First Person Arts story slam, 'Hooked', January '16

First Person Arts story slam, "Mischief", Oct '14

Pizza and beer dream

Just woke from a very realistic dream….

I had kicked my father out of a church-type gathering because he wouldn’t stop talking.  Hours later I go to meet him to try and talk about what happened.  Instead, he tells me that my mother has kept a secret from me.  He says that I am actually an heir to a small pizza and beer shop outside of Philadelphia.  Well, not an heir, but family.  My mother’s Uncle, Eugenio (Italian name starting with an E?) owns this shop and they sell beer- something that I may be able to help with!  
I hop on my motorcycle (yess!!!) and find this place.  It seems like maybe it’s south philly, getting close to the burbs?  It’s not huge, about the size of a convenience store and they have a few aisles of quick groceries and then a few aisles of refrigerators of beer and sodas.  There are two ladies standing behind a small desk, directly underneath a large menu of different types of pizza one can order (there are cheeses and meats on there that you’d only find in Italy!).  Both ladies have brown hair and brown eyes.  One looks to be in her 60’s the other in her late 30’s.  There is both rolls of dough and raw ingredients around them, like they are not only the cashiers, but also know how the pizzas are made and can explain things to the customers.  There are a few customers in line and both of the ladies are talking to them about their order in a very familiar way- like there are regulars here and the matron remembers how he got his pizza the last time and this time they’ll add some extra ____.  They are very friendly and the place has a warm, family vibe.  In the corner, there is a black and white picture of an old man eating, his presumably wife sitting next to him laughing.  Slowly I notice that the older lady (Italian name that starts with an “A” – Alberta? Andrea? Antonia?..) is speaking, and looking in my direction.  No – wait- she’s talking to me!  “Are you talking to me?”  “Yes, Alex, don’t you recognize me?”  “No.  Do you know who I am??”  I am shocked, but also have a feeling like I’ve somehow come home.  She tells me that we met when I was very little.  She says she wished Eugenio could’ve picked me up from the station.  She tells me she’s been waiting for the day that I would walk into the store!

2 Dreams

It’s a massive lake with boats, and floating living pontoons.  We’re driving out on a small flat boat and I get dropped off by request and habit/tradition.  The boat pulls away, leaving me swimming and treading water.  I realize in just a few seconds that I won’t be able to make it, and call out.  “Daaad!”  It’s not very loud, but my call reaches the boat speeding away and I see it turn around.  I’m picked up and cannot tell if my Dad and boatsmen are embarrassed by me, or just frustrated that they’re now behind schedule.  They drop me back home, a floating pontoon with a few ‘back alleys’ and a rickety baseball diamond.  I expertly jump in the water behind the baseball diamonds bleachers, and casually climb up the back of the bleachers like monkey bars.  My dad’s boat speeds away.  Through the bleachers, hidden, I can see a few kids talking, laughing.  About me!  I climb up the lake scummy soaked bleachers to get a better position to hear and see them.  What were they saying about me?  Why?- I had done nothing wrong to them!  Maybe because I was a water-hick kid from a water-hick family/clan.. and not even a good one at that!..

It’s an 1800’s-London-style street and I’m standing under what appears to be a massive wooden arch.  It has just rained.  I can hear people calling out, “Don’t do it, ___” (horse’s name??).  I turn and see a horse and rider at the base of this wooden rainbow.  They are looking up, plotting their course.  I follow their gaze and realize that the first half of the wooden arch is a ladder of sorts.  At the very top, there is a large gap, and then the back side is a smooth ‘runway’.  They will attempt to jump the gap, 100 feet over our heads.  A wave comes over me.  I am here for this horse, but not to see it jump.  Something else… They race towards the base of the wooden arch, and charge up the ladder.  It becomes so steep they slow down a bit.  They crowd is murmuring and crying until the gap when there are screams and gasps.  I am looking straight up at this point but my view is botched by the last remaining raindrops falling and the sun poking out of clouds.  I don’t see the landing, nor do I hear a sound.  It must have been a good landing, I assume.  Yet, the ‘runway’ is smooth and in a second I watch the horse and rider come sliding on their side, down the other side of the rainbow, slamming neck first into a safety-wall.  The crowd is screaming as a ready handler jabs a needle into the horses hind leg from the end of a pole.  They’re putting it down immediately.  Almost as soon as they administer the shot, the jockey is beginning to fold a sheet over its body.  They already had sheets on the runway area!  But then, the horses legs kick, it’s struggling against the drugs.  The crowd screams louder and you can tell some people are running away, some are getting sick.  The handlers hurry to setup another injection, but fumble and trip.  The jockey is putting is body weight on top of the horse, trying to keep it down until the handlers get the next shot in, but the horse is gaining strength.  It must be in shock.  As it struggles to it’s feet, the handlers still trying to get the needle attached to the end of the pole, 2 other handlers, large brutes, dive into the fray with machetes.  They start hacking at the horses hips, shoulders and neck.  The crowd is in horror, kids are screaming.  The horse is back down to its knees as it is getting sliced up like a tree getting chopped down.  Finally the second shot gets jabbed and the horse goes down.  It doesn’t move any more after that.  The air is heavy as it seems whatever people are still remaining in the small street have held their breath.  A few kids are crying, their sounds echoing through the streets as their mothers whisk them away, cursing themselves for ever thinking this was a good idea.  The sun shines through, leaving the shadow of a massive arch over the town’s west face.  What was this horse’s significance that I was supposed to see it?  I don’t believe I was supposed to see it’s death.  It seems I was almost even supposed to learn from it??

Life Apathetic

I saw an awful and gruesome accident about a year ago.  Well, actually I just heard the accident from about a block away, but quickly rushed over to the scene.  It was a Sunday night around midnight and the Eagles had been playing a big game earlier in the evening.  The driver of the car was wearing an Eagles jersey, so I assume he had been watching the game and drinking.  Who knows. 

But, it was clear to see the skid marks of his car across the street.  It looked like he was in the wrong lane, not paying attention, and then swerved to avoid an oncoming car.  Now out of control, his car hit a parked car so hard that it, in turn, hit a truck in a driveway.  The Eagle’s fan’s car continued into a telephone pole and wrapped the hood around it like tin foil.  He must have been going about 50mph on this small neighborhood street. 

I was just getting home a block away when I heard the screech and slams.  It sounded bad, and arriving at the scene, it looked worse.  However, when I arrived, the driver was standing on the sidewalk. A few neighbors were outside buzzing.  The panic was about the female passenger.  She must not have been wearing a seatbelt because as I walked around the car, I could see that she was crumpled down into the foot-room space of the passenger seat.  Covered in blood.  I’ve never seen so much blood.  It looked like an over-the-top Hollywood horror movie. She wasn’t moving at all and her body was in such a contorted shape, that I couldn’t imagine anyone not at least trying to shift their position if they were alive.  “I’ve never seen a dead body before,” I thought.

I’d taken a First Aid class years ago, but the only thing I could think of was to say, “Someone needs to take her pulse.”  That’s it.  People were already on the phone with 911 operators and I figured it would be important for them to know if there was a pulse.  But, it wasn’t going to be me!  I think I didn’t step forward to take her pulse primarily because of all the blood that I didn’t want to touch.  But, reflecting on it now, I’m not sure I cared if she lived or died.  Isn’t that awful?  Is it?  Superheroes are always rescuing the bus full of innocents from plunging over the cliff, and Jesus came to save even the prostitutes and low-lifes, but I didn’t do much more than half-heartedly delegate.  I even went as far as to assume that she must not have had her seatbelt on because she was leaning across the car in the drivers lap!
(She did eventually come to before the paramedics arrived, although I have no idea if she survived her injuries after that).

I was walking into a large apartment building this morning and in my peripheral vision, I thought I saw someone standing on the edge of the roof!  When I actually looked, there was nothing there.  For a second though, I thought about if there actually had been someone up there about to jump, and I’m not sure I would’ve yelled out to them to try to convince them not to jump!  Is that awful?  It’s not that I’d want to see a gruesome death by any means!  No, not at all.  But, what do I know about this person?  They obviously believe that life is not worth living anymore for whatever reason.  Am I allowed to think ‘the world might be a better place without them’? Am I condoning suicide by not trying to stop them from jumping?  People die everyday, I’m not a psychologist, and I believe God has a plan.  The Catholic argument is that suicide is taking ‘God’s plan’ into your own hands, and is a mortal sin.  I think there’s something about not letting your Brothers and Sisters fall into sin as well.  Am I not allowed to just let it happen?  Let the girl in the car accident die if she’s going to die.  Let the person jump if he’s going to jump.  This is out of my control, but Omnipotent God saw both coming.  Is this getting close to a Buddhist thought of ‘going with the flow’?

Is there something wrong here?  It sounds horribly apathetic towards the value of life, doesn’t it?  Don’t get me wrong- if there was some type of violent crime happening, I would try to break it up as best I could.  But I also coldly acknowledge that death is a part of life and it’s going happen sooner or later.

If I was in a brutal car accident, would I want someone to help take my pulse?

Does the guy about to jump off a building actually hope that someone will finally reach out to him in his hour of need and convince him that life is beautiful?

How does this relate to my views on abortion?  Or doesn’t it?  I am a ‘Pro-Choice’ Catholic (if I’m allowed to have both, which I’m not sure I am).  Could it be argued that abortion is a ‘violent crime’ that I promised I would try to break up as best I could?  Could it be argued that the tiny life in an uninterested mother’s womb is just the same as a bloody car accident?  Steps need to be taken to end the life, but my apathy kicks in again thinking, "people die every day", "what do I know about this woman and fetus?", and ultimately "God has a plan."... 

First fight

I don't particularly like getting into fights, but I haven't exactly done my best to avoid them either...

I remember my first fight was in 1st grade.  Dustin Z. had a big, round face and a wide mouth like King Hippo in Mike Tyson's punchout, or maybe like one of the Wild Things. He had a mop of brown curly hair, and I remember him always wearing camo pants. He was bigger and louder than other kids and enjoyed pushing his weight around.  He may be the only 'bully' I ever encountered.

We were in the Museum of Natural History on a class trip, standing in front of a 6-foot long Tyrannosaurus Rex skull.  Dustin was right behind me.  "Hey Alex," he said, "that’s almost as big as your head! HAHA!"  Everyone heard his joke and I was immediately red with embarrassment.  Without even thinking or turning around to face him, I elbowed him as hard as I could in the gut.  To my surprise, he doubled over and started crying to the teacher!  I couldn't believe it- he was mortal!!  I don't remember the teachers scolding or punishing me afterwards, but if they did, it must not have been that severe (I gotta think that the they were somewhat tickled to see the little guy take down the bully, but who knows).  Dustin would always make me a little nervous, but after that day, I don’t remember worrying about him nearly as much.

Calm in the Storm intro

Everyone get comfortable.  Relax your muscles.  Time is different now.  We are on retreat.  We have made it, a few more straggling in, but we are here now.  For the next two and a half days, time will not be racing at the same speed it does in the office or studying for class.  We are here.  That thing that you need to do by Wednesday night, that email that maybe you could’ve crafted better, the amount you have in your bank account vs. last week’s expenses, the job hunt, the difficult coworker, the traffic and red lights driving out here tonight, the things you should’ve done, the relationship in crisis, where you’re going to live in the spring, the stress of anticipating the upcoming holiday stress…  let all of these things go.  For the next two and half days, let’s work with a clean slate, focus on our life with and imitation of Christ.  God has wanted this exact group to be here, thanks be to God, we’re here now.  Let us pray…