Let your freak flag fly. But own it.

Back in 1992 the healthcare industry was in the throes of legislation being written to ensure the safety of employees, patients and visitors surrounding the fear of HIV and AIDS. Along with this came the overnight industries set up to sell product and services to comply with it. A lot of what was being "sold" just didn't seem legitimate to me so I decided to read Wisconsin's statute WI DNR 526. Now it just so happened that at this time I was taking my final college course on Shakespeare and the similarity between reading law and Othello were compelling - each word in its unique context lent meaning to the word preceding and following it; in different contexts each word could have several meanings.

In July, 2015 one of the issues being consumed and shat out by our media is whether the Confederate flag should be flown on public property and whether its representation should be sold by sites such as Walmart and Amazon. With the former the answer is obvious - no; with the latter it is less so, but - no.

Ok, let me stop here and just say I don't give a flying fuck what flag you fly. But whatever flag you fly, you own it. You may argue that your flag represents "pride" and "history", but please don't pretend to not know that your flag also represents "racism", "hatred", "terrorism" and "repression". (Interesting that as I wrote these last two sentences I was thinking of the Stars and Bars, but could just have well been thinking of the Stars and Stripes!!!) Nope, I don't give a fuck what flag you fly, but I DO give a fuck about my own integrity. So no, I am not offended that you fly the Confederate flag. Do I think less of you? Yep. Do I think you're ignorant? Yep. Do I find your flag offensive? Yep. Will I spend money at your business? Nope. Do I feel like your flying such a flag makes me less significant? Please, get over yourself.

I was told by someone close to me a few years ago that "the KKK isn't a racist organization...it's a white, Christian organization". I know she believed it. Every word in its unique context has a unique meaning you see, and thoughts and beliefs are the same. In her unique context the KKK was not a racist organization, but when she put this thought into another context, namely mine, it took on a different meaning. In my context "the KKK isn't a racist organization" meant "she is one ignorant woman". And you know what? I know that she's ok with that.

So fly your flag. Your Confederate flag. Your U.S. flag. Your freak flag. Just know that they have meanings beyond their unique meanings to you. Fly your flag and own it.

The mirror doesn't lie

So, I took that look in the mirror. Literally and figuratively. I did find some things I didn't like and I am taking steps to change them.

Who

And tonight the question is "who am I?" I am a motorcyclist, indeed, however I don't think that is who I am any longer. I am also no longer a strongman. (Apparently thinking about being a strongman is not enough! And I've lost sight of and any connection to the need for being a strongman.) I am a guitarist and a singer. Middling. Both.

Perhaps I am a writer. Perhaps I am a poet. Perhaps an essayist? Perhaps not.

Tonight I am going to take a look in the mirror. I don't think I'll find the answer to tonight's question by ponderance, so I will see what is carried in the reflection.

The inspiration and the poem

The inspiration - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bCgaHoqGYU




The poem


She immersed herself in his song
Swam in it and swayed

She looked at him and saw him as he was
Beautiful and imperfect

And she loved him
Now and forever
Whither he went, whither he did

He stood tall and square and occasionally bowed his head in thought and repose
And he sang beautiful songs
And his river ran deep
To depths beyond light

He stood tall and square and he knew he knew love
Hers
And his

They immersed themselves in their song
Swam in it and swayed

Sometimes

Sometimes...

I don't feel strong.
All I want to do is sleep.

Sometimes...

It all feels stacked up.
And it hurts.

Sometimes...

I feel lonely.

Sometimes...

I just want to be held.

Most of the time I am strong enough for the world and have vision and answers. Most of the time I am there. Most of the time.

But sometimes...

I am a...

I was 12 in 1974. Certainly in most ways a modern era, yet in others it was ages ago. What do you remember from 1974? What do you remember from being 12?
Briefly and in random order here are a few of mine in terms of statements and thoughts:

• “You were queering with me, too”. Said the Boy Scout leader to the other leaders in defense of fondling me in a tent one night.
• This is bad I’ve got to get out of here.
• If mom or dad find out I’m in trouble.

I learned that’s how boys handle this kind of shame. And it becomes how a man handles things. We don’t talk. “If I tell mom or dad,( or my friends, or my wife, or)…trouble”.

It wasn’t a Scouting event that day/night. He was pretty cool – let us shoot guns on his parents’ property, make camp fires and do real camping; not just me, but lots of boys.

But, simply, it was cold, cold, cold that night and I was so cold I couldn’t sleep. I said, “I’m freezing”. He said climb in my sleeping bag. I did. It was warmer, but also sickeningly creepy. There wasn’t a lot of room. His hands on me. Not necessary. Not necessary.

I got out.

Did he do that to other boys? I don’t know, but I am certain.

I never knew why the leadership of Troop 134 of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church was unceremoniously removed and replaced a year or so later. I don’t know if my mom and dad know. I think they do; there was a meeting the parents attended. Nothing was shared. What I think happened is that another boy was assaulted and this boy did tell his parents, and his parents did go to the church and did demand…a change.

The church, the BSA, the parents made it go away. No crime was committed – just really gross, unseemly behavior. Sick, perverted behavior. And that’s what you did back then – you made it go away and put it out of your mind and I guess it didn’t matter one fucking little bit that the goddamn perpetrator was still out there. Out there was ok, because it wasn’t “here”.

I don’t think my mom and dad know I was a victim. I never told them.

I know why the grad student didn’t stop the assault taking place in the shower at Penn State, why Joe Pa only reported it internally, why the assistant coach, the assailant, was allowed to keep his reputation intact. Even today, for the grad assistant to go to the police would have meant that he’d lose his job with Penn fucking State; he’d have been ostracized for taking an internal matter outside; he’d have betrayed Joe fucking Pa!. That’s why the other scout leaders didn’t react or do anything when one of their own said, of a 12 year old child, “you were queering with me, too”. As with the church scandals and with Penn State, no crime was committed – just really gross, unseemly behavior. Sick, perverted behavior. And that’s what you did back then – you made it go away and put it out of your mind and I guess it didn’t matter one fucking little bit that the goddamn perpetrator was still out there. Out there was ok, because it wasn’t “here”.

Epilogue: Yes, a crime was committed. Crimes were committed. How many, I don’t know. I checked the state Sexual Predator Registration list and there was mine. The photo showed a 62 year old, 6’1”, 250 lb man. I recognized him. 1988 conviction for 2nd Degree sexual assault, type B. He must have plead down because the Circuit Court Access shows he was charged with a 1st Degree sexual assault.

I am a Motorcyclist and a strongman, and a husband and a father. And when I was a child I was assaulted by an adult. I am a victim. Thank you for letting me talk about it.

It's a 2006

I ride a 2006 Honda VFR Interceptor. That means my bike is almost 6 years old. But...
- the oil,filter and tires have only 2400 miles on them;
- the chain, sprockets and brake pads have about 600;
- I clean and lube the chain ever other week or so;
- I clean and polish it a couple times per month;
- I check the air pressure in each tire every time I fill it up with gas;
- Before every ride I check the brakes, lights and turn signals;
- Annually I have all the fluids checked.

I also...
- Study to be a better rider;
- Know what I'm good at and enjoy it!
- Know what I'm not good at and practice to get better;
- I only ride 100% sober, 100% of the time;
- I know the risks and take steps to mitigate them.

So what's your hobby or passion. Do you have a whole list of things you do to keep your "2006" running well and safe? to keep your 2006 running like new?

And what about yourself? And your relationships? What are you putting into your body and your mind?

I am making a resolution, here and now, to apply the passion I have for motorcycling to what is really important in my life.

Now, I know that even with everything I do to maintain my 2006, and to mitigate the risks of riding, I may crash. But I also know my 2006 will only get old if I let it get old.