Diary of a Mad Hippie~Greg’s Story (Ch. 2)

Dear Diary.   Sigh.  No, no, scratch that.  Dear journal.  Nope, that’s not gonna work either.  Oh, who am I kidding?  This is an exercise thrust upon me by a court appointed counselor, of sorts, who thinks I need to face my past in order to improve my future.  To me it’s just an empty notebook, blank pages of paper that mock me.  I know who I am, that should be all that matters.  But the judge decided my fate, and I should be grateful, because heaven knows it could have been worse.  Much worse.  Should have been, as a matter of fact, but that’s beside the point.  I suppose I should be relieved to avoid jail time, but to me this is another kind of punishment, a punishment of the worst kind, the kind that never lets you rest.  I’ve spent years trying to get away from my past, to forget the hurtful things that have been done to me, and the things I did that hurt others, too.  But my counselor seems to think if things come full circle I’ll be right as rain again, although I have to wonder if I was ever all right, I certainly don’t remember if I was.  However, all this speculating is just getting ahead of myself, when I really need to be behind, about ten years behind, to be exact.

I’ve heard many people say they were born on the wrong side of the tracks, but in my case, I literally was born on the wrong side of the railroad tracks.  There was an invisible line that ran through my town,  although to everyone who lived there it was glaringly obvious.  Our town had no middle class, just the upper crust and my people, the blue collar workers who usually worked for and waited on the others.  My folks and my siblings just accepted their place in life, never questioning the way things were.  I, on the other hand, rebelled against this prejudice from an early age, and when I was as young as six I can remember vowing to become friends with the children of the priveledged in my neighborhood.   Thanks to my natural ability to play sports, I made friends with all kinds.  As a child with drive and ambition, I made every team I ever tried out for. Finally, something for my dad to be proud of. Thankfully, I made the local highschool football team, which is the best thing that ever happened to me, really.  I was never fully accepted by the businessmen and other movers and shakers in Simriver, but I managed to snag an all expenses paid scholarship to Beatnikville University, which would have led me down the right path if I hadn’t taken so many short cuts on my own.  But again, that’s getting ahead of myself.   Before I went to college I experienced the most dramatic  ordeal in my life.  I experienced Tara.

Tara Howle was a girl most definitely from the right side of the tracks, although she was one of the few people I knew who honestly didn’t even acknowledge there was a difference.  She bumped into me in the hall one day, and BAM, I was smitten.  She actually stopped and helped me pick up all the papers that had gone flying, and when she looked me in the eyes, well, I swear my heart stopped right then and there.  Her green eyes were twinkling, and her freckles danced across her nose, it still makes me smile to think of that day.  I didn’t have the nerve to ask her out, but luckily for the both of us, she did it for me. 

 
It was understood that we would keep our  relationship a secret from her parents, but one day her maid spotted the two of us in the park, and she squealed on us, if you can believe that. 

 Now, I may not go into many details here, it’s still painful for me, even after all these years, but Tara and I, we were in love.  Not just ‘puppy, teenaged, today but not tomorrow’ kind of love.  The real deal. 

I think Mr. Howle knew it too, because he was worried.  He owned the factory where my father worked, and he called him into his office one day threatening to take my old man’s job away from him.  Well, with six kids to feed he couldn’t risk losing his job.  I promised to stop seeing Tara, but I didn’t. 

About a month later my Dad was late getting home from work.  He was already working 16 hours a day, but he usually came home directly from work to help my mom with the kids, and  to get some sleep for the next day.  Ma was getting worried, so I took off looking for him, going through the alley he usually cuts through on his way home.  I found him on the ground,  bruised and bloody from the beating he had taken.

  I helped him up, and when he could talk he told me that Mr. Howle had sent him a “message”. The message being to keep me  away from his daughter. Of course there was no evidence that it was her father, he would never do anything to dirty his own hands, but I knew.  So I did what any good son would do, I became cold and heartless around Tara, until she finally thought I didn’t love her anymore.  Then I graduated college and never looked back.  Or so I thought.

College wasn’t so bad.  I actually heard that Tara was at the same university, and I looked for her everywhere, but never did cross paths with her.  I doubt I would have approached her anyway, her father’s threats were always in the back of my mind.

  I discovered there was more to life than football  and I found I had a passion for cuisine while I was there.   I even won a cooking competition once.  I didn’t make many friends, in fact, I didn’t make any.

 

Whew.  I got through the hardest part, that wasn’t so bad.  Now I can figure out where I made the wrong turn that lead me to where I am now.   Let’s see, after graduating college I moved back to Simriver, and bought a tiny trailer on the right side of town. I lied to the landowners, told them I was going to build a “respectable” home (their words, not mine).  Trying to make a point to those that snubbed their noses at me, I suppose.  Only problem is I haven’t given them any reason not to keep snubbing me.  But I want to.

 

 

At first I didn’t mind living on my own, I am used to the solitude, after all, and really embraced the quiet after living in a crowded house my entire childhood.

But after a while, being a man, with a man’s needs, I realized I needed some “companionship”.  I met a broad named Sandy Bruty downtown and we became friends right away, she’s really easy to get to know, but there was no spark.  Maybe that’s why we became such fast friends. Chemistry can really mess up a good friendship.

I returned to my trailer alone and made omelettes for one.  Again.

I tried to entertain myself, but I realized I just wasn’t good company.

In desperation I went to the gym, and I did set eyes on a cute young thing, but didn’t even strike up a converstion with her.  By the time I got up the nerve she was gone.

One night I found myself alone, drinking at the Crypt O Night club, having a pity party for one, as I often did.

When I swear the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up.  It was the hot chick from the gym, and now that I got a closer look at her, I realized I had seen her around on campus, too, Jasmyn something or other. 

 I guess I got my nerve from all the juice I had been drinking, because I asked her to dance right away.

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Not only was she a great dancer, she knew how to let loose and have a good time, too.

Yeah, she was definitely the life of the party that night, just what I needed.

Let’s just say I don’t remember much about that night, but it changed the course of my life forever. 

I had resigned myself to living a solitary, bachelor’s existance, but I had to admit, it was nice having someone around, especially at mealtime.

And let’s face it, she wasn’t hard on the eyes, and she was cheerful and sweet.  Something I hadn’t experience since, well, in a long time. 

I certainly didn’t mind the occasional hanky panky she would give me, either.

Although I saw Jasmyn on and off for a few months, it was nothing serious, atleast as far as I was concerned.  Until one day she showed up with some news.  The kind of news most guys like me dread hearing.  The kind of news that was going to make me a father.

I’d like to say that I did the right thing, that I made an honest woman out of Jazz, but I didn’t.

She did move in though, and we got into a comfortable sort of groove, the two of us.

Usually Jazz was easy to get along with, but those pregnancy hormones, wow.  Every little thing I did got on her nerves, I couldn’t wait for the baby to be born, I mean, it had to get better, right? 

Well, imagine our suprise when we had not one new mouth to feed, but two.  Jazz did turn out to be a good mother, not that I had any doubts  that she would.

You’d think having all those kids in my house growing up I would have had some kind of parenting skills, but I barely knew what end was up in the beginning.

Kids are hearty though, and forgiving.  Luckily they hardly ever remember the mistakes their parents make.

When reality hit me with the births of my son Chance, and daughter Chase, I knew I was going to have to do something with my life.  Hanging around home in my pj’s trying to get a novel to sell wasn’t going to feed my kids. 

I really do love my kids.  I want Chance to grow up admiring his father, not ashamed of him, so I applied for a job with the police force, and believe it or not, I got it.

My kids are my whole life, and if you’d told me that a few years ago I would have laughed in your face. No, kids were definitely not in my plan.  Not that I had a plan. 

These sweet little angels could soften even the hardest hearts.

Jazz and I meant well, but neither of us would win any parent of the year awards.

I do what I can on my own around the house, trying to save every penny for my kids’ futures.

I mean, look at that face.  All you have to do is look at them to know that any sacrifices I make now are worth it down in the road.  Never thought I’d have such a mature thought like that either, but I do.

Well, would you look at that!  Time really does fly when you lose yourself in the past, it’s time for me to get to work, now that I’ve lost my respectable job I have to clean cages to make ends meet around here.  I don’t have anyone to blame for that but myself though, and all that reminiscing will have to wait for another time.  I can hear my car pool pulling up right now, so I’ll write more later.  I actually enjoyed it more than I thought I would.  Heck, I think it might have even been good for me, but don’t tell my counselor I said that.

Gregory

*Authors note:  this is a story based on my dueling legacies, the first part is called Diary of a Mad Hippie. Sorry if it’s a little too wordy at the beginning, but I had a lot of explaining to do!   Also, the trailer was made by a very good friend of mine, debralee1968 and one just like it can be found here.
Also, I’m trying to decide between Live Journal and Word Press, any opinions? Thanks!
Thanks for reading!