i closed my eyes and she slipped away

I had intended to complete the daily roadtrip blogs with a wrap-up on Tuesday, once I'd had a chance to get some actual sleep.  But as you can see, that didn't wind up happening.  Thing is, we returned into Worcester at 8:30am Monday morning, and I had work 3:30pm until midnight, as usual.  I had missed my grandmother's 75th birthday while on the road (I didn't know that at the time, at least until my dad texted me Friday saying her party would be the next day).  I then found out that at the end of the party, she was having some issues breathing, so the fam brought her to the hospital, where she was expected to stay for just a few days.  I get embarrassed having phone conversations in front of people, so I decided to wait until I got home.  Well, 24 hours of sleepless passenging tends to make you lose some memory, because it wasn't until Monday night, while I was at work, that I had remembered.  So during my last break of the night, at 9:35pm, I give her a call.  She was clearly very tired, but she recognized my voice and we talked for a few minutes.  I wished her a happy birthday and told her to get some rest, the relaxation would do her some good.  At the end of the call, she said, "Goodbye, Ricky.  I love you."  I finished my worknight then immediately went home and slept, in expectation of the first real night of sleep I'd have in over a week, before yet another 3:30 to midnight shift.

I was woken up sometime after 8am by my phone ringing.  It was my mom, telling me that Mem had gone into cardiac arrest, and that it didn't look good.  Not five minutes later I was fully dressed and on the road back to Lowell.  I hadn't even reached 290 East by the time my mother called me back to tell me that she was gone, not twelve hours after I had spoken to her.  I came to find out later that not only did every member of her family happen to see/talk to her within her last two days, but I was the last one she spoke to before it happened.

Mem was my fourth and final grandparent to pass away.  As it turned out, that was the case for me and my sister, as well as all of our cousins.  The rest of the drive home I couldn't help but think about the other times it had happened.

With Pep (my dad's dad), it was something everyone knew was coming.  He had a few different cancers, and my father, aunts, and uncles had known basically when it would happen.  At that same point in time, however, my parents were going through a particularly difficult divorce.  In the end, my mother refused to let either my sister or me go to our grandfather's home where he lay until arrangements were made.  Some things were said that definitively shouldn't have been, and with the emotions pouring out of everyone, by the end of the month my father had moved out.  (Don't worry, we all get along just fine now, but it happened almost simultaneously, and the events are sort of fused together for me.)

With Nan (my mom's mom), it was the exact opposite.  It was completely and entirely sudden and unexpected.  I honestly don't even recall the circumstances by which she was found, but she had passed sitting at home in her chair.  It turned out that the day before, her shih tzu had gotten away from her and she had to run full tilt to keep him from getting hit by a car.  Exhausted, she went home and (from what I understand) had called my mom and aunts.  What pains me to this day is that when she called my mom, she and I were heading out the door so I could get my learner's permit.  She passed while we were out.  (For that very reason, I feel eternally grateful that I was able to talk to Mem before she had gone.  I would feel a million times worse if I had simply put off talking to her for one more day.)

With Grampy (my mom's dad), it was a combination of the two.  An extraordinarily unexpected stroke did some serious damage, and he slowly degraded over a period of months.  His speech became simpler in strange ways to the point where his vocabulary eventually dropped to a single, random, encompassing word (one such word, "c'mon", wound up inspiring Dane to write a song about it, which for the life of me I can't find else I'd link it here).  Over time he developed several cancers, until his body couldn't handle it anymore.

I picked up my sister and made it to the hospital.  It was the first time I'd ever seen someone so soon after they'd gone.  It's a truly uneasy experience, for those of you who have not gone through it.  The day was a blur, and eventually I went to work and made work arrangements so I could be at home for the wake and funeral.

A week later, and here we are at Thanksgiving.  And while everyone enjoyed each other's company, there was still a noticeable difference without Mem there.  Here's the thing, too.  I've felt for a long time like sort of the black sheep of the family (both sides).  Not unwelcome, not different, nothing like that.  Just distant.  I've been so focused on life out here in Worcester that a lot of the time I forget about things back in Lowell.  So I'm taking the initiative.  I'm working on being a more active member of the family, and a better friend too.  Freshman year I was "Justin's Phantom Roommate", and five years later I'm turning that around, because I don't want to be absent from the lives of the people I care about anymore.

So I'll hopefully be around a lot more, dear friends.  That said, November has been extremely difficult to get through, which is interesting in that November tends to be the month where the shit starts pouring most years, My first break-up was in November, my infamously weak moment / worst decision ever came in a November, and probably the most unexpectedly and exhaustingly complicated situation I've been in wound up landing in November as well.  Just a few more days, and it'll all just be another page of the calendar.  At least, I hope so.

And please don't tell me "perhaps, perhaps, perhaps",
  rickie-d

where the skies are so blue, pt. 3

I woke up for the second day in a row next to a large, bearded man. The effect of driving eighteen hours had turned him into a comatose pile of a man. As everyone slowly woke from their slumber, we eventually descended to the buffet and ate until eating was no longer a priority to either body or mind. And then.

We found ourselves watching Unaware, a discovered-footage film about the grandson of a former military man uncovering a dead alien from the Roswell crash. Deep shit, man. Then action flicks.  Then animations. Apparently it was Send Your Nightmare Fuel to Alabama Day in Korea, because not one of these were kid-friendly. One experimental short (Dessicator) later, we needed a break from the creativity-deprived. Also, nourishment. A very important part of a balanced diet, food is.

One incredibly heated lunch later, we returned to watch the tail end of a film about George Washington reincarnating as a hick stoner, trying to save humankind from literally puking their brains out, by smoking their brains. Deep shit, man. It was at that point that shit got too real or too boring or too both and I needed to pass out in as horizontal a position as I could manage.

Hours later, it was time for comedy. But not before Little Gobie confused the living fuck out of our skulls. The comedies were well-shot, but standard fare. Turns out Something Remote lost in the comedy genre to a short about an author writing a story about what could only be described as a megaredneck. After us was Zombi: Brotherly Love, a disturbingly well-made piece. Q&A time came for us and Zombi, and passed. It was at this point my noggin had checked out, and sleep was imminent. The road back is long and sober. It turns out, for what it's worth, that Four Loko is noticeably very alcoholic from sip one, by the way.

A Malibu and Coke for you, a G&T for me,
  rickie-d

where the skies are so blue, pt. 2

It wasn't long after midnight that we found ourselves hunting and foraging like drunken cavemen. At an uncomfortably large gas station / fast food joint / souvenir factory, Selig found himself in the possession of four-dollar beef jerky, a prize apparently identical to the three and six-dollar varieties. To call it edible would be like calling the pope a half-retarded vampire tranny. Only correct in the minutest sense. We came to the disturbed conclusion that the texture fell between paper and mulch. So from this point forward, this foodstuff will be referred to as beef pulp.

We then found ourselves stopping for the night at a Holiday Inn in Grantville, Pennsylvania. Upon entering the building, we knew right away that something was amiss. Maybe it was the abandoned front desk. Maybe it was the Annual Llama Gala. We may never know for sure. But after walking through an abandoned hallway filled with posterboard setups that would mildly pique a third grader, I think it may be a combination of the two.

Back on the road, Virginia was mostly uninteresting. That is, until the state troopers decided yankee season was open. Our driver, Laferriere, was pulled over for driving 86 on a 70, apparently "reckless driving", which carries no comfortable number of penalties and violations.

Eventually we escaped Virginia, and entered Tennessee. Come to discover Tennessee is a big fan of any flammable materials they can get their hands on. Whiskey, gasoline, fireworks, and sometimes all three in the same place, as Chatanooga was a bit too happy to inform us of.

A fifteen-minute detour sent us into Alabama as planned. And then the world betrayed us. Our Tomtom was still quite confused that Daylight Savings Time had ended. It read 1:22 while the car knew it was 12:22. So imagine my stunned surprise when I looked at my phone to discover the time was 11:22. Good God, man, we're in Central Time. Fuck. "But Indiana is further west, and it's still Eastern Time." Yes it is, my learned compatriot. Yes it is. Don't ask me why it's the way it is, I didn't invent time. Midnight rolled in and we checked into the Holiday Inn the festival parked itself at, sleep washed over us like a heavy drink.

Welcome to the jungle,
  rickie-d

where the skies are so blue, pt. 1

It was a cold bastard of a night when we left Worcester, Mass. Five tired, young men cramped in a blue box flying down the highway to god knows where. Spirits high, hunger low, and a desperate craving to fly south as fast as we could, so the next day would be a little less blistering.


It didn't take long for the claws to come out. Conversations about the past and present, bouncing back and forth like a damn ping pong ball. Planned for the future. Stopped for a piss break. Slim Jims and pound cake. The breakfast of champions. Back on the road again trying to get out of New York fast as we could. One dismembered deer later, we knew we were in Jersey. Welcome.


Pennsylvania is a bitch of a drive. Lot of nothing in between nothing. I have come to the educated conclusion that long ago, the founding fathers put a broken compass under the Liberty Bell and told everyone where north was. They lied. Couldn't let the limeys at their hidden Yank treasure. Seems like so-called "north" is a good forty-five degrees off. Maybe the Amish got bored and decided to play a low-tech prank. Crafty bastards. Heading to find a place to crash, before we fucking crash.


Sweet home Alabama,
  rickie-d

let's go to the mall!

This is a continuation from an earlier post about my trip to Washington DC.  However, the earlier post doubled as a college newspaper article, so there was some stuff that was either irrelevant or inappropriate to include.  So here we are!


Right.  So the fun thing about road trips is that you really need to prepare for them in advance.  Notably, with sleep.  This I did not do.  Leading into my trip to DC, I had been working six straight days (whereas before that particular week I had a swisscheese schedule that never had more than two workdays in a row), the latter five being intense customer service training and transition days.  So I was a bit... tired.  There was some other stuff on my mind to begin with, but all in all I was just monstrously exhausted.  I get home at 10:30pm, play some Rock Band 3, Bebel and I pick up Geyster, and we're off at about 12:30.  To call it a nondescript drive out would be a monstrous understatement.  We drove straight through the night, so even if we wanted to stop somewhere (that wasn't a strip club), we couldn't.  We arrive in Silver Spring, MD at the Glenmont station at 8:30, hop on a train, and at 9:00 we're in DC.

Now, this experience has given me a much greater respect for the noble sardine.  We got to the Mall and tried to get into the area between 3rd and 4th Street, but people were already so stuffed in that the cops weren't letting anyone in anymore.  So we jump down to the Mall area between 4th and 7th Street, and... well, I don't know if you've ever been to a gathering of over 1,000 people (much less 200,000), but there comes a point where motion simply stops.  I remember that we were walking, and then suddenly we weren't.  What's worse, my phone was starting to die on me so trying to get a hold of the vast number of people I was hoping to meet up with simply wasn't going to happen (sorry Bri, CJ, Carol, Joel, Zoll, Monica, and Hyde!)  But the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear was fucking awesome (they had Ozzy fucking Osborne for chrissakes), and it seemed really fitting that the rally was held basically at the steps of the Capitol Building.

So the rally ends at 3ish.  My phone is dead.  Fifteen minutes of pushing through the crowds, and we're still nowhere near the end of it.  I turn to my right and see that people are jumping a fence, and turn back to tell Bebel and Geyster and... they're gone.  Oh shit.  I check my iPod.  No WiFi.  Double shit.  After a brief bit of panic and scrambling to find them, I decide the simplest solution is just to make my way back to Bebel's car.  I can't leave without them, they can't leave without the car.  At any juncture, I took a few minutes to wait just to see if they were a little behind (or a little ahead), and kept going.  I finally make it back to the car at 5:30, only to discover that... the doors were unlocked.  Okay.  So I, sleep deprived as I was, took a nap in the driver's seat, and awoke at 7pm to find that they still had not returned.  I go back to the train station and at 7:30, they finally arrive, and we get back on the road home.  Turns out they were basically searching DC for me, and Bebel and Geyster's phones had also died.

So we get back on the road, and I'm driving.  The first half was just as nondescript as the ride out, but things... took a turn for the weird.  For starters, I didn't know New Jersey had woods.  And I grew up in a forest.  So imagine my surprise when around 10pm I nearly hit a deer (and the car in the opposite lane, and the car behind me), after which point I couldn't unsee that there are dead deer everywhere in New Jersey.  I saw more dead deer in Jersey than live deer anywhere in my life.  Didn't help that five minutes later, a cop pulled us over because after I made a left turn, I accidentally bumped the lights to low-level, prompting him to see if our lights were malfunctioning.  Didn't help that 1) it's not my car, 2) my license is from Mass, 3) my license has the wrong address, 4) the owner's license is from Illinois, 5) the plates are from Virginia, 6) none of those states are anywhere near Jersey, 7) Bebel handed the cop a registration receipt and not the registration, 8) under someone else's name, and 9) we were visibly unsettled from the previous deer experience.  He lets us off, we get back on the road, and me and Bebel swap driving duties around 1am.

Not half an hour later, I slowly wake up to find that we're sitting still.  On the highway.  Still in New Jersey.  After about 15 minutes of sitting and waiting, we watch as a car a few ahead of us suddenly turns right and disappears between two trucks.  A few more cars follow, and so do we as -- Illegal Maneuver #1 -- we drive through an open section of metal barrier onto an empty on-ramp for the highway, with a cop car pretty much watching all this happen.  Right.  So we drive about half a mile past dead-still traffic and re-enter this hell.  A fucking hour later we find that we're waiting to cross the George Washington Bridge.  And so we wait in the Lower Level lanes, and it just doesn't seem to be moving, so we -- Illegal Maneuver #2 -- cross three lanes of active traffic at about a 90-degree angle to desperately try to get into the Upper Level lanes.  Half an hour later, we find that the Lower Level has been altogether closed, so we lucked out there.  Half an hour after that, we finally pay the toll and get the hell out of Jersey, at 3:30am.  We were originally expecting to be home and drinking by midnight.

So we get going again, and fatigue is starting to set in.  I drove for six hours before swapping, and Bebel was on about three when I noticed we were wobbling down the road a little.  I take the wheel in Connecticut for about an hour and a half (of one goddamn road that didn't change at all), Bebel takes it for half an hour or so, and I manage to get us back home... at 6:45am.  It effectively took us 16 hours to get home from Washington DC.  It took less time to go from Worcester to Indianapolis.  What the hell.

So somehow, somehow, I got to sleep before sunrise, and managed to not be a real corpse for Halloween.

it hurts it hurts it hurts
  rickie-d

maybe it's not too late, to learn how to love, and forget how to hate

This post was also featured as the Towers article "Hundreds of thousands converge on DC".


Weeks ago, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert announced their events that eventually became The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear.  The momentum was high, and people all over the country made plans to convene on the National Mall in Washington DC in celebration of... well, that part wasn't entirely clear.  One thing was certainly clear though; this was going to be a historic event.

My party left Worcester just after midnight on Friday, pointed straight at DC with hopes of getting there early enough for a good spot in the rally.  By 9:30, the crowd was already so full between 3rd and 4th Street that the area was fenced off and only allowed those with family and friends inside, so my compatriots and I managed to eke out a spot near the front-and-center of the next segment between 4th and 7th.  Those who arrived early were treated to a number of pre-event videos, primarily featuring The Saga of the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear.  Thousands of people showed up with handmade signs and costumes, but most came simply as themselves.

And then, at the stroke of noon, out came The Roots and John Legend, performing a number of songs to warm up the crowd.  It was about this time those around me started murmuring about some kind of opening comedy act that was shrouded in secrecy.  It didn't take long to find out what they meant, as out walked Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman of Mythbusters fame.  While they did a number of "scientific" tests including hundreds of thousands of people making cheek pop noises and the world's first man-made groundswell, the real shocker came when they proudly proclaimed that the crowd had already been estimated to at least 150,000 attendees.  Later reports by reputable news sources, independent studies, and so forth took it a step further, claiming crowd sizes of over a quarter million, outright dwarfing the only scientific estimate of 87,000 of Glenn Beck's Restoring Honor rally (and substantially overtaking the 60,000-attendee permit Comedy Central applied for).  The most scientific estimate thus far claimed the event attracted 215,000 attendees.

After causing one hundred 35mph car collisions' worth of force on the ground (according to the seismologist hired by Savage and Hyneman), the attendees were treated to a heartrending singing of the national anthem by four members of the US Armed Forces.  While Jon Stewart took a more traditional stage entrance, Stephen Colbert decided to enter by escaping from his bunker "two thousand feet below the stage", by way of a replica capsule from the Copiapó mining rescue mere weeks ago.

The stars were out for the rally, as well.  The benediction was given by Don Novello as the iconic Father Guido Sarducci, followed by Law & Order's Sam Waterston reading Colbert's poem "Are You Sure?".  Later on, former flight attendant Steven Slater and The Real Housewives of New Jersey star Teresa Giudice spoke about trying to act more calmly in stressful situations like their own, and Tim Meadows made a video appearance as PK Winsome.  Musical guests filled out the event as well, including performances by Yusuf Islam and Ozzy Osborne; The O'Jays; Mavis Staples and Jeff Tweedy; Kid Rock, Sheryl Crow and T.I.; and Tony Bennett.

At various points during the rally, Stewart and Colbert gave out medals to distinguished individuals who exemplified reason or fear.

Jon Stewart's Medal of Reasonableness recipients included:

• Armando Galarraga, for his response to Jim Joyce's incorrect call losing him a perfect game.
• Velma Hart, for her poise while asking President Obama a series of very challenging questions at a town hall meeting.
• Mick Foley, for despite his appearance and profession steadfastly standing up for the little guy.
• Jacob Isom, for preventing the public burning of a Qu'ran in a non-violent manner.  Isom, after receiving the award, celebrated by throwing it into the attending crowd.

Stephen Colbert's Medal of Fear recipients included:

• News groups, who denied their employees the right to attend The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear, including ABC News, CBS News, NBC, and (most shockingly) both The Associated Press and National Public Radio.  The medal was received by a seven-year old girl, who was declared as having more courage than any of the aforementioned news groups.
• Anderson Cooper's black tee shirt, for seeming to follow and/or herald immense disaster wherever it travels.  The shirt itself accepted the medal.
• Mark Zuckerberg, for creating a privacy-eliminating product that has integrated itself into the lives of millions.  Colbert himself accepted the medal.

When Jon Stewart stepped forward to make his keynote speech, it was interrupted by Stephen Colbert, challenging him to a climactic Formidable Opponent.  In this the mother of all Colbert debates he even released his Fearzilla, a large papier-mâché Colbert floating behind the stage powered by a relentless montage of pundits on all sides attacking each other, the President, the world, and the public while pointing fingers and blaming the problems on everyone else.  Oh, and flip-flops.  Yes, the sandals.  It took an appearance by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and R2-D2 (who challenged Colbert's generalized fears about Muslims and robots), and the entire audience chanting "Will this help?" to finally defeat Colbert, who exited the stage dragged by Jon Oliver in Peter Pan regalia.  Fear was dead, and sanity had won.

The crowd fell silent as Stewart began his real speech.  While the day had been strewn with comedic and musical acts aplenty, Stewart was quick to point out that we are, despite our best intentions, in a dangerous position.  "We live now in hard times, not end times.  And we can have animus, and not be enemies," Stewart stated.  "The country's 24-hour political-pundit, perpetual-panic 'conflictinator' did not cause our problems, but its existence makes solving them that much harder.  [...]  If we amplify everything, we hear nothing."

The media is flying through a whirlwind of panic, to rile up the masses in an attempt to use radicalism to induce change, but it doesn't need to be this way.  Change can happen without fear, and it can happen without taking sides.  And in these tough times, in this world gone mad, it's hard to stay sane.

"If you want to know why I'm here and what I want from you, I can assure you this," a choked up Stewart addressed the crowd in closing.  "You have already given it to me.  Your presence was what I wanted.  Sanity will always be and has always been in the eye of the beholder.  To see you here today and the kind of people that you are has restored mine.  Thank you."

Even in tough times, while surrounded with paranoia, we can still agree on some things, little as they may be.  But progress takes time, and it takes effort, and it takes patience.  We all want a piece of the pie, but we have to learn to take turns.

You go, then I go.

You go, then I go.

It was a real treat to be invited to report on the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear for The Towers.  Thanks go to Dan Suitor for setting it all up.  Soon to come Check out this later post for a bit more behind the scenes of my trip to Washington.

From sea to shining sea,

  rickie-d