Dreaming of still life

[This is dream I had]

(How would I begin?.. ok I'm currently overseas delployed with the most negative people I have ever met. This trip makes me look like a bonafide optimist. The "fun" has worn out but even still I have somethings to make me smile even if its only on the inside. I had this dream a little before the publishing and even though it is just a dream I gotta admit it made me smile but at the same time it made me realize that I still have some time left. Either way you look at the glass it was still nice, like parole from here.

Greek mythology tells the tale of a guy stuck in hell with a burning thirst. He is chained in a pool of clear water and everytime he lowers his head to drink the water level drops to just out of reach. Well in another myth involving this poor guy, the daughter of the woman who runs earth gets tricked into going down to hell. While there she screws innocently with all the punishments and in the case of our chained friend she gives him a drink. It was told that she made the thirst worse for the guy despite her act of mercy.

That's what the dream was like…so here it is, I hope you enjoy, I did.)

I was standing in front of my house on the sidewalk by the drive. The world appeard as a ghost would see it. Everything appeared in misty shades of grey and black. Almost not real, almost a mirage or a silvery illusion. I could not feel the breeze or the suns warmth.

There I was unable to feel but feeling the warmth in my heart as I gazed upon my home I had been so long from. I stood there drinking in my cactus with yellow ribbons on its tines. It still stood proudly in its circle of rocks next to a Chinese Elm that my father had tried with no success to kill.

I began moving up the drive to the house, gliding, not feeling the effort of walking. Moving as a spectre would. Walking like a memory returning to being, from the sad memory to the reality of existance. What a house, modest but containing so much. I had lived there with my family for years.  This was the house my son called home after his birth. How many times had I come home here? Returing from prior deployments to this very house.

I pushed open the gate and listened to the gate open on squeaky hinges. I continued on up the side walk to the front door. I stood staring at it breathing in the beautiful relief of finally making it home. I reached out with my right hand to open the door. My hand was moving in slow motion to the open the house. I became aware of the back pack slung over my left shoulder and I shrugged slightly to adjust the load.

The door opend at the slightest touch, allowing me entry. I walked throught the foyer and through the open door to the house.I stopped in the entry way and looked around in the haze of grey and silver. I couldn't see anyone to greet me. No parents or sister to welcome me home. The empty house did nothing to darken the light in the center of my being, instead I bent slightly at the knees and swung my bag off my shoulder and onto the cool tiles at my feet.

I turned left and walked in to the kitchen, there on the counter were my pistols lying there neatly as if on display in a shop. I picked one up and felt the cool metal in my hand and my arm felt complete again. As I looked the gun over I noticed a gallon of milk sitting next to the firearms. I put the pistol down and reached out to touch the milk. I could feel the pebble texture of the container and felt the moisture of the condensation. I watched fascinated by the two drops of water racing down the side of the container. Two droplets locked in a race with each other powered by gravity.

I then remembered my room. I turned on my heels and began walking to the hallway. At the end of the corridor I could see my door, ajar with beckoning light spilling from its opening. As I glided down the hall I reached out with my right arm to touch the wall as I passed. Drinking in the rough texture of the paint.

Finally I stood in the doorway of the room I spent countless hours in avoiding humanity, my place of solice where only my family or closest friends would visit. Where my possesions resided. Where I could be by myself. Finally home…

I pushed open the door and gazed upon my fortress of solitude. All how I rememebered.

But there in my bed was something that stopped my thoughts and ghostly memories cold. Lying there underneath the covers in silent slumber was my beloved son.

I stood there in my doorway unmoving, unable to look away at my sons sleeping self. Eyes riveted as if looking at a work of art so beautiful it would be a mortal sin to blink.

For the first time since entering my house as a phantom I felt like I had returned home. Standing there watching my son sleep. I began hoping he would wake up so I could hug him and talk to him but at the same time hoping that this memory would never end.

Finally home…finally accomplishing…finally not lonely…

Suddenly I heard a noise behind me. I took my eyes off my child and looked behind me down the hallway. The hallway once filled with a silvery light was now dark, black as night. I looked back to my room and my son and both had been replaced by the blackness.…

I now realized I was awake and the noise was my MP3 player scolding me awake. The blackeness lightened and I saw the bunk over me. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed and put my feet on the floor feeling the disapointment and the loneliness of the darkness.Then I stood up and started the duty day…

-B

(I can't wait, God willing I will make it home to my precious son. All this time and the pain of losing a year will be gone when I can look at him and take him in my arms again. When my son is no longer a dream I will feel more whole than I am now…)

The Showdown...

(This is a true story)

"Mother is the name for God on the lips and mouths of children…"
-Eric Dreven

I think people really don't think about their Moms to often. Well sure people do think of their Mother but only in ways like going shoppin or chillin or who's makin dinner. What I'm sayin is that no one really thinks about what they have learned from dear ol' Mother. Like people really only think of God right before they die.

Well my Mother besides being goofy and sometimes odd has actually given me lots to think about. I liked to think of Mom as my "Chun" or Mr.Myagi cept she's cooler. Mom has directed and guided my Martial training she has alway been there to help me with my spiritual/philosipical(tee hee) training as well.

Well todays story takes us waaaay back, well not really that far back seein as how I'm still young but nevertheless backwards in time to when I was a wee grommit.

Now I'm not real sure how many of you have survived the 80's but things were different back then. Back then kids fought or "threw down" at school. I remember getting in several fights and all that happend was being seperated and told by the Principal that he was "disappointed" in us and they would try to decide who started it and punish that guy. These days they call the SWAT team and have you interogated as Al Queida operatives.

To make it a little more difficult due to the Karate ways I was forbidden to throw the first punch as my Mother and Father both taught me that "Karate first and foremost is for self defence". True wisdom can be found in that last statement.

Well what happend to kick this whole thing off is that I really can't remember. I remember this kid being upset with me and he challenged me to a fight on Friday. I don't remember what day it was or what I did to be challenged. I do know I had a little while and that this was also my first challenge. The fight was also scheduled to take place at the far playground. That is the farthest jungle gym from where all the kids normally played at.

I was floored! I was terrorfied! I asked a friend of mine about what I should do and the only advice I got was to pop my knuckes cause it makes them bigger. Despite not being very helpfull I did follow his advice and began cracking my knuckles as often as possible.

I sweated it out for several days and finally the night before the fight arrived. With no where to go, I broke down and went to talk to my Mother about what I should do. To be honest that took a little to do seeing as how I was probably between 8-10 years old and was going to seek wisdom from my Mom about fighting at school, I mean this ain't Ralphie and Scut Farkis were talkin about here!

Well I stopped at my Moms side as she was doing grown up things at the table with a pen and check book. I told her that I had a fight coming up and the only thing I could think to do was pop my knuckles often. She stared at me for a little while and then I told her that I was scared and that I did not know if I should honor the challenge or should I run away. My Mother looked at me for a second longer and then said " do what you think is right and do what a man should do..." and with that returned to her task, no longer looking at me, dismissing me.

I returned to my room and decided that I would fight. My father was a man of honor and I had to uphold the family beliefs, to be a weaponless warrior.

I don't remember the morning but I remember lunch was the time and when it arrived I summoned up all my courage and I went to the far playground. Sure enough the kid was there playing in the sand.

I approached and announced myself. I was prepared for a fight and an attack. Instead the kid just looked at me and said "Hi".

This had to be a trick, I asked" don't you wanna fight?"

"No, but do you wanna play?"

Me:"sure!"

Him:"unless you'd rather fight?…"

Me:"no, let's play!"

And we played...

It took a lot for me to hit that day. There's an old story about two okinawian masters who had a duel that was won and lost without a single blow. I fought two hard battles to win my own fight without throwing a single strike,block or kick.

It is written that good trees don't bear bad fruit, its true. My mother cultivated and mentored me, hell she still does. She changed my path, she showed me the light and I learned that the right thing is always the harder thing to do. If she hadn't done what she did that day I wouldn't be the man I am today.

To this day I still train the path she has taught me and I will try to teach it to my son.

-B

Man Overboard

( On April 9th, 2006 the greatest friend I will ever have passed on. I'm sittin here in tears typing this story on my droid. I have this story to share with you about this fallen teamrider, as always I hope you like it, I know I do.)

My old friend Flint was a little apprehensive about his 21st birthday. He was alone, his family had packed up and moved back west. Flint chose to continue his life here a little longer before following them. I think it was cause he loved us as much as his family.

Flint had told me he wanted his father to be there for his birthday. I knew what he meant. He was like me or most young men, he wanted acceptance from his father. My 21st birthday I actually tried to be around my father, you know as a"Man now".

The morning of his birthday I got up, well morning for us was late afternoon. I got up got my act together and before grabbing my board I dug through my closet till I found what I was looking for and headed out for our nightly rondevu at the Carrows.

I was the first to arrive of all the crew. I waited and was seated in the smoking area and served my usual coke. After a short wait Flint arrived, I had told the hostess that when he arrived to show him to my table and she did. He set down his skateboard and removed his backpack known as "Jerry" and sat down.

I started off by saying happy birthday, then I told him this:

" In the old days when a boy reached adulthood and became a man, his father would take him to the edge of the family land, hand him a weapon and send him off into the world to make his fortune.

Flint you are 21 and a man now, since your father is absent and I am your senior , I will take his place…"

I reached into my bag and pulled out a brand new pair of Escrima sticks. His eyes widened as I presented them to him handle first. A while after I had met Flint he had made a set of sticks from a shovel handle, even carving nodes in them to make em resemble rattan.

He took them from my hand, eyes wide with wonder.

"Flint your a man now, go and make your fortune…"

He looked at me, then hugged me, he told me he loved me. Then we made our plans for the night and went skating…

(Flint carried those sticks around for a long time. I don't know what happened to them after his death but I'm sure if you went though his stuff you find a worn pair of escrima sticks amungst his things…)

In loving memory of Flint "Busta" Beck.

-B

Dreams of Memory

(This is a dream I had)

I'm never really sure how these dreams begin. I remember being at a T-intersection in my Town. I was riding a strange bicycle, it was a tandem bike bright yellow in color with chrome metal handle bars ending in white handles. Attached to the rear of the bike was a pair of "Radio Flyer" style wagons, like a column of ducks following the bicycle.

I was peddling hard but accomplishing little. Behind me in the second seat was my then wife, not pedaling but apparently bitching me out for this and that.  In the wagons that followed was my toddler son sucking on a lollipop. In the last wagon was my younger sister with my Grandmother "Cha-Cha" in her blue sport coat sitting with an air of supremecy. In her hands appeared to be a swagger stick of polished black with a chrome head but the stick itself seemed long enough to be a cane rather than a decorative stick.

There I was the only person powering this strange vehicle while being scolded by my wife. Finally what she had said something of a nature to offend me enough for me to stop our little train and dismount. I began to argue back and there we were fighting heatedly like couples do. Cha-cha and my kid sister remained in their seats, staring straight ahead.

My son did not follow their lead. He got off the wagon unnoticed by my wife or me and began exploring the immediate area by the wagon. I took notice of my son walking into the street when I looked over my wifes shoulder. The street was empty as he climbed down the curb to the on-coming lane. I looked at the traffic light to see it was getting ready to change to green.

I yelled for my son to stop as I pushed past my wife to get to him. As this happened time slowed to a bare trickle, ticking by frame after frame. As I passed my wife she looked angered and bewildered and she even appeared to be trying to hit me. Ignoring her I sped as fast as time would let me to rescue my only son.

Time was kinder to my son, as he had already tottered into the center of the near lane with cars entering the street a hundred yards away. The cars gleaming in the beautiful sunlight as a ominous reminder that a race was on, winking at me, taunting me to run as fast as slow can.

I could hear my wifes anger turning to terror as she realized what was happening. Rooted in place she began screaming for me to save our son. I passed Cha-cha and she just stared at me with discontent, sitting with both hands on the end of the cane in front of her, unmoving.

The cars were 10 meters away as I began turning to enter the street. Double trafic fender to fender, there would be no escaping this. I decided that if my son was going to die then were were going to die together. I screamed his name and he stopped turned and when he realized who I was he looked up to smile at me. The cars bore down on us as I reached down scooped him up in my arms and lengthend my stride taking both of us to the white stripes separating the flow of traffic, if we were going to die, it would be together.

The flow of sweet relief filled me when he hit my arms. As I stopped feet together time returned to normal. I stood between the charging cars waiting for our impending demise with my child in my arms and I realized that my son was hugging me. The cars sped by us in a seeming unending stream as I returned the hug with a parents relief...

-B

(When my wife left me she told me that she wasn't faulting me for it but she said I had strange dreams. I think that was her faulting me. I have had strange dream for long as I can remember, sometimes its better than here and sometimes its worse. Every now and again I have my dream interpeted. I never had this one interpeted. My Auntie Mary was pretty dang good at it.

I mainly wrote this one out because there is lots of crazy stuff going on with my son and most of the stuff I do or go through is for my beloved son.)

Pat remembers

[ This is another old FB story I wrote after finding an old friend again. He knew Flint well and we shared a memory or two of him. Again I hope you like it...]

 So this last August or thereabouts, I was reunited with a long lost friend. His Name is Pat, We used to wander this city to skate together. We met in High school was friends for years after and then had some falling out.I think its been about 11 or twelve years since I had last laid eyes on Pat. Pat got me back into skating and during one session we were skating at Paseo park ,  sitting on a ledge reminiscing bout the days of old, Pat told me about his last encounter with Flint "Busta" Beck.

Pat told me that he was hanging out at Gecko's bar and grill [I assume the downtown one] he actually ran into Flint. Flint was there waiting on his girlfriend. Pat and Flint sat down and drank for a while before making plans to meet up the next day or so to skate. They both parted ways and met the next day.

Pat Described Flints skating as nothing short of the incredible, original style that I knew him to have. Flint rolled around in the improvisinal style that gave him his reputation that he was proud of. He was not a cloned skater he defied the streets skating and dominating everything from the smallest insignificat obsticale that most skaters would be above skating. I loved skating with him.

I could see Pats eyes shining with the warm memory of our fallen friend, as if actually seeing it like a video in his mind. He smiled the whole time he remembered. I asked Pat about how Flint was back then and Pats smile faded away. He told me that Flint had a heavy sorrow that followed him. That when Flint smiled you could see the emptyness inside. He also told me that Flint seemed happiest when he was skating. Then Pat stopped talking.

I sat there in the silence of Pat's memory.Why wasn't I here? I began to feel jealous that Pat had a more recent memory of my Beloved friend. Why wasn't I here for him?

We sat there for a few minutes more before getting up to leave. Pats memory fell to the side as Pat spoke of his Bride to be and their iminent union. I told Pat I'd wear my uniform and he said that he would love to see it. Plans for the next session were made and lunch was following. As we walked to my truck I almost looked over my shoulder and yelled for Flint to hurry up cause we were leaving, as was his custom to frantically squeeze every bit of skating in. But when i turned all I saw was his memory and young kids forming new ones...

-B

I Remember

[ This an old FB post I had written a while back yet around Flints anniversary. Yet again that Time is upon us, so as April 9th appraoches here is another story of a fallen "Board Pilot" known as Flint "Busta" Beck. I hope you like enjoy it.]

So last tuesday I got off of work early, after I parked I noticed this oddly familiar sound. As a few second passed I saw two kids bombing down Academy rd in front of my house. An odd pairing, one on a long board and one on a street board rolling down the center of the street. I stood watching them and the memories rushed back to me of a time long ago now. of a time me and Flint would ride the same street at 4am.

I began to focus on the thought of Flint. How long has it been since he passed on? how much longer had it been since me and him had our last ride, Our last meeting with the glory of stupid kids? I remember riding all over this city, Having conversations with each other to pass the time and distance we would roll. I remember sitting with him at 6am discusing our own warped version of philosiphy at the phillips 66 at Montgomery and Eubank. I remember running from the cops for skating, laughing as we out manuverd police cars on our boards. I remember loving riding from sundown to sun up.

Mostly I remember him. I met him at target skating. He was taken back by me and Chuck cause we were local heroes. He was excited when we cheered when he pulled one of his signature silly, abstract moves. I remember changing the word to song to witty, clever sometimes vulgar lyrics. I remeber being able to sit with him at carrows till close dronkin cokes ,coffee and smoking ciggarettes. I remember him caring about me. Beliving in me as I believed in him.

I remeber his funeral, I remeber my wife hugging me as tears rolled down my cheeks looking at his remains. I remeber people, all kinds of people who came to say good bye.

I remember missing him, but mostly I remember the last letter he sent me. A letter when I was in Kuwait. It was a letter sayin how proud of me he was.

I remember never answering.now its too late. I wish I had, I wish I had said something. Now I cant. I remeber wishing that I could saw "I love you" and that I could thank him for being the person he was.

I stood there as the two kids and their sounds faded in to the darkness of the morning. They faded and dissapeared but my memories of Flint and me rollin down Academy may be faded but its still in my mind. I turned away and walked to my apartment wondering if he still thinks of me.

-B

Death From Above…[well almost]

(This is a true story)

(The anniversary of my friend Flint's death is once again upon us. Sould be in a week or two. I gotta admit that I have been missing him a lot in the termoil of my so called life. Good friends like him are rare, I shoulda held on tighter to him. I was thinking of yesterdays article "centrifugal force" and it reminded me of this one time Flint and me were skating. I hope you enjoy…)

If you know anything about flint it was that not only was he a great improv skater, it was that he attempted to ollie or jump any gap he came across. Board or blade didn't matter, I have seen him try to jump some silly stuff before. Usually its just funny, sometimes it was spectaculah!!!

One day Flint and me were skating by the Burger King on Juan Taboo. The Bank on the upper lot had a small wall with a small gap dropping into the BK lot. Flint looking for a crowning achievement for the weekend looked at this and decided that this obstacle was his "piece de resistance".

To make it a little more interesting Flint had decided on rollerblading that day. I was on my board having bladed last weekend. We had been switching off from blade to board to keep it "fresh", you know to break up the routine. We got a lot of shit for it but no one could deny the good time we were having.

Most skaters took the BK gap bout midway where it was a foot of planter with 9 or so inches of wall to a 5-6 foot drop with a two foot gap that in the drop was irrevelant. This was not good enough for Flint. If you go north along the wall it gets higher with a much deeper drop. Flint decided to take the BK gap at the top.

At the top of the lot the BK gap weighs in at : 4 foot gap to the 1 1/2 foot tall wall to a at least 7 foot drop with at 3 foot gap at the bottom landing in a slight incline. In short it was no laughing matter.

As Flint got ready, I stood at the bottom of the gap and a few yards south so I could see over the wall to watch. Flint was taking dry runs at it trying to work up the courage when a guy known as "the Matrix" walked up.

Matrix was a pretty damn good rollerbladers. I seen him take rails on his blades that most of you wouldn't walk down. He taught me to rollerblade with Flints help. He had a vice for burgers and could be seen walking to BK from time to time.

Matrix asked me what's up and I filled him in. He was a little alarmed that Flint wasn't jumping yet. We stood there and watched Flint take several more dry runs.

Matrix finally upped the ante, he told Flint that if he made it down the gap, he would buy him a whopper meal. To seal the deal I told Flint that I would buy him a pack of ciggarettes if he made it. Apparently that was enough to light the fire under his ass.

Matrix and I stood together on the bottom of the gap and watched Flint go back to his starting point. He paused to adjust his skates, and took off sprinting torwards the gap. Matrix and me began cheering and whooping, egging him on. He reached the gap, jumped and sailed though the air.

When Flint cleared the wall you could tell that he began to think that this wasn't a good idea. I could see it in his face and by the way he began swirling his arms that he was actually trying to hit the brakes in midair. A look of pure panic and terror was visible on his face as he drifted weightless through the air.

Flints rollerblades then made contact with the ground. His legs bent to absorb the shock of landing. He then curved left, stopped and looked at us.

We began moving simultaneously, Matrix walked to the BK and I went to the Walgreens to buy ciggarettes, Marlboros to be exact. When I came back Flint was still standing in the lot. I handed him the pack of smokes and we went into Burger king together to join the Matrix inside for a burger or two.

There are lots of cameras these days. I got a camera, a pretty cool one from my parents in my bag and as well as a pretty decent one on my phone. I'm sure all of you have cameras on your phones. People take pictures of family and friends, even loved ones. They ussually just store them or post the pics on Facebook. Little handy cameras weren't around when Flint jumped the BK gap. I had a Video camera but we weren't filming that day were were just having fun. Point is I'm glad I didn't have a camera, I captured that moment in my memory.

You can lose memory cards and phones, the internet may crash in the coming zombie appocolypse, but even though Flint is no longer here on this earth I will always have these memories to look at.

Flint, man I miss you, wish you were here…

-B