FOUR YEARS LATER!

Hi kids! Well, that was a bit of a break! My last post came to you from good old Kirkuk, Iraq, home of a lot of things, but not ME anymore!

Recently over beers with a longtime friend that I hadn't seen since directly before my departure to the sandpit, I realized that what seems no big thing to me may be quite an adventure to others. You see, what you're experiencing has a tendency to appear normal when you're in the middle of it. However, although the eye of a tornado is calm, the view from a few miles away reveals quite a different story.

I left Indiana in 2001, and returned only once for a stay longer than a week. To those who graduated high school, moved out, got a job, and began working, what I did and learned seems like quite an adventure. What did I learn? I learned that every town is the same. I learned to not let fear be a negative reaction. I learned its not WHAT you know, but WHO you know-to a point. I learned a bachelor's degree is worth it, but not for the reasons you believe when you attend your first class. And a few other things.

So, there's a few stories. Sometimes I wonder if people believe me. It doesn't matter if they do or not. The stories are real, and the names are real-I've just forgotten most of them. It seems every experience I have reminds me of something else. I can't believe the stories I've forgotten that friends remind me of (that surely has something to do with a fond relationship with PBR and whiskey, but even saints are sinners).

For instance, today I drove past a sign for Haverstick Rd. Big deal right? Well, if you research the history of Arizona's wildfires, there's one named Haverstick. After T**** Haverstick. Terry's a good guy, I suppose, but the most prominent memories I have of him are negative. At any rate, it made me smile, because here I am in Indianapolis, Indiana, riding my motorcycle down the street, and the traffic surrounding me has no idea I'm remembering time spent in a little jerkwater eastern Arizona town that recently got evacuated because of wildfires.

You say "C.W. McCall," I think of that really long hill in Tennessee that he sings the song about, and how I drove down it in a torrential downpour with a window that wouldn't roll up.

You say "beach" and I remember getting caught in a rainstorm on a private beach with two dogs and a couple hippies. We warmed up in the hot tub-and then went to work. It was 10:30 AM.

You say "9/11" and I remember I only had one class on Tuesdays, and its one of the rare times O.C. ever talked to me of his on volition.

I never met anybody really famous, but I did meet a random lady in the Houston airport, noticed her carry-on bag, and asked her if she knew my uncle. She did.

So here's a shout out to my friends and family, the rock and foundation of life itself, from New Hampshire to Washington, from Michigan to Texas, and all points in between. I'll tell you some more stories soon.