Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Just Weirdness

There have been two times in my life that I can remember when things were just so weird that we had to get the hell out of there. I say we because there was always someone else with me.

The first time was not long before I was inducted into the US Army. It was either late January or early February '69. Stan and I drove to Key West in his new Triumph GT6+.

The drive down was strange enough. I think we drove straight through to St. Augustine because I remember visiting the fort there. I do remember that it was almost a blizzard on the New Jersey Turnpike. And I think we both hallucinated from lack of sleep through the Okefenokee Swamp (I have no idea why were so far inland at that point).

But it was Key West that was weird, or rather the people and situation we found ourselves in. I do remember that we did some sight seeing because I remember Hemingway's house and a bar he used to frequent. I know we ate conch chowder at a restaurant near a marina. And it was in that marina that our lives almost changed.

I'm pretty sure it was Stan (he was more outgoing than I am) who struck up a conversation with a bunch of people on a boat. They were all a bit older than us (I was 19), maybe early twenties and a mixed group. They invited us on board to smoke some weed. We hadn't carried any with us and it sounded like a good idea at the time.

They said they were plying the Caribbean looking for sunken treasure, doing odd jobs at different ports of call to buy food, fuel, and drugs. We spent the better part of the afternoon toking up and listening to their tales. One guy, the leader I guess, talked about being chased out of Costa Rican waters by a gun boat. Visions of pirates were in my head.

Then they decided we should join their merry little party. Who doesn't want to be a treasure hunter and pirate? Especially when you're so high. They didn't care that I had been drafted, in fact they thought it would be the perfect way to avoid induction. But the kicker was they wanted us to sell whatever we owned and buy our way in.

Who knows, maybe it was paranoia creeping in from all the pot we smoked in the hot Caribbean sun but for some reason both Stan and I started to freak out and wonder if they weren't going to Shanghai us. It was getting close to dinner time so Stan and I begged off. They said they'd be leaving around 9 a.m. the next morning and they wouldn't wait for us. We didn't make it.

The weirdest time though was after I went to Canada. Tony, my brother Hotch and I drove to somewhere outside of Toronto, someplace in Mississauga, Ontario, and decided to camp in a public park near the lake.

Around five in the morning we were woken by the local cops and told we could camp there. We promised to pack up and leave and they left us alone (Canadian cops were so nice back then). As we were trying to decide what to do a car drove up and four guys our age got out. We chatted and they said we could follow them back to their farm and crash there for a bit.

We followed them for what seemed forever through some southern Ontario farmland until we got to this remote Victorian farmhouse. We all went inside into an interior room - windows hung with heavy drapes, maybe blankets and two doors. They produced copious amounts of pot and hash, put on some records, and we all got wasted.

Then one by one they left the room. The stereo was in a different room and they put on side one of Winds of Change by the Animals. Cool LP right? Yeah right up until "Paint It Black" and then "The Black Plague" came on:
ohohohohoh

the bell tolls
the black plague has struck
diseased eyes roll upward
as if knowing which direction their souls will travel
(bring out your dead)
a woman in black cries
as the deathly procession passes by
and monks moan en masse

ohohohohoh

the yet clean pleasant pounds upon the castle door
for it is safer inside the walls
their knocking pounds a dull tone across
the quiet, deserted courtyard
the bodies of unfortunates bloat in the hot
sun outside the castle walls
and ones ignorant of all facts
plunder the diseased corpses for
remaining riches
(bring out your dead)
and the bell tolls on

a man walks around the castle walls on the outside
the light from his lamp dancing shadows as he moves
he tends the sick
gives comfort to all he can for
dying woman and crying man
but he feels it most for the children
(unlcean)
tears glisten on his cheek
did man ever deserve this death?
and not all will die, just the poor
for the rich are inside the castle walls
and he knows he could be with them
and they laugh at this fool of a man
through the stone fortress windows
and the bell tolls on

(unclean)
and many deaths and many days later
many tears have been cried but in vain
for tears can never erase the pain of death
only time has that talent
his hands are now blistered but this man walks on
the only element of sanity that the
people look to him for answers and
he answers all
and the bell tolls on inside the castle wall
(bring out your dead)

the dead are now buried and the plague is at its end
life for the people flowers again
they breathe fresh air like they did once before
and there is not a sound from beyond the castle walls
the bell has stopped
and only silence is heard
ant the peasants outside wonder what happened within
in their bones they feel something is wrong
the bell has been silent much too long
for many days not one soul has
stirred  from the stone fortress
where the rich people live
no one came and no one went
fear can do many strange things
and even though the water ran low
their mouths burnt and bellys caked dry
not one person put a foot outside
no had that much courage
for they feared the peasants and their world outside
so they played it safe and didn't move
but one by one they perished and they died


Still no one came back into the room. The three of us were completely freaked out. We cautiously opened one of the doors and found our way to the kitchen. No one was there. We went out the back door to where both cars had been parked. My Mustang was there but their car was gone.

We were high as a kite, in a strange land with no idea where we were but somehow we found our way back to civilization. We were all sure we had stumbled into some cult that was going to make human sacrifices of us.




Thursday, March 7, 2013

Wall Street Doug Fraser


My brother Doug was more outgoing than me. I had my small circle of friends and so did he but he was quicker to make friends when we moved to Wall Street. Doug is the one that brought Doug and John Fraser into our lives. It was because of the Frasers that my brother became "Hotch." Doug Fraser was older than my brother. Because of his age he took precedence over my brother who first was called Doug Hotch and then that was shortened to just Hotch. So from hereon Doug means Doug Fraser and my brother is Hotch.

Doug was a year younger than I was and John was Hotch's age (Hotch is four years younger than me). They all started to hang out together. At first I wasn't a party to their antics. I think it was the Great Coventry Gumball Machine robbery that brought me in.

Down on Main Street near Jim's Hardware and Dr. Duboff's dental office was one of those gumball machines, you know, put in a penny and twist the handle and you'd get a gumball. The three of them had stolen the who machine but they couldn't get in open. So they enlisted me figuring I'd have a bright idea. I couldn't get it open either. Someone had the bright idea of breaking the glass globe which worked but none of them wanted to cash in the pennies. Because I had not been seen grabbing the machine (I doubt that any of them had either) I was elected to take a paper bag full of pennies to the bank. I think we got about fifty cents each. Big score.

Throughout our time on Wall Street, Doug, John, Hotch and I had many adventures. Some were just kids stuff - telling dirty jokes, trying to pee our names in the fresh snow, stuff like that. We always seemed to be on the verge of crossing "the line" and I guess some times we did. I remember getting a stern lecture from State Trooper Kolodziej for throwing snowballs at cars from the Nathan Hale Monument at top of Monument Hill.


We thought it was a perfect place to ambush unsuspecting drivers. I guess it was but some of the drivers didn't agree and complained. The date must have been before Coventry had its own PD and was covered by the State Police. I don't remember how we became the prime suspects but it probably had something to do with being recognized (Coventry was and is a small town).

Many of my escapades with Doug revolved around cars. I had a 1949 Chevrolet Torpedo back that was a real piece of shit. It was my first car; I was probably around 14 at the time. I knew very little about cars but was determined to drive the Chev. My mom was teaching in Marlborough, CT by then so she usually didn't get home until two or three hours after we got out of school. I'd tinker with the Chev and then try to start it but usually the battery was just too weak to get it to fire. I think if there had been a hand crank on the engine I could have cranked it over faster. So being a bright young guy I'd push it out of the drive way and down the slight hill to bump start it. Except it rarely fired on the first try so the guys and I would push it as far back up the hill as we could and try again. The problem with this was that if it didn't start we weren't strong enough to push it back into the driveway. 

One time it didn't start and we just couldn't get it into the driveway. Time was of the essence because my mom was due home. (It may have been a couple of times we got caught out like this but I've condensed them to one.) So Doug got the Fraser's riding mower and John got his pony. We got the Chev back into the driveway but if I remember the riding mower got toasted. Doug's dad, a big hulking guy, was not happy. 

Then there was the time Doug and I decided to run away to see my dad in Chicago. I was 16 and had a '57 Ford. Like most cars I owned back then it was crap. I remember my Uncle Gibby saying it looked like "an accident waiting to happen." So of course Doug and I thought it was the perfect transportation to Chicago.

We headed west late afternoon. For some reason we decided to the old highways (I can't remember the exact route). I know we went through the Catskills. Anyway it was getting late, it was dark and I was tired. Doug had been bugging me to drive and I let him. Doug was only 15. 

For some reason a New York State Trooper started following us. Like two idiots we decided to switch places while we were moving, I mean what could go wrong? I guess the view of a beat up piece of crap weaving all over the road while the people inside climbed over each other might have been a tip off that something was amiss. The Trooper pulled us over.

Didn't really matter who was driving. In New York at that time if you were under 18 you could only drive between dawn and dusk. We were busted. In some ways it was comical. 

We were placed in the cruiser and driven to a Justice of the Peace - at about two in the morning! The JP was in his pjs at his kitchen table. I was charged with driving under age or something like that. The verdict was swift - Guilty! The JP asked us how much money we had (not much, maybe just enough for gas to Chicago - it's not like we thought this through). BAM! Down went the gavel and that was our fine, exactly what we both had in our pockets except for some small change.

We were then taken to the nearby State PD Barracks and our parents were called. My mom wasn't home (I can't remember why, most likely something to do with the American Legion) but Doug's dad was. He came to pick us up. The trip home was just about the worst trip I ever took. Doug's dad had a Chev pickup, maybe a '63 or '64. For some reason I sat in the middle. Doug and I both were dead tired but his dad wouldn't let us sleep. Every time I'd start to nod off I'd get an elbow in the ribs. 

Running away didn't turn out to be such a good idea. We ended up broke. My car was impounded and when my mom took me back to get it a week or so later windows were broken and stuff was missing. I'm pretty sure I was grounded forever and Doug and I were forbidden to see each other. At least that didn't last.

Doug was super competitive. My friend Ronnie Anderson had a Ford F-1 with a flathead V8. For some reason he and Doug raced - Doug on foot and Ronnie in his truck. It maybe was only 100 feet. I'm pretty sure Doug won; there is no way he would let himself lose. He rarely lost.

Doug and I drifted apart (oh sure we had a few more adventures before that happened). I quit school and went to work for Joe Pelletier's Chevron. Doug quit school about a year after I did. We moved from Wall Street to Avery Shores, and the Frasers moved from Coventry to Windham.

I knew Doug had joined the Army before his 18th birthday. I didn't think it was a good idea but Doug was determined. Doug had always been a competitive guy and I think part of it was to prove his manhood. I think another part was to get away. Doug idolized his dad but I also think he feared him. I don't know what was going on in Doug's mind; we were friends but we weren't soul mates. I probably shared more of my inner feelings than Doug did.

Doug died in Hau Nghia Province, South Vietnam on July 6, 1968. The "Casualty Type" was listed as "non-hostile." I'd heard that he and some buddies were proving their bravado. I don't know; I wasn't there.

I went to the funeral with my mom. Doug's mom, Mary, was very torn up. I was just stunned like so many of Doug's friends who were there. Doug was so young, just barely 18. One thing sticks in my mind. I know it had some bearing on my future actions. Doug's mom said to my mom, clutching my mom's arm, "Don't let them take your sons Elaine."

Doug Fraser was a friend of mine and he died way too young. I still think of him. He had a smile that could disarm almost anyone.

The Army and/or Vietnam didn't get me but they got my friend. It still doesn't seem right. This is for you Doug.


Saturday, March 2, 2013

Fear can be a good thing

A while ago I was talking with my friend Rick. Somehow the conversation got around to jobs and taking a risk. I told Rick that I was always afraid of failure, afraid of being "found out" of being a fraud. Let me explain.

I am a high school drop out. I quit high school twice, both times in the tenth grade. I eventually got my GED and got it early thanks to my mother (don't know how she did it but I was allowed to take the exams in August or September of 1967; I should have graduated that June).

For the first ten years or so after it never really bothered me. While still in Connecticut I had a decent job where they seemed to appreciate my abilities. And then in 1969 I moved to Canada.

I took some university (in Canada you go to university where you might attend a college just like England) courses but I probably only have a couple of credits. I took a few jobs in gas stations but that didn't bother me; I guess I didn't have much ambition.

Around 1973 I then entered the auto mechanic apprenticeship program in Ontario. I'd been floundering around for a couple of years, jumping for job to job, not really satisfied with where I was going (nowhere). I finished my apprenticeship and took the exam to become a Certified Automotive Technician in the summer of 1977. It's the first and only certificate course I ever finished. I was quite happy to be a mechanic. I maybe wasn't the greatest but I could hold my own.

Fate intervened and the place I worked went under. Around 1979 I was looking for a job again. I'd worked in a couple of places since my first real job as a mechanic but I wasn't very happy turning wrenches after all. My then mother-in-law had a friend who knew of a job opening at the Canadian Automobile Association-Toronto (CAA-Toronto). I applied and got the job in their "Inspection Center." It was a decent job, regular hours and I learned some new skills.

Then an opening came up at the CAA-Toronto as a Technical Advisor in their F.A.C.T.S. (Free Automotive Technical Services) Division. It was a big step up and for the first time in a long time I had my doubts about my worth and abilities. But I got the job.

From that point on I was always unsure if I really was qualified for the next step. But I kept going, kept trying. Yes there were a few missteps along the way; a few blows to my confidence. But for some reason I didn't hesitate to apply for jobs I felt I really wasn't qualified for.

I applied for a job as a Fleet Maintenance coordinator for Petersen, Howell and Heather, a large fleet leasing company (I really can't remember the exact job title, basically I had to authorize repairs for vehicles that were leased from the company). I figured I could do the job but I was nervous and figured that my lack of a high school diploma would sink me. It didn't.

The I took a short detour to California for a writing job that ended badly. It was a big blow to my confidence  when I got fired and it took me a few months back in Toronto to recover.

Then I got a job with American Motors (Canada) Inc. in customer relations. It was really the start of my corporate life. I was scared stiff - it really was a big step up for a high school drop out. When AMC got bought up by Chrysler I feared for the worse but they kept me on. It really felt like the big time.

But the drive (about 35 miles each way) was killing me and I started to look for a job closer to home. I applied for just about everything I could find advertised anywhere. Honda Canada Inc. advertised for someone to work in the Service Engineering Department at their HQ in Scarborough, about 10 miles from our house. I applied figuring I had absolutely no chance. I was not an engineer and I'd really only had a couple of years experience as a Certified mechanic.

I went for the interview and did fairly well. Then they gave me a hands on test. I was handed a box of transmission parts, a micrometer and a list of things to measure. I'd only ever used a micrometer in school during my apprenticeship and I figured I was doomed. I studied the micrometer trying to envision what the measurements meant. I scribbled down some measurements and thought I had surely failed.

Then about a week later I got a call to come back. I was told I was hired, what my salary would be, work hours, when to start, etc. Did I really do that well? Was it a fluke? I was elated but scared. What if I really couldn't cut it? Part of me, a big part, wanted to just cut and run but I didn't. I stayed and I think I was an asset to the department.

That's been the story of my life for a long time now - scared to take a chance but more afraid not to. It was that way in my divorce. I'd been married for so long yet I knew it wasn't working. In many ways it would have been easier to just stay but I took the scarier path because I knew it was right, because I had to push on.

Yes I've failed in life. I've made some stupid decisions. I try not to have regrets but of course I do. But none of this has kept me from moving forward. Thankfully most of my decisions have turned out right, or for the best. It doesn't mean I don't continue to be scared because I am. I am always scared of failure. But to sit and do nothing I guess is the biggest failure.