There is a war.....Part One

There is a war.....

I remembered it when it was a friendly childhood companion. In the darkness of my room on Lillian Rd with the hallway light shining in. Simple childhood fears could be kept away by weaving a very detailed adventure from my mind that seemed to have an endless supply of material.

It was a pleasant detour in a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang sort of way. One I often looked forward to. Beautiful pieces were added as new people, places and things were added to my limited experience. In 1972 when I was not yet 7, there was no internet. Television was still learning to crawl. So between Gilligans Island, top 40 AM Rock and all it came with, parental influence and stories, you put possible facts together. For instance, in Kindergarten, I knew a girl named Rhonda. She move to California. From my sources I figured out these details:

1. It Never Rains in California (It Never Rains in Southern California- Song by Albert Hammond)


2. California is the desert (My Grandfather’s brother Henry lived in California, in the desert, so by this careful scientific analysis, I determined that California is a desert).


3. Rhondas skin was now red, like a lobster. (Horse With No Name - song by America)


4. Rhonda would lose her identity and could no longer remember her name. (Horse With No Name - song by America)


5. The only way to get her skin back to normal and remember her name was to bring her back across the state line.


6. I could be the person who could rescue her from this terrible fate and if I did she would be very grateful.


7. She would also be surprised because not everyone knew this happened to you when you crossed over into the state of California.

My dreams were like this too. I recall being 6 or 7 and dream of driving a 65 Chevy home from school. As the telephone poles drifted by driving down Lillian Rd (which was much longer than in real life and felt dangerous outside the confines of the car) the sensation of the steering wheel was so realistic and at that moment, Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress by the Hollies began to play on the radio in the car. 47 years later, I can still see and feel that dream when I hear that song come on. That is what your Dad sleeping with a clock radio on all night will do to you. I digress and I have a point to all of this.

I know. Now you are thinking “what does this have to do with conflict?” I love my parents infinity. There was never a lack of love. They were very young, just as I was when I first became a stepdad, or in my case, a pretty flawed and distracted one. They did their best at a time when the very air in the world set it’s sights on burning down the family unit as it was traditionally known as.

I had a way of taking the more sad and disappointing times and drawing a little bit happier outcome. Don’t get me wrong, my life was not sad or disappointing. I will put my childhood up against any white collar, never want for anything, two parent house family any day and you will not convince me to trade for anything. 

Rewriting my story seemed to be a comfort. Tales spun became easy and even involuntary. A new circumstance in a new day became the inspiration of a new story. 

The stories grew. It was time to commit to not only putting the stories on paper but to commit to months or even a year writing out a more elaborate story.