31 December 2014

®Evolution


There are certain years in one’s life which are so pivotal and profound, they become key milestones in the journey that is Life…at least, this is my experience. I suspect I’m not alone either, am I? In the fifty (very) odd years on which I’ve been having this human experience, I can cite perhaps a half dozen very significant years in my life, points upon which my experience took a left or right, there was a fork in the road or something is so profound and emotionally charged that I make a significant choice in my life. This year that’s now over, it is the opening pages of a new chapter in my life and I’m embracing it with such a welcome and humble feeling. The year we called 2014 is one of the most significant years in my life, so much changed for me and my family. The change in my life is huge, aside from the book deal, aside from relocating across the continent and starting over again, this change is from within myself and the only word that I can use to describe it is “wisdom” and even then, I feel humbled to even utter that word, hardly wise am I, but it’s the closest word to describe, perhaps, this next chapter of my life’s experience as a human will be titled “Wisdom”, either that or perhaps “Fool”, but either way, it’s a really unique feeling for me and I am very much enjoying it…at this point in my life I am feeling my power and presence easily. I have an abundance of confidence in my abilities (on many levels) and aside from simply, honestly really liking who I am, I’m so humble and Grateful for the time and many blessings I have in my life now, in the past and (I hope) the future.



As 2014 concludes and I review my checklist of goals, actions, tasks and, yes, resolutions I made on this day a year ago (I do believe writing them down helps me accomplish them, eventually), here’s a true account of my list, December 31, 2013:

  • Ø  Find a publisher for “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” (accomplished 4/30/14)
  • Ø  Take an “exploration vacation” to California with Kelly  (accomplished 4/19-30/14)
  • Ø  Relocate from Palatine to California’s San Joaquin Valley (accomplished 6/15-7/19/14)
  • Ø  Get Julian’s High School Certification and Driver’s License (accomplished 11/20/14)
  • Ø  Get Maggie into 8th Grade/Better Social Engagement (accomplished 9/14)
  • Ø  Help Cassidy with his Emotional Issues (on-going, but progress since 8/14)
  • Ø  Work out with Kelly more often/Help her weight issue (struggling, ongoing, losing)
  • Ø  Manage healthy weight between 155-170 all year (on-going, but I average 168lbs)
  • Ø  Eat better meals, twice daily, whole foods (completely botched this one, fail)
  • Ø  Start Promoting Book/Sell 1,000 copies by TODAY (fumbling this one now, only sold 288 units)

So, with a little over four hours left of this year for me, I shall put down these goals for myself during the next year of 2015:

  • Ø  Successfully Promote “My BiPolar Reality” and sell 10,000 units
  • Ø  Organize and Execute “Awareness Campaign” with major media coverage
  • Ø  Scout/Research Potential Colony Sites in California
  • Ø  Help Julian get EMT certification/Recording Studio
  • Ø  Help Maggie continue to thrive where we are…
  • Ø  Get Cassidy out to California for “Exploration Vacation” for himself
  • Ø  Help Kelly gain confidence to operate our Family business
  • Ø  Celebrate Kelly & Me Being Married 20 Years in Las Vegas to Renew Vows with Family in July
  • Ø  Get the family more involved in physical activities outdoors/camping


So that’s what I’ve got planned for my new year, how about you? In terms of the immediate moment, as well the past few days and the next few days, I’ve been immersed in the family experience, not doing any work and simply enjoying wasting time together, because that’s never wasted time during this time of year…Everyone is healthy and currently they are out getting last minute supplies for tonight’s fun. I’m making dinner, we’re going to play games, get fun, listen to music, dance and sing and lay our instruments…perhaps towards the end of the evening we’ll veg out on an episode of our favorite Sci-Fi show (“Fringe”) and then slip into a gentle slumber, sleeping until whenever and welcoming the new morning with the promise of a brand new year…Welcome to 20!5, things are about to get weird.

May you all have a most enjoyable New Year, be safe and happy, hope TwentyFifteen finds you and yours in excellent health, full of good fortune and sharing a lot of Love…

Peace,

d’Philip

15 December 2014

“Queen/Mother”


It was going to be the best birthday ever, my 17th birthday party was a group of my friends and I going to see the infamous British rock band “Queen” at The Chicago Stadium on Thursday, the 7th of December…my actual birthday! For those of you who are my vintage, you’ll remember that Queen was reaching their peak in 1978…They had a string of hits, including the iconic “Bohemian Rhapsody” and the New Youth Anthem, “We Will Rock You/We Are The Champions” and Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon were all in prime shape and flawless performance! My childhood friend Todd and our friend Gino waited outside The Flipside Record store all night several months back and we bought a block of 10 tickets…costing us almost a $100, which was BIG MONEY to a couple of 16 year olds in 1978! The plan had been, all along, to celebrate my 17th birthday at this concert, it was significant because I was the first one in our group of friends, as well as in the garage band we had, to suggest that Queen was and will continue to be a Great Rock and Roll Band…despite the fruity lead singer, he was immensely talented as was the rest of band…I would debate endlessly about how “News of The World”, the hit album that summer, was good…the real gems are in the first 2 albums. I won the argument and this was my way of celebrating the event!


When that first week of December in ’78 came around, the frenzy of anticipation had reached epic proportions. We were stoked, we were set and ready to go…there was going to be 10 of us all together; the four guys in the band (Todd, Gino, the drummer boy, Scotty and me) plus both my girlfriend at the time (Stephanie) and Todd’s girlfriend (Amy). My younger brother was going, so was a friend of the band named Dave and his younger brother (Doug) and Dave’s girlfriend (Karen). The plan was that Dave, who was a couple years older than us (he was 18) was going to borrow his parent’s van and we’d all ride together. We had it all worked out, we had scored some California weed (not easy in 1978 suburbia), we had a couple bottle of wine set aside and we were going to head to the Chicago Stadium right after school, sometime around 4:20 in the afternoon…but, as I was learning, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray and so it was the lesson on my 17th birthday; shit went wrong!




That's Todd and me, circa 1978...

I woke up on my birthday with the joy of hearing that due to a snow storm, school was cancelled both Thursday and Friday…sweet, I thought, what a perfect birthday present from Mother Nature! I spend the early part of that listening to loud Queen music, getting psyched up for the show that night and around noon Todd came over (he lived next door) and we went to my basement studio, got stoned and taught ourselves “You’re My Best Friend…” (from Queen’s iconic 4th album, “A Night at The Opera”). It was all good, we gave Gino a call to confirm plans, we contacted our girlfriends to get them to come over as soon as possible. By mid-afternoon everybody had gathered at my mother’s house, Dave was at work until about 4, but then he and others were coming to pick the rest of us up and off we’d go…to see Queen! Dave’s brother Doug called us about the time my mother got home from work with some very disappointing news, news about tragedy narrowly averted, but when Dave went to pick up his girlfriend, there was an accident and Dave totaled the van!
               “Are they alright?” I asked Doug as everyone gathered around me, “Are they hurt?”
               “Dave’s in the hospital with some cuts and bruises, he has a broken leg but he’s okay, Karen is fine.” Doug sighed heavy, “This really messes up the birthday plan, I’m sorry!”
               “Man, that’s alright…at least Dave and Karen are alright.” I looked at everyone, all five of them looking back at me, silent, pen jaw, waiting, hanging on every word, “We’ll still go to the show. Do you still want to go Doug?”
               “I don’t think my parents will let me, not without Dave…” Doug sighed, he did that a lot, like Eyore in Winnie the Pooh, Doug was a sighing kind of kid, “How can you still go?”
               “We’re going…” I nodded and grinned, not having a clue how we’d do this but very confident that it would indeed happen, we were going to this concert. I concluded the conversation with Doug quickly, “Okay Doug, well I’m sorry about this…We’re all glad Dave and Karen are okay, shit happens man, that’s all…it’s all going to be alright.” I hung up the phone and everyone was still looking at me, still silently waiting for this plan that I didn’t have, but I started to think out loud, “The show starts at 8, right?”
               “Yes.” Stephanie, my girlfriend that month, pulled the 10 tickets out of the envelop, “The show starts at 8 and it’s at 1800 West Madison Avenue, in Chicago.”
               “What time is it now?” I asked my brother, “Is mom home yet?”
               “It’s about 4:30…” my brother answered and added, “Mom will be home in about a half hour.”
               “What about the train?” Todd suggested, “We could take taxi cabs…”
               “That’s going to cost a shit load…” Gino shook his head, “I could ask my sister?”
               “Both of those are good ideas…” I said, “Let’s get on this, alright? Todd, you and Brian try to figure out the train schedule, maybe the taxi fare…Gino, could you call Donna, see if she has plans?”
               “Yeah, but she can only take about half of us…” Gino looked at the girlfriends like they were expendable, “Not everyone will fit in my sister’s car.”
               “Well, just call her and see, okay?” I turned to the girlfriends, “My mom’s going to be home soon, will you guys help me clean the house up and then when my mom gets here, keep everyone cool in the studio, okay?”
               “Okay!” Stephanie and Amy said in stereo. I took them upstairs and for the next 20 minutes there was a flurry of activities as we cleaned up from being around the house all day and tried to find a way to this show. “If Gino’s sister can take you guys…” Amy said to me while we finished in the kitchen, “I’m okay with not going…it’s your birthday, you’ve been waiting all year for this, you and Todd have to go, you just learned Best Friend!” Amy was such a nice girl, so unlike my girlfriend of the month, who replied, in a very bitchy tone, “Fuck that, I want to go the fucking show too!”
               “We’re all going to go, don’t worry…” no sooner had I said that when I heard the garage door opening and mom was pulling her little brand new 1978 Buick Skylark in from the storm. This was a new car, mom bought it for herself as an early birthday present the month before, it was a sporty little ride and she really loved it because it was the first decent car she’d had in years. I cued the girlfriends to round everyone up in the basement and keep them cool, “I’m going to talk to my mom for a few minutes and then I’ll let you guys know the plan from there on out…alright?”
               “Alright!” they again said in stereo, “Cool!”
               “Hey honey…” mom smiled and kissed my cheek as I held the kitchen door open for her, “How’s my birthday boy doing?”
               “I’m okay…” I smiled weakly, then admitted, “But I got troubles…actually, I don’t, Dave does…he got into an accident in his parents van. He’s hurt, but he’ll be alright…but…”
               “But you can’t get to the concert, can you?” mom sat down and lit a cigarette as I poured her a glass of scotch on the rocks, as was her daily custom, “Where is it?”
               “Chicago Stadium.” I started to explain, “Todd is looking into the train, but the station is far from the stadium…”
               “Oh no god damn way!” mom stopped me, “That’s a really bad area, it’s way too rough to take a taxi and what about after the show? No, uh-un, you’re not taking a train to Chicago!”
               “Well Gino called his sister, but her car is too small for everyone…” I said and then, “Unless I can use your car too, maybe…please?”
               “My new car?” mom made a definite face that said fuck that but she said, “No, I’ll take you.”
               “Mom, your car is a sports car, we can sit maybe five or six of us at most…” I said, but then thought again, “…but if Donna could take a few people in her car…maybe, really?”
               “Yeah, I’ll drop you guys off…” mom took a stiff drag from her cigarette, “go hang out for a while and pick you up after the show.”
               “You could go to the show!” I smiled, thinking how we had three extra tickets because Dave, Doug and Karen couldn’t go…Donna could have one, mom could have one and we could sell one, “We have three extra…do you want to see Queen? Do you like Queen?”
               “Okay, I like Queen…” mom grinned, “Who are they?”





This is my mother's 1978 Buick Skylark we went in...

It was close to 6 when things finally got rolling and we were ready to head down to the city, but then, just because shit happens, as we waited for Gino’s sister to come over, there was another phone call; Donna had been rear-ended on her way over to our house and her car was not drivable! SHIT! I remember feeling like I was going to both cry and explode but mom, being the hero she always is, made a radically silly suggestion; we can all fit into her little Buick Skylark! I disagreed, everybody was laughing but mom continued to explain her plan by drawing it out on a scrap of paper. There were 8 of us now, only 2 people could fit into the seats in front, but if she put the back seats down so it makes a station wagon environment, we could stack up everyone in the back. Mom drew on the paper a box, explaining how Gino, Todd and my brother could lay down first, then Amy and Stephanie laid down on top of them, then Donna on top of them, I ride shot gun (because it was my birthday) and mom was driving. Everyone laughed and chuckled, but we all agreed, at this point, it was our only option. In less than 15 minutes we had everyone stacked inside the back of the tiny bubble like car and we went to pick up Donna. The driving was difficult because of the storm, but the roads were clear and with the extra weight in the tiny car, it held the road but was difficult to manage for my mom. We switched drivers, I got behind the wheel after we picked Donna up and then without further delay, we were at last on our way to Chicago to see Queen!



In 1978 we lived in a little suburb about 45 minutes from downtown Chicago and typically it was less than an hour ride on the expressway. That night, because of the storm, it took considerably longer. I was only 16, but I had been stealing and driving my mother’s car since I was 14 years old so I wasn’t intimidated by the grueling driving conditions. In fact, I was much more concerned about the comfort and well being of all my passengers. My mother worried out loud about the safety dangers and kept warning me every time we saw any kind of car that looked like a cop car. The trip took us almost 2 hours and although we made it to the stadium before show time, we dropped everyone off at the front gate. Mom suggested I go with the kids, give her a ticket and she will park the car to meet us inside and Donna volunteered to keep mom company so I gave them the tickets while the rest of us headed into the large, cavern sized arena with excitement and glee! Stopping to buy concert t-shirts, program guides, drinks and munchies, we headed up to our seats, getting there moments before the house lights went dark. Todd fired up one fat joint and I fired up another and we smoked them madly, before the show started, before mom and Donna got there, we got baked! I couldn’t believe it, I was so excited and amazed at how well everything came together.




This is my ticket stub from the show...

We were just finishing the joints when the lights went dark, the crowd roared as we rose to our feet, peering over the heads of those in front of us, trying to get a glimpse of the band, we had great seats but with everyone standing, it was still hard to see the stage. Then, we heard it…that familiar, hypnotic beat of The New Youth Anthem…buda-bump! Bada-bump! ”We Will, We Will, Rock You!” and for the next 2 hours or so, we were zoomed through an extraordinary show. The stage was very dramatic, large steps and platforms that light up, platforms that lift and move, incredible performances…Freddie was on fire, without a doubt one of the greatest (if not THE greatest) Rock and Roll strutters…he put anyone I’d ever seen before to shame…including Jagger, Bowie, Morrison or anyone…Freddie Mercury was incredible to watch. He had a way of making you look at him, making you feel his performance in a way nobody I’d seen before could do…and he wasn’t the only one in the band who impressed me. Brian May, when he was lifted high above the audience, ripping into his hand made guitar like the new Hendrix, his mane of curly hair bobbing in the shadows of the multi-colored spot lights…it was inspiring. It’s well known how much I Love The Beatles, how I have been a part of The Grateful Dead community and I have the unique experience of having seen just about every single major rock and roll band between 1970 and 1990…but the experience of seeing Queen perform live on my 17th birthday is most certainly in the top five rock and roll shows of my entire life!



This was about our sitting area...close, but still...

After the show, we finally found mom and Donna, they had never made it to our seats and instead sat inside a bar, watching the entire show with a group of stadium employees. They found us wandering around the lobby, both of them were very drunk and neither of them could remember where exactly they parked the car. It didn’t matter, we were all really high, some from the weed but for me, it was all about the show, all about the performance and music. The girlfriends, along with Donna and my little brother waited in the stadium while mom, Todd, Gino and I went scouting for the car parked in a very dark and large, snow swept parking lot. I found the car, I had the keys so I started it up and started honking the horn. Gino and Mom found me while I was waiting for the car to warm and we found Todd as we drove towards the stadium. When we got to the others, they were standing outside, huddled against the wind together. Everybody again climbed into the back, stacking up one upon each other just like before; mom was way too drunk to drive and so I again took the wheel. There was a lot less traffic going home, but the weather was worse so it took us about as long, although the last 20 minutes were almost unbearable. Donna, who had been drinking with mom all night, got very ill and since she was on top in the people pile in back, when she puked, everybody got some of it…and then, because it grossed her out so much, Stephanie also puked on Todd’s head! Everybody was shouting and moaning, shifting and moving, yelling for me to pull over but mom said no, it’s too dangerous. I kept driving, heading for Gino and Donna’s house first, but it couldn’t be fast enough! Once we got everyone home, when we got home and it was just Todd, mom, my brother and me, I apologized to mom for what happened in her brand new car, but I was so Grateful for making this a most memorable birthday experience! It still shines in memory, despite the way things were fucked up all around the event, that show, seeing Queen, was a profound show to me and something Todd and I talked about for the rest of his life. Todd admitted to me, he didn’t really like Queen that much and he was just humoring me but after we went to the show, he agreed…Queen was indeed one of The Great Bands of Rock and Roll!





Queen in Concert, circa 1978...


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This true story was suggested to me by one of my regular reader/friends who is also a very big fan of Queen and as I considered the story, while remembering how it all went down, I found a moment of clarity for myself in the now. In the year after that birthday, my life radically changed when Todd died in a carbon monoxide accident the next summer and I started to exhibit serious symptoms of my BiPolar disorder. Although I continued see many rock and roll shows after that, that Queen show on my 17th birthday was probably the last one I went to feeling innocent, hopeful and untainted by life’s most horrible pains. I would never see another concert without both comparing it to that magical Queen show and then thinking about if Todd would have enjoyed the show? The other people who went to the show also had tragic experiences; Amy (Todd’s girlfriend) committed suicide a year after Todd died and Stephanie (my girlfriend of the month) moved on to get pregnant and then marry a wife beating redneck when she was only 19 years old. Gino and I lost contact after Todd’s death but reconnected in The Internet Age and have since renewed our friendship. He’s a successful guitar manufacture/dealer in Florida now, still plays music for fun (like me) and is still very friendly and funny. Gino’s sister, Donna, ended up having a happy, normal life with one husband and three kids in Arizona but unfortunately she lost a battle with cancer in 2008. My brother grew up, had a successful career in advertising then a second successful career as a stay-at-home dad for 10 years before breaking up with his wife and starting a freelance career in the arts. Mom too, she has a good life and bless her sweet heart, she’s happily married and retired in Arkansas…she too still remembers this show. I told her about this article when I called her on Sunday evening, something I make a point of doing. She laughed and declared herself insane and that if I asked her today she would say no fucking way!




www.dphilipchalmers.net

So there you have it, although this story is not talked about in such detail in my book, “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” I do refer to it and most of the characters in this blog post are indeed in the pages of my book because they peopled my life…but the real message in this post, what defined it for me is the notion that despite all odds, we made it to that Queen concert because it was the end of our innocence, in a way, it was the last show before everything in life seemed to be touch by sadness. That means a lot to me, so I’m Grateful for this suggestion and I do indeed hope you enjoyed the story! In the weeks ahead, as this year ends and the holidaze come upon us, I am not going to be out promoting the book as much so I plan to spend more time here, with my on-line communities. I’m hoping that some of you may be inclined to pick up a copy or two of my book, it’s a great Christmas gift and if you order from my website, you get it autographed and some other free shit…but even if you don’t buy a copy, please don’t hesitate to engage me in conversations, dialogues and whatever…I’m around, you know my name, look up the number!






Selfie, 12.13.14





Thanks for reading, take care and be well!

Peace,

d’Philip

08 December 2014

The Day My Rock and Roll Dream Died.

Image Stolen from Google
On the weekend of my 19th birthday, in December of 1980, dad and Sara went away for a couple days of shopping down in a bigger town, Grand Rapids, Michigan. My brother and I organized a little house party for Saturday night. I had only 10 hits of acid left, I gave two hits to my brother, took three doses myself and shared the rest with the four other people who showed up at this little gathering. There was a lot of drinking and smoking going on, I remember having some deep conversation about life and the universe with this old, gruff voiced guy who worked at the car wash with me named Hutch. I remember playing John Lennon’s new album “Double Fantasy” which was Lennon’s first album after retiring in 1975. Late in the night, when there was only my brother and some kid he knew named Jeff, I remember talking endlessly about John Lennon and The Beatles. I spewed little factoids about the songs, about their history but I really got deep, acid deep about how they were my inspiration. I explained how John Lennon was like a role model, a real hero to me. I detailed my feelings for Lennon as if he were this big brother to me, not quite like a father figure, but somehow even more significant. I got therapeutic and spilled my raw feelings for my own father, how he and I were never very well connected. My brother was listening and let me speak, but I kept seeing him look at me oddly. I confessed that my father was symbolic of everything I never wanted to be in life, in my skewed crazy terminology I said “He is like an anti-compass for me...” I laughed an acid trip laugh, “Whatever way he goes, which ever direction he tells me to go, I go in the exact opposite!”

   “You look like one of The Beatles.” said my brother's drunk, stoned and zonked friend, “The long hair, big beard, round glasses and weird clothes...you look like one of The Beatles.”
   “Which one?” I smiled, hoping he'd say John, “I've heard this before.”
   “I don't know, the one with the little round glasses...” the Tragic City boy slurred, “I like Blue Oyster Cult.”
    “Ah yes...” I smiled, “Don't Fear The Reaper, great song.”
    “Fucking-A, yeah!” 

I was still tripping when the parents returned home Sunday night. I had not gone to bed and spent the time immaculately cleaning the house and then writing feverishly about my adventure to find Ken Kesey. Once Sara seemed pleased that the house was intact, after dad had been assured everything was well, I excused myself for the rest of the night. On Monday, sometime after midnight, a big snow storm blew across the area, leaving almost a foot of wet, heavy snow. I was still awake when the sun came up on that gray, cold, miserable morning of December 8th, 1980 and I knew the car wash was going to be closed, so no work for me that day. I was happy to have the day off and the house to myself. When everyone else was getting up and ready for school and work, I wrote in my journal for a while. I made pages of memories about my Oregon Trail Adventure to Find Ken Kesey and listened to John Lennon's new album very loud, all alone. I got to finally feeling at peace, finally before midmorning, I simply drifted to sleep. I don't remember dreaming, but I'm sure I did because when my dad came to wake me for dinner sometime around 6 in the evening, I was feeling like everything was going to be alright, no matter what, it all works out in the end. I stumbled downstairs, looked at the plate of spaghetti and felt immediately ill. I quickly excused myself, went to the bathroom and got sick. I took a quick hot shower before retiring to my little bedroom above the TV den in the basement. I laid on the floor, letting my naked body air dry while continuing to write in my journal about this fantastic adventure. I wrote detailed descriptions of what I had seen, how I was feeling and asking more questions than I could answer until my hand started to cramp. I laid down my pen, rested my head on the floor and sighed some deep breathing exercises. I had difficulty concentrating because I could clearly hear the television with the volume rather loud directly under my room. Dad was watching Monday Night Football and at one point, I had been laying there half asleep but listening for a while, I heard the sportscaster, the infamous Howard Cossel say something about John Lennon, Roosevelt Hospital, and the details were unclear. I sat up and bolted from the room, spinning down the stairs and standing half way down the basement stairs, I squatted to see the television and again hear Cossel say, “We have a confirmation, former Beatle John Lennon has been shot to death outside his apartment this evening, about an hour ago. He was pronounced dead at Roosevelt Hospital in New York City.”
    “What?” my voice cracked, my eyes instantly welled up but I remember dad turning around to see me as I stood up, “John is dead?”
    “I’m so sorry son…” were dad’s first words but I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence because I turned and ran back into my room. I plopped down, face first on the bed and started crying harder than I had in a very, very long time. I didn’t want to hear confirmation of the fact, I could not even conceive of this tragic event. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I just wanted to cry until I died. I barely slept, tossed and turned with a sorrow so painful, I felt my very soul bleed. I was still up the next morning so I went downstairs to have coffee and conversation with dad and Sara. Dad smiled at me as I came down the steps, “Hey son, good morning!”
    “I’m so sorry, d…” Sara poured me a fresh cup of coffee, “That’s so awful!”
    “Yeah, I can’t believe it…” I shook my head, sipped my coffee and mumbled something about Lennon, “He just turned 40 too, you know?”
     “What about his son?” dad agreed, “That poor little boy.”
     “He had two boys, dad…” I corrected, “Sean and his first son, Julian.”
   “That’s right…” dad nodded, “So awful for them all, for the world, what a loss!”
   “Yeah, I guess so…” I felt beyond sad, completely pessimistic and I was hiding a very rage fueled anger, “I guess that shows you, you can die at any time…Todd died when he was just 17, now John, dead at 40…makes me think you should live every single day as if it’s your last because just very well might be your last day!”
    “Well, yes, sure…” Sara started to reason, “but within limitations…”
    “Fuck that, fuck limits!” I snarled and then abruptly left the table, “Later.”

 
This is the Lennon look I like...

Over the following few weeks my mood got darker. I made a failed attempt to drive to New York City for the vigil for John. We were traveling in a beat-up 1968 Chevy Impala named Hienrich but that car only got about 20 miles before we wiped out into a snow bank. During the week between Christmas and New Year’s I traveled with my brother to Chicago for a visit with our mom. I got completely smashed on New Year’s Eve and ended up fucking my then best friend’s girlfriend in a bathroom at a party. I returned to Michigan with even more feelings of animosity. The weather in Tragic City was relentless as foot upon foot of snow continually dumped on us making life difficult. One night in late January of 1981, while I again had been drinking heavily, I had a minor run in with the local law because I was involved in a fight at somebody’s house party. I don’t remember much of the incident, but I woke up in a jail cell the next morning. There was nothing more, they let me go and sent on my way.  I was very seriously depressed. I had, for the first time, seriously considered the option of suicide. I couldn’t see any reason to live, first my best friend was taken, then my life long hero was taken.  It hurt so bad that I too wanted to be gone because the agony was too much. I remember thinking about how I might do it, how I might end my life. I considered pills seriously while I was idly flipping through the back pages of Rolling Stone magazine. I was calculating the number of Valium pills I would need to cause death when I stumbled on an advertisement for a place called “The Recording Workshop” located in Chillicothe, Ohio where they teach you how to be an audio engineer and producer. “That’s it!” it occurred to me, as if the proverbial light bulb went off inside my head, dispelling for the moment, all the darkness I was feeling. I suddenly had the idea that I would do that with my life, I would help others make their music since I wasn’t really all that good myself, I could dedicate my life to helping the music be heard since Todd and John were now gone, this would be my new mission! “I’m going to do this, seriously, this will happen!”
 
One of my favorite John Lennon quotes...
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This is excerpt from Chapter 1 of my new book, “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” and I felt like sharing it this week because, this Monday, the 8th of December in 2014 marks the 34th anniversary of John Lennon’s murder, a tragic loss indeed but to my twisted young mind, still half zonked on LSD and having idolized this man since the tender age of 6, it was a life altering event. Lennon’s murder both defined and shaped who I became as an individual, in both positive and negative ways. That’s all explained in the book, if you’re curious, but it’s not what THIS post is about, this article is about now…thirty four years later. I’m sure that if John lived, he’d continue the same trail as other Beatles and that’s not my concern either, I don’t really care to be truthful. If there was anything that I have learned from the life, times and musical messages of John Lennon is that it’s all about the individual’s experience and what they make of it as they travel through life. Forget about the heroes we create, they’ll always let you down. The myths we tell are alright, if that helps you get through the darkest of nights, but the bottom line is Life is Yours, not anyone else’s to live because you never know when it’s going to be over, no matter who you are, life is very short, no matter how old you live to be, so use it wisely, share Love, have Peace, find Bliss.

               As I write this, it’s Sunday the 7th of December in 2014, I happen to be celebrating my own birthday, for the 53rd spin around the sun, I’m feeling very happy, Grateful and at Peace with both myself and the universe. I’m enjoying the music of The Beatles, a practice I do every Sunday but this one, being both my birthday and the day before John died, is a special Sunday. My family, the wife I’ve loved deeply for almost 20 years and our two teenage offspring, are busy in the kitchen preparing a big birthday dinner for me…I’m being treated to some steaks on the grill, baked potato and fresh green beans with a salad. I’m getting my special cake, the one I get only once a year, only on my birthday, a banana cake made with very ripe bananas and thick chocolate fudge icing and we’re going to play some games, perhaps watch a film together, and it’s no doubt one of the best birthdays I’ve ever known. I’m 53 years old now, wow…this is how old Jerry Garcia was (another mythical big brother icon hero for me) when he met his untimely demise in 1995…I’m Grateful I made it this far, but I’m still aiming towards that triple digit birthday! In fact, it’s about that time…the grill is fired up, the steaks lightly seasoned so I’m going to enjoy the moment. Thank you for reading, I am always Grateful to those who purchase the book (get an autographed copy plus a free gift when you buy it from my website)!

As always I hope you and yours are healthy, please take care and be well!

Peace,
d’Philip


I explain my Love for Lennon in this book...

“My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” used by permission of The Intrepid Editor Press Ltd. and is available (LIMITED autographed first edition) at dphilipchalmers.net OR at your favorite purveyor of books, magazines and gifts everywhere.

01 December 2014

Happy Birthday My Child of Destiny

In December of 1996, during the first week of that month, my mind and spirit, my body and soul were both tested and blessed with so many changes, I could hardly handle it all. If not for the strength, the pure belief in Love from Kelly, my Life would be over by now. If not for her, I could not be here to write this now. She Loves Me that Well.  After rescuing me, day after day, for the next five days, we drove back and forth to the hospital. Kelly had preliminary contractions until on Thursday, the 5th of December, my wife gave birth to our first child, my second son, Julian. I was given the honor of cutting the cord and at that moment, I felt my fore ordination being met.  I was supposed to be a father, this was who I was in my core, I believed I was always supposed be a father. We gave Julian a middle name of Destiny, for the reason that he showed me a tangible path in my life, in our life.   Kelly’s father is the last living male who carries their German family name and Kelly is his only biological child. He adopted two older boys, Kelly's half-brothers, they have his family name too but Kelly is his only child of blood. Because Julian Destiny is the only one who can truly carry the family blood line, out of respect for her father, a man we both deeply love and adore, we gave our son a hyphenated last name, which is uniquely his own. Kelly and I stayed together in the hospital for a couple of days, camping in her posh room like John and Yoko.

On Saturday, when we checked out on the 7th of December, Pearl Harbor Day and my 35th birthday, we got a hotel room in Rolling Meadows. I remember that night, I laid in one bed alone while Kelly and the baby slept in the other bed. The television was glowing with bright images of holiday cheer, an abundance of indulgence and joy, the consumer frenzy of prepackaged happiness and I just started crying. It wasn't because of the false hopes of the commercials and other media minutia that seemed to contrast with my reality. I wept hardest because there I was, on my 35th birthday in about the same place I was when I was on my 21st birthday. I had to make changes to move forward in this life. Over the rest of the month, as the holidays loomed and then gloomed past, Kelly, Julian and I found shelter sleeping on the floor of a kind man’s apartment. Living like Mary, Jesus and Joseph, we were homeless, jobless, penniless and in my state of depression I was hopeless and useless.

Julian with dad, February 1997

In February, with the help of her father and the kindness of her brother, Kelly got a job and we got a tiny apartment in a dangerous part of Evanston. I wanted to be close to Cassidy but I was drifting further from the shore, I was getting deeper into a depression and I was getting really crazy under this pressure. One day I started considering how exactly I could rob a bank and get away with it; for a serious 48 hours I made very real plans to commit this crime. I “staked out” different locations, made notes of escape routes, picking alternative routes for the fastest get-away. I got rubber gloves and made a toy pistol look very real with a fresh coat of black spray paint. I thought about how I could get away with it, if I only did it once, I was going to wear a ball cap, shave my beard off because I look very different, but wear dark shades and scarf like a real outlaw. I would never get caught. The night before I was going to pull the trigger, so to speak, I had bad racing thoughts and I drank very heavily until I passed out. I woke late, with a hangover so bad I was puking for the first hour I was awake. It was almost noon, past my target time and then I just lost the nerve or perhaps I knew I wasn’t that stupid, but either way I didn’t do it and never thought about doing that (or anything like that) again. I was over whelmed by the guilt of thinking it out, planning it so seriously, I never told anyone about it either, so I felt ashamed only in the mirror or under the covers, alone with God at night. 

During this time I started to reconnect with my family, one by one, I reached out to each of my family. It started when I randomly saw my mother one night in late March. Kelly and I, along with baby Julian, had to drop Cassidy off at Susan’s house and my mom was waiting there to see us all. Mom had retired and was moving to Arkansas later that week, it was the last time she could see Cassidy, or any of us, before she left. It was the first time mom and Kelly ever met, they seemed to make a connection immediately. Then mom picked up baby Julian (her third grandchild by me), she cradled him so close and tenderly then, when mom looked up at me, she was crying. I hugged mom and the baby, we instantly broke down the wall, both of us felt a lot better, I felt Love again, my mother's Love and there are few feelings in Life as pure and good. It's the kind of Love that heals, seeing my mother again gave me both strength and hope. In the following weeks I reached out to my brother and eventually my father until, by the time spring came around, I was putting forth the effort to rebuild my foundations and I started to feel a little better again. Yet, and by this time in my life I knew this, this was all part of the cycle. I get bummed and blue in the short days of the cold winters, I get bright and creative with the full energy of the warm summers. I knew it, but I didn't care because we needed me to do something, so I did.       

In May I took a job with Kelly’s brother as a door-to-door Kirby vacuum cleaner salesman. I caught on really quick, it was a very easy role for me to play when I turned on my more manic but positive qualities. I perfected my performance of the sales script, I dressed casually cool, business slick and smiled even when I felt like shit. I took on every challenge, I went for broke on every sales call and before too long there was nothing to stop me, I became the top salesman in my first month! I won all kinds of prizes, made all sorts of cash, I put in 16 hours a day, I worked 7 days a week. I was a machine, a vacuum cleaner selling machine. Kelly’s mother, who did not like me up until this time, made a big effort to help. She let us live in an empty house in Chicago's unique Shoresch Village neighborhood, it's where Kelly’s grandparents had lived. Grandfather passed away in the house in 1982 but her grandmother was ill and living with Kelly’s mother. We felt stable, we felt grounded, but it was all built upon a lie, a lie I was telling everyone around me and even myself. I told myself this lie when I cashed those big paychecks, I told it when I won the set of luggage or the color TV, even as I won a trip for the family in June, I lied, I was not happy.

Everything seemed to be going very well, I wore the mask very well and everyone around us joined in the good times but they were doomed to be short lived. In July I felt this intense stress to repeat my incredible performance. I buckled and caved, no longer able to play the game. I started to act out in strange, bizarre ways. Getting angry with myself, I again hated what I had become, it was the lie crumbling under the pressure of the reality. Then one day, simply because I didn’t care, I wrote up a false deal to my father. I pulled a random old contract from the business files, scammed on somebody’s credit card number and then used it as if it was my father’s card to put a “hold” on this sale. I put the “sold” machine in the office for safe keeping. I had every intention of covering my tracks by actually getting my dad to buy the Kirby when he came to visit the next week but it didn’t work out that way…instead the Kirby company ran the credit card, it went through and a few days later, when the person who owned the credit card called to dispute the charge, all the shit hit the fan and I was busted.

I was fired and told there would be criminal charges filed against me soon. I left the office in Arlington Heights, got on the toll way back to Chicago and I was an emotional wreck, my head about to burst from the inside out. I was trembling, my heart was beating hard, I couldn't catch my breath.  I was streaming tears, not thinking clearly as I gripped the wheel of that ’89 Dodge van, I pressed the pedal hard, speeding along at better than 75 miles an hour. I had a sudden urge, almost irresistible feeling of making a hard right turn right there on the freeway, in front of this semi-truck that was riding close in the lane next to me; when I checked the rear view mirror to see how far in front of the suicide machine I was, I caught a glimpse of Julian’s car seat in the back seat. I burst out, crying harder, tears turning into a flood obscuring my vision, I took my foot off the pedal, pulled into the left shoulder emergency lane. A state trooper came to help me get back on the road. I got home to Kelly, immediately breaking down and telling her about everything I could until, somehow, some time that night, she checked me into Sparrowood Hospital because of my suicidal tendencies, and then I don’t remember too much more than that for several more weeks.

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Julian, March of 2014, after saving us
from a lethal house fire!
This excerpt from Chapter 4 of “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” is significant to me this week because that child who is born, Julian Destiny, celebrates his 18th birthday this Friday, 5 December 2014! I cannot believe how quickly time has passed with this child of ours, he is an amazing, artistic and gifted individual (his IQ was tested at 143) and we could not be more proud of this boy. When he was born I was already 35 years old and it was because of him, that I didn’t try to commit suicide back in ’97; this child would go on to save our entire family’s life when we almost had a house fire earlier this year, before we relocated from Illinois. He has become one of my most trusted friends too, in a way no other child of mine has bonded with me, Julian has a unique understanding of me as I do of him too. It’s weird, a bit curious really, but there’s a connection between us, Julian and I, that resonates in my hidden halls of past lives, as if, somehow, Julian and I know one another from the past too. I know, call me crazy (and I have papers to prove I am), but there’s a special bond with this child I cannot otherwise describe. In the very least, at my most basic human level and in my heart of hearts, I don’t care if we knew one another before or not; I’m just very Grateful we have this life, this time and space together now. This boy, this child of my destiny, is now come of legal age so although he’ll be my son until the end of time, he is no longer my legal responsibility. That’s a really weird feeling too, as a parent, it’s even a little frightening (for me, I admit) that he is now responsible for his own actions, whatever they might be…it’s Julian’s life, although it always has been, it’s now his time to start shining in his own right/rite…our little squirt is now an adult man!


  

“My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” used by permission of The Intrepid Editor Press Ltd. and is available (LIMITED autographed first edition) at dphilipchalmers.net OR at your favorite purveyor of books, magazines and gifts everywhere.