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| A Selfie at CDL school...March, 2003 |
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| The kids and me, the night before I left... |
On the second week of
May, a brilliant and balmy Wednesday, I was picked up by a company trainer. I
rode for 2-3 weeks to learn the ins
and outs of how things work “out there on
the road” and other company procedures. The guy was an absolute redneck hick,
literally from Hazard County, Kentucky (the location of the television show,
“The Dukes of Hazard”) named Jake. From the moment we met, Jake didn’t like me.
Tearfully, I hugged the family in a group one last time before I climbed aboard
the tall, powerful machine. As I leaned into the cab Jake flared his nostrils
with a face of disdain, I knew it was my Patchouli body oil. He barely gave me
a chance to say goodbye before he revved the mighty engine of his Freightliner
and barked at me, “C’mon, get a move on, we ain’t got all day!”
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| Kissing my wife good-bye... |
“I’m coming…” I
cheerfully called back but I had hardly shut the door when Jake pulled away
from the curb. I leaned out the window to wave but Jake shifted gears roughly
and I started falling out, I fell back into my seat and snorted, “Sorry about
that…” I started to apologize as I reached for my safety belt, “This is the
first time I’m heading out…”
“No shit…” he grumbled,
“Get used to it.”
“Yeah, it’s tough…” I
shrugged, “But a man’s got to do what a man’ got to do, right?”
“Whatever.” He was short and curt, “We gotta pick up a
load in someplace called Rockford and then we’re heading to Texas.”
“Texas?” I nodded, “I
can dig Texas.”
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| At a truck stop in Utah, May, 2003... |
Almost the entire three
and a half weeks of my training, I was completely miserable with this dumb as
shit redneck named Jake. He was a Bible thumping racists, sexists, completely
clueless asshole. He was an awful driver, often breaking rules
and laws I even
knew were wrong. We crossed the country several times in the span of 10 days
but when Memorial Day weekend came, Jake decided to go visit his family in
Hazard County, Kentucky. He simply left me to live alone in the truck while it
was parked at some out of the way, beaten path truck stop in the middle of the
Eastern Kentucky hills. We got there on a Thursday afternoon and his fat,
sloppy looking wife and their three screaming kids were waiting for him in
their battered minivan. He didn’t even say good bye, only that he’d be back on
Tuesday morning and that if I had any problems, to call the dispatch office,
not him. I got out of the cab and decided to stretch my legs and take in the
nature with a long walk down the lonely road.
I eventually came to a swimming
hole and found a bunch of teenagers hanging out. I sat down to join them for a
spell, telling them I was a writer working on a story about over the road truck
drivers. They smoked me up with some local ditch weed, which worked well since
I had been clean for weeks. I offered them $20 and they gave me a few more buds
of the bright green home grown weed. I took the green stash back to the truck
and savored over the next several days while waiting for Jake to come back. I
spent a great deal of time writing and developing a new screenplay. In the
morning, I went for long exploratory walks up and down the hills surrounding
the truck stop. I occupied myself with the fresh air, green spring trees, the
rolling hills, as well as a steady intake of marijuana, it seemed to help pass
the time until Jake returned. It was the three best days of my training, when I
was alone, not moving and just being a writer living the cab of a truck in the
middle of the woods.
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| Heading toward California, May 2003... |
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| A selfie, Memorial day in 2003, Kentucky |
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| A selfie inside the cab, Memorial Day, 2003 |
Leaving Kentucky late
on Tuesday afternoon, Jake was in a rank mood. The visit with his family was
upsetting him and we were finally in agreement when he yelled, “I need to hit
the road fast!”
“Where we going to
next?” I asked as I looked at the map. We were heading South East towards
Tennessee, “I’m ready
for the road too!”
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| Sunrise in Tennesee, May 2003... |
“I do this for them,
you know.” He sounded like he was confiding in me, opening up in a way he
hadn’t before so I just listened, “I ain’t got but an 8th grade education,
there ain’t no coal mine no more…I could do moonshine with my cousin but that
ain’t right either.”
“Driving a truck is an honorable
position.” I assured him, “It’s tough,
yeah, but it’s both an honest living and a vital function in our economy.”
“You a college boy?” he
looked at me sideways with a grin, “You look like a college boy.”
“Yeah I did time in
college.” I chuckled, “Like prison, it
was a drag.”
“You been to prison?”
“Not yet…” I lied, I
didn’t want to tell the story of being locked up in Oregon for 3 days on a
stolen vehicle charge, I shrugged, “So where we going?”
“North Carolina and
then to Texas.” He turned up his CB
radio and started chatting with another trucker about traffic or some shit. I
crawl off to the back of the rig to lay down. In between his conversation, as I
was pulling the large plastic dividing curtain closed, Jake said, “Get some
sleep college boy, you’re doing most of the driving from now on!”
“Right on.” I smiled.
I had barely done any driving up to this point so having the wheel for a
while was appealing, “Wake me when you need me.”
When Jake woke me
several hours later, it was outside Rocky Mount, North Carolina, parked across
from a Denny’s diner. I rolled off the top bunk and opened the heavy plastic
curtain and Jake was outside, standing in front of the truck, taking a piss. I
opened the door, leaped out to join and asked where we were and what we were
doing. He explained we arrived at the pick-up station but the gates didn’t open
for another four hours. I nodded and then, looking over at The Denny’s, I
suggested we go inside for a bite to eat and some coffee. Jake seemed oddly surprised
by my suggestion but he accepted the offer so we zipped up, locked up the truck
and walked across the road to take a seat at the counter in America’s all night
diner. I knew what I was going to have, the only thing I ever have whenever I
am at a Denny’, I like their infamous “Moons Over My Hammy” sandwich platter
with seasoned fries.
I slide the menu to
the side without opening it and Jake was again slightly surprised, “You know
what you’re going to have?”
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| Yummy... |
“Yep.” I smiled, “I
like the Moons Over My Hammy breakfast sandwich.”
“The hell is that?” he
cocked an eyebrow and wore a silly Kentucky grin, “Sounds like a fag meal!”
“It’s good.” I went into detailed description of the
toasted bread, the fluffy scrambled eggs, the thick slices of ham and, of
course, the cheese, “It’s awesome, you should have one too!”
“I think I will!” he
put his menu down as the middle aged waitress approached us and I made the
order for the both of us. We both also ordered cokes and coffee, Jake added a
dessert of ice cream too. Once she left, he turned to me and explained the game
plan, “We’re going to pick up this load right when the gates open and then head
along I-10 west to Texas, we drop it in Fort Worth tomorrow. You drive the first 8 hours and then I’ll
take us into Fort Worth.”
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| A Big Rig Life...and I'm the driver! |
“Okay, sounds like a
plan.” The waitress brought our drinks over and I asked, “You just gonna crash
when we leave?”
“Yeah, it’s all on you,
buddy!” Jake seemed more human to me, less redneck as we continued talking
about life on the open the road. I told
him about my Grateful Dead days, following the band across the country and that
took us into a discussion about music.
Jake liked his country music, hated rock and roll music of any kind, but
then when I told him I had some Johnny Cash CDs, he smiled big as our food
arrived, “I love me some Folsom Prison!”
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| Johnny Cash, one of my favs! |
“I have that show...” I
nodded, “I'll put it on when we leave. But first, my friend, doesn't this meal
look awesome?”
“Yep, it sure do!” Jake
took a big bite of his sandwich and smiled as he chewed in silence. We ate our
food, got several refills of coffee and once we finished with the food, we
continued talking.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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| Available Now! |
This excerpt from “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” is
from the fifth chapter, “Koyaaniqatsi; A Midlife Presentation” and takes place
about 18 months before my psychotic break, while I was very ill but not being
treated at all. I decided to share this part of the story, however, because the
character of this red-neck truck driver trainer named Jake from Kentucky, is a
personality very different than my own. I didn’t like the guy at all when I
first met him, I wanted to like him but he was so racist, so very narrow minded
and pretty thick headed, I couldn’t like him at all. The feeling was mutual
too, I was an college educated Yankee with long hair and beard, about as alien
as it got in Hazard County Kentucky! When Jake left me for the weekend, while I
was alone and getting stoned, I somehow changed my mind about this guy enough
so that when he came back, I saw him in a different light. I saw him as this simple
guy just trying to put food on the table for his family. He wasn’t the
antithesis of things I don’t like, but rather a victim of the environment he
was raised among. His daddy was a drunk after they closed the coal mines and
his granddaddy was a boot-legger during prohibition. His wife was his only
sweetheart, he had never left Hazard County or Kentucky before taking this job
as a truck driver, so he was as much out of his element as I was and that, with
the help of some food and music, helped bridge the gap between us, helped me to
see Jake in a better light.
.jpg) |
| I Googled "Redneck Jake" and got this image! |
The mutual respect and admiration didn’t last long, as
you’ll read if you buy the book, but that’s not the point. The point is, no
matter how very different one person thinks they are from another, in nearly
every situation the two opposing people probably have more in common than not,
they are more alike than different and they both share the bounty and burden of
Life. Not always, I know, there are some people who one might imagine you’d
never get along with, not in a million years because they believe in every
single thing that you don’t and they would never respect your beliefs either…we
all know, we all have somebody like this in our lives. It’s natural, every yin
has a yang, the day has it’s night and it’s likely polar opposite people are
strangely drawn together at times. It’s okay, it’s natural, but is it healthy?
I think it’s a problem, here’s why; Pretend, for a moment that you and your
polar opposite individual are trapped under a fallen building destroyed in a
storm…then ask yourself, what does it matter if you agree or disagree, if they
are a racists or they are a Jew, when you’re trapped in a catastrophic
situation, you both need each other to survive.
As much as I tried to stay focused and get a lot
accomplished last week, it was again a difficult task getting from Monday to
Saturday. That’s Life, sometimes, but along the way this week I made the
mistake of lashing out at some people. My family, in particular my wife, felt
my bristling and cranky moods when I spoke with sarcastic and mocking tones. I
didn’t mean to do that, I was under so much pressure, dealing with things
beyond my direct control and my feelings come out sideways at whoever is near
me. My wife was with me a lot this week, I feel worse about being that way with
her than anyone else this past week, she simply deserves better that I provided
this week. That’s Love, sometimes, but along the way we did kiss and make-up,
which is always fun and I feel so blessed by her compassionate understanding
and it both fortifies our relationship and fills me with a confidence of being
truly loved for who I am, no matter who I am. I was rude and snide with a few
other people too, mostly strangers that I’ll never meet on-line or random
people who cross my path in my daily encounters. I tried to rip into one guy,
on-line, who was spewing his “Christian Values” with a nasty dose of hateful
damnation towards anyone…of any religion…who didn’t agree with him. I can’t
shut-up sometimes, when I see/read these kind of ignorant, narrow minded,
intolerant comments made by people. Sometimes I see it like a bully beat-up on
some kid, I step into protect the victim but in all that anger and rage, when
dealing with foolish trolls, is like sticking my hand into the fire to grab a
log that I intend on bonking the idiot with, but in the end, I’m the one who
has a burned, hurting hand. Futile anger is not healthy. I did, the next day,
make an on-line apology to the guy, I was indeed sincere too so I “+’d” him,
but he didn’t respond. That’s alright, I know I did right by my own virtues, so
I rest easy.
This week ahead is my last week of hanging around The San
Joaquin Valley for a while, I’ll be preoccupied with getting things ready for
myself. Next weekend we’re going to Monterey for an interview of me about the
book and being a father with mental illness. The interview is part of a
documentary in production about people who have over-come the obstacles of
mental illness. The next weekend after that I’ll be engaged in a live stream on
World BiPolar Day (March 30, Vincent Van Gogh’s birthday) from Yosemite
National Park in California. The first
week of April and continuing into May, Mental Health Awareness Month, I’ll be
fully engaged on tour to promote the book. This does sound a bit exciting and
fun, but in truth, for me, it’s scary and a hellish feat to accomplish. Aside
from the book, this tour has been in the planning since last April (2014) and
there’s a great deal involved with making it happen that depends on me and my
ability to “perform” when it comes time for me to do my bit and talk about this
shit that I wrote. In June, however, I’ll be able to not only rest, but my
commitment to promoting this book so hard will end! Unless, of course, it
catches fire nationally and Oprah names it for her book club, then I imagine
I’ll still be busy with “My BiPolar Reality…” but I look forward to the dawning
of summer this year!
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| Sonora is in The Gold Rush Territory... |
Aside from relocating from The San Joaquin towards the
mountains around Sonora, I’ll have the ultimate luxury of having nothing to do
but write another book. I am really getting excited about this too, I couldn’t
help but start drafting an outline, begin the research process and organize my
notes. The next book is another non-fiction work about spirituality, mental
wellness and music and we expect to publish it in August of 2016, so if I sit
down to actually start writing by June 1st, I’ll be done by this
time next year…but you know, what Lennon said…Life is what happens to you while
you’re busy making other plans…so who knows, not me, what will happen in three
months, six months, a year? That’s one of the most enjoyable parts of life for
me, if anyone understands “Man plans, God laughs!” it’s me but I like a good
joke. It’s great when my plans come together exactly as I planned, but it’s far
more spectacular, meaningful and positive when I accomplish something despite
my plans going awry, I find great reward in those moments. Even when nothing
goes according to plan, it failed and I feel like I lost again, it’s not so
important because I had a hell of a good time playing the game. Win or lose,
life is a game every day, every year…it’s not about the prize or glory,
although it’s nice…it’s for the Love of The Game that is Life’s Great Treasure and
Wealth.
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| The area near Sonora we're looking at... |
I digress, I ramble, I apologize but sincerely appreciate
your time and attention…I hope with the article I’ve been able to both trigger
you to think about something, feel something positive and if I did, I can only
humbly ask you show your support and purchase my latest book “My BiPolar
Reality; How Life Goes On…” wherever you shop for books or at my website, www.dphilipchalmers.net (you get it
autographed and free stuff when you buy directly from me)! I’d say something
about seeing you on-line this week, but if next week is anything like the last
two, there’s little chance I’ll be able to say much. I am trying to make
arrangements for a Google Hangout sometime soon, if I can get it organized I do
hope you’ll accept my invitation when it comes…but until then, again, I am most
Grateful!
Take care, be well and stay safe!
Peace,
d’Philip
Monday 16 March 2015
The San Joaquin Valley, Republic of California
Earth
