The Past; letting go

Caveat: I have not been married to Antony's father since 1997. We have never been on great terms, but I tried to keep most of that from my son. His father, on the other hand, did not. 

My Son's father passed away almost a month ago now. I actually wrote a blog on him and his friends a little over a month ago. On Friday, my son and I went through his things. Mostly it was his clothing. Mohamed had a clothing and shoe fetish. He loved high-end expensive clothing, and about 3 of the 5 boxes we went through still had tags on them. I don't know how I feel about this since he died penny less and Antony has to come up with the money for funeral expense. (I've started a gofundme for that. https://www.gofundme.com/f/assistance-for-my-son039s-father-passing 

To clarify, A headstone. Which Mohamed's son deserves to have for him. 

Back to his effects. He also had lot's of paperwork, but most from the past. Our divorce papers, our court papers, allegations, statements, filings, etc.... My son just turned 24 on the 9th of August. If you've followed my writing, you've read about him and how much I have tried through the years to protect him. The papers should have long been thrown away or burned. It was history. I don't know if my son will read them, or if he does, what he'll think of them, but I am leaving that up to him. He can decide what to throw and what he keeps.

Mohamed never lived in the now. He was always chasing the money, and never appreciated the actual journey. The lessons he could have learned from it or should have learned from it, he did not. The purpose. 
Everything was status, his clothes, his cars, where he lived. His son.

I look back at all of it, and I'm sad, that he lived that way. Sad for him, sad for my son. There were good memories before Antony was born, and some after. Mostly though, there was strife. Mohamed passed in a country that was not his, with no friends or family. 

We have memories, photos, stories, but Mohamed is no longer with us. I hope in where ever he is, he has finally found peace.

 ارقد في سلام

Humanity is dying

I watched a T.V. Special on King 5, titled Seattle's Dying. Found here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpAi70WWBlw

In it, the commentator, asks the question, "What if Seattle is dying and we don't even know it?" Well, we do know it or the special would not have been done. I work in Seattle every day and see this and more. We are too damn liberal.

I hear about it from the people who come into my store. I see drugs and crime on a daily basis. What I don't see is something being done about it. Again, we have discussions, we run specials, we have programs and money set aside to help, yet NOTHING is changing.

Why? I can tell you what I see and hear. Example: A shoplifter walks out of the store with 100.00's of dollars worth of goods. Are the police called? No, because they do nothing. Are not allowed to do anything.  The city council voted to call these crimes, crimes of poverty. We stand and watch. Our policy is to not stop, not confront.  The city policy is to allow it. Too much paperwork for the courts.

Are the city and the corporations afraid of lawsuits? This is what I hear. Lawsuits from the thieves. The druggies. Employees can lose their jobs. When did crime become OK, and not stopping it becomes wrong?

The attitude of the people is anger, disbelief. I see people shake their heads in wonder but I see no one doing anything about it. It reminds me of talking to someone who does not vote. The belief is, why should they. One vote won't make a difference. This way of thinking is inherently wrong. Nothing is ever accomplished through in-action.

You listen to the police in this video, their hands are tied. They don't feel the honor they felt when 1st becoming a police officer. They are given kits to take to the people on the streets. They coddle the junkies, doing drugs that are illegal. Did you know there are still people in jail for marijuana offenses from the '60s and '70s? Yet, you walk by almost any street corner, in downtown Seattle, any park, or underpass, and people are shooting up. It's a liability to the city to put someone in jail while they are high.



There was a second video done, on skid row in California. 53,000 people homeless are living there. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9D9pZEjSxXQ

This is not just happening in Seattle. This is happening all over our country. It should not be. It should not just be being talked about. It should not be just being filmed. Something should be being done about it.

Humanity is dying. People say they care but it is glaringly obvious that they do not. Or this would change.

John

We were talking about you the other day. Jen and I.

Sharon and John in front of the School in Entebbe Uganda
One of my last photos of him before he passed. 

I can't really remember the 1st time you walked into the club. I know you were in between jobs at Evergreen Helicopter. Jen hired you to bar back.

We became instant friends. You had that effect on people. No matter who you met.  You spoke Arabic and started teaching me.  We spent all our time together, and we danced. To any band that played. You tended to have crushes on the female leads, and me, the bass players.  I don't know why, maybe because they were tall and lanky and so was I.

We followed the bands that we liked. One, all the way to California and back. Most of our friends were in the music scene. When you taught me to dance, it was swing. Salsa, Pasa doable, and ballroom dance. Every week we were out. You stayed with my parent's and helped dad with cutting and stacking wood. You would help mom around the house too.

Jen and I were laughing about when you went back to the Middle East. I believe it was in the late '90s when you went back. You called me because you had gotten engaged. You told me about Mahar, the Muslim engagement period and that you needed to come up with cow's, and goats and a house for her. Plus 5000.00 for her household. You told me you didn't think that the marriage was going to happen because you did not have the money for the goats. Thinking about this now, Jen and I laughed and laughed. Goats, of all things. Like there weren't a million of them over there.

In the Early 2000s, you came back to the states and moved to Hammond Louisiana.  My understanding was you bought a house and property down there and were attending Tulane University.  From there, you went to Entebbe Uganda. You also bought property there, while you were helping build a school for girls.

We had phone calls often, but the last one was in April of 2012. I was with mom and dad, right before she passed. You spoke to mom on the phone and she asked if you had stacked the wood. You told her yes, you had and to stay warm, and you would see her soon. I did not know how prophetic that statement was.

You didn't tell me you were sick. I had no idea until your brother called me in June. I knew when I picked up the phone. Before he said a word, I knew you were gone. 7 years ago today, you left us. We all miss you. I'll be seeing Karen on Friday night. Rail is playing.  She's bringing her daughter Samantha, who's as gorgeous as she is. Alex is doing sound for them. You never got to meet them, but they love music as much as you and I did.

I see Jen all the time. She has cancer but does pretty good.  She and Jim are still together after all these years. 43 years now according to Jen.  I can hear you laughing when they fight. I can see your impish smile when she and I are up to our usual antics all these years later.

I wish you were still here. You'd be proud of your brother and sister and niece. I remember you going to see her play with the Philharmonic Symphony. My son plays now too and has a band. You are missing so much, and so many circles that we are still in.  And Antony, my Egyptian child. He's not a child anymore John. He's grown, and he dances, and he works for Microsoft. You'd be so proud of him.

I found some of the letters the other day. The ones from Tehran, and the Ivory Coast. You had quite an adventurous life. You lived it to the fullest. God, I miss you. I live with Cyrene again too. I remember our trip to California and staying at your tiny apartment in Oxnard. I wanted to stay on the sailboat, but Cyrene would not.  She was so funny about things. There was a storm rolling in, but I know we would have been fine. I have pictures from that trip somewhere. I'll have to dig them out and post them here.

Anyway, I'll let you go now. Just know I love and miss you. Wish you were here.

1987

2 of my roommates from the house on 45th, and some of the band members
from Whiskey FIx that lived with me. 

In 1987 I was living in the C.D. in Seattle. Still working at the Riviera in Lynnwood, and also at a little Greek restaurant behind the courthouse on Yesler.

 I was so naive. I Lived on 18th with two Filipino roommates Naomi, David, and my 2-year-old daughter.  I had Cripps at one end of my street, and Bloods on the other. I honestly never paid attention to this, until a friend from college pointed it out to me.

I was walking to work on Yesler one day, and my buddy who I went to college with was driving a cab. He passed by me and turned around to pick me up.  He had no idea I was living down there, and so our conversation went like this.

Him: hey, what are you doing down here, walking around.
Me: I just live over on 18th, I walk to work every day.
Him: You have got to be kidding me
Me: no, why?
Him: you realize this is the C.D.
Me: yea, so?
Him: It's dangerous in this area.
Me: I've never had any problems.

RIght about when I said that, he came to a stop at a light. Two Seattle police officer came running up from behind the cab, yelling stop. I look around, and here's this African American guy, booking it, and slides over the hood of our car and keeps going. The police had guns drawn.

My buddy looks at me and says See? As if to say, I told you we are in a dangerous area. I started thinking about moving from then forward.

I did eventually end up moving. To a house in Sunnyside. A block off 45th. I rented a 5 bedroom home with 3 other girls, and 2 guys. All in bands. We had a soundproof studio in the basement. A few Seattle musicians practiced there, including Mike Starr and Jerry Cantrell, from Alice n Chains prior to being signed.

This was a start to another chapter in my young life.
More later~
peace~

I still think about him

friends....or lovers 

I think about him almost every day. Odd how that is. It's random. I'll be going along good and then he pops into my mind. I will wonder at what part of the day he is in, whether he is working, or out with his girls. I'll wonder how his meetings are going, or if he's just at home on the deck relaxing.

When I'm driving to work, I wonder if we are on the same highway at the same time. When I come in late from my job, I get to my exit and think, he is one more exit up.  I wonder if he's awake, because I know he has been before, we've been on the phone that late. He works days, I work nights.

Who knows how these things work. I've been friends with him for a long time on social media. Even though we never really interacted before this year. He said he was always curious about me too, and wonder if he thinks of me at random times. I've always been curious about him. Attracted to his looks. Now his mind. He's sweet, caring. I can tell in how he talks. He's a good dad, I see that in what he posts.

I think about my life back to 2001. When I had my diagnosis. My feelings about life changed in those moments, and so I try to let people know what they mean to me. Even though I'm not really good at it.  He means something to me.  Maybe I'm not ready to identify my feelings or explore that too deeply yet, but he does mean something. *shrugs* *laughs* Silly me.

I wonder if I'm destined to be on my own from here on out. Was my marriage and subsequent divorce, the end of a meaningful relationship for me?  Has the world changed so much that the elusive "happily ever after" no longer exists?  I'm good on my own. I can do what I want when I want, but there are so many times that I think, it would be nice to share this with someone. What this is is, I've no idea. *ha* but maybe this could be found together.

I know I shouldn't think about him in that way. We are friends, and having friends, long term is always good.
He's with someone, but for some reason, I feel like there is some hope here. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I can see the pattern's that he cannot, or maybe because I know we have a connection.  I know we are friends, but wonder if somewhere down the line if there might be more. Maybe, maybe not. Time will tell. But I think about him.

California or bust

Steve Mumford and myself New Years 1987
Riviera in Lynnwood 

In 1987 I stopped working for Jim and Jen and went to work at the Riviera in Lynnwood. Steve Mumford owned the bar at the time. Not the building, Allen Hemmat owned it and Steve was leasing, with a suicide clause in his contract.

Steven went to school with Dan, Jennifer's brother, and I had met him at Casbah, another club that Allen owned. He had rescued me from my daughter's dad causing a public scene, and we had left and gone up the road to Jimmy Z's.

When I went to work for Steve, I was running the security team at the club, plus doing his books. Steve and I would constantly fight. He would fire me at least once a week, and then call the next day to beg me to come back. When I was doing books before we would open, Rick, the bartender would usually call back to the office to check on us because he could hear us bickering. It was a constant joke for him to ask if I needed the police or an ambulance. Steven was in love with me, but it was not reciprocated. He was a friend, and I had fun with him, but he was an alcoholic. I wanted no part in that.

We roomed together in Mukilteo and were always out in his limo when we were not working. I was driving a 73 gremlin at the time, and Francis, another friend, (who was in love with me, feelings not returned) had just bought an 85 Camaro with T-tops. My gremlin broke down one night, so Francis took it, while I took the Camaro. One night at the house, after work, Steven had a party. We had a full bar downstairs and a hot-tub. He had brought a bunch of chic's over and cranked the music. I was trying to sleep. I got pissed, and we had a huge fight about him and the girls. He threw it in my face again that I would not go out with him because he was fat (he was, but not the reason) and that he would have girls over anytime he wanted. I screamed at him that it was not because he was fat that it was because he was an alcoholic, and proceeded to grab every bottle in the bar and dump it. He was on the phone with Jennifer, crying to her about what I was doing and why would I not date him.

The next day at the bar, he, of course, fired me again. I was running with Cyrene by then, and I ended up moving in with her at Nanny's house. We decided that we were going to California, on 300.00 and a gas card.  Once we got there, we decided we were staying. A story for another time.

In the meantime, I had Steve calling me where we were staying and begging me to come back, and I was writing Jennifer on a weekly basis to tell her of our adventures.

By the end of Summer of 87 we were back, out of money and facing reality again. Back to work.

You can't make this shit up

Mohamed Ahmed
Antony's dad 

So basically, this is pretty much my entire adult life. If you've followed my blog, you'll understand.

On Friday, I was out with my best friend for a while. After she left, I had stopped at the store on my way home. I ran into two people from my past. They were friends of my ex-husband Mohamed, and also of my best friend Jen, whom I had just left.

I didn't recognize them at 1st, and one kept asking if I remembered him. I finally realized it was Tarek, and Alat his brother. They asked me if I was still in touch with Jim and Jen. Of course, I said no, I had not seen them in years.  The reason for this is, anyone who knows or is close to Arab men know they love drama, as much as they deny it, and fish for information. At least it's always been that way when it comes to Jen and I. They never wanted us to hang out. So they were always making stuff up to cause problems for us.

They then proceed to tell me, they think something bad has happened to Jen. My response was, oh no, I've not heard a thing. (all this as I'm in text with her) Yes, they say, we think she died. (I'm dying laughing inside during this conversation)

Then they ask me about Antony, my son, asking how is he, they have not seen him since he was 7. Which I know is not true, since they were at the hospital a few years back with him when his dad had a stroke. I did show them a current photo, and one of his dance clips. Anyway, then they say, they think Mohamed died. I just look at them. (still laughing) and I say, no, I think Antony would have told me. 
As I start to move away from them, I say it was good seeing you and goodbye.


Yesterday, I was in message with my son. Antony. Here is our conversation verbatim.

Me: By the way, how's your dad?

Antony: He's OK I guess.....

Me: I ran into two of his old friends on Friday. They said he's dead.

Antony: .........

1/2 hour later
Antony: He's fine mom...lol...

Me: lol.. OK. Just checking. You'd tell me, right?

Antony. Yea.

Me: OK. Love you

Antony: Love you too

You just can't make this shit up.

For years, the men in mine and Jen's life have always tried keeping us apart
or tried causing problems with us. For years, we just laugh about it. It's so strange.  They are all old now, and still playing games like it was 30 years ago.

More to come on Jen and I.

My best friend

chttps://www.heraldnet.com/news/after-25-years-last-call-at-everetts-jimmy-zs/

Talking about my best friend.

I was asked to write an obituary for her. She asked me. Before I do that, I want to put our histories down.

The interesting thing about the link I posted under mine and Jen's photo is neither one of us know who the 31-year-old security guy is. In fact, she pulled me for security that last night they were in business and I found both security guys in the back hall smoking weed.

The news reporter did a poor job on the history of this place. Jennifer was manager and bartender from 1985 until closing. They should have spoken to her, and other regulars that were there since it was Panama's and Jimmy was just the cook.

A few years back, she was diagnosed with colon cancer. We know this will come back eventually.
Jen and I have been best friends going on 34 years. She was also my 1st boss ever.

Back in 1986, I went to work for Jimmy Z. I started as a cocktail waitress. On the day of my interview, I was later told that there was an argument between Jen and another bartender, that I would not be hired. Jen said I would not be, and Karleen said I would be. The story on that was because the owner, Jimmy supposedly liked blondes.

I was, hired, and blonde and Jen hated me. One of the guys who worked in the restaurant told me to stay away from her because she was a snake. I took this as a challenge, as I do everything in my life when I am told no, or stay away. I disregard.

Jen was hard to get to know, but I did it. I'm pretty good at reading people, and she was easy. We became friends within 6 months of me working for her. The night I stopped cocktailing and became her bouncer, was the beginning of our long friendship.

By the late 80's I had worked for other clubs and moved around a bit, but Jen and I went out at least once a week. We didn't drink every time, but when we did, you knew it. Jim would send us to other clubs to see how full they were, or what bands were playing, and expect us to report back to him. Sometimes we did, and sometimes, we were too tipsy to care. Jim and Jen had been together for about 4years by then although it was not public knowledge.

When Jen and I would get drinking, it was alway's Youkon on the rocks. We would start at the club and then hit between 3 and 5 nightclubs through the night. We also had our secret places. Like Jacks, or the bowling alley bar. She drove a little pulsar with T-tops. We would either take her car if I was drinking more, or my car if she was drinking more. Invariably it did not matter though since neither one of us should have been driving. Someone one was looking out for us because we never once got pulled over or in a wreck.

I remember my 21st birthday. Jen and Kar were close, and Jen and I were close, and then Lori and Kar were close. Lori and I were not. Anyway, the 4 of us went to the bowling alley to drink. We took the tops of Jen's car and piled in. This was in February. We were 3 sheets to the wind. All 4 of us. I remember getting back to the club and Jimmy being so mad at us that that is when he decided that we should not hang out anymore. We got into to much trouble according to him. Lori and I had a fight, she told me to get in the back of the car since my birthday was over at midnight. Jen and I still laugh about this. Lori always had issues with me. She liked band members, and I was always friends with the bands, although I never dated any of them. Lori was insanely jealous of me, so we didn't hang out often.

I have so many more stories on my relationship with Jen. 34 years worth.

Stay tuned.

Wages and rent.

Let's talk about wages in this state for a minute.

You all know I am a single mother. My children are grown, so I do not support them at this time. However, I will be helping with my 19-year-old, the one I spoke about in my last post.

I've looked for housing that we can afford, and there is none. It's pretty much non-existent for a single household. You need at least 2 incomes to make it work, and most times that's not enough.

There is nowhere in Washington State according to this article https://reports.nlihc.org/oor
This link shows I make 4 dollars less an hour to be able to afford a 2 bedroom home. That's just for housing. That does not include, basic needs. Food, gas, clothing, or car maintenance. Let alone, anything extra, like cable, entertainment, etc. Extra does not seem to be in the vocabulary or budget.  In all likelihood, it would also be in an area where there are drugs and crime. Although that seems to be everywhere these days.

I've changed jobs once in the last year, and now am planning on either going for another with a higher wage or getting a second job. The problem I see with this is the time I also need to help with Jake.

So what are the answers? Do we vote again for a higher minimum wage? Do we go for rent control according to the cost of living? Do we room with friends, or strangers to make ends meet? No wonder the American family has fallen apart.

In my opinion, the state of our economics has contributed to the downfall of society on a whole. It's systemic, this problem we have and no one seems to be outraged enough to find the solutions for it. I'm no longer surprised by the rate of the crime I see on a daily basis. Nor am I surprised by the constant stories I hear friends tell about what's happened with them.

I'm not surprised by the homeless problems, but for the 1st time in a long time, I fear it. I've lived life on the edge since my divorce. Not making any one decision and sticking with it. Constantly on the go and moving around. Maybe so I could not be touched or hurt again. Probably. Either way, with the situation as it is with Jake, I want that stability again. I always did, I just didn't pursue it like I am now.

We've been looking for places, and I know we will find one somewhere. It may take a job change again, it may not. Who knows, but that's where it's at. I think if someone wants something bad enough, they make it happen.

Wages and Rents? We'll figure it out. I always do but something needs to change in that department. Rent's need to change and wages need to change.

Peace~

Elusive

Writing.....its slipped away these past few years.
I've found it harder to express my thoughts on my own life. Like I'm numb to everything going on.
Even my own choices.
Life has slipped by. Seemingly endless with no direction.  Like scenery passing by in a car window.
Mundane, almost. Like I'm not really participating. Things happen and I feel  I'm watching someone else respond to them. 

The past few years have sort of slipped away without me taking much notice of them. 

So in April of this year, my middle son, Jacob was diagnosed with A.S.D (Autism spectrum disorder) 

He's mid to high function, but the fascinating thing is memory function. It's below average for A.S.D. 

What this means, is, that even though he can function, his memory is so poor that, he immediately forgets, what's being asked of him, or required of him. There are other medical issues that have come along with this diagnosis too. 

Now I notice. Everything. My focus is on work and Jake. Appointments, doctors, tests, etc. Paperwork. And lots of it. Jake has depression, social anxiety, and suicidal ideation. Between 6 day work weeks, little to no sleep, and helping my son, I've precious little time. 

I am being pushed again to publish, and again, I wonder if any of what I write is worth someone's time to read. Clearly, this is an esteem issue for me. I don't feel like what I go through or what I deal with would be beneficial to someone else.  Everyone has a story to tell. 

I've written about suicide in this blog, or book, or whatever this turns out to be. From an outside perspective, it's a sense of feeling hopeless. Like nothing is real, and nothing matters. I can read Jakes emotions pretty well, and I see it sometimes and feel the need to be in constant contact with him by phone or email, if not physically with him. 

So.... my writing? I guess I have new things to write about. More challenges to face. I sense these will be my biggest ones yet, since my divorce years ago now.  I can't imagine how Jake sees the world.  I know how I see it and hope that he can one day find beauty and grace in it as I do. 

For now, peace out. 

Sexy message

The whole beginning of this posting is a caveat:

Im handing out a piece of me that in all truth should stay private for now.

I've been having dreams about this man I met. We are in a relationship of (not) so harmless flirtation, and friendship with an underlying sizzle.
He makes me laugh on a daily basis. We both laugh. We clicked immediately. I'm comfortable with him, yet nervous like a school girl when conversation starts to get steamy.

The things I want to do with him. Insert heavy groan for the thought of those things. I'd love to just tell him, but then would not be able to look in his eyes. I've never been able to express desire except on paper. In part I feel silly putting it here. I need seducing. I'm sensual, more than sexual. Hot and fast comes after seduction. He's already seduced my mind.

So this is me, stepping out of my comfort zone.

I can picture us at his place, on his deck. It's twilight as he stands behind me.
I'm in jeans and a tank, barefoot. He's in jeans, shirtless and barefoot. It's warm out, a slight breeze drifts by.

His hands on my hips tracing circles softly, lightly following the curve of my spine to my buttocks. One of my erogenous zones. My heartbeat picks up as I anticipate where this is going. I love his hands, they are strong and sure.

He turns me in his arms, we kiss, deeply. I trace the hardness of his cock, Lightly, up and down through his jeans as our kiss becomes deeper. I unzip him slowly, as his hands travel to my breast. There is a light sheen of sweat on us, as we come closer together.

My nipples are hard, and ache for his lips. He lifts my tank over my head, running his hands down my arms and over my ribs. Bringing his mouth to my breast, tracing the nipple with his tounge, lightly nipping it.

We are both breathing heavy now,   undressing each other all the way. He lifts me to the deck railing, both of us unaware of our surroundings except for each other.

He slides his clock into my wet hot depths, taking me slowly. I ache, and pull him deeper. We go slow at 1st enjoying the sensations awakened in both of us. Night birds call in the distance, and the moonlight slowly washes over his body. Sweat glistens on his chest, our eyes meet.

He takes me hard then, until we both climax in waves, and coming to rest in each other's arms.

Timing

Changing paths can make all the difference in the world.

Flying down the back roads of Snohomish County, the windows down, music on and the wind going past, you can smell the heat of summer coming. Fresh mown grass, the hay fields. Its early morning, the sun is out, but cold and brisk. A promise of a new day, a new beginning.

Memories of my younger self on these same roads flit through my mind. The sights and senses the same, but so much has changed.

Life's lessons have taught me to be open and receptive to new beginnings. I have a wild spirit, I've been wayward yet grounded. Always grounded to my upbringing. I'm simple, like quantum physics. A contradiction.

I want passion, excitement, chaos, complication and joy. Yet I want freedom. Freedom to be me.
I want someone to fight for me, to stand with me, and to ground me when I'm heading for the door.

I want love, commitment, compassion, growth, change,  respect. I want storms, thunder, lightning. I want life.

Mistakes will be made, feelings hurt, fights, but in the middle will be respect. Respect for the individuals we are.

Fear and anticipation.  A road not traveled in a long time. A pattern to be broken. A new path. A possibility for the future.

As I roll through the small towns, the air becomes still in anticipation of rain. Storms rolling in. A cleansing of the past.