People in my Life

Most of what I write about are my memories and sometimes just my thoughts in general. So far it has been very uplifting and I am proud to say that my stories have been read over four hundred times so that’s something. This story probably should have come first, but Kevin Trost had been urging me to write for years so naturally I made him my first project. Trost was such a likable person and I have been writing about him for a while, so I chose to go the easy way. I've written about others that I care deeply for and still live on in my heart. More are to be written. This next person had almost the most influence on my life as a whole. This is my tribute to my dad, Big Jim Carr.

Big Jim Carr was a man's man. He was an Army veteran and lifelong sign man. He had more brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces than I can count. Anyone who met him didn't forget him. He was Uncle Jim in family functions and he usually was the life of the party. Back in the day, I had no idea that drinking and driving was even a thing because my dad always had an ice cold can of Miller High Life in a rubber cozy firmly in his crotch area as he drove. He kept a cooler of them whenever he was drinking or at the party and they didn't have the Champagne of Beer! He was a fun drunk but I doubt he was an alcoholic. He definitely drank a lot of beer but he could go days or weeks without it, but, for all that I know, if he was an alcoholic, he set the bar for functionality.

Unfortunately, I don't know a whole lot of his early years, other than he had a huge family, he served as an army mechanic in Okinawa and before he met my mom, he was married with three daughters, Kimberly, Michelle and Christina, who live in Maryland. He never told me anything specific about his life but he was a great father. He taught me the important things like integrity and work ethic. I wish I was a quicker study but he is the one that doesn't allow myself to leave things unfinished and half assed. Independence, that was a big one for him. He claimed that his all time favorite song was the one that the singer sings, "I am a rock/I am an island "*¹.

He met my mother when she was very young and she had a 2 year old son from a previous marriage. She couldn't have been more than 19 or 20, if my math is right. I know my brother Joey was born in 1970 and I was born in 1976, so my father had three daughters that I had no knowledge of their existence because they lived with their mother, and her new husband (his last name was also Carr but no relation), had inherited a stepson and had one natural son with my mother.

My first memories are of us four living in an apartment building off of Roosevelt Blvd. We had car seats as furniture and it was a period in history when children were allowed to go outdoors for the entire day and return when the street lights came on or if you heard your mother's distinct whistle. I remember having a lot of fun as a toddler. My dad's brother, uncle Frank, had a nice sized family and a few years I went to the campgrounds that they vacationed at. Those were good times, also.

In 1980 we moved to a small house on Cumberland street in Kensington. That was a great street to move to at that time. . Kids my age were all around and I made a lot of good friends before I was even 10 years old. My mom's family moved around the same neighborhood so my aunt's and uncle's on her side were all close to my house. Mom and pop stores were on almost every corner. There's no denying that I was not provided a decent upbringing. I can still remember the day that my dad brought home a VCR and the VHS copy of Superman! It was like discovering magic. My dad was one of the first subscribers to HBO, a cable station that was independent and showed movies and their own programming. Commercial free! My dad and I shared a great love for cinema. He introduced me to the Marx brothers, Little Rascals, formerly Our Gang, and Abbott and Costello. My all time favorite movie back then was The Godfather part 2, and I remember him keeping me home from school and taking me to see Goodfellas. Or another time when I was younger and my parents "made" me go to the movies with them and they wouldn't tell what movie until we got there and it turned out to be Return of the Jedi! I forgot all my previous complaints and watched in awe as Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader struggled through their mess. Such memories!

Back to my dad. The man was old school, up before the roosters and wasting no sunlight in order to provide. When we lived on Cumberland street, he owned not one but two Chevy Nova's, one blue and one orange, and he was constantly fixing one or the other. We always got to where we were going, the Jersey shore, Dorney park, Great Adventure, Dutch wonderland and even Gettysburg a few times and also the renaissance faire one time. He eventually upgraded to "the brown bomber", a Dodge something with four doors and a busted motor mount. The car shook like a Sherman tank but it ran. Later on in his life he was able to acquire his first luxury vehicle; a ruby red Lincoln town car with a sunroof. He managed to own it for almost two years before a drunk driver with no insurance totaled it right in front of our house. He leased Ford vehicles after that. The first car that I ever had he bought off of our boss for one hundred dollars, a Ford Tempo. He helped me buy my second car and helped me lease a Ford minivan when times were good and my family was in its infancy. I had landed a Teamsters job with my father in law and was making bank. Opioids and substance abuse disorders took the job and vehicle away. With the Grace of God, I was allowed to keep my family.

Now, I've written about my brother but not my sisters and the reason for that is that I had no clue that I even had sisters until I met them as a preteen. I was not happy to say the least. I was happy with my brother and when he started getting in trouble and going away, I enjoyed being an only child. Who were these sisters?! Well, unbeknownst to me, most of my dad's family knew my sisters and I was just a little miffed that this secret was kept from me. So I acted out, like a typical spoiled brat, and I did whatever I could to sabotage any bond between. I have come to regret all of my actions having 20/20 hindsight. I could make a list but it wouldn't be worth it. My relationship with my sisters are strained and estranged but I hold no I'll will against them and forgive not only my childhood offenses, but my adult ones as well. I offer no excuses, only humility.

I realize that this seems to be more about me than my dad, but this is only foreshadowing. My dad looms large in my life. Just a look from him or a word and he would have me crying my eyes out from guilt and shame. He held that sway over me my entire life. He also did his best with raising my brother, with some difficulties, but I came to realize that there was no hand book or instruction manual for raising an increasingly angry teenager who seemed hell bent on recklessness. My dad did things that I didn't agree with at the time but it is funny how God works because I now know the exact feeling and I thank him for showing me what not to do as far as dealing with emotional issues.

Now, having unloaded all of that, I have to talk about myself some more because I blamed him for my sickness. It's a deep subject to explore the ins and outs of my rationale but I felt like I was in pain and ultimately opioids was what I turned to to unburden/burden myself to relief and numbness. That’s a pathetic excuse but that’s how it happened. I also convinced myself that I had to punish. Punishment became my go to excuse until I realized that I was taking poison and hoping that it would hurt someone else.

My dad came from a large, working class, borderline poor, family. But he was a go getter. He became an auto mechanic and then spent over 30 years making and installing signs of all sorts. I asked him once why he wanted to be a sign maker and he said to me, “I want for people to say, ‘ Wow, how did they get that sign there.’, I want to be the one who does it without anyone knowing.” He could figure out how to put any sign anywhere and he would build the sign and the rigging with pulleys and counterweights and would achieve the improbable. When I would ask him how we were going to do something I didn't see possible he would always say, "We're going to do it like how the Egyptians built the pyramids; leverage and gravity." He was rich with one liners. I once asked him if he had any money and he said to me, "well, if I do then I am wearing somebody else's pants." It would take me a few minutes to stop laughing.

I had the privilege of working with my dad as my second job ever, Sign-a-Rama. Driving with him wasn't always fun but I realized that even though we barely really knew each other, we held a lot of the same beliefs and morals. He drove a work van through during this time, ladders, tools, the works. We lived right behind Kensington and Allegheny and the neighborhood was in decline. He had to rent a garage about a mile from the house for a while. When that fell through he would park it in the bank parking. He came up with a rig that sealed and secured everything and only he knew the combination to disable. He was a genius when it came to stuff like that.

I am going to hit reverse and take us back to Cumberland street. The late 80s I was hanging out with kids who didn't like to go to school. Me, trying to fit in and be cool, I open my mouth and tell everyone to come to my house in the morning and because my parents were working, we'd be safe from police and truancy officers. The only snag was that if a bucket truck pulled up outside, everyone would have to haul ass out of the back door into my backyard that connected with other yards that had side alleys. That was a sight and happened maybe twice.

During that everything seemed pretty normal. We went to Wildwood every summer with my mom's family. My brother would disappear and then get home passes and his coming home and being away just seemed, I guess advantageous for me because at times I felt like an only child, and was treated as such. We'd go to parties for everything and always have a good time. Super Bowl parties were the best. My dad would spend days on gambling opportunities. The guests of these parties were all longtime friends of my dad so by halftime the poker table would be put. As soon as I was old enough, he would let me run the games. Gave him more time to play poker. I can't remember the stories but they were epic. My cousin by marriage, Brandon, was allowed to attend his first superbowl because he was seven months older than me but it was always a lot of fun. He told me on of the funniest stories about the host that year, Johnny Fisk. This guy was a drinker with very little tolerance but could hang a long while. Well, the story goes that he had this dog and by the 3rd quarter he was bombed. So he starts feeding his dog beer. The dog licks it up for about 30 to 45 minutes. So now John is dosing off in his chair. Suddenly, the dog lifts its hind leg and proceeds to piss, right on John's leg! John wakes up as the dog is shaking it off and goes ballistic!! He starts hitting his dog with his slipper, screams at the dog to get away from him, then reverses course and tells the dog to get back over there for some more slipper beating. The entire house is laughing like crazy so John gets pissed at them and drunkenly kicks everyone out. People were still laughing all the way home and at the next half dozen superbowl parties. It was decided that I could go the next year since I missed that event, but each party held its own funny story. One of my proudest moments was when I had the ways and means to take him to the annual Army/Navy college football rivalry at Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia. It was spectacular. Of course we sat on the Navy side when we were Army fans since my dad was in the army. That was the same year that the fencing broke and a few cadets or plebes fell and were injured and they curbed the selling of alcohol during the games.

My dad contracted leukemia. They think it was from when back in the old days the mechanics would wash with gasoline or turpentine or something that eventually caused cancer. He fought it for almost a decade before it finally took him. The last 18 months of his life I was sentenced and served my back time from probation in county jail. It was not a fun or proud time for me.

After about 14 months my dad visited me for the first time ever. He visited a total of five times after that. The last time he visited me was about two weeks after he had a minor stroke. I was called to the visiting room and was floored to see him. He looked exactly the same that I remember him his whole life, he was just a little smaller now. His partial paralysis was slightly visible and I remember I told him that I only had less than a month before I was out and he told me not to worry, he's got a few good years left in him. He asked me if I minded a short visit today and I told him how thankful I was that he came but that I totally understand and I actually couldn't believe he was there.

We started talking back and forth and before we knew it the hour was up. I remember the animation and color and joy that slowly took back control of his face and how he looked a thousand times better than when came in. I told him to try and hang in there and I would be home soon. We hugged and we told each other how much we loved one another and then he left. Our next meeting took place in church and his earthly remains being returned to the Earth in the same plot my brother lay in. I was granted a 12 hour furlough to attend my father's funeral. The irony of my dad being put with my brother for eternity is not lost on me. They spent too much time disagreeing with each other that it's almost poetic that they lie together.

I can never express just how blessed I was to get to see my father and receive his forgiveness before he departed. How he made it to and through that last visitation was a quantifiable miracle. I don't think he knew that he would go so soon but I believe he wanted to make sure that we said goodbye.

I wish I could be more like my dad. He left some mighty shoes to fill. There was nothing that the man could do at an expert level. He was almost as saintly as my mom. I wish I could be more like her, too. They are resourceful, independent, never-say-die people, up with the sun and in bed by 9PM. Maybe I am different from them because of my own choices and am now at a point in my life when I am not certain of anything. My dad was certain. My mom still is, every day. The memories of the two of them together are priceless. They fit. I don't know how else to explain it but they were each other's greatest strengths and they loved fiercely, one another, me, and everyone that would let them. I am far from perfect and I had two remarkable role models for parents, I think that’s why I am as hard on myself. Keep it simple. That’s what my dad would tell me. He’d tell me to snap out of it. Dear father, if only it was that easy. Maybe one day. I think that I am back on track again. For what, who knows, but at least it’s moving and my dad is proud of me.

In all reality, I could probably write volumes about just my mom and dad, the lessons I learned from them, their histories and such. This is probably the longest essay that I've written and I hesitate to publish it because I feel that they deserve so much more. But, if you read this far I will thank you kindly and I hope this was either entertaining or informative in any way, shape or form. I feel like a debt is owed and this is my form of cryptocurrency. Enjoy it while you can. I will.

Thank you and God bless you all.

*¹Simon and Garfunkel "I am a Rock" 1965