Gotta Have TV Part 1

North Texas has some of the most extreme weather on the planet. Texas reports the hottest droughts and the worst freezing rain and ice storms one can imagine. In a large part this is what gives Texans some of their grit. The most surprising part of all is just how quick these meteorological conditions can occur, and just as quickly dissipate.

*News Years Eve - late 70’s. *
I have been called out of bed shortly after midnight because of a system wide television outage due to the weather. I was employed as a technical engineer for a cable television provider in a small community in north Texas. I happened to draw service duty that particular night.
I kissed my wife goodbye and headed out into the storm. As I went from the mobile home I was renting to the service bucket truck, I was brought to full attention by the quick-stings of the blowing hail. The marble sized pellets made a terrible racket. I was amazed that no windows were getting broken, or my eye -glasses for that matter.
Since the outage was system wide, I had an idea that the problem was going to be at what we call the “head-in”. The head-in is where the actual signals or broadcast for any given system is/are collected from different source via microwaves, satellite or antennas and distributed over cable to your TV set. The head-in is sometimes a small building next to the tower that houses equipment to collect and convert signals and give the technicians a means to monitor the activities. It will usually have a gas or diesel generator close by.
After about half an hour of driving on very slick paved roads, I turned onto a gravel and dirt path that led to the head-in. Sure enough. The building was pitch black and the 700 foot antenna tower was dead as well. Not even a small lamp was lit anywhere on the property. This meant that not only was the power company  down but so was our back-up generator. It is vital that the tower lights stay on so aircraft don't crash into them. Television cable companies at that time were considered a utility and the utility commission mandated that all outages were corrected withing 24 hours maximum and no more than one hour response time.
It was a long, cold ten minutes but I finally got the frozen locks open to the gate and the head-in.
The dispatcher at the office had told me that people at the TP&L (Texas Power and Light) Company had major problems with the storm, and had no idea when the power was going to come back on.
There was a small generator in one of the bays of my truck. My plan was to hook the leads from the small generator up to where the leads for the building generator were located. Then climb up and change the connector leads to the generator from the TP&L system. Come back down, restart everything and all would be good to go. I thought.

Gotta Have TV part 2

This particular tower is over 700 feet tall. One of the tallest in north Texas. Usually when a person climbs a tower this tall, it is best done on a calm morning just before sun-up. Before the breeze starts that is created by the cool night air meeting the sun warmed air of the morning.

The swaying if the tower can be a little scary for most people. Usually I am not bothered by heights. But then again usually one is tied off to the winch with a harness that keeps one safe from falling. This time was different. I had no winch to drag me up the tower, so the ladder was the option. The ice had collected on the half inch round steel ladder rungs and it seemed like one foot or another slipped off every other step as I made my way up. Trying to hang on to the icy steel ladder in blowing wind and hail was challenging to say the least. My gloves were getting soaked through. By the time I made the 100 foot mark my hands were so cold I had to make double sure I was grabbing the ladder. By 200 feet my legs were burning. I found I could hang on to the ladder with one hand if I hooked my arm in at the elbow. This allowed me to try and knock some ice off the ladder. Every so often I would tie off and let my arms rest.
I was so thankful I was in good shape from climbing towers and telephone poles every day. I was also glad it was dark, and my glasses were covered with various states of water from liquid to solid. Sometime we just don’t need to see how bad the situation we’re in. I can’t help but think that in todays standards of work ethics, I would not have felt the pressure to make that climb. Back then your word meant everything.

There I was tied off at 500 feet up in the dark. The tower was swaying 5 feet or more back and forth from the wind. The hail was pounding hard, and brother it was cold. Real cold. This had been a challenging climb. Usually there is a wench to hoist you up but it runs on electricity.

I had disconnected the leads from TP&L and was in the process of moving them to the side when I felt the surge start. It got real hot, real fast, then sparks. I woke up dazed, not knowing where I was and seeing nothing but white bright light.

The most apparent thing I remember was the fear. The fear that I had lot my eyesight forever.

I could not blink or rub away the brilliant white terror. How long was this going to last? Could anyone do anything about this? How was I going to survive? Why did I survive ? What was the point? This was so cruel I remember screaming in my heart.

I had hung up there from around 1:30 AM until 7:AM when the fire department rescued me and brought me down. I understand that I was found at about 5: AM by my supervisor. He and the fire department used ropes to lower me. I had been burnt and had some brain loss resulting in my vision loss. However if I had not been wet I would have been hurt far more seriously. The water help dissipate the current.

The next several weeks were an emotional and drug induced blur. In and out of consciousness.

But there was one very clear day that would change my life forever.

Gotta Have TV part 3

My mother was taking me from a hospital in north Texas to a hospital in Dallas to see a my neurologist. We stopped at a Jack In The Box, and my deaf elderly mother, was leading me by my hand. Her grip on my hand was firm as she led me into the restaurant from the parking lot. Since she was not able to hear herself she was more than adequately loud to warn me of the curbs and obstacles in our path. She had a mission and by golly she was going to accomplish it in only the determined way a mother can do. She sat me down in a booth while she went to order our food.

Shortly after I sat down, I felt this hand on my shoulder and this man began to speak. It probably should have startled me but it didn’t as I recall. His voice was pleasant, but heavy. He didn’t ask, he just sat down, scooting me over in the booth with his thigh. Without taking his hand off my shoulder he told me I had a calling to teach about the virtues of Jesus Christ Our Saviour. And I was going to teach these virtues through illustration. I had just been blinded, I thought “This makes no sense”. He went on to explain that if I didn’t succumb to this calling I would be miserable. Moreover I would get more miserable the longer I postponed answering this calling. He told me I had been given a certain “glow” (whatever that meant) and people recognized it. When I spoke, people would listen. He went on to say, that if I would only trust and have faith, all I ever needed would be provided for me. I just needed to answer my calling, and quit running from Jesus. The man repeated the story several times, several different ways as he sat there always keeping his hand on my shoulder.

At one point I heard my mother ask me if I was all right and before I could sign back that I was, he answered her. To my surprise she understood him. I heard relief in her voice as she confirmed his answer. My vision was starting to get blurry, there was definition and detail, light and dark starting to appear in my sight. The feeling was that of the fog lifting. I could make out the shape of the windows and some people in front of them. It didn’t take much longer and my sight had been restored.

I turned to look at him. He was slender in his thirties in a dark green leisure suite. He looked nothing like he sounded.

He went over the calling a few more times, never taking his hand off of my shoulder. Then suddenly he stood up and walked out the door. He turned right and went in front of a brick partition between large windows. I waited to see him walk by the window. He never did. He never came in front of the window he was headed for.

He disappeared. Just like that. Puzzled, I got up to see if I could find him.

Gotta Have TV part 4

Mother was nervous, but not near as much as she normally would have been after these kinds of things. By that I mean she didn’t trust strangers. Being handicapped makes one easy targets. And I guess the one thing that was predominate in my childhood was the fact that I always felt the need to look out after my mother. People always laughed at her and made fun of her behind her back. There was always those who thought because she couldn’t hear, it meant she couldn’t see either so they often tried to steal from her. Having my vision back made it possible for me to look out for her again.

After the exam by my neurologist, he became excited and edgy. He went on to explain that the exam as well as the x rays that had just been taken showed none of the damage to my brain that had been recorded right after the accident. He had no explanation. My mother looked very concerned. So much so it worried me. At that moment I became very nervous and I felt as if mom and I should leave straight away. We left the doctors and on the way back to the hospital I was having this urgent feeling that we had to go somewhere. I didn’t know where we were going but I knew how to get there and I guided my mother who was driving accordingly. She was getting scared because my emotional state was becoming more excited. She had no clue what had come over me. I didn’t either but I knew it was out of my control. But I also felt we were going to be okay.

We wound up at a public library in a small town between Dallas and our destination. I grabbed the steering wheel from my mom as we were driving along the road and made her turn into the grass that was in front of this library. I jumped out of the car and ran into the building and to the back of the library. On a table opened and printed side down was a book by Billy Graham. On the page that was open, it described that had I looked up I would have seen that Angel when he left the fast food place.

Obviously this incident profoundly affected me. It affected everyone in my life at the time.

Some people have left, never wanting anything to do with me again. As a matter of fact none of the people that were in my life at that time are in my life today.

I ran from that calling. In part because when I counseled about it I got a lot of resentment from clergy who were quick to tell me that didn’t happen. I sensed envy on their behalf. I struggled with it for a number of years and finally a man who has a metaphysical church in north Texas finally heard me out and helped me come to some terms with the event. Or more to the point, the aftermath of the event.

Gotta Have TV “Teaching Through Illustration.”

“Teaching Through Illustration.”

That’s what the man said. He said I would be teaching the virtues of Jesus Christ through illustration.

I’m thinking “How boring is this going to be?” doing book illustrations, maybe bible stories for children. Something akin to torture. I strongly doubted I was going to let that happen. I was determined it wouldn’t. I ran hard from this calling. Every time I had gotten involved with God on an intimate level I wind up hurting hard. I wound up loosing people I loved and I became despondent, irritable and aggravated and usually broke if not flat out broken. I have never found peace in God up to this point. All I found was hard times and bunch of folks who I felt were mean and took advantage of me.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself. But whatever it was I know I didn’t want anything to do with teaching, preaching or promoting Jesus in any way what-so-ever.

So I did what any self respecting denier of Jesus would do, I headed back to the streets.
Not having any desire to take any of this life very seriously, and having some artistic talent and more talent convincing others I had talent. After a crazy apprenticeship under a rat crap crazy shop owner, I began tattooing people for a living.

I wound up owning my own tattoo and piercing shops for the better part of thirty years.

But something happened in the process. At some point I began to realize that when people came into the tattoo shops they were coming in because they thought what God had given them was not good enough, and they wanted me to fix it. Of course it was impossible. I knew all I could do was make them worse. I felt guilty for trying. But if I didn’t do it, I knew that someone that could care less about them as one of God’s creatures would tattoo them and that would compound their problem even more. It made me angry that I felt responsible for them. “Why was their condition any of my concern”, was my question and my resentment. However I couldn’t deny what I felt for them. I saw every disappointment in their face and brow and heard every heartache they ever had in their voice. I still do.
They were hurting to the point they couldn’t feel emotionally anymore. Feelings and some way to deal with them had to be brought up in a new form. That was what they were really buying from me. Relief. It may have been the tattoo. It may also have been the way I talked to them. With love, compassion, empathy and respect. They may have felt the way I cared in my touch. Who knows for sure? Somehow I made differences in their lives. I not only tattooed the flesh, I tattooed the soul.

When a person gets a tattoo or some other kind of body modification there is this period of “acquisition” if you will. It is a period in which each person goes through an adjustment of how they are going to accept the modification be it a tattoo or whatever. In “most” case that individual will begin a process of negative and destructive thinking that grows existentially about themselves. This in part is why tattoos are said to be addictive. It is the perpetuation of the destructive self esteem. I became deeply saddened by the emotional pain of so many people. So desperate to get relief from emotional pain, they were willing to scar themselves for the rest of their lives. In some cases horribly, even beyond recognition. Not to mention the risk of infection and disease.

I have always stated that each life was so very precious. That each one of us was someone’s baby boy or baby girl. I want to treat you the same way I would want someone to treat my child.

That is the way I treated people when they came into my shops. Getting a piercing or a tattoo in my shop was not automatic. I made it difficult as a rule. I did this so that I could have time to change your mind, more to the point to change your heart, and convince you that there may be another way.

If all else failed and it was obvious that you were hell bent and determined to get a tattoo then I would do it. And in that time I would take the opportunity to explain to you how precious, how special and unique you are. I would go on to try my best to make you feel strong and important. I would do everything I could think of to make you feel like you mattered. Because you do.

I tried to tattoo someone with these things in my heart, moral wholesomeness, tasteful moderation, determination to do a good job for you. I took my time I did it with as gently as possible. I tried to stay humble.

People never forget their experience when they get a tattoo. And I used that time to teach people about the virtues of Jesus Christ through illustration.

Messenger In The Storm

I had slept late into the afternoon, and awoke feeling mellow and rested. There was no reason to go anywhere for there was a big lightning storm headed our way. Like many people I love to watch the light show that storms bring. So I grabbed a bite to eat, put on some soft blues, turned out the lights, and perched myself on the big yellow dental chair located in my workstation. The “Banana” chair is on a 8 foot by 8 foot pedestal one foot high adjacent to the tattoo parlor, separated by a dividing wall in which there is a large window opening. This opening faces the front of my shop. There I have a great view of the storm as well as my parking lot, and the street. In the past people had come to the window and I could see them peeking in, but I don’t think they could see me. I couldn’t see in when I went outside and looked, which I did from time to time.

The storm was just beautiful, the rain was extra heavy, torrential at times and the thunder was deafening as it shook the ground and my whole building would tremble. It was wonderful. This went on for hours. The open window in my work area allowed me to smell the rain as it cleaned the air a fierce wind howling between the buildings.

Time passes quickly when we are in awe. Before I knew it the clock said it was 1:30AM and no sign of the storm letting up. The lightning made shadows that danced all over the inside of my building and over the concrete slab that was in front of my glass door. I saw a shadow that looked like a person flash on the parking lot, and as I looked harder I saw him. He was headed towards the front door.

“Oh man, this is not what I want right now. Don’t come here, don’t come here. Please, please go away”. I thought to myself. But in spite of my wishes, he walked up to the glass and started knocking. I could see his hands cup his face as he tried to look in. He knocked harder as if he could see me, or somehow knew I was there. I sat still determined not to move. Hoping that he would leave and allow me to get back to watching God’s show. But that wasn’t going to happen.

He put his hands back around his face, pressed up to the glass and I knew this time he and I had made eye contact. It seemed like eternity, as we stared at each other. He motioned for me to open the door. I sat rabbit still. He shrugged his shoulders and flashed a peculiar smile. What happened next has taken me several years to come to terms with. As a matter of fact, I am not sure I have completely come to terms with it.

He walked in, not through an unlocked door. The door was locked. Rather through the glass window right into the parlor room. He didn’t break the glass, or the aluminum he just walked through it. Like it wasn’t even there. He proceeded until he got to the partition that separated my work space from the parlor. All the time holding my eyes. My jaw felt like it was in my lap, my eyebrows had to be scraping the ceiling tiles. I could not believe what was happening. My thoughts as well as my heart were racing. Fight or flight? My trusty 9MM pistol was near, I wanted to reach for it but couldn’t. So I sat, trembling. But I still couldn’t move. he moved around the partition into my work area.

He didn’t look like a local. He was middle eastern in appearance. Dark skin, dark eyes. Curly hair and beard. Stocky and solid. Maybe 5 and a half feet tall. His clothes were of a different time. Biblical is how I would describe them. He smelled like incense. It was pleasant, strangely calming.

He turned around as if to check out the surroundings. Then looked back at me as if he was disgusted. Like I had disappointed him in some way.

Not that he was threatening necessarily. I mean any more than anyone else that walks in uninvited would be. There was no real aggression that I could discern in his body language, or his expression for that matter. But there was a real sense of concerning discontent in his gaze towards me.

“ I have come to give you a warning” he said. I couldn’t respond, so I just listened.

“You have gone against your calling. You have locked me out and refused to let me in more times than just tonight. I have sent you messengers and angels, I have given you sign after sign, and you have not listened. I have promised you that if you would come to your calling, I would provide for you well. I also promised that if you shunned your calling you would suffer, and that you would be miserable. You have made decisions that I wish you had not made, and for those decisions you are cursed with those that want you dead, or at the very least imprisoned. You have made yourself sick and weak in your body, and your spirit, you have become feeble minded. You have made many powerful enemies. Not the least of which is yourself.

You should leave this area as soon as you can. No one will succeed in killing you, but you. However if you stay here you will have to apply all of your instincts and knowledge to keep from losing your freedom. You’re not wanted here. Walk away and don’t turn back, is my advice. If you stay, as I know you will, because you haven’t listen up to now, you will be brought to your knees, and you will lose everything you lustfully cherish. This battle will take it’s toll on you. I want you to come to me and use the gifts you have been given for their rightful purpose. You will be faced with another choice soon.”

He left the same way he came in. Through the glass and into the storm.

I sat in the dark slowly slowly collecting myself, still sweaty and still shaking. The blues played on and it was now raining, softly, quietly. The oder of incense lingering. I watched the sun come up.

A few weeks later I was faced with another opportunity to answer my calling.
I ran from it too.

Eventually I did lose everything. I wound up homeless, very sick, and was investigated by every law enforcement agency known to man. Had several people try to sue me. No one succeeded and I still have my freedom. But it was a long hard scary fight.

*(note - I have come to realize that our reality is not what we know or even what we believe. Rather what we feel. On that stormy night I felt open, exposed, vulnerable and out of control, even though I had done everything I thought I could do to control my environment.

Was this an hallucination, an aberration, or was it simply a dream? I don’t know.

I don’t recall having to wake up after that experience, I just simply watched the sun rise. Then I got on with my day. I know what I felt. And what I felt was intense, to say the least. I have had several of these experiences in my life, and one occasion my mother was present. She never understood it either.

A year or so later I was looking at a Popular Mechanics magazine, where some forensic Pathologist had put together a clay bust, of what they believed Jesus may have looked like based on local DNA and some other findings. That person that walked into my shop that night looked like the pictures in that article.

As I started on the graphics for this story, the smell of that incense began to fill my nose very strongly, and I could taste it too.

Winter in Chicago, Autumn in the Belly of the Whale

Autumn is very pretty and colorful. Autumn can be sharp and crisp. Autumn reminds me of beautiful pasts. Autumn inspires one to gaze forward in hopes of things to come. I am thankful for the fruits that Autumn has brought into this world by way of her children. Autumn, by the way is my favorite niece.

Isn’t it strange how names fit some people?

Autumn’s precious daddy passed away when Autumn was barely a toddler. Autumn grew up in a very harsh environment with a troubled and confused mother. Then, a couple of years ago her mother, my sister, passed away at a young 47 years. The circumstances surrounding the death were questionable to say the least. That was also the end of Autumn’s immediate family. There was no one left to guide her, or to help her through life’s challenges, but I. Albeit, she has her children, and they are very dear to her of course, and of much comfort. The children enforce responsible decisions. But they can’t comfort her through logical or spiritual discussion. From time to time the father of her children are part of their lives, that can be touch and go however.
For the most part she relies on me as the stabilizing rail in her decision making.

We discuss many things. We have talked about Winter in Chicago, Summer in Texas. We love to talk about business strategies, of which she is very good at by the way. At times Autumn and I discuss politics, current events, her feelings and sometimes even religion. Autumn questions and doubts the existence of God. And frankly I don’t blame her, she has seen the most ungodly side of life. She is no stranger to violence, emotional abuse and blackmail. She has lived through a house fire where her and her mother lost everything. The list of heartaches for Autumn goes on and on.

When we talk, I don’t tell her she must have God in her life. I only try and tell her why I do. I don’t try and make sense of the questions she poses about suffering, and war, or any of the rest of seemingly hypocritical atrocities that happen on earth. I only acknowledge that they indeed happen. I can’t explain the pain and I can’t take it away, as bad as I want too. I can’t answer her when she ask me where her parents and grandparents are. I don’t know if they are in heaven or in hell. But I do say that I believe they are in heaven. I do say that I hope one day all of those that we love and long for, will be united together with us. With her and I. And that hope gives gives me happiness. That happiness gives me faith. That faith I happen to find in the words of Jesus Christ. I then go on to explain that maybe, just maybe there is no God. Maybe Autumn is right. Maybe her questions are valid. Why should she believe the ascension of the apostles is true, what supports her believing of the resurrection of Christ. Her only indication is none of it’s true. I simply don’t know for sure. However I tell her that there is nothing to lose by hoping. There is nothing to lose by having the faith that it could be. However if that is what it takes for me to see mom, dad, and my sisters, and my brothers, and our other loved ones again then why in the world would I choose not too have that faith, in my deist sort of way? ” Why in the world would I not want to see you again after I pass”? I ask Autumn. To me, the choice is clear. I will grasp that belief with my heart, and I will hang on to that belief until my last breath and hopefully, faithfully, beyond my last gasp. I will leave here anxious and excited to see my loved ones. I will cry at the hopeful joy that it may possibly be. I want it so. That is why I try religiously to act in accordance with the values of my chosen faith. My hopeful faith. Not because I am afraid to burn, although I am afraid. Moreover I want to extinguish this burning in my heart of longing and loneliness. I have hope through my faith, and because of my belief in Jesus. I don’t have facts. I don’t have concrete evidence. I have love.

Autumn is strong . Autumn is courages. Autumn is a survivor. And I love Autumn, it’s my favorite time of the year.