Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.

13:15. That’s when I awoke from a sleep corrupted with vile, terrifying nightmares, sat on the edge of the bed and wondered where the fuck I was. My body gave no hint of what it was about to do to my brain. Family, fun, camaraderie of any kind, was far from my beaten mind.

It took several tries to stand. I wobbled, bounced off the closet door, and always ended up right back on the bed, dead on my ass. How demoralizing a thing, I thought, growing old can be.

I made it to the latrine in time to not piss in my pants. (Yes; I sleep in my clothes) That’s at least one blessing. Positive. Excellent, as a matter of fact. Downright stupid to have to mention, but there it is.

Afterward, hand and face washing: I was far too weak to shower. Mental note: remember to buy a new shower chair. My hair, running to my shoulders, white, unruly, tangled. My full beard twisted into something off the portrait of Dorian Gray: oh, fuck, I hate mirrors.

Beard shampooed and brushed, hair combed, mouthwash to freshen up, I discharged myself on my own recognizance from the latrine. I did look at the coffee maker with deep desire, but my hands couldn’t do that yet. Still had no strength beyond what I had needed for taming the beard. I grabbed my jeans jacket and went out to the warmth of a late January day that one can only call by tradition a “false spring”, for that’s what it is. A trick by Mother Earth, the one who claims all bodies in death. But it, perhaps, can be viewed another way: a gift. A respite from weeks of suffering that she inflicted in the first place.

See how far I’ve come since my blog about how positive thinking was for morons who refused to see reality? When was that? 2019? I can’t remember. Although, after a long sleep, drug-induced and full of apocalyptic terrors, it’s really about as positive as I can manage.

Marlboro Man is at his usual post out front. People I know call me various things: “The Sentinel” or “The Cigarette-smoking Man” (like that asshole in the “X-Files” series. Did you know that he was in the very first episode, the pilot episode? “File” that one under “trivia we don’t give a shit about” and forgive my impertinent bullshit).

Out front, clutching my walking stick in one hand and my Zippo in another, I lit up, and the old brain started checking in: pain. Lots and lots of it from every finger, toe, my arms, legs, back, neck, everywhere, and more on the fucking way. Damn it!

It’s not just the extended sleep. Of course, that will leave anyone sore. But there’s more. In the mid-70s warmth, I feel that this can’t last. Looking to the west, the sky is not clear. It’s quite beautiful, really. The dusk will be colorful. To the south, I see the clouds moving up, coming from the southwest. That’s not good. At this time of year, it’s a possibility that the El Niño pattern is bringing up air from gulf states. It may bring storms. I can’t tell for certain, but I’m feeling rain and wind, maybe storms will arrive by tomorrow. Being old, I’ve seen this so many times (and felt it) that I’d bet money on it.

My life, as it has been, is one of war. I just moved from one skirmish to another, with many major battles in between. That’s it. One tragedy followed another. More scars inside than out, but also lessons learned that the more fortunate never did. Or will.

Blue denim jacket and pants, and olive drab T-shirt and boonie hat, black web belt. I look like a psycho veteran from Tennessee. Not the real vets, the ones in movies, so no disrespect to veterans anywhere.

Except I am crazy; there’s no denying that; just fire any gun within 300 meters of me, and you’ll see. Or visit me on July 4th after 21:00.

There are other things I’ve had to learn.

“Above all things, do no harm.”

It is a terrible thing to hurt another living creature. All life is sacred. To harm mind or body is hateful to God, those you injure, and yourself. You may have blunted your heart and mind to the effects, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t any. I will never be that person watching someone being hurt on my phone’s camera screen. I have sworn to God to protect people even to the last breath I have. It is a sacred, serious oath that, once given, must never be betrayed. I will use force if necessary, but that’s even more serious. Use of force to save an innocent is a decision that must be made with incredible speed: hesitate, and an innocent may die. Act too swiftly, and you miss other options, but microseconds define the time to determine whether you can or cannot use deadly force. You can’t be a vigilante. Movies about vigilantism are more ubiquitous than slasher flicks. Vigilantism, usually by more than one person, is rarely justified.  Take the case of Ken Rex McElroy, for example. A bully, rapist and pedophile, the case of his murder was never solved. He was surrounded by people who hated him but feared him. The law wasn’t helping. Naturally, he was shot to death. Whereas I don’t endorse vigilante justice, this was one case where a man was so evil that he needed to go. Do I think it was a homicide? Absolutely, I do. But I never lost sleep thinking about it.

Someone decided to protect others from a monster.

I once locked horns in a group home with the only man I had known since my father, who scared me to my soul. He threatened to kill me, and I ran. I tortured myself. I was a pussy. A coward. But sometimes you have to run. I thought many times that I should kill him. I knew, and I mean, I knew, that if not me, this schizophrenic bastard was going to one day cause terrible harm to someone else.

When I learned that he had kidnapped a minor and repeatedly raped her, I hated myself. I should have known. I should have killed him. Some schizophrenics are dangerous. It’s a harsh reality. Most, however, are not. There are many types and degrees of this mental disorder, and most can effectively work full careers, have romantic partners, and more, and you would never know them as any different from anyone else. Not this guy.

I actually feel responsible for him causing severe mental injury to a girl, now a young woman, by not killing so vile a man when I could have. But I’m not honest with myself when I feel that way, and the responsibility is not mine to claim. I am not a murderer. I am not a psychic, either, able to see future crimes. Indeed, I knew he was dangerous. Yet it was not I, but the law, who failed that girl. I got his criminal record. There was a definite pattern. Drugs, being drugged in public, drunk in public, indecent exposure, violence, and sexual assault. Yet he was in a rehab program after years of probationary sentences and slaps on the wrist. He even got off easy for kidnapping and rape. He disappeared for a few years. Not all of it could have been prison time. I suspect he was jailed, not even imprisoned. The justice system keeps letting this happen, and sooner or later, he will come to a point of nothing to lose, and God help anyone whom he sets his eyes on.

****

20:00. Just got in from a walk. The moon rose on my way out, shrouded in mist. I was right; something is coming. I checked the current temperature. 55°F down from 74°F at 15:30. Quite a drop. And the air feels cold and wet. I knew it would be cooler, so I wore my winter coat but kept the boonie. Mistake. I should have used my watch cap and gloves; the moist air was raw. I took my kickass flashlight up the dark path, encountering a juvenile red fox, which ran to the nearby treeline but stared defiantly into the bright light. Bold motherfucker, for something smaller than a fully grown tomcat. I admire it but also find it and its kind anathema; not exactly varmints, but a nuisance all the same. Sometimes, they are carriers of rabies, and that line of backing off yet standing ground turns into your worst fear. Imagine some tiny, snarling hurricane trying to kill you, starting with your ankles!

Later on I’ll take a walk. I’ll come back and edit in a video of this flashlight, and beg you to get a couple for yourself and maybe a couple for your family. Danger hides in the dark; perhaps you have some experience with it, or else, I’ll tell you, you do know someone who has.

Being safe with a good light is essential. I bought this light for $39.55 on Amazon. On narrow beam, I can see up to better than 200 meters, probably more with no lights at all in the area. For the price, it’s a steal.

****

So far I have avoided writing about family traditions. But I did respond to the prompt. Why?

Because our extended family hasn’t any. I have not seen my beloved cousin Martha since 1970. I really do wish I could. She’s the only one who could get me to return to North Carolina and make it a treasured memory. She truly cares about people, and she helps them. There’s no higher calling, nothing more noble or honorable in all the world.

My brothers and sisters, my nephews and nieces, they have their own lives. I am not a part of that. It’s sad, and it does hurt. But it’s life. And besides, on the rare occasion we meet up, I believe we trigger horrible memories from our pasts that ruin the happiness that we should be filled with in the moment.

Yet I love them with all my heart. They’re all great people I’m proud to even know. The one legacy our parents left us that isn’t, I think, something they counted on, is that we, quietly and with no embellishments, just plain care about life. We love people and animals, and we love goodness. We love justice and fairness. We love the weak, and we help them when we ourselves are weak. That’s not a tradition. I’m sorry about that. It’s a lot, though, and I’ll take it. It is treasure, beautiful, rare, and priceless. A wonderful legacy, even now being passed to new generations. In those generations, there is hope.

And really, how cool is that?