Wondering about my family

It was another night of karaoke last night -- a night I'd rather simply forget. We'll get to that at another time, if ever. Let's just say I'm about done with stupid people and even stupider behavior.

My evening -- my day, in fact -- was pretty much consumed with thoughts of my wife and children. They left for Las Vegas on Friday, and they should be in Vegas today. That is, if they made it, which I pray for from the bottom of my heart.

Here is where the dichotomy rests between my wife and myself. I care about her and miss her and love her and the children more than they can ever imagine. It has taken me a long time to rebuild that love and those feelings. They were gone for some time, and I know without a doubt that was the most patently false emotion I could have ever exhibited to them. I did, however, and damaged my relationship to the point that I do not know where it lies with the both of us. I know how I feel, but how I feel may matter little to how she feels.

The point I'm trying to make here is that I am worried about my family. Did they make it to Las Vegas? Are they OK? Did they have any problems? If we were together, I'm sure Cherie would have called me and told me everything about their trip, and I would have had a chance to talk to the kids. I would tell Cherie I love her and miss her, and she'd understand. I'd tell the kids the same, and, well, I know they would understand.

Now? I don't live with them. I could worry about them for hours, and they'd never feel a need or twinge of desire to call me. I'm not a priority, and have not been for quite some time. I wonder if she thinks that I think of her as a priority, her and the children. There is a possibility the answer is no, just by virtue of my actions. I haven't seen the kids in six months now, and perhaps that's why she thinks perhaps I don't care.

The fact is, I do. I care more than anyone can possibly imagine. Maybe I have not shown them that I do. Nevertheless, I called her twice yesterday and once today. Not even a simple text message saying they're OK. I have absolutely no idea what to think. I have to assume they got there OK, that if something happened, somebody in some camp would call me. Then again, her family is often as communicative as a wall in the best of times, so it's hard to get information from them. Combine that with some perceived friction between the two camps (the only friction would come from them, and not from me) and Cherie's poor communication skills with me, and, well, my imagination can only think of so many possibilities.

This is why I have to get out of here and get to my family. It's obvious I'm not on anyone's radar here. Nevertheless, that doesn't change the fact that I love and care for them and miss them terribly. I was thinking to myself last night, if I never could ever sing another note, I would trade that just for the chance to be back with them.

That's what matters most. We'll see if I hear from them today. I'm not counting on it.

Some good news

Cherie and the kids are on their way to Las Vegas. That's a good thing. I hope and pray that they are safe.

Another good thing happened today. I called a friend of Cherie's who lives in Las Vegas, and hopefully, they'll be able to connect. I certainly hope so. I spoke to Danita for just a few minutes, and I hope she got the sense that I love Cherie and the kids and just want them to enjoy some time with an old friend.

I have prayed for so long for something good to come out of something I do. Last week, I tried the same thing, and it didn't work out. I wonder if Heavenly Father knows how much I wanted it to work out and how much I want this to work out.

What am I expecting? See last post. Nothing, really. Oh, I would love for something to happen, but I can't set myself up for disappointment. Now, if something did, something positive, well, you haven't seen me as happy as I could be in a long, long time.

And that's the thing. Even though I am expecting nothing, I would be lying to you if I said I WANTED nothing. Because I do. The whole wide world knows that. Yes, including Cherie. At least I think she knows that.
It's not my place to force that emotion. All I can do is keep doing what I've been doing, which I think is the right thing. I think I'm doing the right thing. I think the Lord would tell me if I wasn't.

I can only hope that Cherie and the kids get to see Danita. There's only so much I can do. If it is the Lord's will, and He knows what I want, they will meet, have a good conversation, and the Lord will take it from there.

I only hope I did my part.

Showing my love

Cherie and the kids are headed to Las Vegas tomorrow. It's a trip largely funded by me, as I gave her $300 in cash to do it.

I don't care. That's the best way I can show my love for her now, even if it's not exactly the way I want to show my love to her and the children. There are other ways, I am sure, and I will practice those ways from now on. There wasn't much of a reaction when I helped her. I didn't expect one. There was a time when I did, but I no longer do. It's not something I count on. If I'm doing something just for a reaction, then I'm not really showing unconditional love. Don't get me wrong. It's what I want. I want her to tell me thank you, in a way that's more than cursory. I want her to feel something, the way I feel.

Perhaps she does, even if she doesn't tell me. It doesn't matter. As Heavenly Father is my witness, I will keep doing what I must to show her and the children I love them. I no longer expect anything in return. I'm going to keep showing them my love, no matter what.

I'm listening to a song by Josh Turner now, "Another Try." It's an entire video played in reverse, and the song came out not long after I moved to Carson City a year ago. I thought the song was absolutely appropriate for what I was going through then, and what I'm going through now. If I ever have another chance with my wife and children, I will cherish it as the most precious thing on Earth. In a way, that's how I have to treat my marriage now, even if we're not together. It was, and still is, and can be, the most precious thing on Earth. I have to treat it as such. Every time I look at the ring on my finger, I have to treat it as such, even if she does not.

Yes. Even if she does not.

My mind is full of a lot of things right now. The days are moving too quickly now, as one week flows nearly effortlessly into another week. As it does, however, my children are growing older and their memories of me fade every time I'm not there. I wish the days would slow down, as if the days were a record and I changed the rpm's.

I need to make a plan for myself. It does not include newspapers or even California. It includes being with my wife and children, and earning more money than they need, and being fit, so that I can race with my son and daughter and chase them around without huffing and puffing. I have to get a serious plan going.

Meanwhile, my wife and children are beginning the long trip to Vegas tomorrow. I hope they are safe, and I love them and pray for them all. May Heavenly Father bless all of you.

If she ever reads this blog, I hope she understands that what I've written comes from the bottom of my heart. I've felt this way for a long, long time, and that's God's honest truth.

George Strait

We're going to pay homage to a true country music superstar today. George Strait. Yep, the pride of Poteet, Texas, has been in my head all day. Chiefly, his song "Overnight Male."

Never heard of the song? Well, it was on one of the cheesiest movies made of all time, "Pure Country," that came out in like 1993. I remember going to the theater with my friend Ross, the man who introduced me to country music for the first time. Bad acting, even worse writing, but the soundtrack is epic for anyone who loves country music, and more specifically, George Strait. My favorites? Couple of songs that never made it to the radio: "Overnight Male," and "Baby Your Baby," two songs that share a quintessential Strait trademark: wordplay and puns. The opening strains of "Overnight Male", with their steel-guitar riffs, are a favorite. "The King of Broken Hearts" is a good one, too.

I watched "Pure Country" last night and almost watched it a second time again, if it wasn't so late.
The music has a way of staying in your head. Like I said: Great music, cheesy movie.

I've always wondered about George Strait. I saw him in concert once when I was about 19, and was working at the arena in my hometown. Dude just sits there and sings. Barely even plays the guitar. Doesn't dance, doesn't scream, doesn't do much banter with the audience. And, in most cases, sounds a lot like he does on the radio. The guy's in his mid-50s, and women still go ga-ga over him. I happen to think he's a class act.

Not sure why I'm writing about the man, except I know I'll go home and listen to the CD again.

It does strike me a bit odd that I'm not writing about emotional issues. They're in my head. I just don't have to write about them all the time. I love you guys.

My real job

It's a funny thing, going out and trying to rediscover yourself.

Because even as you do, there are people who might criticize you for the way you feel about how you're going about it.

I had a good weekend. Really, I did, even if I didn't get much sleep. Singing both Friday and Saturday night, with a day out on the lake sandwiched in between both evenings.

I had a good time. Hadn't been out on a boat probably in about five years or so. Tried to even cast a few lines in the water. Hadn't done that since I was probably about 10 years old. Don't even know how to do it.
Had a good time at karaoke, but there remains one big thing I am vehemently opposed to: the absolute preponderance of alcohol. Why do people feel the need to get blitzkrieged every time they have fun? I mean, how superficial is that?

This brings me to my point. Yes, going out and having fun is not inherently a bad thing. But I have a responsibility, you see. That responsibility, that desire, that want is very, very simple: I need to spend every waking moment I can working on bringing my family back together. I don't want to hear about how that isn't going to happen.

I owe it to my children, my wife, my family and myself to do what I can to get my family back. Now, I ask you: what on Earth is wrong with that? What's wrong is not working every day to build trust and confidence and love in my wife and my children. I need to do that every single day, even if I'm doing something that nobody but myself notices.

I don't have a choice. The Lord has told me to do exactly that, even if it isn't recognized by the people who need to recognize it. I feel much better about myself knowing I've helped someone than if I just put it away, and cave into my own desires. Those desires are temporary ones, not long-term ones that will have long-lasting positive consequences.

Because every time I go out and sing, and every time I waste time thinking about what my beloved is doing, without doing something for her or my children in the process, they lose out. My children lose out.

I want us back together. I love my wife and children. And I will not rest until they know that unequivocally.

Does this mean I won't go out and have fun? No. But as I have fun on a personal level, I must not forget what really matters. My wife and children are the ones that really matter. And I would give up everything on this Earth to be with them.

That's my real job.

Existentialism

Well, it appears, despite all of my efforts (which, if I had a ton of money, would have been a lot more) failed. No Las Vegas trip for Cherie and the kids.
I tried as best as I could, considering the circumstances.

I failed. In my wife's eyes, I failed. I would have failed under almost any circumstance.

Then I called my wife and told her that I could not help her, despite my best efforts.

No reaction. The only thing she said was that she thought that I was disappointed. Well, of course I am. Not a single word of encouragement. Nothing. I wonder if she would have been appreciative if I actually was able to help her. I doubt that as well.

I wasn't expecting much, you know. Not at this point, at least. People have a different view of things, to be sure, but I know what's up. I haven't always been kind. Most people I know, if not EVERYONE I know, believe that I have tried.

They would be wrong. Dead wrong. Yes, I have tried. But I know there's a part of me that shouldn't expect a medal just for doing one good deed. It has to be time after time, after time. Nobody has to know that but me.
I call it existentialism, because it still hurts not to be appreciated for the work I'm trying to do.
I am looking to move closer to my family, and have gotten a very late start on that.

People have a right to wonder if I'm being trampled on by someone I love. They're entitled to their opinion. It's because I know the truth -- that I was not good to my wife and children for a time -- that makes me believe that if I do things for them on a consistent basis, perhaps their false walls will evaporate, and they will realize what they lost is someone who generally loves them and cares for them.

There are plenty of times I've thought, even in the last few minutes, that I've wanted to fire off something mean to her, even mildly so. I won't do it. It's not about getting even. It's about showing someone love, care, concern and compassion, regardless of what they've done.

Even if they themselves have none for me or refuse to accept it. Existentialism on their part? Of course. It doesn't mean I have to do the same.

Wanting to help someone I love

Today was at once euphoric and maddening. My wife's father-in-law died on Mother's Day (see below) and immediately that evening, the wheels started spinning in my head.

I called a good friend of mine, Gordon, who has been as staunch an ally as there ever has been since my wife and I split. I told him that I needed to do something for my wife in her time of need, to make her know she was loved despite everything going on in her life. I've learned that people often just want to be acknowledged, to be loved and know that others are thinking of them.

Gordon has always been in my corner. He has talked with me for hours about my situation, helped me understand things and see things in a different light than I might see them. He's a very matter-of-fact person, and I appreciate him for that. He's not as touchy-feely as I am, but he doesn't need to be. I respect him for the man he is, and for the guidance he gives. He and his wife love my entire family, and I love theirs. I'll never be ashamed to say that.

Anyway, when my wife told me she wanted to visit her family in Vegas for the funeral, I told Gordon. Immediately, the wheels began spinning. What could I do? I don't get paid for a spell, so that was ruled out. Almost immediately, Gordon's wife Camille said she'd send something to Cherie. That eventually morphed into a conversation that I had with Camille about hooking Cherie up with some friends of hers whom I know who now live in Las Vegas. I cannot tell you how wonderful it felt when I emailed this individual, who knows us both, and she emailed me back and said she'd like to get in touch with Cherie. I was so happy, I told Camille, and I have to say, I was just about crying when I did.

Then I got a call from Cherie, and she said she couldn't get to Las Vegas, for a variety of reasons.
I need to help my wife do this. No matter what she did to me, no matter what has transpired, my wife and children need me. I need to find a way to make this work. At the very least, I have to try.
With the same happiness I received when I contacted Cherie's friend, I must use that same level of energy to make it work so that she can be with family during this time. It has everything to do with loving my wife, and very little to do with us returning to each other. I want to be all about helping someone I love, selflessly.

At this moment, I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I have to figure something out, or work hard trying. I have to make the effort. She has to see that I'm making the effort. When people love each other, they do anything they can to show their love, even if they don't fully succeed. That's exactly how I feel right now. I have to make an effort, and God will help me, I am sure. He knows exactly how I feel, even if my wife does not. It does not matter. I have to try and do this for myself, for my wife. Her reaction to it is inconsequential at this point.

To all the people who might suggest that I'm letting her walk over me, I ask: Have you ever loved someone so much that you would do anything for them, regardless of what they do? If you have, then you understand. If you haven't, then you never will understand.

A bittersweet day

My wife's father-in-law died yesterday. On Mother's Day.

I never knew Jerry very well, but he was a pretty good conversationalist. He was one of these guys who knew a little bit about everything -- whether it was replacing the carburetor on a 309 Chevy, the "old days" in Nye County when his dad, a sheriff's deputy, would be the only guy patrolling the streets, or Jerry's thoughts about crowds -- he downright hated them -- and that's why he and my wife's mother lived out "over the hump" in Pahrump, Nevada, about 70 miles down a treacherous two-lane ribbon of road west of Las Vegas in a tidy trailer not far from Jerry's parents.

I'll never forget the day Jerry showed my stepdaughter his heart -- you could literally see it beating inside his chest -- and how Destiny always said she "saw Jerry's heart beeping." That was priceless.

My thoughts are with my wife and children today, as they are always, but even more so. I had been conversing with her earlier the previous day via text -- and my texts weren't particularly kind.

Sometimes I'm of two minds -- I love my wife so much, that I often feel the need to "put her in her place" about how she has treated me.

The truth is, however, that anyone who feels the need to do that, should they themselves be put in their place, especially if they don't know the whole situation. My wife didn't know her father-in-law died until late Mother's Day, after my stupidity of text-messages, but it just goes to show that it's much better to give of yourself, no matter what you may feel the need to "get off your chest."

What if my own son or daughter had gotten gravely ill that night? What if my beloved wife had been in a car crash this morning? How would I have felt about the crap I subjected her to the day before?

I can tell you, I've felt terrible about the treatment of my wife before, but I would never be able to exist on this Earth if I had "gotten things off my chest" and those things would have happened hours later.

It just goes to show you -- and me -- that we can never take any single day for granted, or any person we love for granted. They may disappear when you least expect it, or when you're at the moment when you are least prepared.

With that, I will send my love out to my wife and the members of the Havey/Anderson/Crossman/Fleetwood/Eaton clan in Las Vegas, Nevada. My heart goes out to each of you this day. And I will try to remember, no matter how much I feel the need to get things off my chest, to show the people I love, real love, no matter what they do or what day of the week it happens to be.

Rest in peace, Jerry Fleetwood. There's a whole group of people who will miss you and love you and know you will be waiting for them on the other side.

To my beloved wife and children, bless you as well. May the Lord look upon you this day and smile, and give you the support and strength you need this day, and in the days to come.

I love you all, and though I am not there, my heart and my mind are.

Much Too Young (To Feel This Damn Old)

First off, let me begin by wishing my beloved a Happy Mother's Day. I hope whatever plans you have are good ones. I love you.
Saturday, for a guy who doesn't drink, had the pleasure of singing "Unwound," by George Strait and "The Drinkin' Bone" for my friends at Gary's Place, at least one of whom owes me money. In case you're wondering, the title of this particular post refers to one of Garth Brooks' first breakout hits from his self-titled debut album, which came out a year before "No Fences" and the "Friends in Low Places" tune we all know well. I happen to think that "Much Too Young" is his best song he's ever recorded. It's raw and true, and for a time, made a mainstream hitmaker out of underground country superstar Chris LeDoux, the pride of Kaycee, Wyoming. But it also demonstrates how I feel. Bars and this nightlife are a relatively new scene for me. And by 3 a.m. this morning, I was feeling much like the song's title.
Nevertheless, I had a great time at Gary's. The VJ, Ally, is very nice and a little too accommodating to me in a bar when dozens want to sing. I felt bad for some others, including a dude who owes me money. I found it funny that I think I actually hit a groove as the evening was progressing. But I'm kinda old for this stuff, you know? Even if the fastest drink I had was a Roy Rogers.
I had to feel a little awkward when someone came up to me and said, "I could listen to you sing all night." I could have sang all night.
I almost did. I was spry enough to go home, though, to my friend's house, crash on his couch and repeat a ritual I've done every night for more than a year, by praying to Heavenly Father for myself, my wife and my children, that they were safe and sound during this, the early darkness of Mother's Day.
Happy Mother's Day to my mom, my wife, my sister, my dad's wife, and even to my kids, who were brought into this world by my wife. I hope your day is as restful as my previous day was not.

Hope for the future from a Pink lady

The more I write this, the more whomever stumbles across it by "googling" my name might discover about me. Generally, I'm an open book, but on a public forum such as this, I'm going to keep it close to the vest. Right now, I feel like I'm standing on the steps of Philadelphia's Independence Hall, a la "Rocky," and talking to the masses, and no one can hear me. That's OK.
Nearly a year ago, the woman I love added a rather crude "ring-back" tone on her cell phone. It was the wildly popular "So What" by Pink. I listened to this song over and over when I would call my beloved. For a long time, I thought it was a way she was trying to diss me, as if to say the same thing Pink was in her song. The lyrics:

I guess I just lost my husband
I don't know where he went
So I'm gonna drink my money
I'm not gonna pay his rent (nope)

I've got a brand new attitude,
And I'm gonna wear it tonight
I'm gonna get in troubleI wanna start a fight
Na na na na naI wanna start a fightNa na na na naI wanna start a fight[Chorus]

So, So what I'm still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don't need you
And guess what
I'm havin more fun
And now that were done
I'm gonna show you tonight
I'm alright
I'm just fine
And you're a tool

Anyway, you get the drift. That lady has some serious issues, be they real or simply preening for the cameras and the videos and stuff. Much of the song has to do with her breakup with motocross star Carey Hart.
Interestingly enough, I think Hart appears in the video for the song.

And just this week, I was in a cafe eating lunch when I came across an Associated Press article about Pink and her estranged husband. I was kind of surprised to see what she had to say. An excerpt:

AP: There’s been talk that you and Carey Hart are getting back together and even remarrying. Is that true?Pink: I don’t know where the remarriage thing came from. That kind of came out of the air. We are definitely back together.
AP: What did you take away from your time apart?
Pink: We try to protect ourselves from being fully in love and fully open and fully vulnerable, and really all we’re doing is protecting ourselves from love and real love and the opportunity to really learn and grow with another person, so it’s actually really detrimental, and you think it’s helping.
AP: So your advice would be ...
Pink: Dive in. Absolutely, it’s not going to kill you.
AP: So would you remarry?
Pink: We never really legally got divorced. Paperwork for both of us is really annoying (laughs). So we’re choosing to be together. Our role models are Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon and Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn — people who just choose to be together every day because they want to be there. And labels have never been our thing, so, we’re just diving into that empty swimming pool, headfirst.

You catch that? Sounds to me like she was being untrue to herself and her feelings, and finally realized that. I've had to do the exact same thing. Took me about a year before I finally realized how stupid I was being, and how it was hurting the people I loved the most. When I read that this week, the words just jumped off the page and grabbed me. This was me!

Good for you, Pink. Don't really care for your music, but if you're legit, I have to applaud you for your sentiments. Don't know the reason for the split or the re-connection, or even if the split was for anything more than a publicity stunt. It doesn't really matter.
A note to my beloved might suggest that if some overpaid, overhyped pop star can patch things up in public, two people who certainly love each other can also do the same, under very private circumstances.
Good luck to you, Alecia Beth Moore (Pink's given name). I hope it works out for you and Mr. Hart.

Why bars suck

For the past month or so, I've been hanging out with a guy we'll call "Cowboy." Cowboy is a good guy. My age, and all. When we go out, it's largely like this: I drive over to his house, we chill on the porch, listening to music and talking about life. Cowboy's a lot different than me: He grew up in a part of the country not known for its Western image, yet the guy's got a mouth full of metal from a fall he took riding bulls once. He can rope and ride, and his dream is to own and manage a dude ranch. He's got a bunch of great sayings: "Got 'er licked," is one of my favorites. Dude's got a drawl, wears big belt buckles and always teases me about needing to wear a pair of Wranglers.
Cowboy is a lot different than most of my friends, and I'll tell you why. When we go out, I'm the designated driver. I've never ridden a horse (a camel once in Egypt) but never a horse. I don't own a cowboy hat, though I want to, and I love country music.
Anyway, last night, we went out with another buddy whom we met the previous weekend. Big boy, this guy. Built. Kinda scary. But cool, you know?
Cowboy and I went out to a few bars near the small town where we live. And now for the reason for my post.
Before about two months ago, I had been in about two or three bars in the previous decade since. I don't like them. The only reason why I go lately is because there's music there. Most of the people in bars are superficial, it's too freaking loud and you can't hear anyone or talk to anyone unless you yell. The music's too loud, generally the house band sucks (as it did on this night) and well, let's just say, it isn't my scene.
The only reason why I would ever enter a bar became obvious to me after a couple of different stops last night. If there isn't a microphone where I can sing, there's no point. I mean, I don't drink, and well, I'm not looking for anyone, either tonight or next year. I know where my heart lies, and it isn't with some skimpy-dressed chick wearing pants that barely cover a place where the sun don't shine. Nor is it a place where the dudes make farting jokes when you're in the bathroom or always look for some can of whoop-(bleep) to open up on some other dude.
Yes, I'm older, but c'mon. You walk into most places like that, where the jukebox is playing a blaring version of "Hip Sway" and expect to be taken seriously by anyone? Sorry, but no dice.
Believe me, I'd rather be in my bed alone once it hits about 11:30 p.m. or so. I have no tolerance for places like that, unless there's a VJ spinning CDs with graphics so you can sing to a song.
I guess I just figured out that bars aren't my thing, unless I can tear it up on the microphone. They are the most superficial places on Earth.
Besides, usually by the end of the night, Cowboy and I are rolling to Jack-in-the-Box at 3 a.m. and wondering why we were out so late. It's not like you can even have any kind of quality conversation with anyone when your eardrums are throbbing and you're stepping over someone's spilled Coors Light on your way to the bathroom for the gazillionth time. And when you're the only sober person in the place, like I am, it just becomes all the more stupid.
It's like watching a movie of someone's life unraveling in slow motion, and you can do nothing to stop it. That's when you realize the words "Last Call" are dreadful for even the sober designated drivers. It's a comical vignette to see bouncers screaming this, frazzled bartenders pleading for you to "drink up," while the taxicabs and cops form a long blue line outside of said bar. It's like a tragicomedy.

Blowin' the doors off

I thought about starting this blog about a year or so ago, I guess. I'm into Facebook, I do IM, and I'm not really good at posting photos/videos/links. It's gonna be a little text-heavy for a while.
I started this blog because I like to write, and as the title suggests, I've always got a song in my head or am listening to music. Right now, the song in my head is "Rock Around the Clock" by Bill Haley and the Comets.
It's late, and I've gotta pick a song out for a big competition in a little more than a week. So I'll get back to this in a while. Welcome. Share. Discuss. Chat. Or do none of the above. I'll try to get to more about me in a bit.