Ghosts of Christmas Past
My mom asked me to spend Christmas with her. The correct answer is yes, and especially so given her support in recent years with everything I’ve gone through.
My mom asked me to spend Christmas with her. The correct answer is yes, and especially so given her support in recent years with everything I’ve gone through.
Of course getting closer to the date the obligations start flowing like lit up knobs on a plane cockpit dashboard.
In the end a way is paved and I’m on a premium ticket on the new Brightline going north. What a difference not sloughing it in traffic for four hours.
What always surprises me is the traffic near Boca Raton. Miami has a lot of people in comparison so I’m not sure why Boca is so jammed.
None of that is relevant on the train. When I entered the station, where I’ve seen many people arrive and depart in downtown Miami, it was bright, there were many trains and I felt like I’m in the future. The floors are clean, futuristic design motifs decorate the entire station, and it smells really nice. The staff are friendly which is a nice relief given it’s Miami, who historically do not understand the customer is paying to receive something.
I was one of the first in the premium lounge and there was plenty to eat for breakfast, including my favorite treat at the holidays, hot chocolate.
To my right I see an interview with Zoe Saldana, whom I had a geek crush on in her green and blue skin days. Read the captions and she sounds like she has had to get through a lot to where she is. Traps and challenges everywhere from what is perceived as her demographic, and doing her best to avoid being pigeonholed. She’s made it far to have that luxury. Many or most would just like to have any role in a movie. Good for her!
Among the well healed I see a pimply 30 or so old with flip flops and shorts. His toenails were disgusting and pointy.
Of course he would be my train mate for 3.5 hours. I was polite, gave a couple of fist bumps, but the wretched smell coming out of his mouth and pores was a bit much for me. Alcohol, when drank too much, seems to leave a putrid smell in both men and women. The only positive thought I could think of was I’ve smelled worse. Especially coming back from London on the Tube.
I take a photo to vent only and at one point I worry he saw me, but I figure he didn’t. This is the best I can do when that guy's holiday coping mechanism is crossing my common decency boundaries.
It was nice to see the highway and world fly by at 109 mph. I remember quite well the anxiety and stress I feel being cramped in a car. Anxiety from what I’m leaving, business partners, kids, and others and stress about what I still have to do, and focusing on the road.
But not on a train.
I had nice thoughts for a while, like “Someday soon this grind will be over.” “It’s like being John Dunbar in Dances with Wolves, just got to take the Wild West and you’ll have your peace.” or “Hey you’re here to uplift Miami closer to European standards. You’re getting so close to that lifestyle. Community living, ease of travel, quality everywhere, platitudes and politeness.”
Yes, I thought, keep going and keep breathing that negative turbulence away out of your body. This is just this part of the journey. Almost done.
And like that, I’m in Orlando at the airport. Brightline terminal was just as beautiful as Miami’s. Large decorations. I almost don’t mind that it’s a little expensive. Helps keep the populace to a certain behavior level. Mostly.
I arrive and make the Groome bus back on a bus I’m not scheduled for. Saved me about an hour.
I’m riding with what feels like cattle herders or fisherman, construction guys. They’re lightly complaining about time and the female bus drivers trying her best. I say a few strong positive comments to have them focus on something else so she can do her job.
Off we go.
Just about an hour later I’m the first drop off and there’s my mom on the porch.
This time I brought my Nintendo Switch, with a ton of games. I thought I’d finally have a few days where I can’t work where I could jump more into Legend of Zelda, the cute one with the cartoon characters.
I would end up playing the old school games setting up a membership online with the Nintendo club which has games from the 80’s. Those days were so much better. Yes with their kid issues growing up, but not all this high drama shit of marriages and divorces, of good kids and crappy kids. I’m really trying to get back to that place and feeling. I get close but there’s always that fly on the wall, scratch on the box or annoying passengers next to me.
Gotta work on that.
I end up playing Kid Icarus special edition which puts you with 999 hearts, every weapon, the bow, the flame and the magic staff and at the very last level vs Medusa.
Ok let’s go!
I find a sweet spot just below her pupil and death rays and I finish her off not really needing to dodge her hair snake. A beautiful woman appears and I’m thinking it’s Medusa without a curse. Pit, or Kid Icarus as I know him grows to be a man after she kisses him.
What is it in the eternal realm that makes a kiss from a woman so powerful?
Why is it that women, when truly touched in a heartfelt way, are the bestower of worth?
Why do kids need that from their moms, in my case sons, and the dad is just a second fiddle?
Like the show The Dinosaurs, because he’s not the mama.
All this stuff pops up when I climb above and out of the fray.
Like the oil from the squid in Mario kart, all that stuff sticks and is hard to remove.
My feeling after all of this is, it has just been too much. And the more poison and anger and frustration, the harder it is to remember who I am as a person without all that crap.
Like Sigourney Weaver esaid as Ripley once in the Alien films, “I can’t remember anything past those aliens. It feels like that all there ever was.”
I concur.
I wanted to make my mom feel special so I went out of my way to get her some nice gifts. I’m stretched out in many ways with a lot of expenses but I like what I was able to find for her.
We made an apple pie together, I forgot that butter goes in it. It turned out well. We watched an awful movie called Leave the World Behind. When I see Barack and Michelle Obama are the producers I just take a deep breath, this is going to be awful.
It’s got Ethan Hawke and he was quite annoying so I guess that means he was doing good acting. Julia Roberts was an angry Julia Roberts and she was effective. Mahershala Ali was good as well, all three proved convincing.
It felt like a cheap after school special. I don’t know what’s up with the lighting nowadays. Maybe the high definition TV’s make it impossible to have the Hollywood film coloring anymore and sparkle.
My mom said my siblings didn’t want to see it due to planes crashing, but I was fine with it. The premise was to be careful. Another “tragedy” is on its way post Pandemic, this time cyber attack and the world will eat each other alive. That people would need to really gut check and form solid alliances or perish. Of course there was going to be an interracial scene with a black guy dancing with a white lady scene providing each other comfort outside their marital vows, which was predictable given everything Blackrock and all the other stakeholders have been shoving down people’s throats from Disney to every commercial on TV. It’s the patronizing that bothers me the most and what they’re trying to do. No, I don't appreciate it. Let Snow White be. Even Willy Wonka reboots.
But it seems like it’s still “about getting theirs now” time.
Does it work? Does it help? Does it make things worse and ruin nice memories? Yes, probably all of the above.
I can’t claim that isn’t the right way to improve things. There are so many private interest groups running their campaigns, the same people on tv news who for decades showcase certain demographics as being crime ridden and hopeless still do it but now they’ve got to show the other stuff too with the same folks in more positive representations.
I wonder if Europe was this ugly during its evolution.
From what I’ve read it was more about royal families, bloodlines and knocking out competition than the smaller petty fighting we see celebrated and promoted now.
Everyone mostly was welcome in the Roman Empire and Christian and Catholic systems. It’s why they worked.
My main concern is that I am aware of political game players and influence peddlers like to soften future tragedies. I just hope I’m in my secret Jason Stadham home he had in one of his movies by the ocean. I'll be well prepared if they pull that crap.
While I observe all these thoughts I think also, there are plenty of people who don’t think about this stuff. I’m tired of being an angry elf to be honest.
So where does that paranoia and worry serve me?
Oh well dinner the next day of course.
As I write this, I think I really like trains. So much less stress than a plane.
Back to the story.
So the next day, my mom and I unleashed at least 3-4 political conversations. I hate them, but I worry about her health because she’s a stuffer and I figure we’ll let her spew it all out.
Johnny Depp was right. We do want to be able to be ourselves but we have immense pressure to be lockstep with the person in front of us. He said if you want that life, good luck to you.
I'm learning more and more that way.
My mom hates blowhards and privileged people who bully others and carry silver spoons. She hates Trump.
I didn’t like his rhetoric in 2015 and 2016 either and felt a little gross inside when he won as an American.
But… he’s right about a lot of things. To me he is the bowling ball to the intellectual class’ pins. That’s why his people love him. Because the intellectual class forgot inclusiveness means including hillbillies and religious people.
As long as there is a Biden and his cohort and non logical decision making and campaigns there will always be a Trump.
Feeling facts vs made up facts.
Both are off the wall and cancel each other out.
For that reason I hope Robert Kennedy Junior wins. It’s time to move on past the freak show of the west and the wrestlemania of the east.
In the Villages where I was visiting, it’s mostly wrestlemania. With some middle grounders and a few lonely liberals.
I try my best to be nice to everyone.
On that note, back to the dinner. We were picked up by a nice couple who have a pretty balanced view of the world. They don’t seem hell bent on any side, and they like Teslas and gave my mom and I a great tour. Pretty darn cool car. Only think I’d add were luxury finishing touches to match the price tag.
We arrive at their home and this turns out to be a Westerly Lane from Desperate Housewives except the crowd is 30 years older.
It was a bizarre world I walked into, and I was grateful to be invited but honestly, I wasn’t prepared but I wasn’t shocked by what I found.
The last time I felt like I was in the twilight zone was going to a birthday party with school parents and EVERYONE seemed to be divorced. It has that creepy vibe in the Toys movie where they were in the neighbors house and all the toys had their bodies dismembered.
Oh god, how the fuck did I get myself in this situation and am I prepared to make it worse and get a divorce?
What sucks about all this stuff is anything to do with people takes forever, is painful and terrifying and usually leaves me with an awful feeling in my body that takes forever to get rid of. Like years and years and years.
Most of my life has felt like a fight. And I’m at the point of going full Tom Segura, at least verbally to remove friction albeit to suggest ideas in business I feel are valid. Tom the comedian says “No, I’m on your side now.”
It’s true.
There is nothing I care about other than my kids' well -being that I give a shit enough to fight over after all the fights I’ve had. And even then, I don’t care anymore after all the pushback I get from them and their mom about all my common sense ideas. Don’t like it? Ok do it your way.
I’m still processing out 17 years of awful. I just don’t want to end up like my dad, feeling unappreciated, alone, upset and dead.
So learning to let go and let be. And if they call they call and I keep it positive. I’m more of a hallmark dad and business partner nowadays.
Like Dave Gahan said at a recent Depeche Mode concert in LA when two guys got into a fight on the front stage and he stopped the show. “Oh he’s worried about his fucking phone.”
Crowd boos.
“There’s enough shit in the world without you two.”
Crowd cheers.
So back to the effeminate men and women with testicles, dinner with a crazy surprise.
That’s where my and I'll reframe now, the ability to read a room and a set of people quickly for my own protection kicks in.
What gets my attention first is that most of the women are very boisterous and commanding. The men are very meek. Several times I see the limp hand gestures, which I found quite bizarre. This was MAGA country after all.
These guys are all in their late 60’s and 70’s even 80’s. One of them who owns the house with his boss' wife meticulously cleans the place. Made it less gross eating in a garage albeit it felt claustrophobic. He had $50,000 worth of fancy Harley Davidson motorcycles. Still gets to ride them but jeez you bet his wife tells him when. It was weird to see so many effeminate men with their bent hands and arms doing the kitten paw to describe misgivings.
Jeez, what a strange scene, not what I expected at all for a heavily prominent republican area.
Then came the character of the evening, the Navy payroll officer. He was also in charge of retail stores on the ships selling Rolex’s and radio’s.He did a few annoyed limp hand gestures when he didn’t like something but when I gave him an audience he became more alive and boisterous tell ‘em stories how he outsmarted his fellow crew men on his naval ship. I had no idea they had a mall on the ship. And what drama.
My god I thought one would join the armed forces to be among people who stood for integrity and honor.
Nope.
Heard a tale about Fat Leonard. Sounded awful. Basically the gist was a payroll officer who was in charge of the retail store selling radios and Rolex watches didn’t want to do some menial tasks required to be promoted. So he demanded that his report show he completed his assignments which were required to be promoted from the guy who did those reports to just say he did them.
The guy refused. The payroll officer clearly said then you may not get a paycheck.
And he didn’t get that paycheck.
When confronted this payroll officer hinted that the paperwork might want to get completed stating there may be an error in the payroll that’ll take a sweet time to resolve.
Paperwork was done.
Even the superiors heard it and didn’t make an effort to correct it.
So more stories like that, with the theme being this payroll officer in life seemed to give people the benefit of the doubt and when they disappointed he’d fuck them good.
Apple tracking devices, tires being on the future list for being sliced… this guy was pretty vindictive.
I felt a little disappointed. When I’m around older people I expect them to be even better than me, maybe even offer me some advice. Nope not here.
So we brought some family recipes for Cabot cheese inspired Mac and cheese. I described it as Smack and Cheese, that's how potent it was. People enjoyed it and when I got my food and was going to sit with my mom she moved… next to the payroll officer. Now I had just garfled up my impression of him describing him as Mr. Bean which I delightfully shared which I think deflated his balloon.
When I give people runway to share stories I notice it really makes them feel on top of the world. I feel the same way. I mean it’s what they experienced after all. Why not celebrate the glory of authenticity?
Well too much information is still TMI.
The payroll officer's wife of 43 years whom I joked was smoking cigars and drinking whisky sat with us.
They shared more horror stories of the navy, and when she left, he took us into the back shed of his mind.
“She doesn’t like me talking about it,” he says. I was about to find out why.
Now I can relate to just about anyone’s feelings, their thoughts and so on.
But doing shit in your teens and early twenties is one thing. Doing them in your 30’s or later just gives me the creepy vibe.
I’ve been in this situation at a birthday after party with some seasoned tantra practitioners.
Don’t even want to retell that story just yet, but let’s just say with all the garbage that floats in my head, at some point I put on the grown up hat and say enough is enough and put my foot down. I acknowledge the stupidity, the fears, the doubts and just command a correct path forward.
Why do I get these guys or girls?
Don’t know but I’m learning how to pole jump out sooner each time. There are a lot of lost people who are hurt and unfortunately are capable of doing more stupid fucked up stuff they’ll regret later or worse hurt people.
Like they say, I don’t get paid enough to listen to this crap.
I just count the minutes till it’s over.
So the story goes the payroll officer had a wife and she was a mess and fucking around with three black guys. They would keep her at their place and drug her and god knows what else. This enraged the payroll officer and well they were gonna pay the ultimate price. He had planned and apparently was about to light 15 gallons of gasoline on fire, killing them all when a Mexican saved his life, tackled him and convinced him to leave the situation.
The payroll officer left and eventually met his current wife a while later and asked her to marry him after three days.
Now he writes books about his thoughts and feelings, many of them about murder and so far they’ve remained in the realm of fiction writing.
I had enough and did my Abraham Lincoln speech again. I recognized I had similar feelings of anger and frustration and similar thoughts in my youth and dealing with very difficult people like first wives and current business partners.
It was just hard to hear it out of someone else’s mouth as easily as saying he was going to pick up cigarettes at a convenience store. More stories like that and at this point I wasn’t sure if these were his books or true stories.
I had enough and said, “I understand what it feels like to be a good person and not feel acknowledged or respected by people we care for and I’ve thought similar thoughts in my life. We all get caught in stories. Important to recognize that and find our own place to protect ourselves. Sometimes the angels come in the form of a diving Mexican. Sometimes it’s a kind attorney with good advice. Sometimes it is something more painful. But we choose to be better.”
Something like that to end the conversation, but a period on the sentence and a bow on the conversation.
So I meander to get some diversion; yogurt pretzels which are so intense they help me get out of my head, as I’m still uncomfortable with those stories.
The lady that invited me thought I was asking something about her conversation. I just said no I’ve had enough stories.
Of course during this listening session my mom volunteers information like names, and information about my life… I don’t think she got who we were talking to. A would be Jeffrey dahmer.
Really? Not really. It takes a lot of emotional momentum to do awful shit like that but seriously once you hear that crap it’s time to put a cap on that fuse and say no more of that.
Payroll officer invited me for one final story he can’t share with anyone and I figured man I’m tapped out but go along just to see. Maybe I could be helpful to exorcise this guy for himself. My mom shows up to help me. I think she got wind I was done and he capped the story with a bugs bunny ending and that was that.
He disappeared and I was worried that would not end well or my Mr Bean comment describing him still lingered. He brought his book and I asked him to autograph it.
Despite all the scariness I am glad he found an outlet in writing.
I sure do. And I wanted to honor that and everything he has overcome.
I asked him about his parents which summed it up.
A selfish mom who was a bitch and an unprotected father who enabled her.
Explains it all.
In the end he gifts me one of his books, which I appreciate and I ask him to autograph it out of respect. He writes he hopes his stories give me some good material for my comedy writing. Absolutely!
It’s not easy growing up with challenging parents and life situations. We all have angry thoughts about lighting people on fire, no? Long as we don’t do it, and find another way to express that outrage. And he did.
I was so glad to leave and when my mom said she forgot her phone I wanted to have the earth swallow me. God damn now we gotta go back.
We did, nobody was in sight and left.
That night I felt so scared for my own life. The book was placed in heaven, and didn't want to risk having an Apple tracker on it. It was a sharing and I think we all gained something from it.
For me, it made me remember managing my own inner house and health is top priority. The feeling of feeling vulnerable with volatile business partners and unsafe in this world was emanating throughout my mind and body.
Time to sleep and try again the next day.
Woke up. Mom made breakfast for me the previous day so I just waited in horror till the van arrived.
We agreed on a few things. Appreciate the political stage but it’s always uncomfortable. I try to find middle ground and alignment with those I’m talking with.
We agreed it was the best Christmas ever, with a spooky ghost.
It’s tough visiting family. It’s tough being with anybody to be honest.
Like Julia Robert’s character says, “I fucking hate people”
I think my dad was more clear, “I like people, I don’t always like their behavior.”
Great gifts, great food, some spooky haunts, I’m so glad I don’t drink.
Last thing we did was play chess. She smoked me with my “Hey lets orchestrate the pawns like chorus dancers” half ass strategy that failed.
Second game was solely to dismantle her most movable pieces on the chess board.
Annihilated her.
It was one win to one win and she said, “Let’s leave it as a draw.”
I said instead, “How about a better phrase? We both won.”
And 2023 Christmas was a wrap.
I wasn’t sure about title for this story, as this was more about seeing other people’s ghosts and how they still haunt them or live with them. Spending time with family always brings old things up yet to be resolved, so figured it was a title that was close enough.