Saturday, October 3, 2009

This Is The End

I'm a Morrison/Doors groupie. The title to this post mirrors that of a song on the Best of Doors double album in my CD collection. I've read a biography of Morrison and felt his descent into alcohol was the end of a wonderfully creative person. In the beginning of the book, there was mention of Morrison's drifting away from his US Navy admiral father over a haircut. Morrison's mother pleaded with the father to relent on the haircut issue. Both Jim and Dad went to their graves without ever reconciling. Sad.
My son text messages me. Our four year old cell phones could be featured on an episode the Flintstones for their basic simplicity. I seldom get a text message, nor do I know the mechanics of bringing up the entire message. "I will not be..." the first part of the message reads. I call Dawn at work. She recently tried to decode a text message that turned out to be from a marketing firm. She didn't remember what she did to bring up the entire message. I leave a voice mail message on no.2 son's phone. "Call me." Two hours later I discover the secret. "I'm not coming up Oct. such and such. I didn't like the cruel things you said about the granddaughter."
Another voice mail to no.2 son. "You sure you want to go down this road." It's taken, what, five or six years to bring about some semblance of a connection with him. I wrote him off for dead. He leaves Chicago after trouble with alcohol, drugs and money. Without so much of a note or phone call, he shows up in Arizona, taking a bus cross country. I'm happy to see him. He stays with us 6 or 7 months. Working a mind numbing job at the local hardware store in a town where 75% of the population is retired, he comes home reeking of propane from endless tourist fill-ups. Lack of people his age, a youthful culture and living at home takes its toll. He's gone for several days before we get a letter explaining his departure.
Now, more b.s. He lives in a four unit apartment house owned by daughter and son-in-law. He's the so-called manager. Is it possible they are putting pressure on him? Don't know/don't care. If he had a problem with my descriptions of a spoiled child, he could have spoken to me in person or phoned. His reticence for a face to face or ear to ear connection is typical.
Cut to the chase. I don't have time for this family feud stuff. A long time ago Dawn tells me not to send the daughter a cardboard box version of Family Feud. She says they'd be offended by the satire. Not to mention making fun of a long series of bad feelings which daughter doesn't want to discuss. ..And they don't like my dog and cat.
I'm weary of being careful in the things I say. Therefore, this is the last post on Seven Roads To Home. If you e-mail me:, I'll let you know the address of the new blog. To those folks who've taken the time to follow, comment with nice thoughts and let me in their lives-I sincerely appreciate you.

1 comment:

sAm said...

I tried to came back undeliverable. I'd like your new blog info if that's cool with you. And if it's not cool - then I have to tell you I will be just like my word verification for this post: pouti!! (hehe...what are the chances of a word veri fitting so well??) My email is on my profile. Have you ever read the book of poetry by Jim Morrison? good stuff.