' garage. The garage was not what you would expect it to be like. Partially underground, it seeped water during the wet season and was not quite big enough to park a car. The back part (the underground part) was filled with wet, moldy junk and was separated from our part by a huge piece of cardboard known as "The Abuse Wall". Various insults were scribbled on that essential bit of ICON / BSOB history. I wonder if their are any photos of it?

The actual name of our group was ICoN (International Corporation of Nothing) and it had by-laws, dues (and I think we are all in arrears on dues...) meetings and outings. I think we met on Friday nights, usually to discuss what we were going to do during the weekend. I usually had to work at least one day of the weekend, but since it was normally the morning shift, I had my nights free. No one else was working at that time, IIRC.

The members of ICoN did as much together as we could, but not because we enjoyed each other's company. No, we did it to make money. You see, if one member of the group did something to embarrass another member, the offender was fined (after the accused was "tried" in the ICoN court system). We would then take all the gathered funds and have outings. Needless to say, Carp ended up paying for most of the fines. Even when he didn't have to pay a fine, he normally had to pay a lot of money to the legal team of Sheister, Sheister, and Low Brain Waves for legal aid. Since I watched a lot of police shows, I was his attorney a fair amount of the time. I won some, I lost some, but I did it all for the firm.

BSOB / ICoN holds a lot of fond (and not so fond memories) for me. It was an excuse to get together and do stupid things and film them. It was a chance to be a kid, even though most of us needed to act older. Yes, we did do some stupid and possibly illegal things that (I hope) have exceeded the statute of limitations, but at least no one was hurt. Well okay, I did break several fingers one night in drunken stupor and yes, Holmes did contract hepatitis...and I guess we need to include the near fatal car accident...but hey, we all lived to tell about it.**

After BSOB / ICoN stopped filming, alcohol became a force in our lives. Not just any alcohol, but CHEAP alcohol...Boone's Farm (Kunchy Kincher), MD 20/20, wine coolers, and just about every cheap brand of beer known to man. If Carp was involved in most of our memorable events, then alcohol fueled the rest of them. The misadventures of Carp will be in the chapter, "Sad But True".

*** I want to interject and state that I am not in any way,shape, or form condoning the misuse of alcohol, either underage or adult. The things we did were stupid, dangerous, and irrevocably changed our lives. I am not proud of the things I did during that time and there are many people that I would like to apologize to that may have been affected by my alcohol induced stupor. Alcohol can and will make people do some very stupid things. ***

Many of the BSOB / ICoN gang drank...frequently and even though most of the group were underage, we had no problem acquiring that social lubricant known as beer and wine. The legal age to purchase alcohol was 18 back in my day. The year I turned 18, they raised the age for the purchase of hard liquor to 21 (beer and wine was still 18), so I was only able to get "the hard stuff" for a couple of months (which KD was most likely thankful for). When I turned 19, they raised the age for beer and wine to 19, so I was still legal to buy the goods. When I was 20, the age was again raised to match mine. Again, I was in the clear, but I could see what was coming. For whatever reason, right before my 21st birthday (30 days to be exact), they raised the drinking age to 21 for everything. Since I was well known at a certain watering hole, I decided to see if they would still let me in. The bouncer did not bat an eye as I handed him my ID. It was only 30 days...had he not let me in, I had a a backup plan...I could just go ask Julia to get it for me. Julia was our supplier back when any of us (except her) were old enough to drink. She was 19 when I met her and she had no problem getting beer or wine for us when we asked her. We usually bought hers for her as a thank you for getting it.

After I turned legal age, I bought the beer and wine on occasion, but not as ofter as I thought I would. Julia still bought it for KD (they dated off and on) and Stupid Bill. Holmes stopped drinking for a long while after the "purple chunks" episode (I think it was grape Boone's Farm) and Carp didn't drink all that much, but he did on occasion.

However, not all events were initiated by alcohol. One of the funniest things that ever happened to us was a completely sober event that is burned into my memory forever:

Carp, Holmes' KD, and I decided to drive 2 hours north to Kennywood Park in Pittsburgh, PA. Holmes and I drove together in his car and Carp and KD went in Carp's car. We left about the same time, give or take 30 minutes. Holmes and I made it to the park just as it was opening and bought our tickets. We waited near the gate for about 30 minutes but no Carp or KD. about 2 hours after we arrived, they showed up. Seems they were stopped for speeding and the police officer forgot his ticket book. Rather than let the guys go, he radios in to have someone bring him a spare ticket book.

The rest of day was really fun. I had never been to a theme park and rode my first roller coaster that day. We stayed until about 10 PM when the park closed. Before it closed, Holmes bought a bow tie that had flashing lights and ran on batteries. He wore it as he was riding the coasters and it did look kinda neat from a distance. As we left the park, I noticed that Holmes still had the tie on and it was still flashing. Oh well...

We left the park and headed towards home. I had never been to Pittsburgh before so I did not know how to get back. I saw a sign to go south but Holmes did not see it so we continued west...it was after a couple of hours that Holmes got worried because nothing looked familiar to him. That is when we saw the sign for Ohio...Rut Roh. We pulled over and consulted a map. Holmes, as smart as his is, could not read a map at that time, so I navigated. I found a route that would take us back but it was a mountain road...two lanes wide. We start heading south on this road and Holmes kept asking,"How much farther?". I guestimated about an hour or so and after about 75 minutes, we made it to the highway we needed to be on, just 20 miles north of our town. Holmes got on the highway and about 10 minutes later he fell asleep at the wheel. He slowly drifted towards the median and I grabbed the wheel to keep us on the road. Homes thought I was messing with him and he pulls back...right into the median. Now that in itself was not bad. What was bad was that when the car went into the median, it hit wet grass and began to spin. What was worse was Holmes' car narrowly missed a parked highway patrol car running radar. We came to a stop about 50 or so feet from the parked officer. Her lights went on and Holmes, still wearing the flashing bow tie, jumps out of the car yelling, "Officer, we are not drunk...honest!" I am sure she doubted his story until she directed him to her car and he talked to her for a while. No ticket was issued, but of all things, she came over to where I was sitting and chewed me out for letting him drive while he was tired. When he told the officer that he is the only one who was allowed to drive his car, she told him to roll down the windows and turn the stereo up to keep him awake until we got home.

We pulled into his driveway about 4 AM...laughing at the entire situation.

Another activity that we did while sober was "cat and mouse". Now I do not know how you have played this in the past, but until you play it at night DRIVING, you have not had fun. The rules were simple. One person (car) was the leader and the other person (car) was follower. Each car had at least two occupants, a driver and a navigator. The object was to have the first car attempt to lose the second car. This game was a lot of fun, but needless to say it was very dangerous. It is quite amazing that no one was hurt. Speed was not usually the deciding factor as much as the ability to get out of sight of the following car for a few seconds while some fancy maneuvering was performed.

The first time we played this, I believe Stupid Bill was my partner. I was driving (he did not have a car) and he was my navigator. I like SB, but he sucked at navigation. I would have let him drive but I think his driving was as bad as his navigation. IIRC, SB and I were not very good at this as a team so I found another partner, my one time live in girlfriend, Shelly. Shelly was a great navigator and knew the town very well. To bad she sucked at being a girlfriend.

Now it would be easy to say that the fastest car would do better but that is not always true. The better driver would quite often win out over a faster car. It was all about getting just ahead of the other driver and duck into a parking lot, an alley, a parking garage...anyplace where you could blend in. One of the more memorable chases I was involved in had me and Shelly as the mouse car. We drove for about 10-20 minutes trying to lose KD and Carp but to no avail. Shelly told me to turn down a side road not far from where she lived. It was a very twisty road that put us out of direct sight from our pursuers much of the time. We rounded a corner near the end of the road, crossed a bridge, and rounded another corner when I spied a parking lot with about 3-4 cars in it parked at odd angles. I turned off my headlights and did a sharp, high speed turn into the lot, using my parking brake to slow down. KD and Carp flew right past us and did not come back. We sat there for a little while ducked down so we would not be immediately visible. Shelly giggled (I never saw a 20 year old woman giggle so much) and said the game was fun. She did her best to convince me to head back to her place, but I told her that KD and Carp would look there first once they realized that we had lost them. Instead, we continued driving down that twisty road until we were at the Main Street intersection.

I later caught up with KD and Carp and they asked me where I went so I told them. I did not tell them about the lights and the parking brake, though...but I guess they figured it out. I turned off the lights for obvious reasons and I used the parking brake because it did not light up the brake lights when it was used. We played this game only at night so you got used to headlight and tail light patterns. It was a fun past time.

Other memorable events that occurred during the BSOB / ICoN years:

* The depantsing of Clogger (on the balcony of his apartment...during the Italian Heritage Arts Festival).
* Christmas Day meals at "The Canteen".
* The flood of 1985 and "The Canteen" being open despite the fact there was flood water up to the doorstep.
* New Years Eve at the brick yard.
* Carp working his kendo stick better drunk than he did sober.
* Ellen putting my car in a ditch out in the country and the scary, evil looking farmer who helped get it out.
* Rat Patrols (commando raids at the brickyard).
* Parties and fights on Sycamore Road.
* Snake Hollow (that probably deserves its own chapter).
* Walking the railroad tracks at night.

** Please see the chapter entitled "Sad But True" for more information.

Chronicles, "Games People Play"

I think that kids are pretty imaginative when it comes to finding ways to keep themselves entertained. The neighborhood I grew up in had a lot of kids who were like that. If we had a ball and a few kids or some sticks and some rope, fun times could be had.

The streets were used for kickball and wiffleball and the three neighbor yards beside my house was our football field. We played freeze tag as well as hide and seek (only at night) and had water battles with empty dish washing detergent squeeze bottles and water balloons.

In the wintertime, we rode our sleds down Norman's hill or down the hill that was beside my house (both were pretty steep). We built snow forts and had snowball battles until our hands were too cold to continue making ammunition. We once had a 36 inch snowfall that allowed us to tunnel around our yards like gophers. Of course the tunnels collapsed, but what fun that was. When the winter snows finally melted and warm weather arrived, we would ride Big Wheels and Green Machines down the same hills we sledded on.

When parts were available, we made go-carts (the coasting kind) out of rebar (axles) and lawnmower wheels on 2 x 6 board frames and raced each other in the street. While there were several racers made, one was the king...The Grey Ghost. It was the best looking, the heaviest and I think the fastest one we had ever made...it even had a real seat. When go-carts got boring, we focused or attention on seeing how far we could jump our bicycles, ala Evil Knievel. We constructed homemade ramps with wood and cinder blocks and set them up in the street. I think this is the one area that I did better than everyone else. I guess that makes sense since I was one of the lightest boys in the neighborhood.

Jumping ramps was not the only bike related excitement we had. We rode our bikes down the block to a little trail called "The Dinky" (I have no idea how it got that name) and rode on it. It was our first (and last) foray into mountain biking (except for me...I still enjoy a level four or five ride now and then). Speaking of the Dinky, it had a sulfur creek (common in coal mining areas) that ran across it in one place that we would dam up periodically, causing a bit of a problem for the people who lived near there...boys will be boys.

When we got older we began to taking our bikes further from home. KD and I used to go to the top of Winding Way and then coast all the way down towards town. It was at least a mile if not longer and it was all downhill on a narrow two lane road riddled with pot holes and debris. Navigating it was a bit hazardous if you did not pay close attention. Since KD and I were your typical competitive teenage males, naturally we competed coasting down Winding Way. The plan was to coast as far as we could down Winding Way without using any brakes. It sounds easy until you try it. Even those who were "brave" would chicken out and hit the brakes at some point on the route. We started at the top and began coasting, picking up speed as we navigated the potholes. KD was (and still is) bigger than I am so naturally he coasted faster. He got pretty far ahead of me and I event hough did not want to lose, I did not want to go any faster than I had to. I like speed but I had my limits and I had just about reached them. Just as KD was nearing the end, he hit some gravel and wiped out. It was one of those times that you were not sure whether to laugh or cry at...he could have been seriously hurt, but it looked so funny as it happened it was difficult not to laugh. God was smiling on him that day and out side a few scrapes and a bruised ego, he was fine. To his credit, he did not use his brakes. The funniest part was that he wiped out in from of an old lady who was using either a walker or a cane. She spoke up in her little old lady voice, "Son, are you OK?". KD just looked up at her and said quite caustically, "What do you think, woman?"

We did some pretty dangerous things as well...dangerous for a suburban neighborhood that is. I remember shooting arrows straight up in the air just to see where they landed. The same was also done with model rockets. During the Fourth of July, our love of (then) illegal fireworks caused more than a few problems. We used to place our bottle rockets in the street and light them, turning them into "road racers". KD or KG (not sure which) once made the horrible mistake of tossing a lit Jumping Jack too close to their box of unused of fireworks and the Jumping jack landed in the box. The resulting inferno scared KG's little brother half to death. It was another of those events that we we were not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Other dangerous activities included playing war with BB guns. Most of us were smart enough to wear thick clothes and helmets but that was not going to stop someone from getting shot in the eye. To make matters worse, most of us had multi-pump air rifles and even though we agreed to only pump the guns a maximum of three times, we rarely enforced that rule.

During the early teen years KG, KD, Carp, and myself started playing Dungeons and Dragons. At first I was enthralled by it, but after a while I could not stand to play it. KG and KD would play every day for hours and hours, doing little else. I stopped playing for a while but then started up again in high school. I found a new group of people to play D&D with and they were only interested in playing once a week or so. When that group stopped playing regularly, the BSOB gang started up again for a while. I continued to play off and on (the 2 Live Jews I lived with played with a couple of their friends) while I was in NC and I would sometimes catch a campaign when I came back to visit people in WV. Sadly I stopped playing right about the time I got re-married. I do not think I have played since.

Chronicles, "Girls, Girls, Girls"

Writing about my personal (Read: girlfriends) life is not easy. For some guys this would be a chance to brag about all the notches on their bedposts, maybe dishing up a little dirt here and there, dropping a few names to make others jealous, or just out right lying about their adventures in romance land. I cannot and will not do that. There are a lot of reasons but no matter what the reason, it just is not me.

The first "love interest" I ever had was when I was about 12 or 13 years old. Her name was Rebecka and she was a tomboy. Neither cute nor unattractive...she was strictly "plain Jane". I knew her from school, but I do not remember seeing her there all that often. We used to perform science experiments on her porch with plants and insects that we collected nearby. While the memories of our friendship are pretty vague, I do remember that she pursued me (and I have no idea why) and we eventually started discovering little out of the way places to be alone. The first place we used was the back seat of her mother's garaged car. I remember that the car was not driven much and was stored in a large garage with several other cars. She would get the key and we would go in the back seat to be alone. This went on for a few months and then it just stopped. There was never a mention of a girlfriend/boyfriend relationship and it was only kissing. No feelings were hurt and I get the feeling that we were just testing the waters. As a matter of fact, we spoke to each other regularly over the next 4 years or so.

Over the next few summers, my interest in girls began to grow but my lack of confidence and understanding of them did not. By the next summer I was pursued again, this time by one of a set of twin's...sisters of a local tough guy, Joe. At first I was a bit worried about spending time with the her (I did not need my skull caved in), but it was all good. I guess he did not really have much to worry about. I only spent part of the summer hanging out with her. Her family ended up moving later on that year and I was out a lip locking partner again.

My romances were limited over the next few summers to vacation acquaintances. Every year when my family went camping or visited my half brother in Ohio, I usually met someone I could hang with until I came back home. The encounters never amounted to anything very memorable but they did help me grow some. Rebecka and I found some time to be alone a couple of times during this period as well, but not in the garage. We retreated to the woods where there were plenty of places to be alone.

During my freshman year of junior high school I became a bit enamored with a girl a couple of years younger than me. She was the sister of a guy whom I befriended a couple of years before. I thought she was very cute and actually pursued her for a while. Nothing ever became of it, but it was the first time I took the initiative. I kept my eyes open, just in case.

When I was 16, Rebecka and I crossed paths again. To make a long and very personal story short, I spent the night with her at her sister's mobile home. It was a cold winter night and it had been snowing off and on all evening. I got up very early the next day and walked the 3+ miles back to my house in the cold. Many boys would have been on cloud nine, but I wasn't. I felt tainted.

My senior year in high school ushered in my first real "girlfriend". She was on the color guard at our high school and being associated with her put a nice feather in my cap. I watched her in the parades, we spent time at her house, she came to my house...all the normal things. I even got her an Agnor belt...something very stylish at the time. However, things did not progress as I had hoped and we broke up about 3 months later. For the first time in my life, I actually hurt from a relationship.

1983, during the last half of my senior year, I began watching soap operas (what was I thinking) with a couple of girls (Ellen and Julia) I had met the previous summer. During the course of the summer, I became infatuated with Ellen and to complicate matters, Julia became infatuated with me. Julia never told me directly that she liked me, but she made very strong hints. I largely ignored the hints and kept on pursuing Ellen. Ellen confused me...she appeared to be playing hard to get, but at the same time she appeared to be hiding something. She eventually ended up helping me get a job at McDonald's, but she still never went out with me. Later on I found out why. She was leading a bit of a double life by dating a drug dealer who lived in a very bad part of town. She enjoyed the bad boy types, but did not want anyone to know that is who she was dating. In her own weird way, she was protecting me.

Over the next few years I dated here and there, mostly girls I met at work. I started working at McDonald's shortly after I turned 18 and that opened up a whole new social environment to me. On several occasions, I was scheduled to help a new female employee through orientation and in the process of orientation or training, one of us would ask the other one out. Most of the time it was pretty low key...one or two dates then we would both move on. A few times one of the managers that I got along with pretty well warned me about a girl I was interested in. While I was not sure why, I heeded the advice and stayed clear. It did not take too long to find out why I was warned. In one case, the girl was trying to make her boyfriend jealous (she had told me that she had broken up with him) and in another, I was being warned to steer clear of my former high school sweetheart who had just gotten a job where I worked. I think all that did was delay the inevitable.

There was one girl I dated at McDonald's that did not end after a couple of dates. Shelly was a little bit different than most of the girls I went out with. She was funny redhead, a little "bigger boned" than I normally was attracted to, and divorced. We hit it off very well and it was not long before we went out. We had drinks a few times and took drives (she even was my co-pilot during a game of "cat and mouse"), but we spent a lot of time at at my parent's house, her apartment, or at her parent's house. We had a good time whenever we went out. It was not too long before we rented a house (not to far from where KD lives now) and moved in together. That living arrangement lasted a little over a month. She quit her job and since I could not afford the place on my own, I moved back in with my parents. I believe she did the same. There is more to this saga, but it becomes personal and painful. I draw the line at posting it. Sorry, my blog, my rules.

The intermittent dating continued with gals from work and friends of friends. I went on a few double dates with Stupid Bill (SB), his girlfriend and her sister. Later on, SB's girlfriend introduced me to one of her friends and we went out a time or two, but again...nothing clicked. I began to get a bit depressed because I was not able to find a girlfriend. I spent far too many evenings wandering the mall, wasting time. Alone.

One of those late evenings as the mall was closing, I walked by a small engraving shop and saw my HSS (High School Sweetheart - the third and final time she would be in my life). She was just closing up shop and I stopped to say hi to her. She needed a ride home and I obliged. Another long story made short...I should have listened to that manager back at McDonald's. About six months later, my HSS and I were married and had a child on the way. The marriage lasted 5 years and spanned 2 different states. What I thought was love...that must have been lust.

After my HSS and I parted company (READ: Divorced), I dated very infrequently. I had been burned so bad that the last thing I wanted was romance in my life. I tried to get back into a regular dating routine, but every woman I went out with just did not click with me. With the few women I dated over the next couple of years, I went out with each less than three times. Every single one of them was either looking for a father for their kids or they wanted some quick action. While this may sound strange, I did not want either. I still had an emotional attachment to my last relationship and I could not bring myself to be intimate with someone at that time.

I was about to give up and become a social recluse when a co-worker arranged a blind date with a female friend of his. This co-worker was "an inhabitant of rural America" (READ: redneck) and any date he could set up had the potential for disaster, but I allowed him to talk me into going out with the woman. In all honesty I am glad he did and I am glad I accepted. I met he friend Stacy at his place (go ahead and laugh...he lived in a mobile home in the country) and I was blown away. She was very attractive and had a southern drawl that I find so endearing. I asked her if she had eaten and when I found that she was as hungry as I was, we went to Chili's. We talked for quite some time before I returned her to her car. That started a 3-4 month dating relationship that helped convince me that all women were not whores. My had really been burned by my ex and was not thinking too highly of the fairer sex at that time.

I am sure that Stacy and I would have dated longer and gotten very serious had it not been for one thing...the fact that I had been married before. He father was a stickler for traditions and he viewed me as damaged goods. I knew better than to argue with "Daddy" so we agreed to stop dating. While I was hurt, I was not dejected. As a matter of fact, a month or two later, I was asked by one of my room mates to if I would mind joining him, his date, and his date's good friend on a double date. I agreed and had a rather enjoyable evening with them.

I had decided I was just going to take life one day at a time and not stress over the fact that I did not have a girlfriend to spend time with. I was very comfortable with when out of nowhere love found me. Cliche, yes, but it is true. A few months after I moved in with the "2 Live Jews" (inside joke), I started attending community college to further my education, at the behest of one of my house mates. During my very first class, a married female student who was born and raised in my home state, introduced me to a friend of hers. Yet another long story made short, I married that "friend" about a year and a half later. For the first time in my life, I was in love.

The readers of my blog who know me personally will undoubtedly notice the lack of intimate details. There are several reasons for that: 1) I want to keep this blog at a PG level when possible. 2) My sexual history is my business. Yes, I have had a few one night stands but I am not proud of them. 3) No one wants to be compared to another person. Some feelings were probably hurt during at least one (and most likely more) of my relationships and I do not want to add to that hurt.

Chronicles, "Turning Japanese"

I think we all know someone who refuses to act their age. They may be like me and still listen to heavy metal or they may read comic books or watch cartoons. Whatever the behavior, most of us know someone like that. This installment is about a guy that I know that refuses to act his age. Let me tell you about "Mwonga".

I met Mwonga when I met Holmes, either the same day or shortly thereafter. Mwonga is a couple of years older than I am but he has a child's heart. Now that would not be bad if he still did not act like a child and at times play RPG's with them...but I am getting ahead of myself.

Mwonga and Holmes recorded parodies on audio tape as a past time and they were pretty good at it (when asked how the two met, Holmes stated that Mwonga sort of just appears when Holmes was in 6th grade. He never left). Mwonga was a huge fan of the original Dr. Who on PBS and was the inspiration for one of the funniest and oddest BSOB films ever, "Dr. Who vs the Krelnoid". Mwonga, the son of an American soldier and Japanese woman, starred as the scarfed hero in this action comedy that included the fearsome pig faced Krelnoid. Need I say more?

Mwonga was not around as much as the other in the group, but when he was he made up for the times he was absent. IIRC, Mwonga was attending Fairmont State College part time. I am sure he was not working so something had to be occupying his time. I knew it was girls. He never showed any interest at that time in the fairer sex.

When I met Mwonga he professed to be a Christian and since I did not know much about Christianity, I thought maybe all Christians were as nutty as he was. He did not drink or smoke and he did not swear. He was honest and we trusted him because he never gave us a reason not to. He did not get involved with the activities we did (drinking, girl chasing, the antics with our cars, etc) and for that I am proud of him. He was smarter than we were at that time.

Mwonga was a pretty good actor and made a great addition to the BSOB stable. He was a bit like Johnny Depp in that he was always given the odd role and he seemed to made it work. He was given the role of Mwonga (hense the nickname) in the BSOB film, "The Dumb Ones" (A spoof of "The Young Ones" on BBC). Mwonga was supposed to be an African exchange student living with an eclectic group of college students in the US. Mwonga (while dark skinned) did not even come close to passing for a black man, but he did not care. He played the part just like it had been written for him. My only complaint was that he kept slipping into an Irish accent during filming. We got tired of reshooting so we eventually just left the take as it was.

Towards the end of BSOB's short but prolific run, Mwonga started playing role playing games (RPG's) such as D&D and Marvel Super Heroes. While I had fun for a while, I got tired of playing and also work kept me from joining in most of the campaigns. Holmes picked up the slack but after a while even he tired of the games so Mwonga went in search of other players. He eventually found some kids to play RPG's with...a group of 12 year old kids who lived nearby. Mwonga was now about 20 or so and he was playing RPG's with 12 year olds. This struck me as odd and I was a bit concerned. How many 20 year olds play 12 year olds?

Sometime later after he moved to Ohio and began working at a variety of companies. At one point he worked at Ace Hardware and then later on at an automotive plant building Honda Elements. While in Ohio, Mwonga continued his rather unique lifestyle. At one point he was living with two lesbians (I am sure that was interesting) and later on he joined a Star Trek Fan organization where he was a former captain and to quote the web site "Chief of Shuttle Operations - Former Captain - Advisory Staff". Needless to say Mwonga is passionate about Star Trek.

I may pick on him but to be honest, I like him. We catch each other on AIM every now and then and the next time I see him online, I am going to have to let him knw about the "Chronicles". I am sure he can add a few things to the collection.