DAY 67 - Happy Birthday Little Brother

My little brother Ken was born on December 10, 1952. You haven’t heard me talk much about him because he died in 1969. He was 16 years old, and died when he broke his neck in a motorcycle accident on Highway 1 in Big Sur, near the Garrapata Creek bridge.

A wonderful young man!
(Photo - 1969 - top Ken, below Kris )

He was a bright boy; a reader. In 1957 Ken turned 5, I turned 6, and our older brother, Kap turned 7. While I could read, Ken LOVED to read. That year, the 3 of us received a gift from our great grandmother, of an American Heritage Book Club membership which provided us each month with a thick, young-adult history book. There were titles like Whaling, The American Revolution, The French and Indian Wars, and Lewis and Clark. Thank god for the pictures! Ken liked the pictures too, but, at 5, he read each book as it arrived, to himself. At age 59, I can still remember my parent’s pride and excitement at the dinner table, as my little brother would tell us about the history he was learning.

In the summer of 1968, our Dad accepted a job in Santa Cruz, CA. We would be moving from Ventura. While not actually a chess player, I had made a move earlier in the year that would change my life with Ken. I had asked my Mom, given that I had only gone to the same school 2 years in a row, on one occasion since first grade; could I finish my senior year of high school at Ventura High in 1969. She had said I could. Now, when the chips were down, she didn’t hesitate, she immediately said that I would be able to stay in Ventura and finish school, even with the family moving to Santa Cruz.

The next thing I knew, Ken had asked if he could stay with me in Ventura, to also finish high school. An arrangement was worked out in which our parents would give us money for basic necessities and we would rent an apartment. As we settled into our new digs that summer, Ken was 15 and I was 16.

That school year we lived at the beach in a tiny studio on Bath Lane; a rowdy, partying lane off of Pierpont Blvd. We had parties of our own, but neither of us missed a day of school. The Ventura Unified School District never knew that we lacked parental supervision 24/7.

I loved Ken. We were both very busy that year, and I don’t know that I fully appreciated what a gem I had.

DAY 54 - He Could Whip My Dad’s Ass

You might call it his favorite story, because he told it so many times, but it would be more accurate to say that it was a story that was burned into his heart. What was confusing was that he always told it with such pride.

As far as I remember, I was 7 or 8 years-old the first time I heard my Dad tell how his own father could have gotten up off his death bed and whipped my Dad’s ass. From the first telling, there was no doubt about the seriousness and importance of the story. Maybe he figured that it was obvious, or maybe he had never really stopped to clarify for himself the meanings, but he never let us know what it meant to him, nor what he hoped we would learn.

I know that on at least one occasion, my grampa Harvey, whom I never met, took my Dad out the wood shed and “taught him a lesson” with his fists, for being “smart” with his mother.

From other stories over the years, I learned from my Dad that Grampa Harvey had been strong and brave and handsome and smart and honorable and respected.

As a kid, I took the story of the projected, ass-whipping capacity to mean that my Dad knew that Grampa was a better man than he; in every way.

By the age of 14 I was 6 feet tall; tall as my Dad, but not quite as big. My brothers and I were staying with him for the summer as part of the dance of divorce, and as we had done on so many occasions over many years, we engaged in all manner of competitions; card games, board games, physical agility, and arm wrestling.

 I wasn’t just taller since the previous summer, I was stronger. My Dad and I arm wrestled for the last time in our lives. As I strained and struggled, giving it everything I had, the question flashed through my mind, “How will he take it if I win?” In another instant I was considering throwing the match, but unsure if I could I let him win without it being obvious.

I pushed ahead. His arm went down. Just as quickly, he was on his feet and putting me on angry notice that if I ever thought that I could take him on, we could go outside and he would set me straight. I have vague memory of saying something to show that I knew my place. Other than knowing that we didn’t go outside, I have no idea what happened next, or how things settled down.

When he wasn’t sober, my Dad drank a lot. It was no different when my wife, Joanne, and I, on one occasion while in college, visited and spent the night. By the early afternoon he had begun to drink. By dinner he was beginning to be a bit uncomfortable to be around. Later, as we sat talking in the living room, I with a full-length cast on my right leg, a few disagreements surfaced and began to flare. Next thing I knew, my father was threatening to throw me, cast and all, through the second-story, 8’x12’, plate-glass window which offered an expansive view of the San Francisco Bay. As I had at age 14, I pushed ahead. Unlike 14, I called him out; I invited him to see if he could put me through the window. I also remember what happened. He backed down.

My Dad ultimately and literally drank himself to death. I don’t believe that it was ever clear to him why his father’s ability to whip his ass was so important. And I don’t believe that it was ever clear to him why he was drinking himself to death.

....... This story would be incomplete if I didn’t tell you that my Dad was a good man. On his death bed, he could never have whipped my ass..... But then, that was never... what he really wanted.

DAY 5 - A Day Late

So, this, October 10, is day 6 of my year-long book project, and here I am a day late. You might be surprised. You might be wondering, “Wow, is this guy serious about this book? Just started, and he is off the mark!” Well, I am not surprised; but I’ve been living with me for the last 59 years.

As we, my wife Joanne and I, snuggled into bed last night, pooped, as usual, she asked, “Did you post your book entry for today?” Well, I hadn’t. I consistently bite off a bit more than I can chew. This last week included the usuals of trying to keep up with self-care (sleep, yoga, healthy food), and my full-time chiropractic practice, and also included a CPR  (Citizens for Peaceful Resolutions – http://c-p-r.net) general meeting on homelessness, a CPR board meeting, and hours of preparation for the Earth Charter Summit and Awards in Ventura (http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/EarthCharter).  Yesterday, DAY 5, started with final prep for the Earth Charter event, moved quickly to treating patients in the office, transitioned to a participation in the Earth Charter event, followed by clean-up and heading home at 7 PM.

The reason that it is OK for me to be behind is because I feel good about what I chose that behinds me. There will always be important, if not critical needs in the world that I will consider in my life’s triage.

So, here is my DAY 5 posting:

In the months leading up to the launch of this book, I began to create an outline of topics that I will address during the year. Below you will find the current outline. At this moment I have approximately 25 subheadings; each of those with multiple subjects to explore. Be assured, this outline will morph in the process.

 I do not expect to address these topics in any order. I plan to go with my flow. It is my intent to address government on a number of occasions in these next weeks leading up to our national election in the US on Tuesday, November 2nd.

OUTLINE
-Family
            Mine
            Parenting
            Marriage
-Nonviolent Communication (NVC - http://cnvc.org)
-Peace
-Love
-Health
            Doctoring
            Patienting
            Food
            Human Anatomy & Physiology
            The Gut
            Chiropractic
            Public Health
            Music Singing and Dance
-Culture & Common Beliefs
-Government
-Me

See you later today with DAY 6!