Happiness is just an illusion.
As I walk these streets with broken dreams.
I have so many blessings in my life. So why am I still unhappy?
My dreams have come true in every way possible;
So....why is happiness and peace so elusive
VICARIOUS
If you act in someone's stead, you take his or her place, at least temporarily.
The oldest meaning of vicarious, which dates to the first half of the 1600s, is "serving instead of someone or something else."
The word vicarious derives from the Latin noun vicis, which means "change," "alternation," or "stead."
Vicis is also the source of the English prefix vice- (as in "vice president"), meaning "one that takes the place of."
____
In literature, “vicarious” appears in many places. My interpretation is “living as others” or believing that you are someone you are not. Easy examples from my life are:
making friends with someone whose family I wish I belonged to
watching how they lived and loved
thinking about being like theme
acting like them in dress, words, actions,
staying in their homes as if I was their son,
trying hard to be accepted.
Real life examples include:
Bob Fazzina’s father and mother,
George Huggins mother and brothers,
Ralph Puerta’s mother (my own DONNA REED)
Nelle’s father, mother, and brothers
The only problem is that I have NEVER really felt accepted by anyone. In fact, due to the scars of BLAME (earlier post) I felt that I would be "found out" and then rejected.
Red and Martha Garofalo NEVER made me feel this way. They always accepted and even welcomed me into their family. It took me many years to believe this.
to be continued
FTC
LB,ME
6/30/22
Blame.
Blame is a powerful word. To blame someone for something could be both dangerous and do long-lasting harm. If you blame someone and they are innocent of the action for which you have “blamed” them is horribly wrong. I have been a victim of misplaced blame many times as a youth. The reason for this action or behavior by others against me stems from those true actions of mine; lying, shoplifting, theft, deceit, and finally grand theft auto. All before I was 16.
My father blamed me unjustly for many things:
his alcoholism,
his divorce, -
After 16 years of his alcoholism and abuse, my mother left him. It was 1964 and my birthday was in July. I was serving time on a diary farm in Miflinburg, Pennsylvania for stealing a car, He drove up to see my on my birthday. We went fishing and on the banks of a small creek he blamed ME and my delinquencies for his divorce. Thanks Dad,
breaking something of his,
The corvair’s failed transmission,
he towed a heavy trailer and boat from Phila to Camden,
It was a homemade heavy trailer that I made at his request,
The boat was a waterlogged Comet sailboat,
The boat slid forward on the trailer and pinned the engine lid closed
despite these issue, he towed the boat BACK to Philadelphia….
The corvair was under-powered and NOT meant for a trailer hitch
When I borrowed the car a week after returning, the transmission failed
a fishing rod, - made for me, borrowed by HIS friend (Sabia) and broken by HIM.
a BB gun – given to me for my 10th birthday. Used by one of HIS friends who broke it. My father blamed me and took the gun away from me.
Years later, after returning to high school in late 1964, I changed my life and plans and was accepted at Penn State. I lived with a friend in a small apartment in Chestnut Hill, PA who had some friends who were wealthy. I aspired to be like them, to hang out with them, to be accepted by them. I went to their parties. I visited them in their homes and felt like I had been accepted.
One day, in early 1965, two guys came to our apartment and accused me of stealing something from one of the homes and told me to stay away. One guy was a known asshole and a liar. He knew I could kick his ass so he brought a friend. The friend was over 6 feet tall and very strong. I guess he was the enforcer. I denied any such actions but due to my known past they blamed me anyway. I think it was just and excuse because the girlfriend of the little man liked me. That experience scarred me for the rest of my life and bothers me today, 57 years later.
There is no need to write further. Obviously, there are many people in prison today who actually ARE innocent but are serving time now. Some are on death row awaiting execution. Others have been executed and then, found innocent after their death.
Now, if my wife blames me for something that I did not do (despite having been guilty of this action at other times) I hate it and hate her for blaming me. However, what is my defense? None.
___
Be careful who you blame. They may be innocent and your blame will do harm that may last them for a lifetime.
The Meneses Family - 1927
I wrote this in 1999 after reading Elmore Leonard's CUBRA LIBRE and trying to read Jose Marti's poems in original Spanish. I learned a little. Now, 23 years later I still don't understand about the Cuban Blood I have in my veins...
Cuban Blood
At fifty, he read this book. Something about Cuba and the revolution. It had never mattered before. But now, he wondered about his blood. At ten (in 1958!) he had listened, patiently, he thought for a (HYPERACTIVE) ten year old, to his grandfather talk about Cuba and his brothers, in the hills, fighting.
She stood on the beach
face wet with tears
staring into the sun
northward for years
Her baby left in Miami
she was just eighteen
pregnant and alone
thinking what could have been
Her life was broken
old ways, her scorn
Her family divided
from the day Marguerite was born.
Malecon held her close
promising love, a new life
He died without knowing
his baby, his wife.
Her baby girl was gone
to a new life and home
A new family too
A dream once her own.
As the sun set over Cuba
she waded in deep
and started to swim
To her baby and to sleep...
Part 1 – St. Thomas
May 10, 2016
Lincolnville Beach, Maine -
It
was November, 1968 and I was in St. Thomas USVI and after a few weeks
sleeping on the deck of the Tontine II, a 76 foot John Alden
schooner, drinking 30 cent Heinekens at Fearless Freds while my
laundry rolled along behind the bar, I was ready for a change of
scenery. This big Australian sitting next
to me was telling me his
plans to sail to South America with his wife and hinting that I
should join them. Sounded good to me and better than staying on land
for even one more day.
We drained our beers, checked the laundry, and then walked over to his boat to meet his wife and check it out. Hmmmmm. Not much of a boat. 26 foot long and it looks homemade. I took a few pictures later but now I can't find them. Too bad. She was ugly but she was going to be my first “command”. I think her name was SPRAY but maybe I was projecting an image of me as a younger Joshua Slocum.
I met the wife. What can I say? Honestly, she was a beast. Short, fat, curly black hair, frumpy in an irritating aunt-type way. Bad teeth, poorly capped and a suspicious, probing and disapproving look. However, she liked me and we sat down in the cramped cockpit to discuss their plans and how I might fit in. Our knees touched and despite my homeless/boatless status, I was embarrassed to even be aboard this thing.
The Australian (I have forgotten his name now but he called me “Kid”) pulled out some lukewarm beers and we started the negotiations. They wanted me to be the Captain and teach them to sail as we cruised down the islands to South America. No problem there. How much were they going to pay me?
“Well, actually Kid, we sort of thought you could kick in $5 bucks a day for food and we could see how things go from there..” .(this attractive offer was delivered in a strangely familiar, Cary Grant type accent that cracks me up even today)
“What??!!” No way. I need money more than I need a job so forget it!”
“Now wait a minute Kid, me and the missus need your help just to get started and you're stuck here in Yacht Haven and told me you wanted to get on down island. Right?...So this way you can join us, help us out, get some sea-time and jump off at any island down the chain like Tortola, Anguilla, St. Marten or even wait until we reach Antigua. What do you say?”
What COULD I say? It WAS 1968, I had just flunked out of Penn State and lost my 2-S deferment status and would soon be re-classed “1-A” and have to go back to the states to serve somewhere. Probably the Navy but that was somewhere out there in future-land. This was NOW.
“OK. Lets do it. When do you want to get going?”
“Thats the way, Kid! Lets drink to a new adventure!”
To be continued….stopped here at 6:38 am on Sunday, January 17, 2016. Almost 48 years later. Bummer, I am so freaking old that I can't believe it! By February 5th I will be back in Tortola, with my faithful. Long-suffering, still beautiful wife, Nelle, and her brother Jake, his wife Valerie, and their two amazing kids; Mae & Bo. We will bareboat a 47 foot Leopard catamaran and, once again, sail the BVI. The adventures continue!
Tom Crowley, Man of Action!
(aka; “Bad Captain”)
RESTARTED THIS IN 2022 --
The Aussie never needed any event or encouragement to drain a few and I was glad to join him and...her. We loaded up the little boat, tied on a 12 foot sailing dinghy and cast off from the Yacht Haven dock, waving to our sad, land-stuck drunk friends at Fearless Freds. The wind was pretty strong, even in the harbor but we drove along nicely as we headed for open water and an adventure that could not have been imagined by even me, an imaginative, optimistic, Cuban-Irish sailing flunkout.
As we rounded the point of land called Point Knoll and where Morningstar Beach is today, the wind hit us hard, almost knocking us over. Luckily...the frayed line holding the bottom front corner of the jib down, gave way with a snap and the jib flew up the forestay and wrapped around the top of the mast. Not a good start but perhaps a foreshadowing that should not be ignored. I ignored it and we headed back to a sheltered area behind the point and I re-attached the jib so we could get underway again. By this time, it was past noon and we had not even left St. Thomas. I was definitely not interested in going back in and have to share this hapless pre-adventure with the gang at Freds so we sailed on and made it as far as the island of Great Saint James and Christmas Cove where we dropped anchor just before sunset.
To be continued - stopped here on
March 10, 2022,
Gulfport, Mississippi
I had no idea, nor could ever imagine, that just a few weeks from that day, after being stranded on the customs dock in Road Town (Sitting on The Dock – Part 2) , I would be trying to sail a 12 foot dinghy, with all my gear stuffed under a green canvas tent, from Road Town, Tortola back to Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas to find another boat!
Part 2 – Underway for South America (via Tortola)
Loaded up
Left St. Thomas – strong winds
Tack on Jib broke! - back to port
Underway again
Christmas Cove
Snorkeling
Ax in Hand w threat
Underway again to Tortola
Dock Scene
Threat of police
Offer I refused
He owns the dinghy
Part 3 – Underway – Back to St Thomas!
We try to sail to St. Thomas
Rudder broke – fixed on the dock
Mast broke – fixed on the dock
Underway again – to St. Thomas!
Too rough – into Cinnamon Bay
3 weeks in a tent
Abandon the camp
Back to St. Thomas
TO BE CONTINUED…..
She stood on the beach
face wet with tears
staring into the sun
southward for years
The raft was crowded
she was just eighteen
pregnant and hungry
sick of what she had seen
Her country was broken
old ways they scorn
Her family divided
from the day she was born
He held her close
promising love
he left with her news
she sought help from above
Her baby girl was gone
to a new life and home
Off to college, a dream
Once her very own.
As the sun settled down
she waded in deep
and started to swim
back to home and to sleep...
