July 2024
The title of this series is an intentional play on words. Why not throw a little revolutionary sentiment in for the fun of it? Our society is in a state of collapse, after all. You knew, right?
I’ve read “A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens several times in my life, the first in high school. It hits a little different each time…
"And since there have been laws, there have been criminals. There have been thieves since there's been property. And, the day will come again when none of those things are around. I just hope it's before people go extinct.", from the song "Of Ballots and Barricades" by Ramshackle Glory
A long awaited fishing excursion with my friend Nutzy is a memory I will always keep close. We started discussing the trip in January. At the time, neither of us really knew if we would be physically able to fish in the spring. Nutzy was facing major back surgery, with a projected 18 month recovery period. I was readying myself for surgery to remove a cancerous mass from my right kidney. When I brought up the fishing trip, it felt like reaching on my part. Reaching is sometimes positive. It provides a goal to aspire to, realistic or not. I needed some hope back then.
Despite a fair amount of physical setbacks, Nutzy and I were both well enough to take that fishing trip on July 27th. What an amazing day; significant as it was fun. I value the opportunity to follow through with far-fetched plans. And yes, we did catch fish. Quite a few, actually. Nutzy is a friend I cherish. The fishing trip is a memory I will hold onto. I’m hoping we get a few more days out on the water before summer comes to its inevitable close.
In previous posts, I have gone into detail about my life circumstances from 2021-2023. Fishing is an activity I've loved since I was old enough to get permission from my mother to go, unaccompanied, down to the creek that ran through my childhood neighborhood. I believe I was 8 years old. I didn't fish during the dark years. There were plenty of other beloved activities discontinued and neglected: playing music, listening to music, intimacy, giving a shit about anything...
I have another wonderful fishing story from this summer to share later on. That's from August though.
Fairs, Food Trucks, and Family
Photos:(from top) 1. My granddaughter, Ivy June at 8 months. 2. Me riding the bus from Lowville to Watertown 3. The obnoxious "pro-birth" booth at the Lewis County Fair (I am 100% pro-choice, in case anyone is questioning my stance on womens' reproductive rights. As a man, that's the only respectable stance one can hold. Her body = Her choice. No exceptions!)
Along my journey, I have become a social person. Don't ask me how. I have always been extremely introverted. Socially anxious is a more accurate description. Sure, I have been playing live music for decades. Performing hasn't bothered me since I was a young man, as I am comfortable in my craft. Ask anyone how much I speak to a crowd between songs and they'll tell you, "Almost never."
I wouldn't refer to myself as a blossoming extrovert, but I do enjoy being around people these days. It isn't forced. I am an admittedly awkward social creature. There are probably some who would appreciate me shutting the fuck up once in a while. There are no plans for that. I have shit to say.
The pic of the "Fetus Booth" has a funny story behind it. My daughter, son-in-law, baby girl, and I went to the Lewis County Fair together. I couldn't resist stopping at the display. I would have acted more ridiculous, but the lady running the booth was a retired secretary from my high school. Sure, her abortion views are trash, but I still see her as a nice person otherwise. Living in a rural area requires strong “live and let live” skills.
I reside in Trump country. Northern New York is as red as Alabama. It is not feasible to hate everyone based on “culture war” sensibilities. Conversing with others without bringing politics or religion into it reveals more commonality than division. It's a skill I have acquired while living here my entire life, all the while, maintaining extremely progressive and militantly secular ideals.
There was a free raffle for a “baby girl” basket at the fetus booth. Guess who won it?
I went to the Fair multiple times, mostly by myself. I also attended the Farmers' Market on Saturdays, and walked down to watch "Music in the Park" as much as I could (once sitting in with my friends' band on guitar). Chances are, if there was a public event taking place in Lowville this summer, I was there. I reconnected with so many people from my past.
It was important for me to reacquaint myself with this town. I left the area for six years, returning once for two months after a split with my ex and staying with my high school sweetheart. I handled that situation poorly, to say the least. She was the only person in the world who cared enough to help me out during that time. I wouldn’t be here if not for her kindness. While in town last year, I made the news by getting arrested for DWI. My BAC was 0.26. It wasn’t easy showing my face around here at first. Part of me wanted to keep to myself. I did the opposite.
I have become a food truck conisseur. My cholesterol is high. Changing my diet is more doable in the fall. This is how I re-acclimated to Lowville, a small town I was once happy to flee. The grass is greener where you water it. I understand now.
Family
I held my granddaughter on the 4th of July while her father lit fireworks. She was fascinated, unafraid, and only flinched a couple of times for the louder bangs. Her curiosity is infectious. Babies warm the soul.
We had a cookout at my oldest daughter and son-in-law’s house that day. All of us attended, including my younger son, youngest daughter, and their mother (my 1st wife) She is a good person and someone I consider a close friend. We met in junior high. She helped me get my belongings after the June breakup and is still storing some of my shit at her place. I can’t thank her enough. Our bond as parents would prove to be important in July.
On July 19th, my son became very ill. He had a seizure and was transported by ambulance to Lewis County General Hospital in Lowville. I was at the Fair, talking to some friends. My oldest daughter called me with the news. I ran all the way back to the street we all live on. I can’t recall the last time I ran. It was definitely before the surgery.
It’s hard to explain how the emergency with my son made me feel. I’ve described myself as “unbreakable” in other posts. That isn’t true. I believed it when I said it, but it’s foolish to think that, even after all I’ve been through. We all have weak spots. My children are mine.
The experience with my son (age 24) was terrifying. He wasn’t himself; delusional. The cause of the seizure is still unknown. Many factors may have contributed. His mother and I sat in the Emergency Room for about 30 hours, only leaving briefly one at a time, for short naps.
Everyone banded together, and my daughters and son-in-law ran supplies to the hospital (snacks, drinks, etc.). We operated like a true family unit. We are a family.
My ex-wife and I worked as a team to care for and advocate for our son. It was a heartwarming experience for me. He’s doing much better now. Thank goodness.
It occurred to me after the crisis was over that she and I have become elders. This is our family.
Flash Flooding
July brought with it extreme weather. There was flash flooding in Lowville on July 10th. The basement and lawn at the house got hit hard. A tornado touched down not far from here. The town experienced massive damage. Having lived here most of my life, I have never seen the likes of it. It was called “The Storm of a Generation”. It happened again a week later. Then again in early August. Too soon to call it climate collapse? Which generation?
Questionable Chronology (my apologies)
It may have made sense for me to start at July 4th and write in order. My neurodivergent mind doesn’t work that way. Anyone who has ever listened to me tell a story is aware of this trait. I jump around. Maybe it’s a style. I do my best to make sense. Maybe I fall short sometimes.
One person has listened to my story telling since early March. She has helped me tremendously with everything, and I mean everything. I consider her one of the closest confidants I have ever had in life. I can’t mention her by name, only by the most befitting title I can use anonymously: a very dear friend. There are reasons for keeping it vague, respectfully. If she is reading this, I hope she knows she has a true friend in me for life. I’m really trying to tone the self-effacing humor down now, even though it gets laughs. That spray bottle might still be necessary though.
I spoke to her about putting up an online dating profile that read:
“I’m not much to look at, but my personality makes it far worse.”
It was met with a laugh, but then an eye roll. Then I said, “If I’m considered desirable in any way, the dating pool must be bone dry.” Similar response.
Without our conversations, I could not have become the person I am today. She’s that important to my story, a main character I didn’t even know before the winter of this year.
I did post a dating profile in early July. It wasn’t quite that bad (I was very honest about myself). Somehow, I ended up matching with someone who has become very special to me the first night I was on the site. We met in person on July 11th. The rest is between us. Even when I write about positive experiences, judgment comes from people who confuse my blog with social media. Stop doing that please. Actually, I'm not asking. Stop.
I’ll only share that I’m very lucky to know her. She is way out of my league and I know it. She probably won’t like that statement (it's true).
If you read my earlier post, “I Shouldn’t Be Here: The Collapsed Lung Incident of July 2023”, it should be easy to understand why I’m writing this series. I spent the summer of 2023 in a drunken death spiral.
“…there were years when I was ready to die, but it’s only been recently that I’ve been willing to live.”, from the song, “Bitter Old Man” by Ramshackle Glory
Part 3 of the series coming soon…Thank you for reading!
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