Today would have been my grandmother Hazel Clarke's 101st birthday. She was a very eccentric woman who probably had more influence on my life than my mother did. Grandma Hazel was very active until her final few months. She was extremely outspoken. She liked being around children- children at the mall, her 2 grandchildren, and her great-granddaughter Allie. I'm pretty certain she was the reason my parents had me so soon after they married- at the time, Grandma Hazel was 60 and had no grandchildren to brag about. She died 3 days after her 84th birthday, much younger than her older sister Doris (who died 4 years later at age 98) and her youngest sister Mollie (who died last November at age 92).
My father, her only biological child, died 4 months after she did, at age 60. Neither of them lived to see the 21st Century. My father thought it would be all computers and spaceships by now. He may have gotten the computer part right. There aren't as many room-size or desktop computers as there were in the late 1990s, but there are far more laptop computers- and smaller notebook computers- and even smaller tablet computers, which are used for reading as well as internet stuff. And now most cellphones could qualify as computers- especially I-phones and Android phones (whose Google-created OS uses the same basic premise as the Ubuntu Linux OS on which this blog is being written).
About 8 days ago, I found a dead shark near my residence (echoes of what my father caught while fishing at Jacksonville Beach some 65-70 years ago). Thankfully I didn't find any of that shark's relatives swimming near the beach yesterday. The waves were rough enough to knock me down a few times.
Last weekend, I ended my 9 month computer drought by purchasing a used laptop. I get free wi-fi in my building, and now I have time and means to put photos, blogs, updated family trees, and stuff online without being at the mercy of the local libraries. Now hopefully, I can start searching for better paying employment, less expensive housing (after beach season is over), and maybe find that special someone or reconnect with old friends. But I don't want to spend too much time online- like certain relatives who were completely computer illiterate when my grandmother and father were still alive.
Today is Father's Day. I haven't celebrated this event in a long time, as my father died in 1995. At this point, I don't know that he would be speaking to me were he still alive. When my father was my age (40), he was married for 4 years, had a toddler (me) and a newborn (my sister). My mother stayed at home, and it would be 5 more years until her alcoholism got out of control. At 40, my father had a well paying job with computers at the Chidlaw Building (then an annex of Ent AFB), and was 3 years away from retiring from the Air Force. The family had a nice house on Russell Circle in the Rustic Hills neighborhood of Colorado Springs. But 37 years later, Mom and Dad are long gone. My sister is about to be divorced for the second time. Her college age daughter is not on speaking terms with her. Her soon-to-be-ex-husband is a raging pill addict who stole her medicine and the medicine of their special needs son. And at 40, I have no family, no house, no decent paying job, no car, no computer even. It's debatable whether Colorado Springs or New York is a better place to live. But both have unemployment well above the national average. Due to student loan bills from the 1990s, I have no chance of ever finishing college, much less earning the $30-40K per year (unadjusted for inflation) that my father was earning in 1975. But I never survived a Viet Cong attack. And my father never had to deal with homelessness, 15 plus years of poverty, or an ongoing war that started with an attack 6 miles from his residence.
But I've been out of the shelter for 6 weeks now, and I get to enjoy seeing the ocean, beach, and a wildlife refuge on the hour-plus commute from a SRO that takes over half my income.
Today is June 6, 2009, the 65th anniversary of D-Day. None of my ancestors served in the European theater of World War 2 (my grandfather Richard Faith Sr. worked in an airplane factory at the time while my other grandfather George F. Clarke was an MP at a POW camp in Sheffield, PA). But my father Donald Clarke served at an Air Force Base in Evreux-Fauville, Normandy from 1960-64. Ironically, in the early 1960s, he stumbled onto the Normandy coast during one of his leaves and witnessed the filming of The Longest Day. Ironically, while I knew the story of his witnessing the creation of that film, I didn't know which film it was until I found out the info from a recent delivery order from Alan's Alley video store in Chelsea, which carries the DVD (and who had better not be begging for any more free promos on this blog).
I only had a 4 day workweek this past week because of a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment on Friday, June 5. I put in nearly the maximum hours allowed for a 5 day workweek this week. Between that, exhaustion from carrying a way-oversized item for over 2 hours in Manhattan, severe sinus pressure, and a major eye infection, I spent most of Friday not in the 4th Floor of Coney Island Hospital, but in the Emergency Room. I have had at least 74 visits to either the Group 4, Dermatology, or eye clinics at Coney Island Hospital since 1998. And as of yesterday, I have now had 4 visits to their emergency room- 3 of which have involved painful IV treatments. Yesterday, I got the IV put only to find out 3 hours later that I never needed it in the first place. And because I was not discharged from the emergency room until well after the hospital's pharmacy had closed, I can't even get the medicine they prescribed me until Monday at the earliest.
So naturally, I have spent most of today at home in Brooklyn recovering from sore nose, sore eyes, sore throat, sore left side of my face, and a sore left arm from where the IV was. Facebook being what it is, I posted that I was in the ER yesterday. I got an instant message from one of my sister's friends, Dana Twaddle, whom I haven't seen in person since my father's funeral in 1995. I got the usual concerned call from my sister. I even got into an extended chat with Steve Peak, whom I haven't seen in person since his wrong turn on the 2 train in 1999. The lack of responses from other, more local friends is disheartening. I moved back to New York to be the most alone guy at the holding area of the Coney Island ER? Steve says I should find a wife, but I doubt any sane woman would want someone with all the baggage I have. Right now, I don't even have an emergency contact for work or hospital. While waiting for the test results that drained all that blood out of me, I wondered what would happen if I didn't make it out of there alive. The answer, not much. So much for the last surname descendant of Stillman Clarke.
And to close this totally non-linear blog post, here are the concluding lyrics of the last song recorded by the KLF/Justified Ancients of Mu Mu on this, the 65th anniversary of D-Day and the last year of the very fucked up (and getting worse) first decade of the 21st Century:
O Trinity of love and power!
Our brethren shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe'er they go;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on that perilous sea!
The grace of Lord Jesus Christ be with you all, Amen.
Well folks, the year is almost over. I'm still in a hellish place in Staten Island. I am still working on that novel (excerpts of which are on my MySpace blog). I may have made up with some old friends. And I may be going to a New Year's Eve party in Brooklyn on Wednesday.
If anyone knows how to replace starters on a mid-90s Oldsmobile 88, let me know before I shell out $200+ to register my car (assuming McCloskey Motors even has the documents I need to register that car).
And also, yesterday was the 13th anniversary of my father's death.
Normally, October 1 for me is usually a time to remember the dead, most notably my father Donald G. Clarke who was born on this date in 1935 and who died in 1995. But another thing died yesterday, the New York Sun. This was one of only two newspapers (the other being Brooklyn College's Excelsior) that published any of my sumbissions. Some of my classic retorts to New York's corrupt political culture (and its former leader, Eliot Spitzer) were published there within the last year. But now it is no more, and for the second time in the last 60 years, the New York Sun has set. This pretty much narrows the conservative print voices in this town down to News Corp's New York Post and Wall Street Journal.
I got an e-mail from my sister today. Apparantly she wrote to the President last week. A slightly edited (since she did put down some personal info I would never allow to be passed about on the internet) version of the letter is below...
From: suzanne johnson
Subject: Letter from your cousin (yes this is for real)
To: www.comments@whitehouse.gov
Date: Tuesday, September 23, 2008, 8:13 PM
Well I figured I would write to you while you are still the President. My name is Suzanne Faith Johnson, surname, Suzanne F. Clarke. Through extensive genealogical research by my brother, I found out you are my 3rd cousin. Some people may not believe in you and all that you have done for this country. I am not one of thoes people. I was happy when you won the presidental race 8yrs ago and hate to see you go. Don't let people tell you that you haven't done a good job. They aren't in your shoes and do not have the weight of the country weighing down on their shoulders .
I believe in you!!
One of the other reasons I wanted to write you is because I am a resident if Ripley Tennessee. A state that offers no healthcare to the poor. Don't worry, I am not asking for money, but if you could do anyhting about the Medicaid system here I would greatly appreciate it.
I was in a car wreck 4yrs ago that greatly damaged both knees and my back. I am in need of total knee replacement and epideral blocks for my back. But under the current lack of Medicaid assistance to someone in my situation ( I am unable to work) it looks like I will never again be able to play ball with my son or even walk down the block. I was a brown belt in taekwondo and had to abandon my dream of ever being a black belt.
I am sure you hear sob stories everyday, and some are worse than mine. But I know you believe in Family , so I hope that mabey you might take a second look at this. I lost my mom to cancer in '91 and my dad in '95.from Lou Gehrigs. He served proudly in the United tates Air Force for 25 yrs.and I know he would be proud of the job you have done.
I know I may never hear from you, but I want to wish you the best for the future.And thank you for standing up for us as a country. I believe in you!!
Sincerely,
Suzanne Faith Clarke Johnson
From: comments@whitehouse.gov
Subject:
To: witchywoman103074@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, September 24, 2008, 9:04 AM
On behalf of President Bush, thank you for your correspondence.
We appreciate hearing your views and welcome your suggestions.
Due to the large volume of e-mail received, the White House cannot respond to
every message.
Thank you again for taking the time to write.
For the record, my sister and I are related to President Bush through our great X8 grandparents Thomas Andrews and Hannah Kirby of Middletown, CT. However, my sister's editing ability is almost as bad as our distant cousin's, which may be why the White House internet staff sent her that response.
And in honor of my late father's 73rd birthday, here is a YouTube clip of one of his favorite comedians, Tom Lehrer...
On this date 71 years ago, my father was born. As most people who know me or read this blog already know, he died in 1995, so he won't be having any big bashes to celebrate the big 7-1.
I am sure he would be proud of his 2 grandchildren. Allie is doing well. Jamie is doing well despite his ADD. My sister has significantly recovered from his death.
However, I don't think he would be too pleased with me.
Traditionally, Lent is the 40 days before Easter. Ash Wednesday starts Lent, and many church services symbolize this time of sacrifice and prayer by having ashes on their foreheads. Some think it is their religious duty to have those ashes. Surprisingly, it is not. For Catholics, Ash Wednesday isn't even a holy day of obligation (i.e. a day you have to go to Mass). Those ashes do symbolize death and sacrifice. The old symbolism involved sackcloth and ashes, now, an appropriate might involve the ashes created from the process of cremation. I can remark that 10 years ago this month, I saw how much life can be in a pile of ashes- when what was supposed to be a routine ash scattering off the Jacksonville Beach Pier turned into a spiritual experience involving me, my great-uncle Bill Stokes (who died 5 months after that incident), and my great-aunt Gladys Stokes.
My father's final wish was that his ashes would be scattered off the Jacksonville Beach fishing pier he frequented when he was growing up. One time in the 1940s, he was fishing and caught a baby hammerhead shark. We joked 50 years later that the hammerhead's relatives would be looking for him. In late March of 1996, I opened up the plastic box with his ashes. Instead of dropping into the ocean waters below, they flew out of the box like some spirit had been released. As I found out 6 months later during Bill Stokes's ash scattering in Plymouth, MI, this was not a normal occurance.
As far as I know, Gladys Stokes is still well and living outside Myrtle Beach, SC. I haven't heard from her in nearly 5 years due to an ugly family feud that ensued following the death of her oldest daughter (and my father's cousin) Pamala Stokes. I was one of 6 family members that bothered to show up for Pamala's funeral at Tower Hill Presbyterian Church in Red Bank, NJ, in August 2001. But Pamala had a lot of friends, and it was standing room only during her funeral service.
Since Ash Wednesday 2005, my friends have had their own losses to deal with. Jon Koza lost his grandmother a few months ago, and shortly afterwards, his fiancee Dara's grandmother also died. Last week, Diana Pensabene lost her father. Tyrone Griffith lost his 90 year old great-grandfather 5 months ago. Jon and I attended the wake- and despite the sorrow of losing Kinnard Sypher, his family and friends had a very spiritual and uplifting service. It is like Bill Stokes, Pamala Stokes, Mr. Sypher, Mr. Pensabene, and Mrs. Cohen that we will end up eventually. Many are still mourning. But Lent is here to remind us of our pending death, and our renewal in a new life.
And now that this composition is over, I have about an hour to get ready for my usher gig at this afternoon's 4:30PM Mass at St. Pancras Catholic Church in Glendale.
Greetings, again. Again I find some reason to post here, this time for marking what would have been my father's 70th birthday. My father, Donald G. Clarke, was born on this date in 1935 in Jacksonville, Florida. He spent 20 years in the Air Force (during which time he married my mother, and was stationed in France, Vietnam, several places in Texas, and New Jersey).
My father was a bit of an eccentric. He was very detail and goal oriented. He was also stubborn, anti-religious (which is surpising considering how devoutly Catholic my mother was), somewhat bigoted (especially against Vietnamese). He was into computers early in his Air Force career, and made a living selling computers for retailers such as Radio Shack, Dillard's, and Office Max after he retired from the military. He was one of the early users of the internet- operating an online bulletin board to keep touch with his international friends in the 1980s. He later used Compuserve, Prodigy, and AOL before the ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) made him unable to use a computer. I'm sure if Google or Blogger had been around when he was alive, he would have used them.
Despite his computer genius, living with him (compounded with being a Yankee/Westerner forced to live in his retirement home of Memphis, Tennessee) was extremely difficult, and I moved away right after I graduated from high school. He did live to see his granddaughter Allie; but he never lived to see his grandson Jamie, his daughter's first marriage fall apart, his son's descent into bankruptcy and poverty and depression, or the events of 9/11 that occurred 5 miles from his son's 2001 residence. But in his lifetime, he never got to know his great-aunt Sarah, who died in 1966 10 miles from where he was stationed in Ohio, or his Uncle Milton (his father's unknown-until-2001 half-brother), or his grandmother Jeanette (whose family I discovered over the internet in the last 5 years).
But outside of the war on terrorism and several computer upgrades, not much has changed since he died in 1995. He thought 2000 and the following years would be drastically different from the 20th Century. But so far, I don't think they are.
