Last week or so

This last week or so I have been held up at home, unable to go many places due to the walking boot, broken foot and a lot of swelling.

POCHlHYyQtGydpxHEc7ItA
Bruising is least painful part

Not that it is a big deal, it looks like since its an on the job injury I might get paid for my downtime, although the Department of Defense doesn’t use the normal Washington State Labor and Industry Insurance, which means they use the US Department of Labor instead.

Seal_of_the_United_States_Department_of_Labor

This requires an MD to sign off on everything. The sad part about this, is this is not how medical services work. Nowadays most interactions are with Physician Assistants (PAs), Nurse Practitioner’s (NP, or ARNP in WA State) or straight up RN’s who do the hard work.

Their signatures (the non-MDs) are acceptable for anyone else evidently, except the Department of Labor. So I had to go back yesterday to the ER to have a doctor countersign the paperwork from the day of my break, and now that they countersigned I may need to go back and do more with the doctor, who never saw me or my case (and that is normal, they use the lower paid staff to do most of the work, unless its life threatening I am assuming).

In addition this week brought some highs and lows with the injury.

The high was once again seeing how lucky I am to be married to my husband. He wants to take care of me, and even when I annoy him because I am not the world’s best patient, he still shrugs it off, loves me and is willing to go out of his way. I am damn lucky to be with him and I love him more than anything.

He was willing to drive me anywhere, go anywhere for me, or just listen to me whinge about my foot. He is absolutely amazing.

worlds_most_amazing_husband_award-r938fe2bc28e34326b88f5876a3f3a027_8bozu_8byvr_324

The low was realizing this was the first major injury or incident that I didn’t have my parents clucking over me and worried about me. It was a little depressing to not get the constant phone calls checking on me, worrying about me or reassuring me.

I realize I am a 46 year old man, but it was crushing to only get silence when I normally would get a hubbub of concern, and love. I realize the hubby gives more than enough, and this doesn’t take from that at all. I know part of it was my parents were fairly young (they would only be 68 and 67 this year) and it has only been a little over a year since they passed.

The hubby is my only close support network left, and honestly while I have a lot of friends to help (and who always are there if I ask), no one else is close enough at the moment that I can let in to fill that.

I anticipate there will still be scattered feelings like this that might lessen over time, but I know from talking to my parents in the last couple of years that even as they approached 70 they felt the same. No one told me this growing up, that there is no switch that clicks and makes you different. You are still that 17 year old that wants your parents affection, doesn’t want to deal with people’s bullshit and who hates being stuck in situations that you don’t like.

That has been my week (other than playing Max Payne 3).

Max_Payne_3_Cover

Greeting Cards

Here I am up at 1:30am thinking about Greeting Cards.

Lately I have been working on a project to scan all of our hardcopy photos and then getting storage containers to hold the photos themselves. The old photo albums are falling apart and are destroying the photos. This was spurred on by receiving my parents photos after their passing last year.

It was tough to scan old family photos, I won’t deny that at all. A lot of emotional baggage came up, especially since I haven’t dealt with their passing. Wolsey says it has set me off into a depression. While I want to say that isn’t true, I am not looking from the outside so maybe it is.

I had finished the scanning of hardcopy photos (I still have hundreds of negatives, but those I have in one storage book so they can be done as I go) so I switched to combining and setting up storage for greeting cards.

Greeting cards are always a weird thing for me. They have always held a weird place in my family, compared to other families I have known. No matter what was happening each event,  my parents would get us a card with a handwritten message inside them for each birthday, anniversary, promotion, holiday or end of quarter (and a dozen other special holidays). No matter how poor they were at the time. There would always be in quotation marks the last two digits of the year as well.

Wolsey and I would always smile, thank them and get home joking about the cards. No one else I know of received cards on this level (a lot of times with flowers) for even random small events in our life. I have some cards from other family members, but our receiving them varied on if they were mad at us, if we had drifted away in talking, whereas my parents would have one every event, no matter what.

Yesterday I got my greeting cards storage box and went through the cards. I was surprised it was the hardest thing I have done. It was harder then going through the photos, harder then going through the remnants of their personal belongings in storage, harder then anything except maybe the letters my dad would sometimes write.

It was a quick process, and all the more sadder because it was quick. I had over the years kept most of the stuff they gave us, but we have moved so often, downsized and in general would lose some of them. Now I can see the holes in the different holidays because the cards are missing and it makes me sad. There were important events to Wolsey and I, that I realized the only people that commented/congratulated/consoled us were my parents. I think that is probably the worst part of it, knowing those will be the last cards I will receive from them.

I am glad though that something as small and eccentric like that was a habit they had. It reminds me how much they did care about the little things that happened with us. In that light, I am very fortunate to have the cards, and to have parents that cared about me and my husband so much.

 

Memory: High Street (Bellingham)

The place I lived longest in Bellingham was on High Street. We moved here I believe winter of 88 and I moved out from my parents in 1990. We were a few blocks down from Western Washington University, about a mile up from Bellingham High School and next door to my two best friends, Doug and Wolsey.It was here that I spent two summers gaming down at Eagle’s Games, when I became close friends to Wolsey (I was best friends with Doug and he was dating Wolsey).

During this time Wolsey and I became best friends and Doug went his own way. This is also when I met Disa, Bryon and a ton of other friends like Weylin.

It was also where I lived when I was working full time as a teenager and supporting my family, my parents were totally out of action due to alcoholism, and it was also where I lived when I almost joined a motorcycle club (they were family friends).

Link back to a listing of all homes I have lived in.

Memory: Iron Street (Bellingham)

Iron Street was a place we stayed at for about 6-7 months. Sometime late Summer/early Fall of 1987 through early Spring of 1988.

It was a three bedroom one bath house. It is where I first started reading Piers Anthony’s  the White Gold Wielder series, the Xanth  series I had read back in Lake Stevens. The house had a kennel area that Mucho and Thirty Eight, our two dogs, used during the day.

There were definitely more memories from this place. My parents alcoholism was fairly rampant with some dry spells, my dad’s PTSD from Vietnam was hitting a crescendo and we had periods of no power and not much food. The most important part is this is where I lived here when I first met my husband. Also when our family started to befriend the local motorcycle club that was around me in my late teen years.

There was a grocery store nearby (which is now a Trader Joes, and a strip mall), an local shop that sold trees during Christmas and the high school was still only a few blocks away. It is also where I first watched Star Trek: The Next Generation on network TV. Overall not the worst place we had lived, but definitely was in the process of the downward slide my family had started back in Everett. Also definitely a place that I have stuff I will post about later.

Link back to a listing of all homes I have lived in.

 

Memory: Virginia Street (Bellingham)

Current Day (2017) front view

Our first actual place we lived in Bellingham was a small 2 bedroom, 1000 square foot house. They currently say its 1.75 bathrooms but I believe there was only a single bathroom when we lived there.

All I remember about this place is feeling safe for the first time in a long time. Not completely safe, my parents alcoholism started on a downslide here (and didn’t let up until long after I moved away as an adult). However, we didn’t have to worry about people kicking in the door and shooting everyone.

Current day (2017) side view.

The place itself is one of those shotgun houses. Meaning it was long and thin. It had an enclosed porch (which I am sure they count as part of that 1,000 square foot) that my sister slept in. While my brother and I shared the bedroom all the way in the back (I believe it was parallel to the kitchen which also went to the back of the building. There was a living and a second bedroom my parents used that was between the porch and my room/kitchen.

I don’t have a lot of memories I will talk about in this post from here. Except this is when I was listening to Steve Winwood’s “Higher Love” song a lot and first learned about Elfquest comics. I also lived here when I helped with Camp Horizon, and also the first time I had a girl come over to talk with me, which my dad saw and he later asked why I wasn’t going out with her. I can’t remember her name now, but she was cute, I was shy and my dad was questioned why I wasn’t riding that train.

The place was only a couple of blocks from Bellingham High School so it was easy to get to school. It was also where I lived when I met Doug and Jay for the first time, started running them Dungeons and Dragons and where I started moving away from the future trajectory of being a biker and being involved in things that weren’t good for me (also all future posts).

We eventually moved to Iron Street, next door basically late summer. It was a bigger house, same landlord and a place for both of our dogs to go. There will be at least a few more posts about specific things here I think, but that is it for the place itself.

Link back to a listing of all homes I have lived in.

Memory: Forest Street (Bellingham) – First place in town

What now exists on 1020 N. Forest in 2017

It is funny, I can’t remember the exact date we arrived in Bellingham. I believe it was sometime in late winter/early spring of 1987, all I can be sure of is that it was cold outside. We had just moved away from our Lora Lane trailer and a series of motels right after that, and then finally into our place here.

My dad believed we were safe to try and find a place to live. The contract that was out on us had been rescinded from what we could tell. He had spent a few weeks contacting his old friends and for the first time in almost two years he seemed to breath. I suspect that everyone else involved knew the guy who put it out was full of shit and refused to do anything about it and Mike was heading back to California.

We were put up in temporary housing, at 1020 N. Forest. It was a three story house, divided up into different apartments and we lived in the top for couple of months.

Sadly I don’t have many memories from there. I do remember an incident where my dad was cutting his own hair, but the razor tool used to blend hair was sharper then he expected and had cut too closely, and he was so pissed about it. That was a sore subject for a couple of weeks.

Another memory was taking my sister who was 12ish at the time and my brother who was 6ish and walking down Forest and then State streets. At the time it seemed like a huge distance we were covering, but it was probably only 8-10 blocks out and then back. We were exploring the area, and we had never been in Bellingham before. I think we got as far down as Ellis St as a cross street. It was a grayish day, overcast and it was a weird relief to not be in a car again. It was also the first time in years my parents didn’t get anxious when we went off to be kids without their supervision.

The other biggest memory I have from living there, other than watching Trapper John M.D., was the food co-0p. The Bellingham Food Co-Op was a tiny hole in the wall store at this time. It was the one place within walking distance that would take food stamps, and it wasn’t very expensive (unlike what its like now).

It was probably the only time as a kid we could afford to eat at a co-op. For some reason I really remember the Pina Colada juice they sold. I tried drinking it a few years ago and it seems so much more watery now. I can’t be sure if that is just my memory fooling me, or if it really is a lot more watery.

I also remember that we had a view from the living room windows of Bellingham Bay. The house is set on a hill, and while there was lots of buildings down hill, it wasn’t until long after we lived here that tall enough buildings were built that may block the view. It was a nice view though.

Within two-three months of living there, we ended up moving over to the house on Virginia street and this place became a memory.

I went back in July 2017 to get pictures of the old house. It has long been torn down and the apartments replacing it (I am assuming college housing). I hadn’t looked for the house in about 20 years, so I suspect it could have been done even before we moved away from Bellingham. I figured I still wanted a picture of the spot now, just to go along with all the other places.

Link back to a listing of all homes I have lived in.

Memory: Leather Coats

Yesterday the hubby and I went to see Atomic Blonde, which we did enjoy. However, during the movie James McAvoy is wearing a leather coat, which for some reason sparked a memory that bothered me a lot.

A few years before my father’s death we were up visiting them and we noticed he didn’t have a nice coat. Unfortunately this was after my parents were financially bereft and they couldn’t afford to buy something. We decided we would keep an eye out for something he could wear that would look nice and would be something he would like.

It was about that time that Wolsey had a leather jacket, not a biker leather jacket but one of those cut and styled from the late 70s or early 80s. Something that was just in the perfect wheelhouse of fashion that my dad liked. The late 70s and into the 80s was my dad’s decade (even though for him he was in his thirties then). Wolsey had decided he didn’t want it and presented it to my dad as a gift. My dad thought it was great. He was wearing it around for a little while, that is until my brother was a douche one day.

One day, my brother decided to make fun of the jacket, saying it was a girl’s jacket. The only reason I can think that he would think that is because it wasn’t a biker leather jacket. I am not sure how he thought it was a girl’s jacket, maybe because he knew Wolsey gave it to him, or he forgot that there are other jacket styles but the now overdone biker jacket. I am sure my brother was trying to just rib my dad, but it came out as a dick move, and sadly my dad never wore that jacket again. He put it away, then eventually gave it away. Even though we told my dad it looked great and it didn’t look like a girl’s jacket.

To this day I am still really pissed at my brother for that. I didn’t realize it would take a movie to remind me of that memory.