Doppelganger (n.) a duplicate person, as in someone who looks exactly like __________.
I never used to believe in such a thing. I mean, each human being is an individual, there is no one else like them, right?
I have seen three in the past 20 years(!)
About two months ago, I was grocery shopping at the closest market to home. Not because it was my favorite, but because it was close. (Laziness? Heat?)
I’m standing in the checkout line, and five or six folk ahead of me was a familiar guy. Tall. Large. Built familiarly (if that’s even a word?) He turned to push out his cart of groceries, and I almost yelled out his name! He resembled strikingly BOB, my former PI and gun store boss! Except the previous week I was informed by the original Bob that he just has had the lower part of his left leg amputated. And I knew there was no way he would have been across the Valley, 30 miles from his home, and so ambulatory right away. And this guy had more hair, a goatee and a pony tail! Nope – not Bob!
But certainly closer looking to him than his brother!!
Another time, we were in a Mexican restaurant. Because it was cheap, not because it was good. And we were seated by the back door, and could see folks seated outside on the patio. And there was Marla, a former girlfriend. Same figure, same face, same laugh and mannerisms. Except Marla passed away in 2004 – I have a copy of the obituary!
And there was my first observance with a doppelganger. In 1995, about 4 months after the accident. You know where I’m going with this…
The ex and I were window shopping at a large mall, largely because it was late Summer and air conditioned. And a couple walks by with three children. And number-two child looked exactly like Molly, except with blond hair!!!
I’m not normally the kind of man who faints, but I leaned up against the wall and closed my eyes to keep from losing consciousness. And to keep from screaming and crying. And my ex (who obviously had not seen her) asked me what was wrong.
And I nervously pointed. At air.
There was a couple with children. TWO children! And neither resembled our daughter.
To only be able to see her again…
So, it’s another Father’s Day.
This is my twentieth without Molly around.
My own father lost a son (my twin brother – name unknown to me), and a daughter, through a previous divorce. He was not around to suffer the loss of Molly. If he had been, I could have asked him how he dealt with such ephemeral matters.
I guess I know, at least in part, how he dealt – he drank and he overate.
Traits familiar to me.
Fortunately, I’m not an alcoholic and am dealing with my food issues.
If only I knew how to deal with the issue of loss.
Guess I am, in reality. I’m still here. And I have the love of my friends and family.
And that, my friends, is everything.
Go and hug your children and tell them you love them! Because you never know.
I’m not a big fan of fame. As a concept.
People seem to become famous based on the most ephemeral of things. Birth, social status, excessively large gluteus maximi…
Or heinous acts. Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Castro, Che’, Sadam.
Or acts of a more personal nature.
I hesitate to even mention. The Duggars.
A family famous for having a bazillion children, now infamous for incest.
And much of the media seems to be focused on how the parents are defending the abuser.
And paying little attention to the abused.
You see, I know a number of folks who are incest survivors. Men and women.
And a more vile action I cannot imagine.
Of course, allegations of abuse are not always valid. That preschool in California, for example.
And rarely is there physical evidence years after the fact.
Personally, I think the media needs to stay the hell out of the mix. And let the authorities, counselors and family sort things out.
But, that will never happen.
Hopefully, there is a special place in Hell for the guilty.
Home invader(s), rapist, armed robber…!
Inside your home…in your yard…on the street…
You got the drop on him (them) and they acceded to your demands, dropped their weapons
Do you have a PLAN? Coordinated with your family members? Who is going to be where? Who is calling the police?
You are in your pajamas and barefoot. How will you identify yourself to the police when they arrive?
OR WILL YOU BE SITTING HANDCUFFED ON THE KERB NEXT TO THE FELONS WHILE THE POLICE SORT THINGS OUT?
My point is simply this – HAVE A PLAN! For inside your home and yard. Coordinated with family, and perhaps even neighbors/block watch folks.
AND, if you get the drop on an armed robber out on the street, how do you expect to control them while you call the police? Is there a kidnapping and false imprisonment charge in your future?
We’re told by the experts to plan what to do if an armed robber goes up to the cashier at the Denny’s where we are sitting.
There should be a plan already thought out for the aftermath. EVEN IF NO ROUNDS ARE DISCHARGED.
Being an armed citizen is more of a responsibility than just carrying a gun.
What happened to Red Jacket Firearms?
As I was in Louisiana apart of a road trip this past week, I decided to check into Red Jacket Firearms, just because they happened to be within the vicinity of where I was staying in Amite. I was curious on account of two reasons. One, I wanted to know more about what happened to them after their departure from the mainstream media because of Will Hayden’s sexual assault charges. And two, were they really all up to all the hype and talk that they have generated so much of while they were famous? The answers are varied. (Miles Vining @ The Firearm Blog)
I became a semi-regular viewer of Sons of Guns a couple years ago. And while much of ‘reality TV’ leaves me stupefied and bored, I did enjoy many of their exploits.
If the charges against Will Hayden prove to be true, it’s just a damn shame.
And he should meet all the punishment allowed by law.
Of course, if he is vindicated, his life is already ruined by the media attention.
Our daughter Molly, at her 12th Birthday Party
Twenty six days before the accident
I’m so much better a man for having known her.
I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU!
I posted a few days ago regarding losses – specifically the loss of my daughter, and a good friend’s loss of most of his lower left leg and foot.
Hardly an upbeat read.
However, Life is not just loss. Life also gives us lessons!
Since I heard from my good friend Bob regarding his diabetic amputation surgery, I’ve tried to contact him. We exchanged texts initially a couple of times, and he advise me he would call.
I feared the worst.
So, I took it upon myself to call him. Not to incessantly badger him (thinking he was busy enough) but once a week, just to check-in on him and his condition. And attitude.
And I ended up leaving messages. And this concerned me.
Bob returned yesterday’s message last night. I needn’t have been concerned.
Bob – (my former PI and gun store boss) was in great spirits! YES, he did lose his left foot and about 12″ of lower leg. And yes, he has a long, painful recovery and rehab ahead.
But he was not only doing physically well – he was doing well emotionally and spiritually, too!
Now, Bob would be the first to tell you he is not a religious guy. And not the most spiritual. But he almost lost his life to sepsis, and took his survival to mean he is supposed to remain here a while longer.
And not wallow in his losses.
He is fortunate to have the great support of his wife and two daughters. And his brother. And he reminded of previous losses and near-death experiences he has suffered.
AND HE SEES THIS AS YET ANOTHER CHANCE TO REDEEM HIMSELF!
Or, in the words of his parents (both deceased), “Put on your big boy panties and get on with it!”
And his is and has.
And, he reminded me (indirectly) that I have similar lessons. I, too, have had losses, and near-death experiences. And I have wallowed. Or more specifically whined.
I might lose some benefits. So what? Big boy panties are available for the wearing.
Bob has set an example for me to try and emulate.
Most of you know, my Father was sports addict, and as a result (because of my inability to play after the onset of my disability at age 12), I was a sports orphan.
And the culmination of all this for me is I don’t have a passion for most sports. Watching, playing, appreciating. Because I can’t play, and because I was saturated with it as a child.
(If YOU love your sports, enjoy! It’s no problem for me. But, like religion, please leave it outside my door!)
I oft wondered about the American fetish for the love of team sports – especially baseball, football and basketball. It’s been explained to me that it has to do with civic pride. And, of course, friendly bets around the water cooler.
Or the bookie.
Marx says religion is the opiate of the masses. In this country, the opiate is also sports! I guess it stops folks from discussing religion and politics(?)
MY passion is the ability to live free. To make my own choices. To not be compelled to give to others through the power and force of government. If I choose to do so, that’s one thing. At the point of a gun, that’s another.
And, of course, my passion for the love a good woman.
Currently absent. :-(
But that’s for another post…
My friend ASM826 (whilst reporting in Borepatch) spun a tale of government most foul:
In Maryland, this week, one set of parents have been investigated for letting a 10 year old and a 6 year old go walking without supervision. The parents want the kids to have what they think of as normal freedom, expanding as the children get older. Child protective services are now involved in a neglect investigation.
Of course, we don’t know many specifics. But this from the article in the NYDN is telling:
Danielle and Alexander Meitiv say the county’s Child Protective Services began investigating them after police stopped their 10-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter midway through a mile-walk home on Dec. 20 in Silver Spring. Police say they stopped the children and drove them home after someone reported seeing them.
OMG! Someone saw children! Sacre’ Bleu!
(In the name of piling on, I’m adding to ASM826’s tales of misspent youth)
I was raised in a small, white bread college town. Still, my parents placed boundaries with regard to my wandering. Roughly 1/2 mile in any direction, as boundaried by major streets I was NOT allowed to cross. Withing those boundaries were trees needing climbing, houses under construction needing exploring, irrigation conduits needing climbing down into and junk in alleys needing examining. And rockets and firecrackers needing ignition! I had these boundaries until high school, to which I either walked or rode my bicycle. One mile each direction. Then there were stores, shops (the hobby shop) and MORE construction sites, including an industrial park just the other side of the high school.
With underground electrical access.
VERY cool for fledgling secret agent fantasies!
Yes, I was wounded, scratched, developed blisters, was hit in the head by a rock in a dirt clod fight, dislocated my left thumb playing football, and broke my arm at school doing faux karate.
And none of these things with parental supervision.
I didn’t ride my 24″ Schwinn Speedster with a helmet, either!
Now CPS and the police are enforcing this NERF world. And taking more rights away from parents.
In loco parentis, indeed!
I’m in whine mode.
(I know I said at the outset that I wouldn’t use this weblog for therapy, but, hell, it’s my blog, so here goes…)
Why? Not only do I not have any funds to get neat presents for friends and family, but, I’ve no one with whom to share the non-materialistic parts of the holidays. One terrific couple I know gifted me with a cool assortment of cheeses and beers (including Lindeman’s raspberry ale!), and all I could give them in response was a small bag of garlic goldfish.
Hardly an even trade.
I love my sister and her kids, and her kid’s kids dearly, but going to a family celebration alone with certain people in absentia is always painful.
Now it’s the downhill slide from the New Year, to Molly’s birthday, to the anniversary of the accident, in March.
We’re told the best way to get out of this kind of funk is to create a gratitude list. So here goes…
I’ve a roof over my head, and a working car. Thanks to my friends! I’m on Medicare. I’ve disability benefits, which, while in no way am I rich, I can buy food, gas, and pay rent. I’ve a select group of friends, both locally and on the Internet, who help out whenever they can. Many of these friends have gone above and beyond – for years – when I am unable to give back in kind.
This must mean something.
I’m disabling comments for this post. Because, in lieu of giving me an Internet “there-there”, or a virtual hug (or a kick in the pants), please stop for a moment and create your own gratitude list.