Monthly Archives: December 2011

Whisper me well

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Location of Florida's Emerald Coast

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Oceans and lakes. Morning looks a certain way on the water. Gulf of Mexico. The southern experience. No matter if Northwest Florida, Alabama, Mississippi even Louisiana.  Sunrise on a new day opens with smells of grasses and pines even salts of the ocean mixed with sounds of life coming alive. Birds flying chirping making sense only to themselves.

Her name was….I called her Jojo.

Looked up to the woman I married, she begged to watch our son. For over seven years watched her grow. Returning home from war, I became a single man and found Jojo a new woman.

Six months with the Emerald Coast to our side we rode the bike hours after hour every day always leading to the nights. The time spent with Jojo felt right The experience of her was remarkably renewed. The motorcycle was new yet felt as if we had ridden for years. With Jojo, once again I became a man. The thing is, I don’t know if she loved me.

Tripped me over spinning off in a direction never expected. Must be trapped in what was then, for now, she wants no more.  Why was the thought of finding Jojo so damned possible?

Little Man

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How do I lead you?  Don’t walk my path.  Look out.  Watch out for this, that or the other.  Making the choices I made, you cannot keep up.  You’ll only get lost.  Look, listen, watch me.  Soon you will ride alone.

Related articles

She rhymes with new beginnings

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Naturally, genuinely unable to stop. Eight years; Desire runs deep.  Family gone no home.

Unexpectedly appeared welcoming home. Ride shared, no intent to fall.  Before is not now, time appears forgotten.  Riding alone miles, hours through months.

Fine and unforeseen. No other woman. Pursuit expired breached within memories.  Give just a chance, say what to do. Why no response?

Infiltration

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Journal Entry November 23rd, 2001

Somewhere in southeast Afghanistan heading directly for Kandahar, it is nine weeks after 9/11/2001. America as a whole, all of its citizens and the world are still in disbelief from the surprise Al Qaeda attacks against the New York Twin Towers, the Pentagon and Pennsylvania. It is our country that tries to heal from the most horrific attacks on U.S. soil since the Japanese surprise attack on December 7th, 1941…60 years earlier. Now over 3,000 innocent people have been killed by Al Qaeda, a global Islamic terrorist organization led by Bin Laden and Al Zawahiri.

We are the first 200 Americans on the ground in Afghanistan following 9/11.  All of us are trained and highly skilled.  We’ve all trained and been hand-picked experiencing rigorous selection courses where 85% of those who try out, fail to succeed. Trained in advanced communications, I’m skilled as a SCUBA diver, Military Free fall and Static Line Parachutist. A parachute Jump Master. Dive Supervisor. Qualified in over ten assault rifles, pistols, heavy machine gun and sub-machine gun weapons. Capable of infiltrating in any helicopter, aircraft or assault vehicle and motorcycles. Trained in advanced navigation on foot, vehicle or animal. Specializing in air to ground tactics using aircraft, space and Cyber assets. I’m the integrator of the air war with battles on the ground.

The afternoon is hot and dry with piercing brilliant blue skies free of clouds.  We have over a hundred vehicles formed in a “V” formation all moving forward heading towards the home of the Taliban.  Kandahar. I’m in the backseat of a maroon Toyota Hilux pickup truck sitting behind the driver, Ken, a US Army Special Forces 18D Medic.   I’m assigned to move with a US Army Special Forces 12 man “A” team.  I’m their primary source for “air support” or aircraft for security. With a small silver hand-held “Garmin” Global Positioning System (GPS) receiver in one hand and an outdated survival map in the other, it seems I’m the only Air Force operator for several hundred miles.

Balancing an M-4 Assault rifle between my knees, my personal weapon from work I spray painted brown and tan despite the Air Forces regulations telling me no. My rifle has an ACOG scope, BE Meyers miniature infrared pointer also a 40mm grenade launcher mounted on the rail system attached to the stock. Feeling the weight of a load bearing vest over my shoulders and around my waist, I also carry a black Beretta 9mm pistol. With suppressors on both weapons, I’m carrying over 500 rounds of M-4 ammunition, 9mm rounds, 40 mm grenades and survival gear.

My unit has joined an American armada of forces from the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps and Coast Guard mobilizing and moved out all over the world. Allies from countries like Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Norway and Denmark have joined America. The Global War on Terror or GWOT has officially begun.

My reason

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Simple, complex and unique. Attractive.  Intelligent.  Silent, fragile yet strong.  Mysterious.  Independent.  The smell of spring.  Touch and feel of softness.  Sight of something new.  Yearned for when alone.  

Bright when the world is dark.  Warmth when cold, close when afar. Reappears in dreams. Dancing, gracefully balanced, peace of mind.  Alive day or night.  Without a word, the very sound leading home.  Enduringly beautiful.  She’s the reason I wake.

Don’t quit on me

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Silence does nothing but drive and motivate me.  Searching day and night for a response.  A sign.

Away too long, know me no more, or what I’ve become.  Writing is all I have, with no response.

Only meant to find Little Man and myself.  Wanting to be with you.   To give you a reason to wait for me.

Look what I’ve overcome. After eight years endured much you don’t understand.  The experience changed me, yet I’m the same man you met.  Different yet better.  Stronger today than when we were together. Fail to communicate. My actions and behavior speaks for itself.

Proven to be a good father to my son.  I’ve recovered and created a new life.  My son returns to me.  The boy you care for. What do you want?  Little man is back. Everything except you.

All I’m asking is to start from new.

Give me a chance to show what I’ve become.  A reason to try again, new beginning is all I have.

Torn

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How is she doing this to me?  How have I come this far, after eight whole years and still have such a strong desire for her?  Doesn’t she understand what I was up against?  I only chose to walk away with one intent.  To find her again.

I cannot help myself.  Stuck over this woman, I‘m left confused.  She may never had wanted me.  I’m left with memories she wanted me.  On that Harley together, we rode alone for so many miles.  I came to know everything about her left to want her.  It felt mutual.  I felt her want me.  Where have I gone wrong?

Falling apart torn by the choices I had to make.  My son called me waiting for me.  A married man in a failed relationship.

A warrior in time of war, I was about to walk away from my men who would return to battle without me.  They were my son’s and brothers.  To not join them made me worthless.

Then, Jojo had me captivated.  

However, she was too young.  I couldn’t put this gorgeous woman in a position I would disrupt her life.  On course for greatness, had I stayed with Jojo, I would have held her back.  I had to give it time.  Get my life in order again.  Gone too many times had torn apart my life.  Everything I had built with blood, sweat and tears was coming apart.  The consequences of my travels and choices returned to haunt me.  Deep within my mind was an approaching emotional storm that would nearly destroy me.

Pushed and pulled in so many directions, life as I knew it fell apart.  Can’t you see I nearly lost my mind?

A mere kid at that time needing to be a man forced to make choices I didn’t want.  Faced far worse in battle, now with life back home in peace, I was torn.  At that time, I was not a man, instead a mere boy.  I had to leave to find myself.  Only then would I be able to search for Jojo.

Hoping I was giving her a reason to not quit on me.  Her eyes.  Looked at her lips and wanted to move closer to her, I wanted to bring her near me leaning forward to embrace her kissing her for the first time.  Giving her the reason to wait for me.

After eight years of conflict away from Jojo, the time has come.  Must find her again, everyday she tears at me never leaving my mind, memories and thoughts.  Day or night, throughout my journey she remains.  It’s not working.  My efforts fail.  She refuses to respond.  She’s gone.

What I want

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I have many passions in my life. My family is one of them. Specifically, my role as being a Dad. What I’ve created and raised. It’s who my son is, what he means and what he has become and will become. He carries my name and the legacy that will be passed on to his own children sharing within the communities they will live and grow with. I see my son from the past, through today and imagine where he will lead to in the future. All the damned potential he possesses, he has so much to give to this world. I want to give him the best tools to prepare him for the best opportunities where he will get the most out of life giving back to this world. I enjoy every day I spend with him, every conversation I’m aware of what I say to him. Our relationship is of most importance to me, perhaps because I didn’t share the same relationship with my own father. Being a Dad is my priority. Being a warrior and leader of warriors even suppporting the warrior life comes next. In the meantime, I’m in pursuit of what I’m passionate about. What I don’t have. I’m pursuing another ride (motorcycle) and a woman. A symbol of what is beautiful, this woman is called Jojo. She is not less of a priority, she is just not in my life right now. I want her to be. At one point I had her in my life but I was forced to walk away from her. Before I left I tried everything I could to show her how important she was to me. I tried to show her how much I wanted her and failed. My efforts blew up in my face where I lost her.

At some point, before I left her, I made a choice. No one else did. I did myself. That I would find Jojo again with the hope to start a new life with her. Now, I’m starting to think I was wrong. You cannot force someone to love you or be with you. The only thing I was going off of was all the time Jojo and I had spent together. I felt her desire to want to be with me. I too felt that way towards her. Everyday was a new adventure with Jojo. She showed me things I had never seen before making me look at life differently. She came into my life at a time of great conflict. She became my source of relief. All of those reasons are simply the start. What Jojo represents is beauty. Her personality. How she raised herself. How good of a person she was, is and has become. How she cared for my only son as if he was her own. She allowed me to focus and be at ease. Her humor, sharing conversation with Jojo, having fun with her is easy. She’s exciting always wanting to ride the motorcycle and explore. No matter how long we rode together, she never grew tired or felt like not riding. She wanted to ride just as much as I did. The roads were never long enough with Jojo. The days and nights were never long enough to allow us to travel as much as we wanted to. Was all this a mere snap shot of experiences that will never occur again? Were we filled with so much energy and drive only because I was on my way out forced to move away from Jojo being the last remaining member of our family to interact with Jojo? Did we spend all that time together because I was on the verge of leaving? Or, did we unlock something with each other unexpectedly where we both enjoyed sharing our time together wanting it everyday? That is what I’ve come to understand it all as. It was all an accident.

When our time together was happening, I knew it was too good to be true. Everyday felt different and so new. The things I saw were brighter more amplified with Jojo. I felt like I was raised to another level of being, living another life. I was elevated to another level with her. The shriek of her voice of excitement and endless drive and energy motivated me. She was something of so much possibility, I could see her in no one else. What was positive before I met Jojo was no longer. The world appeared different after Jojo. I knew when we were together it would not last forever. I simply thought there would be a gap in time where one day we would meet again and continue on a journey together experiencing the world and life together. I thought she enjoyed sharing time with me. I know I did with Jojo.

On top of it all, Jojo was simply beautiful. She was and still is the full package. Beauty, brains, humor, outgoing, caring, athletic, energetic, clean, responsible, independent. I could go on. That is what she left me to remember. She was a source of so much possibility. Being with her was an experience. When I wasn’t with her, I craved her. When I was with her, I couldn’t get enough out of life. When Jojo was near me the world sounded different, felt more intense, smelled sharper, tasted bolder looked simply amazing. Jojo came from a life where she raised herself after being disrespected by those she loved.

The situation between us is so complex, not simple tearing at me. We met as neighbors when she was very young. She became a part of our family where we watched her grow. Jojo matured when I was gone to war. I became introduced to Jojo after she became a new woman I had never seen before. Again, her arrival was like a gift, a surprise, unexpected. The new Jojo is who I came to learn and spend six months with. That Jojo was the one I rode my motorcycle with taking a journey I cannot forget.

In the end, Jojo left me. Or, I left her. I don’t know how it ended. Either I made a terrible mistake trying to get intimate with her, or I made a mistake in my effort and did it wrong shutting her off. It was wrong and didn’t work right. I failed. Regardless, to me, we were not supposed to be apart from each other forever. Deep within I believed we were meant to to meet again. At the time we spent with each other, I wasn’t good enough for her. Before I could share anymore with Jojo, even entertain going further with Jojo, I had to learn what it meant to become a man. That is why I left. I was a Dad to my son and had responsiblities. First, I had to be with him. Next, I had to change my entire life. What I was doing was wrong. There was so much wrong with me, I had to leave Jojo and discard what no longer worked. I had to redefine myself.

Tell me I did everything right with Jojo. Prove to me how I made the right decisions and choices.  Tell me I’ve been a good man representing to my son how to be a good man.  Tell me I shared with Jojo something to come back to, something to be passionate about.

What is passion?

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What is passion? What creates such passion in people? It doesn’t matter whether it be artwork, writing, photography, a woman, a bike, even a sport or warfare, passion is displayed and generated in different ways for different people.

Passion is any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate. Passion is a strong amorous feeling or desire; love; ardor.  Passion is a strong and barely controllable emotion.  A state or outburst of such emotion. Passion is also a strong sexual desire; lust.  An instance or experience of strong love or a person toward whom one feels strong sexual desire. An intense, driving, or overpowering feeling or emotion; especially : any violent or intense emotion that prevents reflection. Only once found, in Acts 1:3, meaning suffering, referring to the sufferings of our Lord.

Passion is a powerfully intense feeling one gets after experiencing someone or something they are attracted to. Passion is that desire to want it again, to re-experience the event or individual. At times, passion can become blinding impacting one’s thoughts and behaviors. Love and passion are said to be intertwined said to be a chemical response. Passion is perhaps taking love to another level where most would say responses become inappropriate. How does one stop passion? Why would you want to stop passion? How do you control passion? Isn’t that the purpose or intent, to release passion and hold on for the ride?

How do you find passion?  Ask yourself the following questions.                                                               What puts a smile on your face?                                                                                                                      What do you find easy?                                                                                                                                     What sparks your creativity?                                                                                                                          What do you enjoy doing for free?                                                                                                                  What do you like to talk about?                                                                                                                       What makes you unafraid of failure?                                                                                                              What would you regret not having tried?                   
http://www.ineedmotivation.com/blog/2008/04/7-questions-to-finding-your-true-passion/

What if you are simply drawn to someone or something or you see something no one else does? Why is it that artists see their passion when they are making or creating, but no one understands their passion until after the artist dies passing away? The artist usually saw their passion the moment they put pen to paper, painted a picture, created a movie even wrote a song. Passion is what drove that person. Passion made that person wake in the morning inspiring them throughout their days leading them to sleep throughout their dreams to once again wake restarting the cycle all over again.

People should be grateful for passion. Passion has brought much good to this world. Passion is how we analyze the world, a snap picture of the intensity of something powerfully beautiful that continues to give back radiating some sort of attraction. You just can’t take your eyes off of it, stop listening, tasting, touching even smelling it.

Passion makes one view life differently. Perhaps that is where I go wrong. How I view life. After nearly losing my life many times, I’ve come to take a view that you must live each day as if it is your last. Not take things for granted. I know what is beauty or beautiful. Yes, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Beauty is different to different people. When I come upon something of beauty, I believe I look at the full picture when I analyze art, people, events, motorcycles and food. I look at what it took to create that one thing. What kind of adversity did it go through, how simple is it, how useful, what does it give back or generate, how does it impact our world and make it better? That is how I analyze something passionate. It is my definition of what is beautiful in this world.

I could define many things beautiful that you won’t consider the same. We come from different places and have experienced different people, places and things. We’ve made different choices and were raised in different ways. We are all different. That is what makes art or things of beauty so valuable. They hold value to different people, but mostly, they leave a mark on our lives and the world we live in positively impacting all of us whether we like them or not.

I may be wrong, but I believe you must use each day as if it is your last. All for fear you may never have another day again. Yes, take care of what you have, but, use it. I’m the reason things are ruggedized. I drop, kick, slip and fall with things losing them or breaking what I use. It’s because I go a hundred miles an hour from one place or thing to the next. I’m trying to get the most out of my life. It started the moment I watched my good friend pass away at eight years old. His passing put the fear of God into me. He never had opportunities to experience all the things I did. Now, I look at my days as a vehicle taking me to wherever I want to go to see who I want to see, experience what I want go where I want to go and do what I want to do. I set goals and work tirelessly towards them not quitting until I achieve. Sometimes people say I become unreasonable going too far discarding what is most important or not accepting that things just aren’t meant to be. I don’t believe that. I believe when you set your mind to something, the pursuit will lead you to your goals, objectives even dreams. I’m after the pursuit. The journey. More than once I’ve felt the overwhelming feeling of accomplishment after overcoming adversity to reach a goal many times I thought was impossible. The experience becomes addicting.

I’m not certain if that addiction came after I nearly lost my life, or, I was born this way. I don’t care, it is who I am and how I operate. At the end of the day, I want only the best things in life. I have high standards in taste and set high standards and expectations in what I use, do and behave. I’m not the best. Perhaps that’s why I have such high standards, because I’m not the best. I want the best maybe knowing I’m lacking somewhere only compensating in the end. Again, I don’t care. I just go with it, let passion drive my behavior leading me through life. Maybe that is not the best way to lead a life. It has done me more good than bad. Nearly everything I’ve set my mind to I’ve accomplished. Yes, I have failed so so much. However, I’ve achieved a great deal. There is much I want to see and experience before my life is over. I have much work to do. What I hope is today, I’ll do my best and be my best. I want the best. I cannot help it. I’m simply passionate.

Riding with Jojo

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Riding with Jojo

It was a natural ride where we genuinely fit on the bike. Easily we would ride for 12-16 hours at a time never running out of things to talk about. Screaming sometimes at over 100mph across an abandoned aircraft runway. Or riding alone in the middle of the night alongside a lonely gulf coast ocean beach. No matter where we went, we were together that spring, summer, fall and early winter.  It sounds so long yet it went by so fast.  All I remember is her smiling enjoying herself.  That is what drew me to her.  It came unexpectedly to the point it never disappeared.  She became the reason I rode.

Who is Little Man?

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Little Man is the reason I exist.  He is my only son.  My only child.  He is my family and my purpose.  He is the reason I wake in the morning and what I think about when I lay down to rest.  I’m concerned about little man and root for him in his endeavors.  From the moment he was conceived until today, he has been special and unique.  Thank God he is healthy growing up to become a remarkable young man.  He is maturing fine at a rapid pace.

Little Man stands at about 5 feet 9 inches tall weighing in at 135lbs.   He’s very athletic practicing hockey, golf and motorcross.  He’s played hockey since he was seven reaching a point he now wants to shift focus on motorcross.  He’s broken his wrist twice in hockey.  He’s smart, intelligent with an incredible sense of humor.  He knows how to play team sports and work with a team.  He’s a natural leader of others who doesn’t put up with bullies yet knows how to push those who lack motivation.  He’s experienced as a captain and starting center of his hockey team.  He has played football, lacrosse, basketball, baseball, hockey, golf and motocross.  He has many talents and is skilled in many ways.  He knows and loves to hunt and fish.  He has endurance and runs well.  He has natural strength where he is lean and will be challenged to grow in size.  He must never forget his strengths are his endurance and stamina.

Little man works hard.  He gets frustrated, enlightened, motivated and turned off.  He’s easily set off to pursue something new and challenging.  He loves to practice and is disciplined working very hard at everything he does.  He works hard and plays hard.  Again, he has a funny sense of humor.  He can take things serious one moment and shift to lighten the mood.

Little man loves motorcycles.  He enjoys video games, movies and music.  He likes old TV shows.  He grew up watching A full house.  He can play back verbatim funny lines from movies and commercials.  Commercials are what he really enjoys.  Little man enjoys watching sports especially hunting.  He’s aware of what is current even enjoys history.  He studies the things he enjoys.  He gets it.  He knows how to find something he likes.  Research and study it.  Find the right tools to accomplish it.  Learn about it.  Practice, practice, practice what he loves.  Finally, go for what he loves.  Be passionate about what he loves.  That is what I believe my son has learned and tries to lead his life.  You can see it in how he carries himself and handles situations.  Even what he pursues.

Little Man does very well in academics and school.  He’s been raised in a unique way where he lived a traditional life up to 13 years old.  Afterwards, he’s gone to school over the Internet.  Bypassing so much resistance from his family and friends, his grades and his hockey skills improved.  We’ve reached a level where we will attempt another semester online so he can shift focus on motocross.  The idea is to build his academics around his pursuits and what appears to be his passion.  Little man knows what he wants and he’s going after it.  That is all I ask of him.  I ask that he search for that thing that wakes him in the morning and what carries with him to sleep following him into his dreams.  It’s called passion.  What drives oneself to pursue a life of their choosing.  My son will become a success at whatever he sets his mind to.

I go alone

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No matter how far and removed I become, I will travel this journey.

This personal journey has been long even exhausting at times.  I’ve repeatedly questioned myself.  At the end of the day, no matter how much time has passed, what people say or how much resistance I face…the drive remains.  She’s that important.  She means that much.

Who is this woman?

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Jojo is a 25-year-old Thai-Asian-American woman who once cared for my only son. I met her when she was very young watching her grow and mature where she became a part of our family. Jojo was there for my family through thick and thin enduring both good and bad times. Jojo witnessed our family depart on combat tours overseas going away for six months and longer leaving our son behind. She watched our family be successful. Yet, over time we became stressed, strained and challenged to the point we collapsed destroying everything we had built. At one point, it reached levels where I returned home from war alone to find Jojo welcoming me home. A sight I couldn’t believe or comprehend, Jojo had grown and matured becoming a woman. A new woman I had never witnessed before.

Jojo stands about five feet five inches tall, brown eyes with a thin frame, brunette hair that has been both long and short. She’s very athletic and disciplined where she has played basketball, softball and volleyball even ran long distance races. She’s a college student who wears glasses from time to time and works hard at a full-time job. Jojo’s outgoing where she has many many friends all over the country. She enjoys going out with her friends and traveling. Jojo is intelligent, very attractive with an amazingly powerful disposition to the point she overtakes you. Any interaction with her leaves you wanting more. She carries herself with confidence and displays or shares a funny sense of humor. She is polite, positive with a bright beaming smile that is infectious. She’s overwhelmingly beautiful where her Asian roots stand out to combine with her caucasian background to form into this amazing woman any man would want. Carrying a natural beauty and aura about her, if she chose to, she could become a successful model.

Treated like a red-headed step child, Jojo grew up disrespected by her own father. What remained of her family, I’m not certain the relationships, but she loved or loves her sister and mother. She loves her family and is loyal, concerned about others. She naturally cares for children very well and loves animals yet is allergic to cats. Jojo is an amazing person who offers so much to the world she lives in. She is someone you want to share life with. She has overcome a great deal to grow on her own becoming successfully independent. Her potential is limitless where my hope is she pursues her own dreams and aspirations, not those of others.

Scars and Burns

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While growing up, I seemed to have collected scars and burns from all sorts of events. This wasn’t a hobby, instead, it was the reality of my existence. These marks on my body were signs I neither followed the rules or heeded the ways of those who went before me. Perhaps, I chose a new path they feared to explore leaving me with the life long signs of achievement. Or, they were reminders I didn’t pay attention. Regardless, scars and burns are symbols of our past journeys, successes and failures.

One night, when Jojo boarded the Harley, she threw her leg over the seat and mounted the bike where her jeans raised up revealing her right calf. Without a thought, her leg came down onto the shiny silver exhaust pipe where instantly the pipe seared her skin forever burning Jojo leaving behind a symbol of the rides on her body. To this day I’m not certain what that symbolizes to Jojo, whether those rides were a success or failure.

What I do know is how the choices I made when getting closer to Jojo turned out to be the best decisions I could have made. Had I chosen to grow intimate with her, I would have lost her. How do I show this woman that she is the only woman in the world that matters. I do it by leaving with the intent to return to find her again. I was too young and immature at that time. Yes, I was older than her, yet I was immature and simply not ready. Choosing to stay and grow intimate would have scarred her for life leaving me behind in purgatory. What needed to happen was I had to leave her, then, return, only when I was better prepared and had learned to become a man. My travels had taken me too many places and had seen too many things I couldn’t describe. To the point I had lost track of who I had become. A father, a leader, a husband, a lover or nothing?

Looking back, I believe it took a man to make the choice I made. It would take me seven years to learn I was a good man and not what I feared deep within. Jojo was the reason I made those choices, next to little man, she became my reason for existence. The time spent with Jojo became my scar burned deep within my heart teaching me how love of any kind within our short life should never be taken for granted.

The pursuit

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It’s been eight years since I last saw her.  Two years since we last exchanged emails.  Every month I send her an email or a letter never receiving a response.  I refuse to quit.  My efforts at communicating are tireless where I only see hope.  Hope that one of these days she will change her mind about me and finally respond.  Telling me how well she is doing and how she looks forward to seeing me again.

After all this time, not a day has passed that I have not thought about her.  She’s in my thoughts when I lay down to sleep throughout my dreams and when I first wake.  Everywhere I go, I carry her images with me through the worst of times and best of moments.  She’s not a fleeting thought.  The opposite.  Jojo has become seered within my brain leaving a deep image in my mind where I want her to return.

I want to find her again.  Everyday, I simply want to hear her voice, see her eyes even receive a response telling me she hasn’t forgotten.

What defines us

by in Gulf Coast, Jojo, Little Man, The Bike | Permalink
When a moment is defined, that event becomes forever branded in our minds and psyche.  From then on forever, those moments alter our behavior and choices leading us throughout the paths of our remaining days.  We still stand alone within our kindergarten class left extending our hands outwards in one final reach for Mom or Dad.  Entering the attics of our past, we are left to sniff and smell the dust left behind.  Our hearts still pound as we remember the feeling from the softness of the lips from our first kiss.  From the first moment we witnessed the sea, we still taste the salt in the ocean air.  From the smell of popcorn, we remember our favorite movie.  Or, the cries of any baby reminds us of our first born.  Even, feel the racing wind as it screams through our helmet past our ears spilling over our backs towards the love of our life while on our first motorcycle.  The catch in the back of our throat the moment our heart is ripped into pieces when love is lost.
To make something defining is out of your control.  It’s nature.  Life.  The experience.  At the end of the day, we just hang on for the ride.  We never know what is defining until afterit happens and passes us by.

The ride.

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When I’m alone I feel nothing.  When I’m with Jojo, I feel greatness all around me.  When I was with Jojo I felt the greatest, she brought out the best in me.  She made me feel like taking life by the horns and going for the ride of my life.

We would ride for hours at a time with her holding on exchanging conversations or silence.  I would tell myself that I would make all of this right.  I was 14 years older and going no where good.  Steering the Softail Deuce in and out of traffic or down some backwoods path leading back to the shoreline, memories have me seeing the speedometer highlighted in orange as the needle pushed passed sixty going to seventy.  I was the one in control.  She was too young for me or herself.

As Jojo held me tight, with my feet floating in the air on the footpegs, the twin engine hummed like a fine oiled machine between my legs.  Within the piercing bright white headlight, the world would approach us as we made our way to no where in particular.  As the road passed beneath our feet, we were just being with each other all night long into the early morning, riding.

The Bike

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The motorcycle was a 2003 Harley Davidson Softail Deuce.  A black bike with the 100th Anniversary stripe along the sides of the fuel tank.  New pipes were installed where the baffles were removed to make the engine sound twice a throaty and loud.  You could hear us coming from a mile away.  The bike rode low to the ground where while you were riding you could rest your heals on the front foot pegs for a more comfortable ride.  The rear wheel was solid aluminum with a fat tire approximately 150cm wide.

The front fork was the traditional Softail thin fork with a skinny tire resting in between.  It came with an electronic alarm and auto start.  I bought it brand new and only had it for two years where I put approximately 6,000 miles on it.  A seriously low amount of miles for that long, but I had my reasons.  At least 4,000 of those miles were with Jojo.

Scars and Burns

by in Jojo | Permalink

While growing up, I seemed to have collected scars and burns from all sorts of events. This wasn’t a hobby, instead, it was the reality of my existence. These marks on my body were signs I neither followed the rules or heeded the ways of those who went before me. Perhaps, I chose a new path they feared to explore leaving me with the life long signs of achievement. Or, they were reminders I didn’t pay attention. Regardless, scars and burns are symbols of our past journeys, successes and failures.

One night, when Jojo boarded the Harley, she threw her leg over the seat and mounted the bike where her jeans raised up revealing her right calf. Without a thought, her leg came down onto the shiny silver exhaust pipe where instantly the pipe seared her skin forever burning Jojo leaving behind a symbol of the rides on her body. To this day I’m not certain what that symbolizes to Jojo, whether those rides were a success or failure.

What I do know is how the choices I made when getting closer to Jojo turned out to be the best decisions I could have made. Had I chosen to grow intimate with her, I would have lost her. How do I show this woman that she is the only woman in the world that matters. I do it by leaving with the intent to return to find her again. I was too young and immature at that time. Yes, I was older than her, yet I was immature and simply not ready. Choosing to stay and grow intimate would have scarred her for life leaving me behind in purgatory. What needed to happen was I had to leave her, then, return, only when I was better prepared and had learned to become a man. My travels had taken me too many places and had seen too many things I couldn’t describe. To the point I had lost track of who I had become. A father, a leader, a husband, a lover or nothing?

Looking back, I believe it took a man to make the choice I made. It would take me seven years to learn I was a good man and not what I feared deep within. Jojo was the reason I made those choices, next to little man, she became my reason for existence. The time spent with Jojo became my scar burned deep within my heart teaching me how love of any kind within our short life should never be taken for granted.

Little Man

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Little Man was only seven when I left Florida.  He was born and raised in the gulf coast to become independent, curious and adventurous.  Little Man’s mother and I were Air Force stationed at a local military base, Hurlburt Field Air Force Base.  Rarely home, I was always on the road operating with the teams, while his mother rotated on TDY trips supporting the mission as a professional contracting officer.  He was born with the mission emphasized and would grow with it prioritized.

While either of his parents were away, his next door neighbor, Jojo, would come over to care for him.  No matter what day of the week or night, Jojo was there to fill in for either his mom or Dad.  Jojo brought consistency when there was none.  A bridge when the tides were unsteady and the times became unpredictable, the house settled when Jojo filled in.  For Travis, while he lived in Florida, that meant Jojo became a source for peace.

Seaside

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No matter where you found us on the gulf coast, we could be alone riding along the Pensacola National Seashore, or mixed within the heavy traffic of Highway 98 heading towards Fort Walton Beach and Destin.  What really gave a sense of travel taking us away from everything was  hiding on the motorcycle late at night inside the pine trees, shorelines and hidden cottages of Seaside.

Vance and Hines Short Shot Pipes

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Vance and Hines Short Shots pipes were loud and powerful when they exploded.  Announcing to the world their existence, like a Rattlesnake below your feet, the pipes repeatedly popped and rolled over in their throaty sound.  They were encased in a sleeve of chrome shiny to the touch free of prints.  Exhaust pipes  were the source of the signature Harley Davidson sound.

Riding with Jojo

by in Gulf Coast, Jojo, Prepare to Crossover, The Bike | Permalink

Riding with Jojo

It was a natural ride.  We genuinely fit on that bike together. Easily, we would ride for 12-16 hours at a time never running out of things to talk about, screaming sometimes at over 100mph across an abandoned aircraft runway. Or, riding alone in the middle of the night alongside a lonely gulf coast ocean beach. No matter where we went, we were together.  Whenever she would arrive for new rides, she would always make me smile.

Jojo

by in Prepare to Crossover | Permalink

She was like no other.  Riding the Harley with her was natural.  The problem was how Jojo was only 16.  I was 31.  A married man on the threshold of divorce, loss of a career, away from my only son, debt ridden with a plan destined to fail.  My soon to be ex-wife moved away with my son a year earlier leaving me to deploy to war for the fourth time.  I returned from Iraq to find no home and no family.

That’s when she arrived.  It was the spring of 2003.  Within weeks of returning home from Iraq, I had nearly nine months remaining in the military leaving me to be in a state of constant brainstorming ideas about what I should do with my future.  The only relief was the motorcycle.  I cannot remember if I had called her.  Memory simply has her arriving on scene with me at the storage unit pulling out the motorcycle.  Riding for nearly nine months with Jojo, my plans began to change.  She became my plan.  How do I get back to my son’s side, continue helping with the war and get Jojo back?  Torn in three directions, the only way I knew to start was to leave.

She pulled up in her black Toyota Four Runner exiting the truck with a beaming smile carrying an absolutely stunning appearance.  This was not the girl I left behind when I departed to war.  She was someone totally new.  Improved.  Refreshing.

Wiping down the bike I couldn’t help but lower my eyes for fear she would know how surprised I was.  How, enthralled I became.  Who is this girl?  What happened to her?  She looks amazing!

Long brunette hair flowed down to her shoulders.  Her tanned skin flowed across her arms leading under her black t-shirt worn over blue jeans and boots.  Her skin reappeared at her neck line rising up to reveal a remarkably bright expression with bright “Thai-Asian” eyes and a beaming smile filled with energy.  The world around her came to a halt.  She was the new life of the party.  ”Hi there Andy.”