ahumanexperiencemoment

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“I think the biggest piece of wisdom that I have gotten from learning is that we all have a gift and the gift is to be shared...”  

Are you from San Diego?

I’m born and raised San Diego.  I’m a first generation, half of my family is from Cedar Rapids, Iowa and the other half is from Guanajuato, Mexico.

What do you do for a living?

A couple of things that I do, I’m a kids MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) coach. I teach kids MMA and Jiu Jitsu. I’m also a server… at night, that’s my night job. So, during the day, I will usually go and teach the kids class from 4 to 5 pm. I have about thirty kids aged five to about twelve and teach them the arts, how to carry themselves, how to slowly go into a situation that they don’t necessarily feel comfortable but give them the tools help them enable them to feel comfortable. I watch their progression on that as kids grow up. That’s something that I like to do that I definitely feel like it is in the line of philanthropy work because I don’t make as much money as I do as my night job working as a server. But it’s one of the things that is very rewarding for me and it pays me more in the sense of giving back.

Where do you want to see your life go to… or what do you want to do in life?

What I want to do in life is I want to impact people. I want to be remembered for something. I really don’t have any goals of my own as far as like… as far as… like I don’t ever want there to be a statue made over myself. I want the impact to be from all these kids that I coach throughout the years and that impact, leaving that footprint on the world. Cause at the end of the day, I’m here for maybe, like, eighty years, if I am healthy… so it’s not really about me, it about all of us collectively.

So, in your life, what piece of advice or wisdom you think everyone should know about?

I think the biggest piece of wisdom that I have gotten from learning is that we all have a gift and the gift is to be shared. It’s definitely not something that should be held within ourselves. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot… like, maybe I should not coach as much and focus on… like, right now, I don’t even have a vehicle to get to work so I take the bus to get to work but I understand he bigger picture of it. I understand that I wasn’t given the opportunity to have a big house that my parents to give to me. I used to eat off of the kitchen floor cause we didn’t have a table. Now that we have a house, we have all of these things, I just know the dedication and the hard work that it takes to acquire all this. I know the humanity that you have to have in order to just continue to pursue, to continue to do what you need to do and find your gift… and really just share that with the world. Like me as a server, I’m that type of person who… I’ll run all the way to the back to cut you an orange to garnish your drink. That’s the kind of person I am, and it goes back and forth between me and the kids. I would climb mountains for these little ones. Like I said, it’s for the bigger picture.

 San Diego, California. August 2019.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“The wisdom I got was to simplify your life and to continue to unconditionally love everything.”

What brings you to San Diego?

I am on a business trip with my husband.

If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?

Houston, Texas.

So, are you here for business as well? or pleasure?

Well, he is here for business and I came to be with him and pleasure for me.

In your life, if you could tell me a story or maybe an experience you had, or maybe a piece wisdom that you have come across in your life that you think other people should know, what would that be?

Ok… so, I was eighteen and I lived in Dallas, Texas. I was on a business luncheon with a girlfriend and we got hit by an illegal alien and I was put into a coma for three weeks. It took me five years to recover. I had brain damage to the whole left side of the brain and to the whole left side of the body, so I had to learn to walk, talk and speak. I had been eating a strawberry and I almost bit both sides of my tongue off. It took them almost an hour and a half to cut me out of the car. The experience that I can say is that, life is short and that you should simplify everything… in life, period. I am… I have had a business, I’ve raised children. My husband was military in the Air Force, we traveled for quite some time. I just turned fifty in July and I still, to this day, believe in simplifying everything in your life. I just went through the hurricane Harvey and lost everything.  So, again, going through that, that has taught me simplifying everything in your life, loving everything, enjoying, hoping… I do believe in God too, so that was a big part of getting me through that horrifying experience. But really, I’ve learned discernment through all of that.  The wisdom I got was to simplify your life and to continue to unconditionally love everything.

 San Diego, California. August 2019.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“My biggest thing, if I had to share anything with the world as far as what I’ve learned is, be happy with yourself. You don’t need drugs or alcohol. I’m sober for four years now. I think better. I feel better. I love life better. And that’s my biggest message is, don’t be fooled...”

Where you from?

I’m from here, from Gretna.

Tell me about some experiences you’ve had.

I grew up in Gretna back in the 70s, I was born 1960. So, I lived as a kid out here before cell phones and internet and everything. We just kind of had a great time being little crazy Cajuns on the bayou, ya know? I mean, I wouldn’t trade that for nothing. But, you know, back in the 70s when I became a teenager, things started getting out of control like in the late 70s, 75 to 78, cocaine came around here. Kids were kind of just going off the rails. So, I saw my life headed that way, so I joined the Air Force and I got out of here and went up to Colorado.  I did good for myself, I got out of the Air Force in four year and I ended up being stationed in Rapid City, South Dakota but I bounced over to Denver after I got divorced, cause I had a kid with my ex. Anyways, it kept me close enough… but the music scene, I am into music, ya know? So, I play base and at the time, I wasn’t singing lead vocals, but I got into writing my own music, so I developed a style of music and I been in Denver… I just got back here (Gretna) a couple years ago. Anyways, I was out there, and I got to playing pretty good with some friends and we formed a couple of bands. The one I am in now is called Da Screech. In Colorado, I opened up for all the 80s rock bands; Queensrÿche, Poison, Warrant… ya know, Skid Row, Buckcherry, Y&T, Ted Nugent, Molly Hatchet, Dokken, Cinderella, Tesla, Slaughter… you know it, yeah, pretty much all of them.  

So, I had a business, it was in the tire business and I did real well with it but when the recession hit, it wiped my business out.  I was smart enough to buy a house, couple houses for my mom, so that’s where we are at now. So, it’s kind of weird but life kind of gives you… I am so glad to be home and that’s why I am out here enjoying it because it’s been a long time. But I got my band rocking around here now. I left my guitar player and drummer up in Colorado and if I was up there still, I mean, the last show we did was with Steelheart. We opened up for Steelheart, Firehouse was before that… Steven Pearcy, lead singer from Ratt, Fast Pussycat, BulletBoys... all of them, opened, just the latest stuff. Anyway, So, I am out here now. I got a really smoking hot little 25-year-old guitar player, he kills it man… the drummer situation, I am still working with. I got a couple guys that wanted to play but we are just a three piece. So, I mean, all this time, I got an international commodity business. My business died but I kind of bled out. You know, I had a half a million-dollar house on the side of the mountain in Colorado. Four car garage… viper, everything. And when business died, cause I sold the big mining tires… it just was gone man. When the recession hit and the money stopped, that was it. They didn’t need nothing. And I couldn’t get it back so I just kind of sold what I had and tried to find the next big deal in the world… and it just didn’t happen man. So, I came home after exhausting all my resources, but I made a lot of relationships internationally so hopefully, I am on to something. But meanwhile, we are living like modest Cajuns around here and I love it. I mean, the worst case is that I eat too much gumbo. (laughter) It’s hard bro, my mamma gives me too many kisses, you know (laughter). She is so glad to see me.

But I am rocking though, we just did a show out, first show out here at the Babylon and a lot of the scene around here for rock is like a lot of metal. It’s like hard metal, ya know? We are like between a Motley Crue and Pantera, that’s kind of our style. But you can actually understand when I sing. I sing, I don’t scream and all that stuff, I guess that’s not my era, ya know. But, I mean, I got little bit of attitude and a little bit of pissed offness in it.

So, you’ve been in the music scene for a long time, what are the major changes that you have seen?

Well, I mean, what I’ve seen… it’s kind of like, in the early days when I first got into rock man cause it really went from Elvis Presley to Beatles, then you started seeing ten year after, Cream, you starting seeing. And some of the cooler bands that I kind of gravitated to, were the real different ones like... you know, I liked Black Sabbath, I liked Nazareth. I liked the heavier, the ones with the more pissed off attitude, you know, the way they sang it and threw down. Roots have come back to that, I mean when it got up the road with 70s rock, Nugent came out and I seen Van Halen at the Superdome in 77, I think it was 77. They just came out and they opened up for the Rolling Stones and the Doobie Brothers. That’s back when the Doobie Brothers had two guitar players… and then here’s Van Halen opening up for them. And everybody was like, woah, where did these guys come from, you know? Like, so different, so bad ass and that really turned me on to music. So, the music went like to glam rock. You know, all the 80s guys looking like chicks and stuff, you know, the spandex… but one of the things that music doesn’t have and like nowadays, the guys are just angry. They’ve got their music so heavy and they are just pissed off and that’s it, that’s their message. I’m mad. And a lot of it is real demonic… there’s a lot of bands that have upside down crosses, the horns… I don’t do the horns, that’s the devil. I’m into Jesus Christ. I’m in the good side. I’m the bright white light in life. I’m not that negative, demonic shit. Can I get pissed off and have an attitude? Oh yeah. But it’s not a bad thing, everybody gets mad even if they are a good person and it’s not in a bad way. But that’s what’s been going on. So, what I did when I started writing my music is, I said, you know, cause in Colorado… I just turned 59, so I’m competing with the young kids that’s heavy metal, hard edge, dark metal and stuff, and that’s what’s in Colorado so, I drop tuned my guitar and my base and got that metal kind of edge, so now we sound like we are kind of metal a little bit.  Use to be in the day where bands… one thing about the glam bands, they brought the chicks, they sang to the chicks, so when I went out and got ready to go, I was going to the concert… there’s going to be a lot of chicks there because they loved the guys in the band like Motley Crue, all those guys. They don’t do that no more. Now, the chicks have to follow the dudes because it’s all about the dudes. You go to a show and there is 90% guys and a few really hardcore chicks hanging out. So, I mixed it up. I want to put a band together that’s got the heavy edge but sings to the chicks… see if I can revive some of that again.

Sounds like a good opportunity.

That’s what I’ve been doing man. I’ve got songs like, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” and “In the Moonlight.”

So, if you had one piece of advice, what’s the thing that you’ve learned that you would like to share?

My biggest thing, if I had to share anything with the world as far as what I’ve learned is, be happy with yourself. You don’t need drugs or alcohol. I’m sober for four years now. I think better. I feel better. I love life better. And that’s my biggest message is, don’t be fooled. That’s a huge takeaway from what I’ve learned. I’ve been throwing down man, I’ve been loving life. I just can’t get enough of it. It’s almost like, I am on a drug and I am digging it man. Everything in my life is just better and I’m broke.

So, if someone wanted to follow you, do you have a website or Facebook page?

Yes, it’s https://www.facebook.com/da.screech.3/ and my email is dascreechmetal@gmail.com

 Lightning

Gretna, Louisiana. 2019.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“I talk to the kids about bees and tell them about cides. Anything that’s a cide means kill. Anything that means kill is not good. Pesticide, herbicide… we don’t need it. We need to stop it and that’s the most important thing because if we don’t, we not gonna be here....”

 What got you involved in beekeeping?

I will never forget stepping on a bee when I was three years old. I stepped on em... I don’t know, I am t three years old, what I know? I stepped on a bee and got stung. Ever since then, I’ve been fascinated with bugs. And then after hurricane Katrina, well, before Hurricane Katrina, I was helping my friend Adrian with bees. He lived over by the Mississippi river bridge, right up from Marti Gras Boulevard. So, I was helping him with the bees before the storm. After the storm, he got robbed three times in less than a month and his wife says, “Babe, we got to go, I can’t stay, I feel so violated in my own home.” So, they found property across the lake and they moved across the lake and before they moved across the lake, he gave me three splits. Which is, you rob a queen cell from a hive, and you put it in with a couple of frames of… maybe a frame of brood and a frame of honey and you hope for the best. He gave me three, two died over the winter, they didn’t make it, but one did and that was it. I got started from there.

When was this?

After Katrina, right about 2006, I started with the bees and then three years later, I am out here at the market and I have been out here ever since. So that’s 2009 or 2010, I been here. Nine or ten years I have been here.

So, you said that you started off with one that survived, what do you have now?

Fifty. So, I’m busy, I make all of this. I make the soup, I make the salve, I make the lotion, I make the sealer, I make everything. I gather the pollen, the honey and then I got sourwood, and I got orange blossom and those come from monofloro…, so I bring the bees to an organic citrus farm in Georgia. Then I got a friend and we do the sourwood in the foothills of the Smokies and when the bees are finished in Georgia, I bring them up to him and he works the bees on the sourwood. And then he says hey, it’s ready so I give him some money and then I got get the bees and bring them back south and I let them winter down in the organic citrus farm area. They take off the wildflower if there is any in the springtime and put empty frames on them. I get there, sometimes they’ve harvested, sometimes they haven’t but usually normally wait till they have done it because sometimes, I don’t usually have a whole lot of time because that’s my busy time of year, the springtime cause I do conventions. That’s the other job that pays the taxes and the insurance and all of that stuff.

 The wonderful thing about the bees that it has brought to my life is being able to help people and be able to help somebody with something that they can’t get help for anyplace else. I saved my cousin’s life with propolis tincture and propolis pills. He had pseudomonas and he was in a hospital in North Oak’s Hospital. Six and half months, they couldn’t get his wound closed because the hardware that they put in his back was infected with pseudomonas and told them to take out the hardware and they said they can’t take out the hardware until the wound closes but the infection is not going to go away until you take out the hardware. So, I called him, cause his parents, you know just don’t get along, cause I stand up for and I’ll tell a doctor that he is an idiot as quick as look at him. I have no problem with that. Cause they aren’t as smart as I am sometimes. I’m not saying I am the smartest person in the world but, you know, if you only know what they taught you in those books and what they pumpin through the pharmaceuticals, then you don’t know a whole lot. So, anyway, I went to the hospital, found out that he had pseudomonas. I asked him what he has. So, I took this with me (holding a bottle of tincture) and some pills and we did a little aromatherapy on him to life up his spirits, then I dumped the alcohol based tincture in his back and he is biting the pillow and screaming like I just shot him. Make a long story a wound that a hospital couldn’t get closed in six and a half months was closed in a week.

Wow, that’s incredible.

Right? And I am not lying, I am not trying to sit here and tell you this. I am not going to park the Lamborghini in a six-car garage selling propolis for twenty dollars for half a ounce. It’s just not going to happen. But I am not interested in making money, I am interested in educating people about what needs to be done. And what needs to be done is that we need turbines in the Mississippi river instead of all these fossil fuels that we are using and the nuclear power because what are you doing to do with the waste from that? How about putting it in the backyards of everybody who is benefiting from it, like all of the shareholders? Those people? Give it to them. The share that they have, that’s the amount that they get when the rods are spent. Why not? It makes the most sense. But it’s all at our expense.

So, if you could go back to your eighteen-year-old self or another eighteen-year-old, what would….

I do, I talk to the kids about bees and tell them about cides. Anything that’s a cide means kill. Anything that means kill is not good. Pesticide, herbicide… we don’t need it. We need to stop it and that’s the most important thing because if we don’t, we not gonna be here. Do you know… I am not sure if it’s half a kilo but that’s a pound point one, right? Five hundred grams of glyphosate which is the main ingredient in Round Up has been used on every acre of cultivated land in the world. It is the most widely used chemical on the planet and being used by the megaton every year. Bayer owns Monsanto, Monsanto and Bayer are the largest producer of glyphosate on the planet, yet they say they care for bees. They care for bees as about as much as I care for cockroaches. They say they care for bees, but they just don’t tell you how they care for bees and they could care less. Because if you are producing glyphosate and the neonicotinoids and the nicotinoids, a synthetic form of nicotine that’s toxic to insects, it’s neurological toxin to them. So, when the bee uptakes anything from the plants that have been treated with, the plant concentrates these pesticides or herbicides in the nectar, in the pollen and that’s what the bee wants. So, when the bee takes it in, it can’t find its way back home. So that’s how you have seized colony collapse. And they are saying that’s not true. Well… yeah… okay… but we never had this problem before we have glyphosate and before we had neonics. We might have had some mites, but they could handle the mites because they had a strong immune system but the chemicals that they are giving the bees are weakening their immune systems. So, now they can’t handle the poor immune system and the chemicals and the mites, so they blame it on the varroa (mites) but it’s not the varroa, it’s the chemicals… and that’s my story and I am sticking to it. Because it’s true. How about let’s put some toxic stuff in your water and you gotta drink this stuff, because that’s the only water that’s available to you and it makes your immune system bad. Let’s send you to the hospital. What’s gonna happen? You are gonna get deathly ill because you can’t fight the germs that’s in a hospital. You’re gonna get MRSA or pseudomonas or whatever else is traveling around in the air system cause they really don’t clean that. You could be in the same room and the guy next to you has got pneumonia talking and hacking and you are in there… you are gonna get it cause your immune system is compromised. Well, that’s what they are doing to the bees. It’s not like we don’t have other alternatives. They are just turning a blind eye to it. Nobody wants to hear about biodynamics and health organics. Biodynamics… ya’ll go look that up. Biodynamics, the fruit is larger, it lasts longer, and you get more from the acreage than you do by commercial, chemically fit fed plants and GMOs (genetically modified organism) and all stuff like that.  I’m not saying GMOs are all bad. It’s bad that they treat them with the glyphosate. They systemically seed coat it and that’s when the glyphosate concentrates in the nectar and in the pollen. If they didn’t systemically seed coat it, it would be alright but then they couldn’t spray it with round up and the plants would live. They are genetically designed to resist the glyphosate and that’s why they can seed coat it with it. And it can concentrate in the nectar and it doesn’t bother it (the plant). But if you don’t think that’s not going to hurt us in the long run, you got another thing coming. Every commercial on television is, oh, try this medicine. Ask your doctor about this. Then the next commercial that comes on is “Do you have Mesothelioma? Have you been exposed to asbestos?” Okay, well that’s a chemical that something we were using in housing and in brakes and everything twenty-five, thirty, fifty years ago. Or what about the other, the mesh that they put into your stomach? Or the medicine that you took that caused lymphoma? Or whatever, because one commercial is about the lawyer that’s suing the drug companies and the other is about get this from the drug company. It’s crazy. I mean, I am talking to doctors and stuff and they don’t even know about this (pointing to her tinctures and salves). The doctors don’t know about ichthammol, do you know what ichthammol is? Drawing salve, black salve?

I’ve heard of it.

Yeah, you use to could get it at every drug store in the world. You can’t hardly find it anymore. You can find it at the feed stores. It’s drawing salve. Like if you get a bruise? My grandma use to put it on us to draw that bruise out, like that. We used to put I on our hands when we would catch shrimp. You go to pick the shrimp and you put them in the scale to weigh them out and you get the little tips in your fingers and you can’t grab them to pull it out cause it has barbs on it. And the little cuticle, like cuticle material, you can’t pull it out, it breaks. But if you put the black salve on it, slather it on it, it would back out. You can use it on horses when the horses run in briars and stuff. They would put it on to draw the things out. You can still buy it at the feed store. If you ask a doctor what it is, he doesn’t know. Most of them have no idea.

I got run over by a car in 1990, I had a bruise on my leg that went from here (pointing to her hip) to here (pointing to her knee). The doctor said, that ain’t going away. I said, pfftt.. makes you an idiot. So I says, I will be back. I gotta come back and see you anyway. I said the bruise is going to be looking good by then. I went back six weeks later, and I slathered my leg with ichthammol and I’d sleep with it like wrapped around my leg like a diaper.  He couldn’t believe it (bruise was gone). I was like, ya’ll don’t know everything. You are not even trying. Because one way is not the only way. When western medicine meets eastern medicine and you put the two together, we’re gonna have something. But when the left hand don’t know what the right hand is doing, we still stuck.

Gina Lanier

Gretna, Louisiana. 2019.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“If you think you are good at it, put some things up for sale and if they sell, then you have your foot in the door...”

How did you get started as a photographer?

I remember taking my parents... they gave me an old Brownie 120 film Camera back around when I was about 8 or 9 years old and that was a Christmas gift and a couple months later it was very, very early spring. There was azaleas or camellias blooming and it snowed. I remember seeing this one flower that had snow just kind of draped on it, and I loved it and I think that might have been the start of me liking photography. And then, I’ve always had a camera pretty much all my life, I started doing weddings about 25 years ago and kind of burned out on weddings. Then I guess 10 or 12 years ago, I started doing… I had a camera with me everywhere I went and if I’d see something that I thought might be a pretty nice shot, I’d stop the car and get out and do it. I’ve been doing the marketplaces for the last 5 or 6 years. I go to this one, (Gretna Farmer’s Market) and I go to one in Bay St. Louis (Mississippi) and one in Gulfport (Mississippi). You are not gonna buy a fancy home with what you make from this, but I just like getting out and talking to people and sharing my wares. Some days I have really good days and some days I don’t. I really don’t know where I am going from here, but I don’t really see me doing anything else. I am 72, so every day is a gift and I will probably have a camera in my hands when I have that last heart attack… (laughter).

Let’s hope that’s not for a very long time (laughter). So, if you could go back to your 18-year-old self or if you had a piece of advice for someone, what would you tell them?

Get an education, that’s a given. And then you will still have time to get married or whatever and have bills and all that. Just find something you like to do and try to excel in it, compare your work to other’s people’s work and what they like or what they like about yours. Input and output from them. And just go out and do it. If you think you are good at it, put some things up for sale and if they sell, then you have your foot in the door.

 Luther Ladner

Gretna, Louisiana. 2019.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“Grandfather that built it in 1914, then my father had it and now, I was third generation...”

So, this place, you said it’s been here since?

 1914.

 1914?

 105 years old.

 It was your…?

 Grandfather that built it in 1914, then my father had it and now, I was third generation.

When it started off in 1914, what did it focus on? I mean, it was a store, now you have a gas station.

 It was actually to supply groceries and hardware, the needs of the people that lived in the area, close proximities which was like a little community here at the time. There’s people that use to live across the water and people just lived pretty much a lot in the area, which now you see all these buildings? No one lives there. That’s all camps. That’s all summer or weekenders.

 So, all temporary then?

 Yes, if you remember, if you came in on 56, up the road about five miles, there is a swing draw bridge, like an s curve then there is a swing draw bridge. I am kind of in the middle. It’s about five miles till the end of the road so I am kind of set up in the middle of the two. But if you take from that bridge to the end of the road, the dead end which is about 10 miles, in that 10 miles, if you can find 20 actual resident, people that live with a mailing address that live there, you lucky.

 Wow

 That’s in ten miles. And you will see a thousand camps, or a thousand buildings but then no body live there. That’s not a permanent address.

 What year did that change? When did you start noticing the community changing from people living here?

 When I was growing up. People still lived here but not as many. But I am going to tell you I think the thing that made the big difference was coastal erosion and saltwater intrusion. For example, this place flooded in 1926 for the first time. Which is the only time that we know of, we haven’t flooded since then but at that time, there was a lot more land here. So, you was kind of like the same distance from the gulf waters but you had a lot more protection or barriers for it to cross to be able to get to here. So, the 1926 storm must have been pretty serious because a lot of people lost their lives to that bad weather. But at that time there was no warning other than watch a bird, see this bird, that mean there’s bad weather coming. Like if an albatross would show up. An albatross is a bird that stays in the gulf or the oceans but if that bird winds up flying around here, hey we got something getting ready to happen. And that’s about the only way you could tell it. Or something like that, people could tell it from signs. Now, they depend on technology. So, the main thing is coastal erosion, which causes after your coast is eroding, then you having more floods. See, like now, we gotta, which I am sure you have heard of it, it was in the news and stuff and it’s still in production, is the Morganza to the Gulf protection levee which is gonna stretch from Morgan City and it’s going to wind up in Jefferson Parish or maybe even to Plaquemines Parish.  The object of it is to kinda ring off the territory to bring back hurricane protection. I am not saying grow, but just to protect what we have now or to stop losing it as fast. It’s still going to…. Well, my theory is that we will lose it, but it won’t be as fast or as quick. It’s like myself, I’ll say it today that if they did something twenty-five years ago, a major project for coastal erosion, we wouldn’t have to worry about this hurricane protection levee as of today. But if nothing is done today, twenty-five years from now, we will say well look, if they had done this twenty-five years ago, we wouldn’t be in the situation we are in now. So, something has to be done, so whatever is done, you are gonna have some pros and cons. No matter what it is. You standin right here today with me and someone is saying, he could have stepped aside, he could have walked and let me pass. Someone is always going to say something. You know, it’s opinions, everybody has one. It’s the same thing, whatever and you know that. So, what’s happened is…. when did it turn around? When I was growing up, there was still a lot of residence here. For example, I went to the school, which is now shut down, across from the swing bridge… the same bridge I was talking about. Now the school yard is filled with mud. The school which is right across this bridge when you go back up 56, that was our elementary school. When I went to school from the end of the road, them ten miles I have been talking about. There was three busloads of kids that would ride that bus that would go to that elementary school. Today, that elementary school is closed and there is not a bus that passes here. Not a school bus that pass.  So, since I was going to school, there’s two schools that closed, I am talking about elementary schools closed, so that’s telling you that the people do not live here anymore. The people has gone. Now, like I said earlier, the main blame in my theory is coastal erosion because now the people that live in the area, every year they have to worry about the big floods coming in or they have been flooded so they moved away so they don’t have to worry about that anymore. What happens? Well, Cocodrie is the fishing capital of the world so it’s a lot of good fishing so people from other areas know that so they start to build their camps to fish Cocodrie. So, it’s outsiders, people from Gretna, people from New Orleans, you know, Baton Rouge, even different places like Mississippi, got people from Mississippi that has camps here. People from different parts from the general area.. not saying general area but kind of close, it’s not that far you know. Mississippi is not that far. If it was too far, they wouldn’t have a camp, they wouldn’t be able to use it. It just turned around. It began turning in the 70s… bad. When I was going to school like in the 60s. Very, very, few recreation camps unlike we have now which is more recreation than they have residence.

 So, if you could go back and talk to your 18-year-old self. What is your one life lesson that you have learned that would have helped you at that stage…  It’s kind of a deep question.

 Yeah it is, because I had a good life at 18… (laughter) I did. I did have a good life at 18. I mean, that was actually before the drinking laws changed so you could drink, you could do whatever you want at 18. So, I mean, I had a good life. I had a car. I had good women too (laughter) cars, beer and women. (more laughter).

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“The Last Days of Innocence” The last year of high school, I enrolled in a dual enrollment Physical Education class, so it counted for both a high school class and a college course. I was a senior, and it was quite possibly the easiest class I could have signed up for. We had class at the high school and then a couple times during the week, we would take the bus over to the local junior college campus to work out at the gym in the facility, or walk around the track, or play tennis on the courts. It ended up just being a time to just hang out and goof off with friends. The only problem with that was, I didn’t know anyone going into the class. I knew them by faces or names, but I didn’t really know any of them. I remember one girl who sang in chorus and a couple of the other guys that I knew just from being around. By the end of the few months we were all together, we were all better acquaintances. A couple of the guys, I am still pretty good friends with ‘til this day. It’s funny but I actually threatened one of them not long after the class began. As life goes, we all gravitate to a code of some sort. I was no different. I was raised with chivalric ideals and maybe that’s why I ended up heading into more of a military or law enforcement direction. To protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. At any rate, this guy was dating another friend of mine who lived down the street from where I lived. She was a grade or two behind us. However, when I say she was a friend, the friendship was better than an acquaintance, but nothing that held too strong of a bond. Just someone that lived down the street that I would have conversations with from time to time. Anyway, I remember pretty clearly that this guy was sitting in the back seat of the bus as we were heading to the college campus. Somewhere along the way, I turned to him and said, “Don’t you hurt her, or I will hurt you.” I meant it too. It’s kind of funny though because I wasn’t that imposing nor was I really that violent of a person. In fact, at the time, I was kind of a straight and narrow Bible-thumper. Again, I was an awkward kid. But just to be clear the air, I felt like it had to be said so I said it. He didn’t have a reputation for using and abusing girls, but I didn’t know him that well so… there. You have been warned. He didn’t take offense and I think maybe deep down, he respected that I cared enough to say something. We became really good friends and we started hanging out. He and a friend worked at Arby’s at a local mall and I was always stopping by to say hello. It’s funny the things we remember because even though I threatened him because I cared about her wellbeing, I should have threatened her for his. It wasn’t long before she unexpectedly broke up with him and ran away from home with another guy that she knew from school. My buddy was crushed I believe. I mean, anyone would have been going through that. A person that you really care about just disappearing like a flame of a candle that flickers to silence on a cold windy night and all that’s left is a smoke trail. But again, we don’t always know what goes on behind closed doors. Sometimes in life, you go through the motions not because it really changes anything but because it gives you something to do in the absence of everything else. I hopped in the car with him and we drove all over Northwest Florida and Southern Alabama. We drove up through Brewton, Alabama and I think we even drove as far Dothan, Alabama circling back. It might have been Andalusia, Alabama but regardless, we drove and drove hoping we would catch a glimpse of someone we cared about. We never did. I remember one point we went and talked to friends of hers, trying to help. They didn’t know anything either. I felt like a detective asking questions but being eighteen I was woefully inexperienced. My mom helped make flyers and we printed them out to hand out. This was the time before social media, so we did it the old-fashioned way. It’s amazing to think how far we have come since then, technology-wise. Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. She and the boy that ran away were found a week or so later, several states away. They just got on the road and kept running. I am not sure how they were found or what happened when they got back. It wasn’t long before I was gone myself. But I will always remember that drive. In life, there are times where you can’t do anything to help a person out except just be there. For moral support, for being a sounding board, or because it’s just the right thing to do at the moment because facing something heart or gut wrenching alone is always worse than when facing it with a friend.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“Sometimes the Road Calls (or It’s A Midlife Crisis)” Part 3 Of 3.

I slept pretty soundly and woke up around nine in the morning. The bed was firm but honestly, I don’t think it would have mattered how soft or firm the bed was… I was so worn out, I probably would have slept soundly on the floor.  After a quick shower, I got dressed and pushed my bike outside and loaded it up. I walked over to turn the keys in where a young lady sat behind the counter. She was 8 months pregnant and was about to pop. She said she had to check the room, so I walked with her and learned more about her. I asked her if it was her first child and she told me that it was going to be her fourth which was surprising to me because she didn’t look old enough to have that many kids. As I get older, I am really getting bad at gauging age. I think that happens to all of us. After she cleared the room, I got my safe deposit money back because since I paid in cash, I had to leave money the night before. I started my bike and rode across the street to a gas station to fill up before I set out on the second day of my adventure.

(Terre Haute, Indiana before I started)

I pulled into the gas station across the street from the motel and one of the pumps didn’t work, so I had to roll around to another one. Frustratingly, the gas came out rather quickly and splashed all over my hand and the fuel tank. I went to grab towels from the dispenser where they kept the windshield wiper squeegee and it was empty, as was the cleaning solution. I went inside to the bathroom, which only had an air blower to dry hands with. Thankfully though, near the drink machines, there was another sink with napkins, so I washed my hands as best as I could, wet down a few napkins and walked back out to clean my fuel tank. I then returned and washed my hands and arm again but I couldn’t seem to get rid of that gas smell… ugh….  A great start to a long day…. I was hoping that wasn’t an omen about the course of the remainder of the day.

I decided to go inside and grab a bottled water and a breakfast bar and I ended up talking to the manager of the store. I told him conversationally that once you get gas on you, it is so tough to get off. He agreed and said it happens to him all the time. The conversation went forward, as some conversations do, and he asked about my trip and where I was heading. We talked for a bit longer and I learned he had been a manager for several plus years and he commiserated on a tough life of working at that location, dealing with ungrateful and entitled people. He shared a couple of stories and finally, I had to back out of the conversation by being polite but telling him that I had to get going, because I had many miles to go that day. He understood but to be honest, he looked rather sad standing behind that counter. An older gentleman with a droopy mustache and eyes behind dusty glasses.  Sometimes, we make choices in life and we don’t know the full ramifications of those choices until many years later. And sometimes, we don’t like those choices. I got that feeling listening to him that day. As I got on my bike and started away, I waved at the guy through the window and he waved back.

Now, I was on the road again. I was having trouble with my duffle bag because it kept on wanting to tilt and lean to one side. No matter what I did to cinch it down, it just didn’t want to work. So, I ended up riding for a little bit, stopping, readjusting and then continuing on. It wasn’t long before my hand started cramping up and hurting again but thankfully, there was a lot of straight shots and small towns to get through.

A couple hours later I rolled through Vincennes and onto Princeton, Indiana where I turned right and headed into Illinois. First stop was rolling through Mount Carmel. I am glad that I came this way. Twenty years ago, when I was a young marine, I came this way in the dead of the night. I just finished my Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) school and I had the option to drive all the way home to the panhandle of Florida from Maryland, which would have taken sixteen plus hours, or I could drive to Southern Illinois where I have a ton of extended family and it would only have been eleven or so hours. This would have been around 1998 and that was the first time I drove through Mount Carmel and Carmi, Illinois. So, it was interesting to me to drive that same route twenty years later. Of course, I didn’t recognize it, as it was in the middle of the night and so many years ago the first time. But for whatever reason, those two town names have stuck in my mind ever since then.

(Mount Carmel, Illinois)

I stopped off and gassed up again in Mount Carmel, Illinois. I spoke with a gentleman while filling up and we talked about the motorcycle.  After I gassed up, I pulled over to a parking area in the shade of the store and decided to take an extended break. I walked into the store to use the restroom and grab something to eat and drink. I should have found a place to sit and eat but for some reason, when I am on the road, I go into this “travel mode” where I just go…I don’t get hungry, I don’t get thirsty, I just fall into this zombie like mode to just get to the next stop. Once I stop though, I am reminded like a distant thought crossing the void, “hey, you might be hungry” and then before I know it, it grows to the point of awareness.   Besides the slight pang of hunger, I was also getting dehydrated.  Although I drank water throughout the day before, it wasn’t near enough and I didn’t put on any sunscreen that first day and surprisingly, you can still get a pretty good sunburn, even in the latter part of the day. I looked for something good to eat but there didn’t seem to be much in the way of options, so I decided to get a Lunchable.  I actually like Lunchables - crackers, cheese, and ham or turkey with a cold Capri sun and a Reese’s Peanut Butter. I also bought a Gatorade. I walked up the counter and the nice young lady and I exchanged pleasantries as she got me my change. I walked back out and plopped right down next to the bike on the curb. I sucked that Capri sun down and then slowly ate the rest of the tray. I was just enjoying the moment, watching the cars drive by. It wasn’t long before I was done. Lunchables aren’t that big so I threw the package away and guzzled down half the Gatorade. Since I was dehydrated, I could feel the headache coming, which wouldn’t be good because with the hard tail, feeling every bump in the road would not be a good thing to experience.   After I was done with the Gatorade, I threw away my trash, stretched and got back on the bike.    

(Where I sat in the shade eating lunch)

A few miles later, I was having issues with my duffel bag again and was getting frustrated… Well, I was always frustrated, I was getting past frustrated. Finally, I just pulled off in a little town named Cowling, Illinois. I pulled into the parking lot of a little country church and tried to re-cinch my gear down.  During the process of adjustment, one of the straps just broke and I finally decided to just wear it like a back pack, which worked out surprisingly well.  Why hadn’t I done it earlier? Oh well, lesson learned.

I got back on the road and headed into Carmi, Illinois which was a bustling town. Like I wrote earlier, the last time I came through was twenty years ago, so I didn’t recognize anything, and the size of the town surprised me. There was road work near where the train tracks crossed the road I was traveling, but thankfully, it didn’t hold me up for very long. There were two very bored-looking guys holding a “Stop” and “Slow” sign, due to there only being one lane open. When I left Carmi, the weather was cloudy but still sunny. It wasn’t long before I saw a storm looming in the distance. That’s one thing about the Midwest and southern Illinois in the summer - storms pop up lightning fast (no pun intended). I thought and hoped that I could make it to my destination before the storm and I crossed paths, but before long it started sprinkling sporadically and I then decided that I would pull off to put on my rain gear in the next town, which happened to be Norris, Illinois.  It’s funny but I made it all day the day before and I was less than an hour away from my destination so naturally, rain would come. I write that in jest, but it did seem Murphy’s law dictated that I couldn’t have a trip without a little rain. But to be honest, we all need a little rain from time to time in life. It helps us to appreciate those times we do have it good. I suited up in the rain gear and continued on.  

(Norris, Illinois where I pulled over to suit up in rain gear)

Finally, I made it to Eldorado Illinois, and thankfully I had the forethought to put on the rain gear because the bottom dropped out and I was riding in the rain. Kind of like those bugs I mentioned earlier… the rain hurts just as bad. But, since I had on the jacket, the pelting wasn’t too bad, however, it was hard to see with my glasses getting wet.  It was slow-going because I just didn’t trust the roadway with it being wet, so I slowed down even more. Cars passed me by, which slung more water on me. It went on this way for quite a while until I hit Harrisburg Illinois. When I hit the outskirts, the rain stopped, and the sun made its appearance again. I rode past many stores and many places in Harrisburg that I had grown up shopping at, during the years when I was visiting every summer. Over here was where the local video rental store was, over there was the new Walmart, which was down the road from where the old Walmart was. There is where my aunt still gets milk that comes in glass bottles. And here, the Dairy Queen…You get the idea. I continued on.  About six miles outside, between Harrisburg and Stonefort is the little town of Carrier Mills.

I decided to stop off in Carrier Mills to gas up again before traveling a few more miles to my destination. I didn’t know what the next day would bring so I figured it was best to fill the gas tank. As I was gassing up, I met and talked with an older gentleman who asked me about my bike and who I was visiting. It turned out that he knew my aunt and uncle – they had grown up together. Small world. The more you travel, the smaller it gets. Since I was coming to the end of my trip, I was eager to get to it so I hopped back on the bike and continued on.

After leaving Carrier Mills, it was just a few miles before I finally made it to the last town and destination of my trip, Stonefort, Illinois. I turned on the road that went past the small country church I attended every summer with my aunt. I have many fond memories there. It looks like it has grown quite a bit since the time I went, but I will never forget the people I knew there when I was a kid. I also passed by the trailer where my cousin’s grandmother lived.  It’s always weird to see people live in a place that you either lived at or spent a lot of time at previously.  You wonder how they decorated it, and does it look or smell the same inside…just general thoughts like these.  I don’t know who lives in that trailer now, nor did I see them when I drove past, but they keep the place up pretty well. My aunt lives about a mile outside of town and it didn’t take long before I arrived at her house. They weren’t home, but they left the door open for me, so I went inside. I was so exhausted and before long, the storm opened up again. I sat on the couch and with the rain hammering on the roof and thunder rolling in the distance and across the sky, I slept… and slept hard.

(My destination out side Stonefort, Illinois)

It was a great adventure and my body was sore, but I loved every minute of it. In retrospect, I am so glad that my wife met me with the truck. I thought about that a lot during those two days of riding, especially when my hand hurt the worst. If I had to drive the entire way from Southern Illinois to New Orleans on the bike, I just don’t think I would have made it… or it would have taken me a lot longer than I wanted it to.  Who knows though…maybe in the future, I will attempt it, but I am glad that for whatever reason, it didn’t work out this time. I got my little adventure, and my mom, and my wife got to come up and enjoy time with family for the family reunion. All in all, it was a great trip.

From start to finish, I traveled almost 400 miles. I saw places and met people in passing I never had the chance of seeing before and sadly, will probably never see again. This trip really struck home how fast we all are in our endeavors to get somewhere. There were a couple times when I was out there all alone and saw those big nice Harleys or Honda Goldwings pass me like I was standing still, but they didn’t get to see the landscape like I did. Being forced to go slow, I really had time to take it all in. From the kids playing down the side street in a town I passed through, to well-kept and not so well-kept yards, to the roadside flower beds, I was able to see it all. I think life can be like that too. People are zipping here and there, and, in our haste, we miss so much. I think life would be better for us all if we just learned or forced ourselves to slow down.  I know…it’s easier said than done. We all have different motivations for what we do. I think deep down, we all want to leave behind a legacy of some sort, but most of us don’t know why or how. One thing is for sure…we are in pursuit of it.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“Sometimes the Road Calls (or It’s A Midlife Crisis)” Part 2 Of 3.

So, back to my newest bike… When I was looking a few months ago, I found a motorcycle that I just fell in love with at first sight. It was a Janus Halcyon 250. They are handmade in a small shop in Northern Indiana and they look like a throwback to the 1930s style of motorcycle. It’s a compact bike with a 250-cc engine but I didn’t care. I just wanted a new experience.

I already have a Harley Davidson but the Road King that I have is just too big for some things. Don’t get me wrong, the Road King is nice. It rides well, has a lot of power and is great for touring, or highway use, but it’s just too big to enjoy zipping around town on (at least for me). And to be honest, it has been a few years since I have ridden on it. The last time I took it out, I was living in Arizona and roads out there have a way of petering out into primitive dirt roads, even some that are supposed to be “highways.”  It’s a heavy bike and my wife was on the back and we were just enjoying the ride. We decided to take the Florence-Kelvin Highway because it looked like it would shave a few hours off of the trip we were on. However, about 18 miles into, this “highway” became a primitive dirt road that was washboard in some areas going through the mountains. By the time we made it to the dirt road, we were too far along to turn around. I’ll be honest, I haven’t had white- knuckle riding like that in a long time, if ever. The bike bounced around a lot and with my wife on the back, I was just praying I didn’t get her or myself hurt. And when we got back home, I was just reluctant to go back out again, as that experience kind of soured it for me.

A funny side note about that Harley…. I remember when I was looking to buy it.  It was in 2005 and I was overseas doing security work and living in the middle of Kabul, Afghanistan. Yes, some places in that country were downright stone age with mud huts and dirt floors but where I was staying in Kabul had electricity and even internet.  The military and government had a program where you could buy brand new vehicles with little markup, so a person could get a really good deal. The only downside was that you bought it unseen, and undriven, and it would be delivered to a dealership near your hometown. I was sitting in the communal computer area which sat just off the living room of our compound house, and there were four computers we could use sitting side by side. I was looking at the different motorcycles and I will never forget what happened next. A buddy came walking in and saw what I was looking at and exclaimed,” You are getting a motorcycle?! Those things are dangerous!” I just stared at him dumbfoundedly. The things we get used to. Here we were doing security work, aka armed taxi/protection service in a war zone, where we had to avoid roadside bombs and the occasional rocket attack and this guy remarked how dangerous a motorcycle was. The irony of the moment was not lost on me.

Fast forward to now… I felt like I needed adventure and so I decided, what the heck, I am getting this bike. I went online to the Janus Motorcycle website, picked what I wanted on my Janus Halcyon and plopped down the initial deposit to get the ball rolling. They said it would take about twelve weeks to complete so I patiently waited for the bike to arrive. It was during this time, I also decided foolheartedly that I was going to drive it back from Northern Indiana to New Orleans, where I now live, after picking it up. That would have been quite a challenge for such a small bike. The motorcycle wasn’t made for interstate 65+ miles per hour driving.  It was made for back roads, country highways, county roads, so the trip would take much longer… several hours longer.

Here again, there but for the grace of God goes I and sometimes, things happen fortuitously. Every year on Memorial Day weekend, my mother’s family has a reunion that takes place in Southern Illinois, which just happened to coincide with the time that the motorcycle’s assembly would be complete, and it would be ready for pickup. The more I thought about riding it all the way back to New Orleans, the more I was rethinking that idea. Between Southern Illinois and New Orleans, I would have been going through many areas that were remote and where I didn’t know anyone close by; on an untested bike, I thought maybe it would be unwise. Thankfully, my mother who lives in Florida, wanted to go to the reunion, so my wife decided to pick her up in our truck in Pensacola, then we would have the means to transport the bike back to New Orleans.

I flew out on a Thursday morning and met a friend, who I served with in Afghanistan, in Chicago.  To fly into Northern Indiana would have cost quite a bit more than if I just flew into Chicago. Thankfully, my buddy responded after seeing a post on Facebook asking if anyone could give me ride. Of course, another mutual friend who we served with together in Afghanistan made sure to tag him, so he would see it. I am fortunate to have the best of friends, even ones I haven’t seen in years. We all may not be close, or talk all the time, and years could pass, but we can still pick up like nothing has happened. Originally, the idea was to get dinner, hang out, maybe spend the night; I wasn’t quite sure but come the day of the trip, my buddy had to work that evening and wouldn’t be able to hang out long.  He met me at the airport with his beautiful daughter, who was maybe three or four, and even though he was going to be late to work, he decided to drive me the 2 to 3 hours anyway because he said he would. It’s so important to surround yourself with good people. We spent the whole trip talking, reminiscing about old times and old friends, life, and future plans. It was a really good time and one I look forward to doing again.

By the time we got to the Janus Motorcycle shop, it was around 3 p.m. and my buddy had to get back, so we said our goodbyes. Then the good people of Janus Motorcycles showed me around the shop, where the bikes are made.  I was also introduced to all the talented people who had a hand in building my motorcycle from the ground up, from putting it together to the artistic painting to the test drives; I met each one responsible for putting together my bike. They showed me my bike and it was beautiful, a solid British racing green color with gold lettering and brown leather seats. The clouds parted, and the sun’s rays shined down like a finger onto my bike while I heard the angels’ chorus reverberating through the sky… just kidding…but it wasn’t too far off the mark. They gave me a quick class on the bike such as “this is where the choke is,” “this is where the fuel switch is to switch to reserve,” etc. Originally, the plan was to get the bike, spend the night in town or with my friend and start off early in the morning on Friday. However, since it was late May and only 4:00 in the afternoon, there were several hours of daylight left. I was also feeling pretty excited and energized, so I decided that I would go ahead and start the trip and see how far I could get that night before finding some hole-in-the-wall along the way, to recharge for the remainder of my excursion. I loaded up the bike with my gear, which was quite a pain. I had brought saddlebags with me but they could only hold a small amount.  I filled them to the brim with my extra jackets, water, and camera bag. I had my helmet, my leather jacket (the same one that kept me safe twenty years prior) and I had an old military style duffle bag that held my laptop, extra clothes, travel items, rain gear, tools. I tried to cinch the duffle bag down with tie downs, but it was just an awkward load. It was very precarious looking indeed. Even the Janus owners stepped up and offered me an extra come-along- styled tie down, for which I was very grateful.  I finally was semi-successful in securing my gear, but due to bumps and vibrations, there were several times during the trip where I would have to stop, readjust and move on. In fact, somewhere later that day along the way, the tie down that the Janus folks gave me flew off.  I wish I had known when it had come off, because I would have returned to get it. I hated it that I lost something that was given to me, but such is life sometimes.

I left the shop in Goshen, Indiana, heading south on 5th street and hit Main Street for a couple of blocks before turning right onto Route 119. It was a beautiful day and the sun was warm without it being unbearable. The Janus folks told me of some good places to eat nearby and I had thought about it, but it being such a nice day and as excited as I was, I decided to just keep going.  I passed a golf course as I was leaving Goshen and just took in the beauty of my surroundings. I have never been to northern Indiana before and let me tell you something, it is truly a charming area. It’s picturesque with farmland as far as the eye can see and definitely Amish farm country, as I had to pass several horse-drawn buggies while driving past huge grain silos and big red barns off in the distance while I rode along the country roads. There were so many places I wanted to stop and take a photo but sadly, I felt like I had to get as many miles as I could in since I was traveling slow and stopping to take pictures every couple miles would have made the trip even longer.

The first place I stopped to gas up was the little town of Bourbon, Indiana on Route 331. It was quaint, small town, middle-America. I filled up the tank and decided to take a break. It was still less than an hour since I had started the trip, but the bike is a hardtail, meaning there are no shocks to absorb bumps in the road, and also meaning you really experience the road, both good and bad. I pulled the motorcycle over to a parking area in front of the store where I called my wife to let her know my plans, that I was going to try and see how far I could get that day before stopping. On trips and in life, it’s always a good idea to let people know what you are up to. If, God forbid, something ever happened, it would give people a good starting point to come look for you. Three teenage girls, too young to drive but old enough to venture out by themselves, came walking up to the store as I was gassing up. They were all wearing skirts that went past their knees and reminded me of a Christian upbringing where skirts were highly encouraged to wear. In fact, they almost reminded me of some of my extended family. Just wholesome (hopefully) kids and high on life.  They laughed and joked on stories and thoughts I had no knowledge of. Just an innocent time of life going up to the store to buy soda pop and walk back home.

(Bourbon, Indiana)

As I was sitting there, an older guy, maybe mid 50s, came walking up.  He looked a little rough around the edges, but he stopped as he passed by, talked and admired the bike. I told him a little about it and he liked what he heard; I told him that the motorcycles were made less than an hour away which surprised him. He had no idea such a nice motorcycle was made so close by. He didn’t stop to talk for very long before he went inside the store. That’s one thing I can say about the bike - it’s a conversational piece, which in all honesty, is part of the reason I bought it. I went into the store to use the restroom and as I was walking back to my bike to saddle up and leave, the three young girls were giggling about something and one of them said, “Well the owner is right there,” to which they all turned around and looked. The girl that initially said something looked embarrassed and said something quickly to effect of, “No I mean, I like your bike.” The other two just kind of laughed at her. I didn’t hear what she originally said; I just smiled and kind of nodded in acknowledgement and they quickly walked on. It was a moment in time that no one will remember but sheds light on life in a small town, middle-of-nowhere America. I hopped back on my bike and continued on.

I rode past little towns with names like, Old Tip Town, Tippecanoe and Talma. I couldn’t help but wonder about the origin behind some of the names I saw. The countryside, although beautiful, became a slow-motion blur. Even though I wasn’t driving fast, averaging anywhere from 45 to 55 miles an hour, the landscape started to run together. A small town, country, houses, farms, a small town and all over again. At this point of the trip, it had been a long day already.

All throughout the trip, I was listening to music via Pandora on my phone. For most of the first day, I was listening to the channel based on John Denver.  During one of the many times I had to stop to adjust my duffle bag, I changed the music to the Boston channel to play music that was a little more upbeat. As soon I started again, Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” came on and I got an instant second wind and I started to nod my head to the rhythm of the music and the drum beat, “Da-da-da-na, da-da-da-na, "Ah-aaa-aaaaaaaa-ah!". I will remember that moment for the rest of my days. Although I am sure that I was quite a sight… almost head-banging with my helmet on while riding a small bike overloaded with a duffle bag that looked suspiciously like it would topple over any moment. Thankfully, there wasn’t a ton of traffic out there with me.

Pretty soon, I came to Logansport, Indiana and veered right towards Lafayette. Once I got to Lafayette, I took a small county road and rode past subdivisions and up and down winding roads. It wasn’t long before my fuel and my bike was letting me know that it was time to fill up. It doesn’t have a fuel light; it just shuts off, which made it interesting because you couldn’t start the bike unless it was in neutral. I had to pull off the road a couple of times because at first, I didn’t realize that I was almost out of gas. I switched to the reserve gas tank and started looking for a gas station. By this time, I was outside Lafayette and there was a small town on my map up ahead a few miles. I decided to stop there.

The sun wasn’t quite set, but it was getting to the tree line. I have to admit - I was getting a little sore. I was also getting pretty tired, as I didn’t sleep well the night before the trip because I knew I had to get up early. I pulled into the gas station and my mind was kind of numb where I faced a challenge that I haven’t seen in some time. It was a gas pump without a credit card reader. I just starred at it dumbfounded, thinking “What do I do?” I walked into the station and asked the young lady behind the counter what I needed to to – “Do I need to prepay inside or go fill up and come back inside?” She said, “Well, you can pay for it afterwards.”  This is what I did my whole life growing up, but it’s funny how reliant upon technology we have become. I haven’t seen a gas pump without a card reader since… Well, I can’t even remember when. So, after I had a good laugh at myself, I filled up the tank and went back inside to pay and use the restroom.

(Arni’s and the gas station in Pine Village, Indiana)

There was a small restaurant called Arni’s that was in the same building as the gas station. Before I went inside, I called my wife to let her know where I was and then I went inside to eat. I was pretty spent and walked up to the counter. The inside was a lot homier than the outside looked with a natural wood tongue and groove paneling and various pictures and items hung up around the room.   The kid behind the counter was wearing glasses and friendly. I asked him what he suggested, and he asked how hungry I was. He ended up recommending the chicken quesadilla and we talked for a little while longer. He asked me about the trip so far. I had my duffle bag with leather jacket and helmet with me so it was plain to anyone who looked at me that I was traveling. I told him a little bit about it and then I went to find a seat. Not long after, he showed up and put the food in front of me. He then asked me if I knew what town I was in and proceeded to tell me the name, which was Pine Village. It was a small town, the kind of place that makes you wonder how people got there and why they stayed. It didn’t look like there was much was around the area. It was a pretty little town, but so far off the beaten path, it makes you wonder about the stories of all the people that live there.

I noticed a young, cute couple sitting at a table next to me. They looked to be high school sweethearts or maybe college-aged. I have no idea what they were talking about but they seemed to enjoy each other’s company. The joys of youth and excitement at that age. It wasn’t long before they finished and when they went outside, they got into a huge pickup truck and it was off to the next adventure.

There were also two older couples eating together on the other side of the restaurant. I didn’t pay them much mind, but it struck me how that young couple that just left will one day (if they stay together) will be one of those old couples over there, especially if they never leave town.

As I sat eating my food, which was outstanding by the way, and I would highly recommend it, I looked outside and watched an old timer walk up the street, stop to look at the bike and then walk into the store. By the reaction of everyone in there, I believe they knew him. In small towns like that, I am sure everyone knows one another. The old timer came over and saw my jacket, which has a Marine Corps patch, as well as several sewn-on flag patches from various countries I have served in.  He told me he was a captain in Korea and started talking about not seeing that brand of bike since he was overseas decades ago. I hadn’t the heart to tell him that he was wrong and that it was brand new bike sitting out there. I just smiled and engaged him in conversation. He told me that he also served in Vietnam and just kind of rambled on. I am not writing that in a derogatory sense but more like he felt a need to make a connection. He told me he was 78 years old. While we talked, he said some questionable things, either because I didn’t quite hear what he was saying quite right or what he said didn’t make perfect sense, but I ignored it and just kind of went with it. 1) because I was tired and 2) at that age, I think he was just happy to have someone listen to him. After a while, he thanked me for my service and I thanked him for his and continued on his way outside and back on down the street from where he came.

(A view of Pine Village, Indiana)

I finished my food and sucked down the last of the soft drink before getting up and taking my dishes back up to the counter. I expressed my thanks for the recommendation and I headed back out.  By this time, the sun was setting and it was taking on that greyish look that you see when it’s not bright, but it’s not dark either, “twilight” if you will. I stayed on the road that ran through that village until it hit Highway 41. It was a four lane highway but there wasn’t much traffic on it on Thursday night, and since I was going slower than pretty much everyone else, those I did see passed me on by.

It wasn’t long before the temperature dropped and I had to zip up my jacket to stay warm. It also wasn’t long before the bugs were out and I had forgotten what it was like to ride a motorcycle without a full-face helmet and/or a windshield. Those bugs hurt. They get attracted by the headlight and then kamikaze right into your cheek or ear… or wherever. It was pretty bad.  I had to pull over and put on my wet-weather over-jacket because it had more of a neck to it. Then I had to snuggle my face and scrunch my neck a little to bring the neck material up to my glasses, so I could protect my face as best I could. I rode on and it was a little better.

Now, another issue started to take effect that was slowly getting worse throughout the day. Since it had been a couple years since I had ridden any type of motorcycle and with it being a new bike, the clutch was stiff and my hand started to cramp up after a while. It started a couple hours into the ride and it was steadily getting worse to the point that I could hardly change gears without great discomfort. Thankfully, being on that back-road highway with little traffic, I didn’t have to shift as much and was probably the only reason I made it so far that first night.

It was getting later into the evening, close to eleven o’clock, when I hit Terre Haute, Indiana, which turned out to be a sizable town. I was really tired at this point but I was also on the verge of saying “Screw it,” and riding it all the way to my destination in southern Illinois, but that would have been a few more hours. Finally, I thought to myself, well, if I find a roach motel with ground floor doors because I didn’t want to leave my bike outside, I would stop. Maybe it was God’s way of telling me to stop because immediately after having that thought, I saw a roach motel in the guise of a Travel Lodge. I pulled up and hobbled off my bike. The staff was friendly and gave me a ground floor room where I promptly manhandled my bike through the front door. After getting the motorcycle in, I realized that I really needed to turn it around so I could get it back out of the door. The room was set up rather weirdly with the bed being in the middle of the room. The bed couldn’t be moved, so I had to roll my bike to the other side of the room and try to turn it around. I almost felt like I was playing life-sized Tetris, all while trying to stay quiet and not bump the walls because I didn’t want to raise a commotion. Finally…. finally, I got it turned around and saw that I had dead bugs all over the front of the bike. I also noticed my jacket was covered. I went into the bathroom and wet a wash cloth and started to clean the bike as well as the jacket. It was a little disgusting, but I am glad that I cleaned it right away before it had time to settle and become really crusty... gross.  At this point, I was beat. I called my wife and then went to bed.

(Playing Tetris in the motel room)

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“Sometimes the Road Calls (or It’s A Midlife Crisis)” Part 1 of 3. 

A few months back, I was looking for something. I wasn’t exactly sure what, but I was. It might be because I am turning 40 this year and having a midlife crisis, or maybe it was the call of adventure, or maybe it was the mixture of the two and a “gift” to myself for finishing my bachelor’s degree this past year, after twenty years of working on it.  I kid and tell people that I was on the twenty-year-degree program but to be honest, I didn’t really start in earnest until late 2011 time frame.

Anyway, like I said, I was looking for something and I found it in the form of a motorcycle. Initially, I stumbled across a website called “The Adventurists” where they offer these “adventure” races called The Monkey Run. Basically, the idea is to go to some off-the-beaten-path area in some country, be it Morocco, Romania or Peru and have a starting point and a finishing point. Your transportation route through these remote places is up to you but you have to ride an old Honda monkey bike. The reason they call it the monkey bike is because anyone who rides it looks huge and unwieldly on a small motorcycle. I believe the engine size in 125 ccs or so.  The charm of the experience is not to pass the finish line first… it’s just to get to the finish line.  The whole idea intrigued me, and I so want to do one, but like most people, I also work a full-time job and I couldn’t take that much leave to travel a couple days to get to the location to participate in something that would no doubt be grueling for a week.  It would be fun, but on top of the “adventure” itself, there would also be a couple of days’ travel time to get back home.  And as much punishment I have given my body over the years, I would need another week of vacation just to recuperate. So, I thought about starting a race similar to that in the United States, particularly in Arizona, because of all the back roads, and it would be easier to travel to and from.  I set out to look for a small engine bike. It wasn’t long before I found what I was looking for and it spoke to my soul.  I eventually had to abandon my plans for the race idea I had… Well, I have set it to the side for now, but I want to get back to it in the next couple of years. Just too much life happening and never enough funds for everything, but I haven’t given up, just postponed for now.

Now, I have been riding motorcycles off and on for over twenty years. I remember my first motorcycle. It was a 1998 Yamaha V star 650 and I bought it when I arrived at my first duty station as a young marine in South Carolina. Another marine was selling it and I had no idea how to ride one, I just knew I wanted it.  I learned to ride that bike in the parking lot of the barracks where I lived.  I was stationed at Parris Island, South Carolina and this was during the time I went to Charleston almost every weekend. I frequently made this trip, partly because I had a good friend from high school who was going through a Navy school there, and partly because my brother, who was a marine stationed at Beaufort Marine Corps Air Station (only about 15 minutes from where I was stationed) spent his weekends there.  My brother was recently divorced and living in the barracks, so I would have likely gone to Charleston every weekend anyway.

Our barracks were as different as night was to day.  Being on a military base where the public visited frequently, there were definitely advantages. Where my barracks had in-room bathrooms and showers, his still had communal showers and bathrooms so if you ever had to wake up in the middle of the night and use the restroom, it was a hike down the hall to the men’s bathroom.  The lighting was also not great; the hall lights either didn’t work, were dim or flickered. So, the hallway was always dark with patches of dim light. You felt like you were in some horror movie. I remember one time after coming back from the bathroom, I saw one of those small kinds of flies that seem to gravitate to those areas, and I asked my brother about them. There were only a couple, but it was enough to be memorable and my brother being quick-witted responded, “Oh, you mean Fred, right?”  I guess Fred had been there a while. So, with living conditions like that, he went North most weekends and I would end up going up to hang out as well.

I didn’t have the bike very long and my riding experience was pretty nonexistent, but being young and dumb, I decided to ride that bike to Charleston, which was a little over an hour away. But for the grace of God goes I. The ride there wasn’t bad; in fact, it was really nice riding the back roads of the low country, as they like to call that area of the state.  There were many days and nights that I would travel through this area in my car. It had a nice ambiance to it, where the country road would wind through little towns with an old abandoned gas station structure here and there. I remember one particular stretch of road that wound through a swampy area. With the road being slightly elevated, you could see for miles over swamp grass as well as the small tributaries that intertwined through it.  I remember many times racing north to Charleston on a Friday night, as the sun set over this area. Seeing it always filled me with a quiet and peaceful feeling.

I was going to a local church in Charleston and since I didn’t have saddlebags, I carried what I had in my backpack, which had a metal frame. My brother gave me that backpack as a gift when he got back from training in Norway. It was a Norwegian framed rucksack and was spacious, as well as comfortable to wear.  

One particular Sunday, the plan for the day was to meet my brother and his girlfriend at the local mall for lunch after church. So, when church was over, I was on my way. It was a beautiful day and I hopped on the bike without a care in the world. On the way to the mall from the church, there was an interchange between two interstate highways.  I had to exit one to get onto the other.  I was going way too fast into the steep curve of the ramp and I almost made it…but when I realized I wasn’t going to make the turn, instead of letting off the throttle or leaning more into the curve, I hit the front brake. I knew immediately that I did the wrong thing and even though time slowed down, there was nothing I could do about it.  It brought me back upright and I grazed the wall going forty-five to fifty miles an hour. Like I said, I almost made it, so it was a glancing blow and not straight on. Thankfully, I was wearing a leather jacket that my dad had given me, as well as my helmet. My left arm hit the wall and sent me careening off the bike. As I landed on my right side, I braced myself with my right hand and right knee, which in turn, thrust me onto my back with my feet forward and on top of the backpack with the metal frame. I watched as the bike tore away, fell over, and slid, all while I was sliding right by it. It’s actually kind of funny, looking back on it, but the only thing I thought about as I was going through all this was, “Oh… my bike!”  I don’t know how far I slid, maybe ten feet or so, but as soon as I stopped, I immediately hopped up and ran over to my bike, which was lying on its side. My adrenaline was pumping, and I was feeling no pain! When I got to the bike I was feeling all wobbly and thankfully, some good Samaritan was behind me and stopped. He ran up to check on me and then he helped me to get the bike back upright. After a few moments, he asked me again, “Are you ok?”  to which I think I replied, “I think so, a little banged up but ok.” He also told me that he used to ride himself, but had given up on motorcycles.  He then he looked at me square in the eye and said,” Son, there are two types of bikers out there - those that have been in accidents and those that are going to. Thankfully, you just walked away from yours.”  By that time, my right wrist was starting to throb, as well as my left arm and left leg, the latter of which I believe got pinched between the bike and the wall; my right knee was also bleeding a little. One of the leather boots I was wearing was scoured thin, almost clean through. The bike made it through surprisingly well… it displayed slightly misshapen mirrors and handlebar, and the shifter was bent but luckily still usable. I was actually impressed how well it did. The resultant damage could have been so much worse, both with the bike, as well as my body.  I could have been thrown over the wall and landed fifty feet below. I could have been dumb and not worn safety gear and ultimately been torn up. The backpack probably saved my skin as I rode on that metal-framed backpack like a luge. Surprisingly, besides the metal being worn a little where it made contact with the road, there was no noticeable damage to the canvas and everything inside was fine. I still have that backpack to this day.  I nursed the bike and myself and met my brother.

I learned a lot with that experience. I didn’t give up riding, but I sure learned to respect it more and to always wear safety gear. I eventually sold that bike to a good friend of mine after the Marine Corps, after I bought a new one.  It’s funny… I haven’t seen that bike in years but every once in a while, I wonder where it is, just like an old friend.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“The Day I Decided to Go to War”

There are two things that I have learned in life that will bring someone success or opportunity. They are, be competent and be courteous. In fact, if you do only one of those things really well, you could still become successful or have opportunities thrown at you. We all know people who are incompetent but well liked and so they are still given opportunities because well, “They are such a nice guy/gal,” as well as the person that has no people skills, but they are so competent that it would be stupid not to give that person the job, or opportunity.

Anyway, for me, I am not sure which one won out or the combination of the two, but on a day in the Spring of 2004, those two things came through for me. I think all of my opportunities have come by word of mouth because someone, somewhere thought well enough of me to include me or to share the information with me to utilize. But going back to this particular event, it was 2004. I had been out of the Marine Corps for almost two years, which was a tough transition. When I had gotten out in the summer of 2002, I moved to Tallahassee to live with a good friend of mine from high school to start school in the fall. I had a few classes to make up because I was never strong at math and my writing wasn’t too great either at the time, so I spent one semester taking prep classes just to get me up to speed to start college classes.

Imagine living a life that is highly regimented for a length of time, almost five years’ worth and imagine that during this time, you also had a strong sense of purpose, that you were surrounded by a group with a common purpose, the bonds were strong, people had your back, etc. Imagine living a life that took you across the world to see and experience new things. Then imagine after experiencing all that, being on a college campus with none of that. Being slightly older than everyone else but having no common ground with those around you. Going from a highly team-oriented situation to being on your own, alone. Everything that you experienced and bled for, doesn’t matter because no one cares… or rather they are too wrapped up in their own lives that they don’t care about what’s going on in yours. That is a tough transition to get through. It’s easy to develop a chip on the shoulder and become rudderless in the sea of life. I have to say, I have done a lot of difficult things in life, but that transition was probably the toughest for me to get through. It took me a while to realize that I had to find my own purpose, my own reasons for getting up and moving forward. To be ok that people are wrapped up in their own lives and to be ok that I lived my experiences and they are living theirs now.

So that first year was challenging but I was surrounded by good friends and teachers that took interest in me and helped me survive. The second year, I moved back home to Pensacola and enrolled in the junior college for the 2003/4 school year. I became heavily involved in the Criminal Justice Program. I even joined and much to the surprise of the other members of a criminal justice association, I became the president of the association for that year. Things were good but, even as good as they were, I was still broke and trying to survive. I lived with my parents which was such a Godsend because I was broke. I never wanted to take out student loans because I just couldn’t stomach the thought of owing someone that much money. At the time, my dating life wasn’t going very well either. Something about living with the parents didn’t give me a whole lot of confidence.

That changed near the end of the school year. I was out with some old high school friends of mine at a local hangout place in Milton, Florida called Ollie’s. My friend from high school, whom I lived with in Tallahassee was there, as well as a couple of others. Midway through the evening, I received a phone call from a buddy of mine that I served with in the Marine Corps. That call changed my life. I remember him saying very distinctly, “Hey man, you want to go to Iraq?” My response was “uh, no?” which was really a half truth and he said something to the effect of “Well, I thought of you and thought you might be interested.” I trained and trained in the Marine Corps, but I was never deployed to a war zone while in the Marines. I had plenty of buddies of mine going over and serving and I felt that I was an unused tool. I didn’t like the fact that others were going, and I wasn’t. I wasn’t a warmonger, but I wanted to do my part. I didn’t want my friends and buddies in the military to go without me.

The conversation played out and he told me more about the opportunity. Someone had called him and there was a company looking for volunteers to go do protection work in high-threat areas around the world. It intrigued me. Then he told me about the pay… WHAT?! I was broke. I was single. This was a life changing kind of compensation. It wasn’t long before I thought, “Yeah, sure. Send me the information to look over.” When my buddy originally called, I stepped outside to take it. After the call, I went back inside and told me friends about what just happened. I received the information and I signed. At that point in my life, in my mind, I had nothing to lose. The process was lightning fast, and I was gone within a month, maybe two. A few weeks later, I had landed in Afghanistan in June of 2004.

I will always remember that night. It was the night that my life changed for better or for worse, it changed when I received that phone call. It was such a surreal moment. Most people would have killed for the opportunity to do what I did, and it was just handed to me… because I was either competent or courteous enough to be remembered when opportunities were being handed out.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

"Home" by Joshua Jack

“Home”

In the land of my youth

My family still stays

Whenever I am home

I am surrounded by people that still amaze

Rolling hills

And shades of dark green

The land calls to me

Leaving me refreshed and simply serene

It’s my place of solace

A place of tranquility

Whenever there is strife

It’s a place of sanctuary

They say you can’t go home again

But sometimes you can

Remember it’s the place, the people

That make it your land

Yes, some things change

They come and go

But there’s no place I’d rather be

Then surrounded by people I love and know.

Joshua Jack

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“I Never Rode in a Humvee in the Marine Corps”

I spent four years, 7 months in the Marine Corps and the whole time I was in, I never rode in a Humvee. For those of you not in the know, the Humvee is short for High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (HMMWV). If you saw one, you would know what I am talking about. It is the vehicle that you see in all the movies and T.V. shows that have anything to do with the military. You might know them as hummers.

Anyway, I have had an interesting career path. When most people join the Marine Corps, they either want to blow stuff up, shoot different weapons, or kill things. Usually a percentage of all three fall in there somewhere. Not me however. I joined the Marine Corps and I became a combat photographer. I went to a three-month course at the Defense Information School (DINFOS) where I learned everything a person needed to know in the late 90s about photography and mechanics of photography from shooting to print, black and white, color, film, dark room, processing with chemicals, etc. Digital photography was unheard of in most circles, but I shot stuff alright… with my film camera. We were trained on Nikons and that’s probably why I still shoot with a Nikon. I come by it honestly.

It was a great job as far as jobs go in the military and had I went to a ground unit or a unit where I would be taking pictures of cool things like infantry blowing stuff up, or shooting different weapons, or killing things, I probably would have stayed. However, I ended up in Parris Island, South Carolina. The same place I went to boot camp. It’s my own fault, however, as I did put it on my wish list to go to. I was dating a girl from Pensacola when I made my selection and that was the closest I could get but… as life happens, we broke up and suddenly there was no reason to go there anymore. And being a photographer on Parris Island, well, it wasn’t bad but I wanted to do more than just take pictures of boot camp graduation and retirement ceremonies and promotion board photos. The saving grace about that location was my brother was stationed at the Marine Corps Air Base down the road a few miles and I had a really good friend from High school who was going through the Naval Nuclear school, about an hour away in Charleston, South Carolina. I even got to do my brother’s promotion board photos, so that was cool.

Fun little memory: this isn’t the only time I met my brother on Parris Island or elsewhere as part of the Marine Corps. When I was going through boot camp, it really was as miserable as people say it is. You have to understand, you take a person away from everything they know, drop them in a high stress environment, so it’s either a get tough or die situation. During rifle range week, which was several weeks in, my platoon was turning in weapons to the armory. My brother, who was a sergeant at the time, intentionally made a surprise visit to the armory at the same time I was there, totally unexpected by me. We were formed up outside in two ranks facing each other and he walked down the middle with a corporal I didn’t know. I don’t think my brother knew him either, but along with him, my brother stopped in front of me and took my weapon. He looked over it as if he were inspecting it and asked some questions. I can’t remember what he asked; I am sure it was something like “how are things, how did you shoot” or something generic. Him being my brother, I just said, “I am ok.” What’s funny about this is the guy that my brother was with obviously didn’t catch on that we knew each other. That corporal started yelling at me that I should say “sir” or “sergeant” or something. It caught both my brother and myself off-guard because in the moment, I think we totally forgot about him being there. After a quick dumbfounded moment, I quickly replied, “uh… sir.” My brother handed me back my rifle and continued on and left. You have no idea how much that brightened my time in misery, even though I did get yelled at.

As I alluded to earlier, boot camp was challenging. There were a couple of times that I wanted to throw in the towel. They said the quickest way off the island was to graduate and that was the truth. Those that quit took forever to out-process and most of the time, seemed to stay longer than if they had just gone through the training, and it was equally as miserable for them. One time in particular, it was the dead of winter, either the end of December of 1997 or sometime in January of 1998 and being on an island in South Carolina with no cold weather gear, just a thin cotton uniform, it got cold. Anyway, that night, we were to do the night infiltration assault course. It’s a course where you do a basic assault over and under obstacles and when flairs went up, you were to supposed to go prone, bring the rifle underneath you to protect it and stay still. Well, it was raining and miserable. As I went through the course, a flair went up and I momentarily hesitated because there was a huge puddle I wanted to avoid. A drill instructor saw me and made me get up and go prone in the mud puddle. He said that I would thank him someday for it. I was soaked but it was momentarily warm in that puddle. After the infiltration course, we were lined up and we had to wait outside a hut. I was freezing. Sometimes, the loneliest place you can be is inside your own head even when you are surrounded by people. I came so close to quitting that night but then a voice spoke up in my mind that said, “Joshua, if you quit, you are still going to have to stay out here, cold, miserable and on top of that, you are going to get the attention of all the drill instructors yelling at you and they will make your life even more miserable.” After I had that thought, I had more motivation to endure, but that was the night I was the closest to my breaking point. Interestingly enough, I met that drill instructor again on the island after photography school and I did indeed thank him.

I didn’t join the Marine Corps to stay and only experience South Carolina. An opportunity came up a few months later and I was able to try out for Marine Security Guard (MSG) duty. MSG duty is Embassy guard duty. I tried out and was selected to go to the school. The school was a little over six weeks long, but it was a tough school. We started off with a hundred and thirty or forty people in my class but by the time it was done, we only graduated with something like sixty-eight people. The attrition rate was high. The standards were high. They would drop a person from the course for anything. Couldn’t talk to people: done. Couldn’t maintain finances: done. Couldn’t run: done. Looked funny: done, etc. The training was pretty highspeed though - shooting, room clearing, bomb searching, etiquette, small talk. Somehow, I was able to stay below the radar and graduated.

I think a lot of who I am came from the experiences I experienced as an MSG. I ended up going to Nairobi, Kenya for a little over a year and then to Paris, France for the same amount of time. When I came back to my job as a combat photographer, in the almost three years that I was gone, everything had shifted from film to digital and I didn’t know the job anymore, so that along with doing the more high-speed stuff, it would have been hard to go back, so I got out. The whole time I was in the Marine Corps, I worked with some amazing people - people I will always be proud of knowing. Some of them are probably reading this right now and if you are, thanks! So, going back to the title of this story, why did I never ride in a Humvee? Well, in training, I never did. At Parris Island, it was a recruit depot and had no need of a Humvee. They used little white vans for transportation. And when I was out on the MSG program, we didn’t use them there either. I am probably the only Marine that spent that amount of time in the Corps during that time without ever having set foot or butt in a Humvee.

The first time I rode in a Humvee was when I was a contractor in Afghanistan two to three years after I got of the Marine Corps. I was able to meet my brother again in Afghanistan, but that is a story for another time.

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

"Reflections" by Joshua Jack

"Reflections"

In my mind

I took a trip

Of my memories

I took a sip

The decisions

Over the years that I have made

The people

That lent their hand and given aid

From lessons

That I learned

And from situations

That I turned

Some

Could have left me in defeat

Only through perspective and attitude

Those things, I beat

Everything

Helped me to be

Helped me become

The person today, that you see.

Joshua Jack

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

Reunion by Joshua Jack

"Reunion"

People seen

From long ago

Some I knew once

Others I did not know

We gathered again

One more time

Shared moments once lived

Thoughts shifting paradigm.

I know you

And you know me

But there is so much

That we didn't see.

We must be intentional

To stay in touch

Be thoughtful of one another

You matter so much.

So as we go

And leave again

Understand this,

I am your friend.

Joshua Jack

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

Life by Joshua Jack

"Life"

I have seen the sunshine.

I have seen the rain.

I have felt the good.

I have also felt the pain.

Wisdom comes from living.

And there is always a price.

Sometimes it is paid willingly.

Other times it comes from sacrifice.

Do not dwell or live

Too much in the past.

Do not get your happiness from others

It is momentary and will not last.

Do roll the dice

And adjust as you go.

Travel and go on adventure

It will expand what you know.

Live your life with gratitude

That is the most important start.

It will change your life forever.

It will also change your heart.

I share these words of knowledge

In hopes that you come to know.

Life is about controlling thought and focus

From there you will truly grow.

Joshua Jack

[ahumanexperiencemoment]

“I was a Civil War Reenactor”

Around the time I was 16 years old, I was at the annual Mustang car show they use to put on at the local mall. My dad had a 69 Mustang Mach One that he entered every year and since he was a member of the local mustang club, we (mostly he) were always there working or trying to do something to help out like inspect cars for judging or pick up trash. He had a beautiful car; the color was gulf stream aqua blue and boy could it go fast. I think my dad had several tickets to prove it. In fact, I liked his car and our times together doing those shows so much, that when I was overseas making cha-ching, I bought myself a ‘69 Mustang, so we could continue to share the experience. However, less than a year after I got back from my time in the dirt, he sold his and mine… well, it now sits in the garage. I must confess, I am not a car guy like my dad was. It’s a beautiful garage ornament though.

Anyway, when I was 16, I overheard someone at the car show talking about Civil War reenacting. I loved history growing up and I still do but this was at the time that the internet wasn’t what it is today and getting information at the touch of a button just wasn’t there. You actually had to sort of be in the know to know of anything. I went right over to learn what I could about reenacting. The guy, in turn, got me in touch with another fellow that was closer to my age… well, he was in college but a lot closer to my age than most reenactors. He told me how to get involved and what it took to become a reenactor. He also told me that there was an event in Selma, Alabama coming up.

Now I had an over-protective mother… and to be honest, I am so thankful she was. When I was a kid, I wasn’t allowed to go to people’s houses until she met their parents or do a lot of things. Up until a couple of years before this, she was pretty much a single parent as my parents were divorced and my dad was in the Navy other places. She lessened the iron grip as I got older but actually allowing me to go with folks that she didn’t know to an event in another state? I thought it would never happen. But this guy took the time to stop and meet my mom in person to explain the group he was with and what they did, etc. Lo and behold, my mom consented and let me go.

I officially joined the 2nd Florida Company A, The Pensacola Rifles. For new members, uniforms and accouterments (gear) were borrowed from other members of the group until one was able to get their own gear. I was no different; I borrowed and looked like I wore hand-me- downs. Everything looked slightly too big or small, but I was proud. I loved it. So, for reenacting groups, they usually represent two units, one from the north and one from the south, depending on how many people show up to an event and what side needs help to fill. 2nd Florida’s counterpart was the 75th New York. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I think that is what it was. We were good ol’ southern boys and I could probably count on one hand how many times we wore the blue.

I remember the first event like it was yesterday. We drove all the way up to Selma from Pensacola and when we got there, we walked across the battlefield to where everyone was camped. Civil War reenacting is or at least was, very family-oriented for the most part. There were some groups that took it way too seriously and other groups that didn’t take it seriously enough but the group I ended up with had a great group of people that weren’t too far in either direction. They were there to have fun, fellowship and have a good time. I met the Captain of our group. He was an older gentleman, but I was 16; everyone was older. He was sitting at a makeshift table pouring black powder into paper cartridges to be used later. He also had an Army or Navy Colt six shooter that he was messing with that I was fascinated by.

I then met a family who had their kids with them. The wife was super sweet and friendly and the kids…. Well they were kids and me being an older kid, I didn’t pay them any attention. Families usually brought family-sized tents made out of canvas. The thing about reenacting, it was about trying to be as period as possible so no new tents for us. Jay, the guy that met my mom and let me ride with him had his own “A” frame tent and we shared that. I met another guy there who was in his younger 20s, maybe the same age as Jay, I am not sure, but I think he was in the Navy at some point. He was a nice guy, but he was different. He always had a pleasant, slack smile and he was always talking about creating a Naval Civil War Reenacting group. He never did though, sadly. I found out years later, after I had gone across the world, that he died of a drug overdose or something like that. At any rate, it was unexpected news when I heard about it.

That first night we set our camp up, cooked dinner on the campfire and sang long into the night. It was exciting; it really felt like you stepped back in time surrounded by people in period dress and playing period music. You could almost imagine how it might have really been in the 1860s, though there probably wasn’t as much enjoyment back then.

By the time it was time to go to sleep that night, it was super late. It did not take long to pass out… however, again, before the advent of technology and all its glory, we didn’t have weather apps that told us about storms on the horizon. We woke up a couple hours later from a deep stupor to the sound of heavy rain on the tent and wind billowing the walls of the tent in and out rapidly. It was a strong and surprise thunderstorm that came from nowhere. The kind of lightning that when it struck, it blinded everything. We grabbed onto the wooden poles that held the tent up to add stability to the shaking tent. The tent shook so hard that the front pole actually snapped in two! Then before long, while dealing with that, a small stream started to pool around our feet coming from one side of the tent and flow out the other side. It wasn’t long before we were ankle deep and trying to keep things from floating out the front of the tent. It was complete pandemonium.

We knew we had to get out of there. We quickly secured what we could and ran for the vehicle, which required running about a quarter of a mile to the parking area in the dark with lightning flashing. There are times in life where you question your choices and wonder, “How the heck did I end up here?” This was one of those times. After running and being blinded every few minutes, praying to God that we wouldn’t be struck as we ran, we made it to the safety of the vehicle. We were wet, miserable and tired. We were also hungry after all that, so we drove over to the local Denny’s to eat. We must have looked like a sight. Here we were wearing 1860 attire, wet, miserable-looking, slowly moseying to our table to eat at 2 or 3 in the morning. It’s funny now…. Well, it was funny then too. The absurdity of it, along with the relief of not getting hurt.

The next day, we found out that they suspected that there might have been a small tornado that tore through the camp. Apparently, it had hit sutler row ( the Civil War related tent shops that were all congregated together) and while it destroyed some tents, nobody was hurt.

The next morning, after sleeping in the car the remainder of the night, we returned to camp and quickly moved our tent to higher ground. Thankfully, Jay had another upright tent pole that took the place of the broken one and we were back on track.

So, every Civil War Reenactment that I have ever been a part of usually consisted of two battles, one on Saturday and one on Sunday with a military ball usually Saturday nights. In the time leading up to the first battle, we conducted close order drill and rifle maneuvers. It was so cool. Not really, but to a 16 year old boy, it was. The uniforms were made of wool and let me tell you something, I gained such a new, profound understanding and appreciation for those that fought in the Civil War. That uniform was itchy, scratchy and if you had a sunburn on your neck… well it just made it worse. But surprisingly, once you sweat into the uniform, it would actually cool you off when the wind blew.

On Saturday afternoon, the time of the battle finally came, and I fell in next to Jay. In reenacting, they say that your first battle is when you see the elephant! I wasn’t sure what that meant but, sure, ok. Also, for new folks, they would take black powder and rub it on newbie faces so everyone knew that you were a neophyte. I wasn’t sure if this was the case. They may have been using my inexperience against me for a good laugh, but I did begin to see others with black powder on their face, so maybe they weren’t.

The cannons started to roar, and musket gun fire started popping off in the distance. It had begun. We marched up an embankment and crested a hill and over to the left, they had a specially built farmhouse on the battlefield between us and confederates that they lit afire. They even had special charges set in the ground where dirt would explode to simulate a cannonball landing. I wasn’t expecting all this. I was just mesmerized by everything. Boom! Shot! Fire Crackle! Dirt Flying! Oh, I have to keep moving with everyone! And I did.

We advanced and retreated several times and then finally, we set up for the final charge. When they yelled “Charge!” we were just to start running and charge the confederates who were behind field fortifications. In Civil War Reenacting, there is no set time to “die.” When you have had enough, you just fall down spectacularly and lay there until the battle is over. Now, there are times when a cannon goes off nearby and you feel silly if you stay up, when you know it would have gotten you had it been real, so you fall then too.

So, here I was in my first battle surrounded by people I didn’t really know and on the front end of the charge. I remember thinking, “Ok. I will just stay by my buddy Jay…oh there he goes…. Where did he go! I am by myself! Oh no!” I am running across the field and me being younger, I could run a little faster. I quickly found myself by myself and not too far from the entrenched. I got so close I could see their eyes… yup, and then the thought hit me. Dude, It’s time. And I died spectacularly. I don’t know if it was spectacular, I just kind of rolled forward and laid still.

Shortly after that, the battle came to an end and it was time to get ready for the military ball. And if you thought the reenactment battlefield was an experience for a young man, the military ball was equally as important an experience, but completely opposite. Men and women would dress up with all the pomp they could with 1860 uniforms and clothing. True southern belles showed up in their hoop dresses, including young women around my age. The whole thing was amazing. People in period dress at a restored plantation house, listening to period music, dancing the Virginia reel. I loved learning to dance and I danced with anyone and everyone I could. I even met a couple of cute girls and had good conversation. Sadly, I never saw them again after that night at other events I attended. That’s another thing about reenacting, it becomes sort of a small town of friends, where they meet at different events and enjoy each other’s time and in time, start to reminisce about earlier experiences.

In retrospect, I am so grateful that I was able to participate in these events. They just instilled the love of history and learning even more in my life. I met interesting people and listened to interesting stories. A couple of years later, I joined the military and never did another event, but I have such great memories.