M.J. Hobbs

Hello Silence, You Touched My Soul

I think that everyone has one – the song. You know the one I mean,

The song that hit you as a young adult.

The one that you heard and it reached to the very bottom of your soul and made you cry.

THAT song!

The song that made you realize you were not alone.

I asked friends what their song was and I got some interesting responses.

Some I expected: Whitney Houston, Leonard Cohen, Alanis Morrisette.

Some I did not: Oingo Boingo, The B-52s, WHAM!

The list has some songs a lot of people might pick: Space Oddity, Cat’s In The Cradle, One Tin Soldier.

Then there was mine.

A some of you know, I grew up as a lonely nerd at a time when that was even less fashionable than it is now, This was before the Internet and before Twitter and before Marvel movies.

In addition, my home life with my mother meant that our family was isolated from the community as who wanted to be asked if their mother had had ANOTHER nervous breakdown lately and being asked by classmates who she was sleeping with this week.

My best friend from third grade, Herbie, even refused to have anything to do with me any longer after Mom’s latest adventure became known at school.

So, I was very isolated and lonely and depressed.

No – not depressed enough to end things but people would have understood, I think, if I had.

So, I spent my late elementary years hiding in the barn. I had created a sort of shelter in the old shed but Mom burned that down one night in a psychotic fit.

Under the hay in a corner of the hayloft were my magazines, some books and a transistor radio.

That transistor radio was a life saver. I would turn it up loud as I read “National Geographic” and the songs would echo from the rafters.

Radio stations were my friends:

WCOL!

WNCI!

QFM96!

I would get lost for a couple hours before I had to return to the chaos that was my home life.

After a particularly bad day where someone tried to beat up the nerd at school and having the principal refuse the do anything about it because it would entail making my mother come to school and he had had one too many run-ins with her, and then having my mother yell at me when I got home because the sky was blue, I fled to my sanctuary in the hayloft. I grabbed an Issac Asimov novel and turned on the radio.

I was at rock bottom…

That is when it started to play:

“Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend

I’ve come to talk with you again,”

My heart stopped! And then it slowly began again,

The song was resounding in MY soul and I did not know how to react as it continued to play.

It went on and on!

“Within the sound of silence”

Each verse dug deeper into me and cracks began to appear.

Someone else was out there who understood.

“Narrow streets I walked alone.”

NO! I now knew somebody else walked them with me!

I started to scream in pain, joy and release as the song crescendoed.

I WAS NOT ALONE!

“And echoed in the wells of silence…”

As the song ended, I knew there was someone else out there like me.

I would not give in!

I would take all that life threw at me and I would face it down!

I WOULD LIVE!

and, I have…

Thank you, Simon and Garfunkel.

A Most Surprising Woman

Those of you have have been reading my posts by now realize that I had what could, at best, be described as a difficult home life.

“Imagine if you, a house where all of the inhabitants would prefer to come home to anywhere but there.

“A house in the country on a quiet road.

“A house filled with mayhem, malarkey, and maybe even…

“Murder.”

Yep, that is where I grew up. My older brother and sister left as soon as they could. And, then, my Dad left too after he found Mom in bed with the neighbor from down the street.

Younger me thought those sounds coming from the barn were the horses but if so, why was Mom showing off our horses to men in the evening when Dad was off fishing.

Throw in a huge helping of mystical mayhem from the fact that our house was haunted. And, yes, I saw them and would swear on a stack of Bibles (if we had one in the house!).

And Mom’s weird-ass seances made it even stranger. Imagine coming home from school and find strangers wandering the house burning sage and calling on spirits.

“I am calling on the spirits to answer me!” she would yell at the top of her voice just as I was trying to shut the door so my friends would not see what was going on.

That is why I had few, if any expectations when I first met Rosemary, the woman who would become his second wife.

I knew Dad well enough to know that he had started seeing Rosemary after he divorced Mom. He just wasn’t the type to have an affair.

On the day in question, he picked us up from the house in his old Ford van and drove us down to her house in the suburbs of Columbus.

On the way he said, ” I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Who?” my little sister and asked at the same time.

“Well, I have been seeing someone and I want you to meet her. Her name is Rosemary. We are going to be staying there this weekend.”

“Are you sleeping with her?” Lisa asked.

“Anyway, she and I have been dating and I want you kids to get to know her and her kids.” he humphed.

“She has kids? How many? ” I asked.

“A boy and a girl both around your ages.”

About that time, we hauled into a subdivision straight off some TV show. And them we pulled up in front of a house that almost looked like something off “The Brady Bunch”. Seriously, I expected to see Alice open the door to let us in.

Instead, a beautiful woman in glasses opened the door and hugged my Dad.

AND THE WORLD CHANGED!

The only way to describe Rosemary is to say now only was she kind, intelligent, sweet and caring but she was NORMAL!

Having her enter our lives was like watching Carol Brady step into the “Twilight Zone” and immediately set the world to right.

Or to put it another way, imagine your mother is Godzilla and the courts have suddenly placed you with Mary Tyler Moore!

I was immediately enchanted and remain so to this day 45 years later!

I LOVE YOU, ROSEMARY!

Upon My Knee, I Beg Of Thee

How do you tell someone how much they mean to you?

When an old friend has no idea of the fact that just by being there all those years when you needed them, how do you tell them?

By now, most of you realize that I am a bit of a dork. My big hobby is a group called the SCA. For those who don’t know what the SCA is? Well, the best way to describe it is as a renaissance faire on steroids that is for members only.

And, our biggest event is something called the Pennsic War. Imagine the cast of “Camelot” mixed with a Viking miniseries and all rolled up with a huge helping of love, friends and a LOT of alcohol.

And the biggest night of Pennsic is something called Midnight Madness. On that one night, all of the merchants close early and then reopen at dark. Bands play…parties roar…and everyone wears their finest.

Everyone loves Midnight Madness.

That is how I met my friend Caitlin or should I say Duchess Caitlin Stuart. We met about 26-27 years ago and she always had this huge smile and a laugh that could compete with a donkey to make you laugh.

I remember she and her fiancé, Osis, walking down the rows at Midnight Madness laughing and joking and making everyone feel part of it all. I was pretty new to the organization and her gracious manner made me know I was welcome. They were so in love that you could practically hear the birds sing when then walked by.

Caitlin and I also had mutual friends, so I also got to see her when she was not “on” and it was the same person all over.

But bad things happen to good people.

A couple of years later, word came down the grapevine of a tragedy.

Caitlin’s fiancé, Osis, had been driving to an SCA event with friends A truck lost control on the highway and slammed into their vehicle. Osis and another died instantly.

The SCA is like a huge family, and everyone was suddenly in mourning. Everyone was there for Caitlin, but she locked herself away. The bright star became a hermit, and the world was dimmer for it.

Caitlin’s close friends worried about her, but she needed to heal in her own time. She would come to Pennsic but lock herself in her own camp and few if any saw her.

Although we had not been close friends, I had always admired her and could see how worried everyone was.

At the third Pennsic after Osis’ passing, I overheard her campmates talking about how worried they were about her and a weird idea struck me.

It was Midnight Madness night so I put on my finest medieval garb and went up to Caitlin’s camp and asked to be admitted. There she was sitting in a chair by the fire.

I went down on one knee and said, “ Your Grace, Midnight Madness is upon us! I beg of thee to be my companion this eve!”

There was a pause and then her face just lit up.

“Give me a second to get dressed!” she shouted and ran to her tent. All of the women in camp went in and helped her get ready and she came out in the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.

I held out my arm and she grabbed it and away we went.

What an amazing night!

We walked along and her face glowed. Everyone was so glad to see her that it took us almost an hour to walk 100 yards. I will always remember that night.

So…

Midnight Madness became our ritual.

Every year, the first thing I would do upon my arrival is to head to her camp, go down on one knee and beg her to be my companion for Midnight Madness. And, every year, she would hem, haw and then smile huge as she accepted.

It became my favorite night of the year. And Caitlin’s, too. (or so she said)

Then, there was the year I could not get off work in time for Midnight Madness.

To make it up to Caitlin, I asked a group of friends called The Thieves of Hearts to accompany her. They went into her camp upon their arrival and went down on one knee and begged her to be their companion for Midnight Madness. Knowing I could not be there, she accepted grudgingly.

BUT…

It turns out I was able to get the night off at the last minute, so I drove to Pennsylvania at warp speed and watched as the Thieves went into her camp to picked her up for Midnight Madness. Wrapped in a cloak and hat I went in last.

The leader of the Thieves said, “Your Grace, we have a special friend to introduce you to.” At that, I threw off the cloak and the hat and walked up to her and went down on one knee and begged her to be my companion.

Her face lit up and she said, “Dammit! Now I need to put on a real dress!” and she popped into her tent to change.

It was a great night.

Midnight Madness was our ritual for over 20 years.

As Covid did not allow Midnight Madness for the last two years, I was looking forward to this year. But it was not to be.

You see, Caitlin went into the hospital last spring and could not attend. So, I walked around and took all the video I could of people saying hello to her and walking along the rows. Her data usage soared.

Caitlin passed about ten days ago… She and Osis are now together again.

But she will always be my companion for Midnight Madness.

The Road To Valhalla

It has been no secret that the last two years have sucked. Seriously.

When my father died, my heart broke but what made it even worse was that we could not have a funeral due to Covid-19.

Imagine that you already feel like a useless lump of clay for not being able to be by his side when he passed but it is made worse by the fact that you can’t get together with others and mourn him.

Time passes…

As some of you have realized by now I am a geek the size of Godzilla. Sci-fi books, games, and toys line the shelves. Outfits that cost more than I am willing to admit fill a closet. I even have a jewel case full of medallions, necklaces, coronets and other awards that may would find amusing.

Yeah, a geek.

BUT, my Dad always realized I was a geek and even seemed to relish the fact.

So, recently, I did something that Dad would have loved.

I am in a group called the Society for Creative Anachronism. No, we are NOT LARPers. We try to recreate the Middle Ages the way they should have been.

Each year we meet north of Pittsburgh for what is basically our world-wide convention. But, due to Covid, this had not occurred for three years.

Until, three weeks ago, we met again! HALLELUJAH!

I don’t think I had gotten that many hugs during my entire life as I got in those ten days. It was great.

And that is when I did it.

There is a tradition in our organization based on how the Vikings used to honor chieftains who passed. The chief’s body would be placed on a boat that would then be launched. Once at sea, a flaming arrow would be launched to set the boat aflame. The flaming pyre would float off into the night and the spirit would be guided to Valhalla.

Each year, a scale model Viking boat is created and put on display. People can put the coats of arms, cards, photos or notes about their loved ones on it. On the last evening of the event, it is launched into the lake just after dusk and a flaming arrow sets it alight.

This happens every year but I had not witnessed the ceremony for years.

This year would be different.

First, I asked permission from my loved ones before I left.

Then, I found the last picture of my Dad and I that I had taken and printed it out. He was smiling and it made my heart skip a beat.

I went to the booth with the ship the day before the ceremony. And, the boat was filled. Covid had really taken a toll on our organization and the three year gap made it all the worse.

I had not thought it would affect me this way but I had a flutter in my throat as I wrote a note to Dad on the photo and placed it within the ship.

The next night, I begged out early of my obligations and made my way to the lake. The night was beautiful. A full moon blazed down on the water and illuminated the crowd on the peninsula.

Across the water, I saw the procession approach the bank carrying the ship on their shoulders. Bowing low they placed the boat on the lake and unfurled the sails. The skiff floated out over the moonlit waters.

Then, a flaming arrow lit up the sky aiming straight at the ship.

At first, the flame was small but then it grew and grew and grew. The light floated across the waters.

Dad would have loved it!

That is when I realized someone was crying. Not just a someone but many someones. Tears swept over the crowd with the smoke from the fire.

That is when I realized I was also crying. Yeah, I broke down and wept to the base of my heart.

Someone put their arm around me and we bawled.

“Dad, I miss you!” I shouted out in a shower of shouts and calls and tears.

It was beautiful…

A Crystal Epiphany

Have you ever had a true epiphany?

Seriously.

I am not talking about walking out of the house and realizing it is raining.

I am talking about a true life-assessing realization.

Let me explain:

Recently something happened that has made me re-examine and redirect my memories of how I have lived my life. It was something small but it crystallized and validated a lifetime of work and experience.

It was so small yet beautiful.

It was something that most people these days wouldn’t even notice but it had an impact on me that I still have trouble explaining.

Let me give you some background.

Quickly looking at me most people would think I had it made. I am:

White

Male

Middle-aged

College educated

Fat (We can probably leave that one out.)

I have a good job, am married, have a Victorian house, three dogs, two cats and a 401K.

Sounds like I have it made, right?

Not quite…

Assessing all of those most people would think that my path in life had been pretty easy but they would be wrong. Once simple fact has upended my life and changed how I have lived and how I perceive the world.

To quote one of my uncles I am as queer as a three dollar bill.

Yup, that’s right, I am about as gay as they come.

I am like 7-UP – Never had it…never will.

I am a perfect Kinsey 6.

Sorry, Ladies.

I know some millennial is sitting out there and going “So, what?”

Oh My God! You have NO idea.

Somehow people seem to think it is easy these days to be gay and that is how it has always been.

Are you crazy, Annelle? (Steel Magnolias reference.)

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

I came out 40 years ago to a very different world.

When I came out, you could still be fired for being gay. Don’t believe me?

I had one coworker demand that our boss fire me when she found out because she was afraid to bring her husband to the office Christmas Party because I might hit on him.

Some states still had laws on the books that said two men could be arrested just for holding hands in public. Public officials were loudly saying that we were pawns of the Devil and that we were going to hell just for trying to love the person we wanted to spend our lives with.

I couldn’t even enter the military because I was afraid of what would happen late at night in the barracks.

Right now, I am sure someone is reading this with a sarcastic grin and going “Riiiiiiiiiiight…”

When I went out to the bars for the first time, they didn’t have signs because they didn’t want their patrons blackmailed and mugged.

The bars themselves had all of their window boarded up. Do you know why? Because people drove by and shot out the windows.

Think I am joking?!?

Tell that to my uncle who was murdered outside a gay bar in 1974.

Yeah, he was…BUT my mother’s family told us Uncle Goog died of cancer so they wouldn’t have to live with the shame.

But when I left home, I determined I would be who I was whether anyone liked it or not.

I have:

Protested!

Marched!

Watched as that bitch, Anita Bryant, got pied! (Don’t know who she is? Good! Please don’t look her up as she deserves to end up in the trash bin of history!)

I have been:

Spit on!

Egged!

Attacked!

Arrested!

And all just for being me and to live my life like anybody else.

I have just wanted to love. And, to be loved.

I have watched friends die in hospitals and their boyfriends weren’t allowed to see them as they lie dying because they weren’t “married.”

BUT, we fought and we marched and we NEVER GAVE UP!

And, yes, things have slowly changed over the years.

I can walk down the street holding hands and not have to worry about the cops arresting us. (All we have to worry about is the sexually insecure rednecks driving by and hollering.)

I can adopt a kid if I want now. And Jim and I have five of them but all of ours have four paws.

And, yes, I waited 47 years but I finally was able to marry the man that I love and to call him mine.

Many of you would look at me now and see how lucky I really am.

Yes, life is much better but it took an unexpected moment to let me see exactly how far I have come. And, to appreciate where I am now and where I am going to.

Last December, our friend David died. He was great guy who always had a huge smile on his face and I don’t know a soul who didn’t think the world of him,.

One of his greatest talents was making sure that you knew you were special even when you were screwing up really badly and knew it. And, he could always make you laugh.

After leaving the Marines, David returned to Indianapolis to help run his Dad’s restaurant. Along the way, he met the love of his life and he, and his husband, settled down together. Life was good.

Unfortunately, cancer does not care who you are or who you love and his end was swift and unexpected.

Last weekend, his celebration of life was held at his church and the congregation was both smiling and tearing up as stories were told and the choir sung.

Finally, it was time for the ashes to be place in the crypt. Slowly, the honor guard saluted and folded the flag. Then, they presented it to his husband.

THAT is when the crystal light beamed down and I knew that moment was what I had been working and fighting and living for all of these years.

They gave the flag to his husband.

HIS HUSBAND.

The world stopped for a moment and the universe crystallized.

All the stuff that I, my friends and millions of others had marched, worked and cried for came down to that instant in time.

I could not hold back the tears as they saluted and handed it over.

That moment my heart stopped…and when it began again, I knew the world had truly changed.

No matter where life may lead that moment made it all worthwhile.

A light shone down.

Now, I know the world isn’t perfect and it never will be.

And, with the Supreme Court prepped to overturn Roe V Wade, you know what they will be coming for next?

Right… My marriage.

I will march.

And I will protest.

But, I will NEVER give up.

Do you know why?

BECAUSE THEY GAVE IT TO HIS HUSBAND!

And THAT vision will be with me the rest of my life.

Thank you, David.

The Legacy Lives On!!!

My Dad’s passing has made me sit and think about the legacy I want to leave behind.

My Dad did it right. I mean every body talks about what a great guy he was and how he made their lives better.

I know I want that, too, but how?

He loved country music and all of us kids do, too. But I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.

Thank God for the radio and being alone in the car singing and driving.

I love singing at the top of my lungs and driving even if I am practically breaking the glass with those off-key notes.

So, he passed that on to me but what will I pass on?

Well, it came time to start drafting my will and I had to make some decisions.

The house – easy – to the hub.

Cookbooks – again – easy – the Cooking Guild.

But then it got harder.

Renn Faire clothes – that one was gonna be hard as the Goodwill would not have the slightest idea what to do with them.

Camping gear – hmmmm – Boys Scouts?

And, then the hardest one – Rooby Dooby Doo!

You see, I have one of the world’s largest collections of Scooby Doo memorabilia. Comics, books, videos, dolls and hats compete with posters, ornaments and baseball caps. And then there are the signed photos from the original animators and the stars of the movies.

I ruvs my Scooby Doo!

I was pondering this when it was time to spend time with my youngest godson, Jamie, last week.

Jamie is a quiet, shy, young man who is in his first year of college. He spends a lot of time playing games and watching movies and we have always had a very special relationship.

So, last week, I took him out to dinner to give him a belated Christmas gift. We told stories and laughed and just enjoyed each other’s company until it came time to go home.

That is when he made an unusual request that became the first of two amazing gifts he gave me.

“Uncle Mike, Dad has been working on his will and it has made me start to think.”

“He is?”

“Yes, and it started me to think about you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “I know this sounds odd but when you get around to writing your will, could I ask a favor?”

“Okay…” I looked at him.

“Well, if Uncle Jim doesn’t want it, can I have your Scooby Doo collection?”

Talk about synchronicity!

“Really?!?”

He smiled.

“Oh, yeah! You know how I love Scooby Doo!”

Having sat through many an episode with him on a Saturday morning while babysitting, yes, I did know.

“Consider it done!”

We hugged on the way to the car.

It was about a fifteen-minute ride on the way back to his Dad’s place. That is when he gave me the second and even greater gift.

We were driving along when he popped on the radio. A song began and I recognized it and was going to start humming when the windows went down, and the volume hit 10!

“Blame it all on my roots

I showed up in boots

And ruined your black-tie affair” Jamie sang out!

I peeked over and his face lit up!

“Come on, Uncle Mike. Come on!”

And the chorus started!

“I got Friends in Low Place

Where the whiskey flows and the beer chases my blues away

And I’ll be okay”

“LOUDER!” he shouted.

“I’m not much for social graces

Think I’ll slip on down to the oasis.” I sang

And we both joined in!

‘Cause I got friends in low places!!!!”

And then I knew!

DAD! You’re legacy lives on!!!

I’m Going Home…

How do you define “Home”?

That has always been an odd question for me.

Most people consider the place they grew up in to be their home.

Other consider the house they live in to be “home”. And, while my house is my home there is a place that always fulfilled that requirement before we bought this place.

You see, growing up my mother was always so strange and weird and just plain nasty that none of the places we lived ever seemed welcoming or permanent in any way.

Our residence – yes.

Our “Home” – no.

But there was one place that became fixed in my mind even though I actually only lived there for a little less than a year right after college.

I knew that when things went wrong, I could always go there and somehow the world would keep turning.

That is why the Zillow add hit me so hard:

“Great home in need of updating! The bones are here, all it needs is a buyers TLC! Hardwood floors, 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths with screen porch!”

Seems pretty normal, right?

But, you see, that house in the suburbs in Columbus, Ohio, was always a pillar of normal when things went wrong.

My stepmother, Rosemary bought it with her first husband in 1965 and she had lived there ever since.

So imagine you came from a house where nothing was ever right and you suddenly got plopped onto an island of calm.

Chaos breaks and quiet ensues.

It was just amazing. I loved spending weekends there after my Dad and Rosemary got married.

BUT, that island of calm continued through the years and decades.

My heart got broke? I showed up and was reminded of what love really was.

A friend died? I stopped in and got the hug that reminded me of what life really means.

Need reminded that life goes on? Stop in and get greeted with a smile that fills your soul.

I am gonna miss that house.

Raising A Glass

I saw my father drunk exactly twice.

The second time was when my grandmother died

But, the first time was the one I remember the most.

Dad had a great sense of humor and was always laughing, but he was always very careful not to let us know when he got upset. After all, living with Mom all those years left our emotional batteries highly charged enough for this life and the next.

My father had caught my mother in bed with another man. AGAIN.

Yeah, Mom was a slut; however, this time was different.

Dad had discovered Mom and her latest paramour in the barn. Shouting was followed by screeching tires as the trick drove off in a huff.

The screaming began even before the guy was out of the driveway. My mother shouting at the top of her voice to make sure the neighbors heard even though they were ¼ mile away.

“I can do whatever I like and you can’t stop me?” Barb snarled.

“Barb, we are married.” Cal tried to insert.

“I don’t care. I want laid!”, she yelled.

My little sister and I were in a bedroom upstairs with the TV on. As the shouting got louder, we kept upping the volume to pretend like we couldn’t hear.

Breaking glass from downstairs brought us to the top of the stairs.

“Coward!” Mom screamed as she tossed another dish.

CRASH!

“Barbara, stop!” my Dad tried to restrain her.

“Hit me!” she snarled.

CRASH!

“Enough!” he yelled as he tried to catch a vase and missed.

CRASH!

“Hit me!” Mom screamed into his face.

Dad grabbed her shoulders and tried to hold her still as the intense depth of her mental illness came out.

“Barbara! I want a divorce!”

Silence.

“What?”, she said.

“I want a divorce.” he said quietly.

“YOU…want…a…divorce?” Barb looked at him incredulously.

“Yes.” Cal sighed. “I have had enough.”

My mother plopped herself down in a chair and looked him up and down.

“You wouldn’t dare…” she started.

“I have had enough.” he slowly said.

That is when he caught sight of us standing at the top of the stairs.

“You kids go back upstairs.”

“But, Dad –“ I began.

“Micheal. Take your sister and go back upstairs”

Lisa and I went back upstairs but kept the TV volume way down trying to hear what was going on downstairs. We heard some mumbling but little else.

Eventually, we heard a car start up and drive away.

Peeking down the stairs, we saw my Dad do something we had never seen him do before. My Dad cracked open a bottle of whiskey and started to drink.

I went down the stairs and left Lisa upstairs.

“Dad?”

“Micheal, please go back upstairs.”

“Dad, divorce?” I asked.

“Everyone has their limit, son. Now go back upstairs.

A few minutes later, I heard our neighbor Chuck talking to Dad downstairs.

“Cal, I don’t know how you put up with it this long.”

“I got kids.”

Chuck cracked open another bottle.

Lisa and I fell sleep watching “Chiller Theater”.

Around 3 a.m., the door to the bedroom opened.

My Dad was drunk as a skunk and peering in at us. I pretended to still be asleep as he came into the room.

My father stared at us for a good ten minutes then sighed.

Dad leaned over and kissed the top of our heads and left the room.

I don’t think he even knew he was crying.

Here’s the Story of a Lovely Lady…

My father definitely traded up the second time around.

Truly!

BUT, saying that is to do my stepmother a disservice.

You see, Mom set the bar so low that anything short of a serial killer would have been a step up.

Yup.

So, let’s try this a different way.

Imagine that your Dad has picked you and your little sister up for the weekend but he is being all mysterious and everything.

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”, he answered with a small yet mischievous smile.

Oh-Oh! That usually meant we were going to get stuck at some auction for the weekend or in a tent at a bluegrass festival. While I enjoyed them, I WAS 13 and teenagers are NOT supposed to like such stuff.

“Dad? Grandma lives the other direction.”

“We are not going to your Grandmother’s this weekend.”

“Then, where?”

“You’ll see.”

Normal suburbia surrounded us. People sitting on lawn chairs and mowing lawns and walking their dogs. It was like entering another world.

So there we are – taken from the chaos which was life with our mother – and suddenly plopped down in a house in suburban Columbus that could have come straight from “The Brady Bunch” and introduced to Carol Brady, er, I mean, Rosemary.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. My father had never introduced us to someone he was dating before. And, well, when you lived with Mom, all of your hackles were up all the time.

So, there we are plopped down in the middle of a living room straight out of “Bewitched” and here we are being introduced to a beautiful, intelligent woman with an honest grin and have absolutely no idea how to behave.

A woman with a genuine laugh and smile made me so suspicious. You wondered when the other shoe would drop.

To better explain, let me use some ‘60’s and 70’s TV shows.

Imagine your home life resembled “Dark Shadows” Weird, creepy things occurring all around that never had a real explanation. Strange people popping in and out. The police showing up at the oddest times. More like “Dark Shadows” meets “The Twilight Zone” meets “Dragnet”.

Imagine you are propelled from that reality into a version of “The Love Boat” meets “The Brady Bunch” meets “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”.

Yes, Rosemary is an extraordinary, beautiful, and loving woman but do you know what her main strength in?

Rosemary is normal.

And do you know how she broke the ice?

“Micheal, do you want a cookie?”

I love my stepmother.

How “Convoy”, Disney and Walmart (Yes, Walmart!) Are Helping Me Heal

Today is Father’s Day and I have to be honest I was not looking forward to it.

This is the first Father’s Day since Dad passed.

So, I have been basically ignoring it. Ignoring the sales, signs, billboards, commercials, popups and flyers virtually everywhere. Hunkering down and ignoring the world.

But karma and the world decided otherwise.

I just wanted to relax so I plopped on Disney+. Yeah, I know. A fifty some man watching Disney+.

Can you tell I am gay?

Not really caring what I watched but wanting some background noise while I played a game, I hit the “Play Something” button and a video started while I fired up a strategy game.

Then, the title came on: “OUT”

“OUT”? What on earth was that?

OHMYGOD! There was a gay animated movie on DISNEY?????????

It turns out it was a short and was part of their PRIDE month celebration that I had not even realized they were doing it but the important part is what it was about.

“OUT” tells the story of how a closeted gay man tells his parents he is gay and introduces them to his boyfriend. That is a VERY simplified explanation of a story involving pets, body switching, supernatural beings and barbecue but saying more would give away too much but the important part is right at the end.

At the end of the video, the quiet, strong, silent Dad is introduced to his son’s boyfriend and just grabs him and hugs him tight.

That was my DAD!

I had to grab a tissue and was like “Really, Micheal?”.

So, yesterday morning, I had to run some errands.

Hopping in Jerry the Jeep, I popped on the radio and”Convoy” by C.W. McCall came on.

You remember that song, right? It was the one during the 1970’s the sparked the CB radio craze.

You don’t remember the CB Radio phenomenon?

It was the TikTok of the 1970’s. Really!

Millions of people hopped onto the radio trying to talk to truckers and keep an eye on “bears” i.e. cops. This was in the days before cell phones and the only way to navigate was by an actual printed map!

My Dad loved his CB radio but he loved that song even more.

“We got a great big convoy

Trucking through the night.

We got a great big convoy

Ain’t she a beautiful sight?”

Dad would roll down the windows and sing it at the top of his voice.

So…SO DID I!

Rolling down the windows and maxing the volume I drove down Washington Street.

“Come on join our convoy!” I shouted and could almost hear Dad singing with me.

The people I passed must have thought I was crazy but that was fun!

But, then I had to pull into my least favorite place on Earth.

Yeah, Walmart!

Okay, maybe not exactly my least favorite place but close. However, when you need large breed dog food, there are few places that sell it. So in I walked.

I made certain to avert my gaze from the Father’s Day display at the door as I went in and quickly made my way to the dog food aisle and grabbed a bag. Then, I headed to the checkout to escape.

That is when it happened.

The complete lack of pay for Walmart associates means that of the 24 checkout lines only 4 were open so I popped into the self-checkout line which was only 18 people deep(!).

Unfortunately, the self-checkout queue went straight through the Father’s Day section. I tried to look straight forward as we inched forward. After 15 minutes of not moving, it became more and more difficult.

Then, something caught my eye.

Standing on the shelf right next to me was a standing Smoky Bear with a sign saying “Only Dads can prevent forest fires!”

I almost lost it right there.

You see, Dad loved Smoky Bear and always used to take us to see the giant talking statue at the Ohio State Fair each year. And, as Dad worked for the the Ohio Department of Natural Resources, he knew who was operating the bear.

And every year, it would greet us by name!

“Micheal, good to see you! Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires!” it would say.

I picked up the statue off the shelf and was smiling at it when I heard someone crying to my left.

The Walmart associate stocking the shelf was crying.

“Ma’am, are you all right?” I asked.

“I’m sorry.” she said. “My father died in March.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

I grabbed her and hugged her.

After a moment, she smiled and said, “Thank you!”

At that moment, I knew my Dad was standing right there.

Happy Father’s Day!