Updated April 15, 2004
I have a journal online here, although I don't put much on it anymore. I may make more updates soon.
I was born on August 30, 1975 at the old St. Joseph hospital in Omaha, Nebraska. I was the first child for my mother Becky and father Ron. Three years later, I had a brother Marty. My parents divorced soon afterwards, and we stayed in Missouri Valley, my hometown, until sometime during Kindergarten. Mom, Marty, and I moved to Des Moines, Iowa, where mom married Herb Styles.
I don't remember much about living in Des Moines, except that we moved a LOT; we were near Adventureland, and I always looked forward to the weekends, because Dad or Grandma and Grandpa would come get Marty and me to stay with them.
I never really made any friends in Des Moines, because I learned that by the time I got to know someone we would be packing and going somewhere else. I look back at pictures now, before and after, and I can tell the difference totally. Before we were there, I was thin, not athletic or anything, but never ate much. The only solace I had there was food ... which set a pattern for years afterwards. Instead of going out for walks, doing things outside, making friends, I would eat. In the two years or so that we were there, from halfway through Kindergarten through the summer before third grade, I gained one hundred pounds. It has only been within the last year or so that I've actually started loosing weight again ... going out for walks, working out, actually caring.
When we moved back from Des Moines, we were in the same house we had lived in before. Next door was my grandma's beauty shop .. I don't remember if she had a name for it, but she was a hair dresser all her life. She started right out of high school, graduated in Sioux City from a hair styling school (like I remember what it's called! lol), and has been doing it ever since - over 50 years now. I don't remember when she finally sold the shop and went to work at the Golden Comb, but she was there for probably 10 years.
Grandma and Grandpa lived a block away from us for .. well, as long as I can remember. I think they lived there before I was born. Unfortunately, this year, they sold the house and moved to a retirement center (a concept which I *still* cannot comprehend!).
It was around this time, when I was in Des Moines, that I realized I was "different" ... I actually knew I was attracted to guys back then, I just didn't know what that meant. It was years later that I actually did something about it. Or rather, something about it was done to me. I'm not going to explain it here, because quite frankly, I'm still not quite over it and I would just as soon run the bastard over as look at him. No, I'm not using names here, but I seriously doubt the person would find this website. It would require finding a power button on a computer, which the ... person ... doubtfully has mastered yet.
Anyway, I don't count that as my first, as it was by zero means willing. Anyway ....
In 1993, shortly before my graduation, thanks to a lovely coffee pot manufactured by Mr. Coffee, we lost our house in a fire. I was inside when it happened. I had been at work (Longview Nursing Home) for a double shift. I came home, and my cat was completely freaking out. She wanted *OUT* of the house, and just bolted out when I opened the door. I went to my room, did some tooling around - really, I don't remember what was going on, maybe reading or watching tv or whatever. I went into the kitchen to get a drink of water, then went back to my room, which was at the front of the house.
I was on the phone with a friend Adam from New Jersey. I remember this part distinctly, as I had a very long phone cord, and walked out of my room and into the living room, still talking, going to the bookshelf. I picked up Lost Souls by Poppy Z Brite and went back in my room. There was not a door on the room, just a red velvet bedspread covering what should have been a door.
I had not closed the "curtain" ... and sat down on the bed. We continued talking and I was thumbing through the book ... we weren't talking about anything in particular, just general chatter, when I heard three very loud cracks. I looked up at the wall, and it was covered in orange flickering light.
I ran out into the living room and the entire South side of the house - including one of the walls - was covered in flames. I don't know why, but I ran into the kitchen and picked up the phone to dial the operator, forgetting that I had just been on the phone in my room in the front of the house.
I was going back to the front to get out of there, when the ceiling started coming down in the dining room, all around me. I was surrounded by flames, everywhere. I don't have any memory of the next half hour or so, but somehow I got outside and down to my grandparents' house a block away, carrying the Lost Souls book. It was the only thing I got out that night.
I still have flashbacks to that night, and fire .. There are times, all these years later, when I will wake up in the middle of the night and feel flames around me again. It's nothing like it was back then, but I still feel it. It's funny, it's been all this time, yet I can remember every square inch of that house; I will be thinking "Hey, I think I'll listen to such and such cd" .. and then remember it melted. *sigh*
After that, I moved in with my grandparents for awhile, then we bought a new house with the insurance. I did not leave the house under the best of circumstances, and I had very hard feelings towards people because of it for many years.
That changed when I picked the phone up and called Mom. Things have been great since then.
When I called her, I was working at NHS University and Clarkson hospitals in the admitting/access services department. My Grandpa Marion Hardisty was what we called a Frequent Flyer, meaning he was an inpatient frequently. Whenever he was admitted in, I would spend breaks and lunches with him in his room. His last wish, he kept telling me, was to see his daughter (my mom) and me get back together. A week or two after I called mom - and he found out - I got The Call. He was gone.
I thank whatever dieties are out there for Derek ... I got online, and was able to get a message to him. He took me up to Missouri Valley; we met with Grandpa's wife, Bert, and then to the hospital to see Grandpa Marion one last time. I can picture it in my mind so clearly, Mom and Jim, and me and Derek, all in a group hug, and I remember saying "He finally got us back together again" and mom saying "It's what he wanted, the last thing before he could go in peace." ...
I had never before cried in front of anyone ... not since I was a child. But the floodgates opened, and Derek and I sat in his car outside the hospital for ... gods, I don't know ... an hour? a day? whatever it was ... him just holding me, and me remembering all the time I spent with Grandpa Marion.
I came back to Omaha, then went back a few days later for the funeral ... being around family I hadn't seen for 7 years - some, even longer. And it was all because of Marion Hardisty.
As far as Derek, he and I have had our differences, but that night I learned what unconditional love meant ... and true friendship. And I will always think of that night, how he helped me cope with the loss of someone who was, to me, a hero.
Are you ready for a break now? I am ...
I have had some ... interesting ... jobs ... in my time. I seem to either hit a year and a half somewhere or just a few weeks. I don't know what the deal is, but ... lol ... I started at Crowell Nursing Home in Blair, Nebraska. I went there on my 16th birthday and was hired by Barb Dunlap, then the DON (director of nursing) ... I applied there because mom was working there, and had been for some time.
I was still in the closet at the time, but "creaking open" the door here and there. Two of the residents - Ruby Stichler and Mildred Brown - were my favorites, and they knew before I came out to anyone else.
Ruby was from Mo Valley, and her grandson was a good friend of my dad's. She knew me, but I didn't really know her at the beginning. She was diabetic, and had lost both of her legs. She also had to pee ALL the time! Ruby was a smoker, and at 2 am in the dead of winter during a blizzard, you would see her barrelling down the halls in her wheelchair to go have a smoke. Usually I'd go out with her ... ok, someone would, but usually me cuz she loved me. When she left us, I don't think I was ever the same. A very sweet spirit left us that day.
Mildred was another story. I love her to this day. She had gone to my grandma as a hair stylist for 40 years ... give or take a week :) ... When I walked in the first day that she was there, she said "Mitch! What the hell are you doing here?" ... I had no idea who she was, but quickly learned what a pistol she was.
She hated people. Not specific people, just people in general. She would fight, hit, throw things, be a raving lunatic. And then I would walk into the room, and her face would light up, eyes becoming two smiling suns, and everything would be fine. She wouldn't take a bath for anyone, but I would walk in, and she'd grab my arm, and we'd walk down the hall, I'd help her into the tub, and away she'd go. She hated the food ... but loved it if I'd go get her something from Arby's.
She was not there by choice. Her son ... the prick that he was ... decided she couldn't handle herself. This was complete bull. He wanted her house and money, and had her put in the home. He did other things, but I'll get to that in a minute.
There was one Mildred incident that will forever stick in my mind. I talked my grandma into a special Saturday appointment, and had it cleared with the nursing office ... Then I told her. I brought her back to Mo Valley just to have her hair done by my Grandma. Oh, she just loved it, and for weeks afterwards would go around showing everyone how great her hair looked, and how happy she was. It was the best moment I'd had at Crowell. I made her happy. In the grand scheme of things, I know it was something "small", but it brought her such joy, brought her out of her shell, however briefly.
After the nursing home, I decided to get into a different field of work entirely. I needed something that didn't involve caring about people ... I had seen too much pain, suffering, and death. I took a job with a company called "WATS Telemarketing" in Omaha. I was driving a little "beater" kind of car, something that would get me from place to place but not much more than that. It was not a friendly company, to say the least. I was there for maybe 3 weeks when an advertisement in the Mo Valley paper advertised TeleNational Communcations was hiring for a new office they were opening in Mo Val.
I did not know any of the history of this company ... Had I, I'm not sure if I would have applied, but I did. I was working day shift at Telenational and night shift at Longview nursing home (the place I mentioned earlier, when the fire happened).
One evening, I got "the look" ... the charge nurse came down the hall in ... I don't know what to call it. She was kind of in panic mode; half frightened out of her wits, half laughing, and REALLY nervous. I asked what was going on, and she said "we have a new patient down at the end of the hall, and she's just nuts!" Well, I'm like the specialist with that and said I'd go take care of it.
I walk in, and who do I see, but Mildred! I think my voice raised about 3 octives when I called her name out and charging at me, arms widespread, was a 5'2 hugging machine!
I wasn't at Longview very long ... I could take the hours, combined with my day job ... But I was her emergency contact. Her son even said so. :) I think this was because quite frankly, I was more of a son to her than her real son ever was. ... Whenever there was something wrong, or she would get in one of her moods (and she frequently did!) they would call me, and up I'd come and she'd be fine.
A year or so later, after TeleNational closed down and I was working for a company in Omaha called ITI, The Call for Mildred. Michelle Hoffman (I think that was her last name) was the charge nurse that night, and she was frantic. She said I better get up there ... There wasn't much time. I was in a state of ... daze? Is that what it's called? Shock maybe. I told Jennifer Nordan - the supervisor - in VERY short terms what was happening and left, didn't look back. It took me 15 minutes, if that, to get from ITI on 90th and Dodge to the nursing home in Missouri Valley, some 30 miles or so away.
Michelle came out from the desk as soon as I walked in and said that It happened right after she hung up. She had been sharing a room with 3 other residents (the cheapo son's idea), and they had already been moved out. I went in, and she was gone. She had died alone - the one thing ... the ONE thing ... that mattered most to her in her life, and it got screwed. I stared at her body, holding her lifeless hand, and vowed never to forget who she was. My friend. My Mildred.
A few days later, there was a memorial service for her at a church in town. Of course I went. It was there that I found out her son didn't want to be bothered with the arrangements and told the funeral home to just cremate her and bury her somewhere. To this day, he has *NEVER* been to her grave. But every memorial day, I say a prayer to the gods for her and light a stick of passionfruit incense. Don't ask me why, but it was always her favorite :).
After the nursing homes, I have worked at Telenational Communications, ITI, ABI, West telemarketing, NHS, Gallup, Watts telemarketing (when it still WAS watts, then matrix, now convergys), Replaytv, and even going back to West. Ok, so what is it with gay men and phones? I don't know. lol
There I was, in 2000, working for Replay TV. It's a very cool machine that does all kinds of things a VCR would love to - but can't. In short, it's like a VCR without tapes. It's shaped like a VCR, plugs into the phone line, and downloads your channel guide for the next week, then you pick what you want recorded and the machine does it all .. You can watch whatever you want later and skip by all the commercials, rewind "live" tv, and never have to look for a video tape. I did tech support for Replay while it was still self-owned ... Until a company called Sonic Blue bought them out. They've done some nice work on the units since those early days, but decided to eliminate our office and bring everything "in-house", which shut us down. We were working for West, and one thing about West is, at least in our division, they treat their employees well. I ended up back on the phones, taking inbound calls for a "big" long-distance telephone company, selling pre-paid phone cards. That doesn't mean I dealt with regular people; it was stores such as gas stations and department stores who were calling up to place re-orders on their phone card supplies. It didn't require much thinking, but it paid the bills.
In August 2002, after applying for staff positions again and again, and never getting anything, I got the position of Supervisor, working with the same people who had been my supervisors before. My team - Chris, Mike, Laura, the other Chris, Warren, and Sandy - all knew their stuff, and it was an enjoyable experience. One difference between staff and employees, though, is when a department closes down, the staff helps their employees find new positions, but it's up to the staff to find their own. This happened in August/September of 2003, when the main client I worked for pulled out and we had too many supervisors.
I applied for a position as a Voice Services Manager, something I didn't think I had a shot at. Just a year earlier, I had been nothing more than a plebe on the phone and with a stroke of luck, became a Supervisor, but Manager? I didn't think I'd be able to pull it off ... I figured I would get the first interview and bomb ... As it turns out, my experience was exactly what they were looking for, and after I came back from the convention in KC, had about a week off then started training as a Voice Services Manager, where I've been ever since.
As if you couldn't tell, I'm a Star Trek and Babylon 5 fan. I started watching B5 because of Andreas Katsulas. Andreas plays G'Kar on Babylon 5. He also was Ambassador Tomolok on Star Trek TNG, as well as the one armed man in the movie The Fugitive. Because of how much I loved him in Trek, I started watching Babylon 5. By the end of the first act, I forgot why I was originally watching, and just thought "this is a damned good show!" ... and I've been with it ever since. As for why Trek, well ... There are 2 reasons. The reason I tell everyone, and the real reason. Next update, I'll tell you the reasons.
In the meantime, if you're in a shopping mood, here is ...
My Wish List
Added 4/15/04 ... I've put this off long enough. A couple emails I've received in the last week have asked me to say what I mean about the "real reason" for being a Trek fan. It's not something I'd call PG-rated.
As I've already said, Mom, Marty, and I moved back from Des Moines in time for me to be in the third grade, which would have made it about 1982, when I was 7 years old. Mom divorced Herb and after a couple years, fell for a person whose name I will not even say here. She was working at a bar, and it wasn't the best period for her life, or mine. From the ages of about 9/10 to 12/13, this ... being ... took it upon himself to destroy my childhood. First it was verbal abuse, which led to physical abuse, which led to the literal raping of my childhood. The sexual abuse continued nearly every day, whenever mom was at work. He threatened to kill me if I ever told her it was going on, and said if he didn't, nobody would believe me, and if I didn't submit, there was my kid brother ... who I had to protect.
I know what hell is like. I lived it. There were times when I would sit on the corner outside our house, waiting for my grandparents to get home, so I would have a place to go and get away ...
In 1987, when I was late 11/early 12, we were given an assignment in school of watching Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. The purpose was to show us in an "entertaining" way what would happen if we didn't work on cleaning up the environment, and if we didn't protect animals. At the beginning of the tape was a promo for a new series called Star Trek: The Next Generation. It premiered in September 1987. When I saw the premiere, I did not see it for the acting or writing; I didn't see the costumes, or music, or effects.
What I saw was a future where kids were not abused. I saw a future where children could grow up in safety, and if something was wrong, they could talk to adults, and be believed ... and the bad guys were brought to justice.
For an hour a week, I had an escape. I had a reason to live ... At that time, I didn't have one, and there were days when I would take a notebook and write down every way I could think of to end my pain. If ST:TNG had not existed, I know in my heart that I would not be here today. Yes, I know it sounds "dramatic" or whatever, but it is the truth.
The person left and home became safe again ... though I lived in fear that he would come back sometime when mom was at work, but he never did. I have not seen him in over a decade, yet his face is etched into my memory, and probably will forever be.
On a related subject ... a few years later, while attending the church I was a member of (yes, at one time, I believed the propeganda), I was having a tough time ... I tried talking with the pastor in confidence. I had always been taught that pastors were somehow connected with god, and were here to help, not judge. How wrong was I? I told him about the abuse, and that I was gay but had tried to change, had even prayed to god to change me. He sat in silence for half a minute, and told me that what happened was my fault. He said god does not punish his true believers, so it must have happened because I'm gay. Because of that, he said, I would surely burn in hell, as gays are not god's children, but demons sent by the devil.
That day, I lost faith in the church. I have not attended a church service since; only funerals and weddings, and even those make me uncomfortable. Now, with the stories on an almost-daily basis of priests abusing children, I wonder how they can even call themselves men of god? I think god is too big for one religion ... Whether you want to look at it as the god, or gods, spirits, whatever ... Same source, different ways of interpreting the same energy, and I don't think it makes any difference whether you go to some building and pray or sit in your kitchen and talk with god/gods/goddess/spirits ... I think the rules churches place on your life are just to control their followers. But that's just me, and I already have a grudge against the church, for a very specific reason.
So there. You've got your update. You know more about me. Are you happy? Has reading this made your day? Or do you see someone completely different than the person you thought you knew? back