The Return of the Creature from Ocean Blvd.
Current mood: sick
Category: Life

          I think I can write about his now.  A little background, before we begin...

       Jeff: My eldest son. In 1984, Jeff's mother vanished, quite deliberately, with Jeff and his sister. With no help from the courts or law enforcement, who only seemed to be interested in whether or not my child support was paid up, it took me 17 years and a stroke of pure brilliance from Anita to find them. Since then, we have kept in touch online and over the phone. That is, until Christmas Eve. More on that later. In the meantime, if you want to find a lost family member, drop me a note. Unlike me, my wife truly is a genius.

     Jason: My stepson, until his mother and I split up in 1998. He was five when we got together. He always knew who his father was and has always had a relationship with him. Be that as it may, Jason, to this day (and now a grown man of 27), still calls me Dad.

    Tyler: My youngest son. Raised by his mother and me until he was eight, he lived with her in Tampa until the age of fourteen, when she sent him to live with me because he was out of control, using drugs and getting into trouble with the law. He lived with me, drug free and unarrested, for a year before his mother moved him back in with her.

    Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I received a phone call that, initially, chilled my blood, then quickly warmed my heart. Jeff, who lives in Las Vegas, had told me he would be flying out to spend Thanksgiving weekend with his Aunt Karen in California. It was while he was on his way back home that my phone rang. It was from a young lady named Jen, who initially described herself to me as Jeff's roommate. At first I thought there had been an accident. I had never spoken to this young lady before. She quickly apologized for aging me five years in as many seconds, then proceeded to inform me that she needed to speak to me "while Jeff wasn't around." Another five years flew by. Did this girl know I have a heart condition?

     Anyway, she finally explained that she had a plan. She wanted to fly me out to Las Vegas, to arrive on Christmas Eve, so that Jeff and I, who hadn't seen each other in 23 years, remember, could spend a week together. This would, of course, result in Anita and I spending our first Christmas apart, as there was no way, short of a winning lottery ticket, that Anita would be able to get free from work to join me. I thanked Jen for the thoughtfulness of her gift to my son (and to me, as it worked out) and told her that I would have to discuss it with my wife and call her back.

    Well, any of you who know Anita personally or even from just meeting her here, already know how that conversation went. Although she was the one who had finally put us back in touch again and deeply wished to be there when we came face to face again, she was thrilled for both of us at this opportunity and practically screamed at me to call Jen back and tell her YES! I will spare you the three weeks of conspiratorial phone calls and surreptitious emails that ensued and just tell you that, at sometime after 5 p.m. on December 24th,  landed at McCarran International Airport. Thus ends the story of how Anita let a 23-year-old babe fly me out to Vegas for a week.

    We had a wonderful visit. Jeff was blown away to walk in the door and see me sitting there under the tree with a bow on my head. No shit. Jen even took some pictures and I think she plans to post them on her page. Anyway, it was great to finally spend some time with my son after all these years and see the fine young man he had grown into. Some of you have met him here. If not, he is number three on my friends list. Get to know him. I have good reason to be proud of him, in spite of how terrifyingly alike we are. While you are at it, get to know Jen. She is a wonderful person with a good heart. If you could meet her family, as I had the pleasure over that week, the kind of person she is will come as no surprise. We all have too few people like these in our lives.

     If I had the power, there is one thing about that week between Christmas and the New Year that I would change.

     On December 28^th, Jason called me fromTampa.

Apparently, after moving back up to his

mom's,Tyler had taken up with the same circle of friends with whom he used to get into trouble before she sent him down to me. On the night of the 27^th, while his mother and stepfather were out

of town, Tyler went out with some of these friends. He overdosed on Coricidin Cough and Cold, his drug of choice for some time. The kids call it "Triple-C." Clever. His "friends," out of fear of getting in trouble, let him lie there for three hours before some genius finally called for help. Tyler, my 17-year-old son, was cremated on New Year's Eve.

     It has been five hours between that sentence and this one. Tyler was a bright, funny, caring, friendly, loving and troubled young man. I have spoken openly with you about my long-past problems with drugs. I did the same with my children, including my step-children. To me, there is no difference. Some of them have had their own problems some have not. Two who did and have since gotten their feet back under them will tell you, as they have told me, that, at least in some small part, my honesty with them about drugs, addictions and my own problems with same were part of the reason they got it together. However true or untrue that may be, I cannot say but it is nice to think that being open about my own past failings may have helped these people I love to overcome their own and survive. That being said, it would be a lot nicer to think about if it had the same effect on Tyler.

    I think it would be great if, while our schools are so busy teaching us Calculus, Trigonometry and Applied Physics to prepare us for our jobs stamping "DENIED" on forms at the insurance company, they could teach us how to reach all of our kids instead of just most of them. At the very least, they might offer a course in Grief Mechanics, so that we will have some idea what to do when one of our children dies. It seems to me that there should be at least some effort put into preparing a person for something this unnatural but there will always be a part of me, especially now, that is certain that such a feat could never be accomplished.

     A note to family and friends: I am grateful to and especially for each and every one of you, even for those of you for whom the feeling is not mutual. (Those of you to whom the last part of that sentence applies know who you are and I want you to know, I understand. I love you anyway.

    When it comes to an epitaph, I'm sorry, but I have nothing appropriate. Every time I think about it I am drawn back to one of the last conversations Tyler and I had on this subject before he moved back to Tampa. He didn't like the rules in my house. Too strict. I didn't trust him enough. I'll never forget it. He was screaming at me…

     TYLER: "All I want to do is live my own life and make my own decisions! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LET ME DO THAT?"

     ME: "Because I don't want to bury you."

12:02 AM - 32 Comments - 46 Kudos - Add Comment

White Rabbit - 2007
Current mood: worried
Category: Life

     Millions of American children are slogging (and in some cases, traipsing) through their days under the influence of psychotropic "medications." In some cases, these kids are consuming a cocktail made up of as many as twelve pills per day. Many are beginning these regimens at the ripe old age of two or three. What is wrong with these children that they should need so many powerful drugs just to function? Who decides which child needs what and how much they need? What are the long – term effects of this program? For the answers to these questions, we need to turn to the Psychiatric community. After all, they have all the answers…
     When you ask a Psychiatrist what causes ADD, ADHD, OCD, ODD, Depression, Bipolar Disorder (formerly called Manic Depression), Anxiety or any of the myriad diseases and disorders that seem to suddenly be troubling record numbers of our youth, you get the same generic, vague answer. According to these highly-trained professionals, all of these maladies are caused by chemical imbalances in the brain. Now, if you are bored one day and want to have some fun, gather a bunch of these people together and ask them which chemicals and how far out of balance. Then sit back and watch the dogfight begin. They will never agree on the answer to your question. This brings up another question. How do they diagnose a child as having a particular disorder? It may comfort you to know that they do agree on the methodology of diagnosis. One arrives at a diagnosis by "observing symptoms and behaviors." How is this careful observation carried out? That's easy. So easy, in fact, that one wonders what part of this practice calls for three hundred dollars per hour. The following is a description of the comprehensive observations of symptoms and behaviors that takes place in psychiatric offices every day.
    Parent or parents bring Mikey in to see the doctor. They begin telling the doctor that eight-year-old Mikey is quite the handful. He has boundless energy, seems easily distracted, doesn't like school and gets in trouble for acting up in class, talks a lot, gets angry and/or talks back when told to do something he doesn't want to do, doesn't want to go to bed when he's told, etc, etc, ad nauseum. After 15 or 20 minutes of listening to stories about how annoying Mikey is, out comes the pad and Mikey begins his new childhood mission, the endless pursuit of the White Rabbit. It is to this brief period that Psychiatrists refer when they describe their diagnostic methodology as the "observation of symptoms and behaviors." It is upon this careful study and investigation that they base their decisions to start pumping our children with powerful, brain altering drugs.
     Courtesy of the National Institutes of Mental Health, this is a chart showing some of the psychotropic medications being prescribed to our children in record numbers.

National Institutes of Health

Medications Chart

     At this point, I feel compelled to make a few observations, to be followed by a few suggestions.
     OBSERVATIONS
     All of these medications have dramatic effects on brain chemistry and function. The brains of children are in a constant state of growth and change. Finding a way to keep the dosages and balance of these added chemicals in proper lock-step with the ever-changing brain of a child, especially say, a child of THREE, is all but impossible. Psychiatrists and the pharmaceutical companies openly admit that these medications have not been tested on children and that the meds are being dispensed "off-label," meaning that they are intended to be used on adults but are routinely prescribed to children. By their own admission, they have no idea how chronic use of these drugs will impact the children, especially over the long-term, including possible effects on normal brain development. (I don't know why but every time I think about that, I am reminded of the Thalidomide babies. Actually, I DO know why).
     It seems as though every behavior exhibited by children throughout time is now a disorder requiring immediate chemical intervention. Can a pill alter the behavior of a person? Obviously. Does that mean that the first place we should run is the medicine cabinet? Conditions like Tourette's Syndrome or seizure disorders clearly require medication. These are neurological  disorders, not psychological. Unlike all of these weirdo, new "disorders" that mysteriously seem to have an expensive medication even before they are discovered, they are also proven diseases for which there are tangible, measurable tests. You don't need to guess at a person's brain chemistry in order to see that they are having a seizure. Assuming it even exists, is it really the best course of action to treat ADD in the same manner that we treat Epilepsy? If this "disease" had existed when I was in school, I would have been diagnosed and medicated in no time. The problem is, I didn't have ADD. I was bored. I learned too easily for a normal classroom pace to hold my interest. Still, in this day and age, I would have been diagnosed in record time and gulping down psychotropic drugs like they were Pez, all under doctor's orders.

     SUGGESTIONS
     May I suggest that spending 20 minutes listening to someone whine about how annoying their child is does not constitute "observation of symptoms and behavior." May I suggest that such tales of parental woe may be just as indicative of an inability of the parent to tolerate normal, annoying behavior as it is of a serious brain disorder on the part of the child. There is, after all, a very good reason why every one of us has heard our parents say, "I can't wait until YOU have kids! Then you'll understand!" Kids are commonly, noisy, pouty, angry, feisty, defiant, disruptive and generally annoying. Often all at the same time. That is why we call them "children." Childhood causes disorder but it is not a disorder in and of itself.
     May I suggest that automatically shoving pills down the throats of millions of children to manage their moods or behavior will likely have the result of creating an entire generation of adults who are constantly popping all sorts of pills to augment their daily lives and justifying it by pointing out that this is how their parents and doctors taught them to handle sadness, anxiety, anger, tension and whatever else life throws at them.
     May I remind you that we have no idea what the long-term use of these drugs will do to their bodies, minds, perhaps even their DNA but all of these kids are going to grow up to breed. We have no idea if Adderall or Haldol cause birth defects but I guarantee we won't find out until it is far too late. Again, remember Thalidomide? Is that really a risk worth taking to prevent Mikey from talking his mother's ear off or cracking jokes in class?
     While we dive blithely down the Rabbit Hole of zombiefying our kids, think about this: Shoving chemicals willy-nilly into the brains of our children is just like pulling the trigger on a gun. Once the bullet leaves the barrel, you have no control over the damage that it does.
     Chemically altering the developing brain of a child is no longer a decision of last resort, to be attempted rarely and with great caution, only after all other options have failed. That SHOULD be a scary thought. It doesn't seem to be. Now, that IS a scary thought.
     If you really want a Stepford Child, your friendly neighborhood psychiatrist will be only too happy to provide one for you. For a price.

Currently listening : White Rabbit & Other Hits By Jefferson Airplane Release date: 05 October, 1990

7:54 AM - 38 Comments - 38 Kudos - Add Comment

One Note Wonders
Current mood: weird
Category: Blogging

        In my time writing this blog, I have written (much to your collective annoyance, I'm sure) on a variety of subjects. Heart Disease, the death of Brad Delp, censorship, the role of fear in gun ownership, the changes in our society and technology over the last forty years, what my wife means to me and why, a "thank you" letter to the President, the Constitutional and mathematical realities of impeachment, the curse of immortality, how innocent people wind up in prison and why it is important that we stop doing that, my observations on name-calling, immigration, the unabashed joke that is the "war" on drugs, a plea for help in finding my missing friend, three short stories and more. (The "and more" part is my way of saying my memory is fading and I can't remember all of the subjects I have tackled here. Give me a break. This is my 59^th post.)
     Of course, there are people who will read this who have written many more than 59 posts and will be able to tell you the subject of each and every one. Do not be misled. This is not proof that their memory is better than mine. All it means is that they only write about one thing. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. If you thought that sentence was annoying, try reading their blogs.
     Now, I'm not talking about the people who have a specific heading at the top of their blog. Something like, "Gay rights in America" or "Joe's Blog of Body Piercing Tips." When you see a specific header like that on a blog, you can assume that every post on that blog will likely be on the subject so prominently displayed in the header. I wouldn't go to the "Gay Rights in America" blog and expect to see a wide-ranging variety of posts on subjects like car repair, Springsteen's latest album or how in the Hell David Caruso ever got a job. I would expect to see a series of posts about Gay rights. I have no problem with that. My problem is with the bloggers who don't warn you they intend to spend their entire lives writing on only one topic, from only one perspective.
     If you are going to call your blog, "My Thoughts on Education," you aren't going to be doing yourself or your readers any favors if you post daily and every single post is about how you think the "No Child Left Behind" Act is a crock. Throw in the occasional post about class size or teacher salaries or outdated textbooks or school security or student apathy or how do we educate the thousands of homeless kids so we can break the cycle of poverty or the disruptive influence of gang activity or bullying or how a student is supposed to concentrate when his teacher is sitting at the front of the classroom wearing a skirt that makes her look like Britney Spears getting out of a car. ANYTHING, just so long as you mix it up a little. Don't you ever get bored? I can tell you, your readers do.
     If every post you write is going to be about how the wimp Liberals are all traitors to their country and should learn to love violence more or just get out, maybe you shouldn't call your blog "The Political Spectrum." If everything you write is going to be on the same subject, perhaps blogging isn't for you. Maybe you would be more comfortable as a graffiti artist. There are bloggers who used to see me on their blog every day, until I got tired of repeating myself. Take politics, for example. I have written extensively on the political scene in my own blog, and each political post I have written has been on a different aspect of our political situation. Between my own writings and comments I have offered on the blogs of others, I have said pretty much all I want to say on the subject, at least until something changes. Since nothing is going to change for at least another 15 months, do you really want to hear me repeating myself for that long? That is exactly what I am going to be doing if I keep visiting these one-note blogs. I swear, there are some blogs out there that have me thinking I should just go into Microsoft Word and create a comment, save it and just copy and paste it when necessary so no one will be offended that I haven't commented on their 300^th post (in a row) about how Barney Frank should not be allowed in politics because he's (GASP!) gay.
     I love the songwriting of Neil Young. I even like to listen to his music. That being said, I can only listen to him in short bursts. Why? Because he has an annoying habit that, over the years, has caused me to dub him the "King of the One-Note Guitar Solo." Before you start screaming at me, listen to Cinnamon Girl. He may play it with his customary passion but it is still one frigging note, over and over for thirty seconds. It drives me nuts. MOVE YOUR DAMN FINGER! THERE ARE SIX STRINGS AND TWENTY-TWO FRETS FOR GOD'S SAKE! PLAY ANOTHER NOTE!
     Sorry, I digress. My point is, a blog can start to sound like the Carpal Tunnel guitar stylings of Neil Young after a while. Does the phrase, "stuck in a rut" mean anything to you? I can't believe people don't get as bored writing the same thing over and over as I get reading it. If you want to take a shot at a particular group in order to get a rise out of them, fine. Do it and move on. Otherwise, you'll end up learning the same lesson about insulting people that my father learned about beating kids. It doesn't take long to lose its effect.
    If you still don't get it, try this. Go out on the sidewalk and yell "FIRE!" a thousand times and see how long you can do it before people stop listening. I'll bet you don't get past the first hundred before passersby start treating you like that guy with the "The-End-is-NEAR!" sandwich sign.
    Bruce Springsteen plays Born to Run in almost every concert he plays with the E Street Band. That is because he knows the audience loves it and is eager to hear it. Other than that, every show has a totally different set list. In 1976, the Aladdin Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas opened a state of the art performance venue called the Aladdin Theatre for the Performing Arts. The first four nights, Neil Diamond played to sold-out crowds. I saw all four shows. Every one was different. The reason Bruce and Neil and so many other artists do this is so they won't get bored. If they get bored, it shows and the audience will pick up on their lack of enthusiasm and they will be bored, too.
     I'm no superstar writer but I have tried to take a cue from the professionals like Neil and Bruce and at least try to keep it fresh. When you read my blog, whether you think I'm nuts or you just don't care about the subject I'm writing about, I don't want you to ever feel like you showed up at a concert to hear Neil Young play his Cinnamon Girl solo 75 times in a row.
    Mix it up a little, People. Every once in a while, throw in a post about your dog or your bad luck with mechanical things or your heavy period. ANYTHING! Remember, there are 88 keys on a piano. Ever wonder why?

Currently listening : One Hit Wonders By Various Artists Release date: 01 September, 1995

2:27 PM - 26 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

Christians and E.T. (Patterns in Arrogance)
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Religion and Philosophy

     This post will sound two ways. First, it will sound like I am saying som