The OCD Diaries

May 3, 2011

Had He Lived

Today would have been my brother’s 45th birthday. I sometimes wonder what he’d be doing and saying in the crazy world we inhabit today.

Mood music:

Let’s go back to 1984, the year he left us.

He probably would have been amused to find me hanging out with Sean Marley and listening to Motley Crue and Def Leppard. He would have noticed my widening girth and got on me about it. Despite his asthma he was a fanatical weight lifter. He’d be on my ass to join a gym. Just not his gym. Me hanging around his gym would have been gross.

Side item: Right after he died, I did join his gym, Fitness World. It was just down the street from our house, a short walk down a side alley. I wasted no time trying to be him, and lifting weights in Fitness World was as good a place as any to start my charade. I lasted maybe a week. Everyone there expected me to be him. I should have figured out then and there that there could only be one Michael S. Brenner.

Later in my teen years, he might have punched me in the face or broken my other middle finger (he had broken one of them in the back of my father’s van one day when I flipped him off) for wearing his leather jacket. It was a true biker’s jacket, with the zippers on the sleeves and scratch marks from a few falls he had off his motorcycle. He was one cool-looking motherfucker in that jacket. But when I put it on, it was two sizes too small. I wore it anyway.

He might have been jealous of the palace I made out of the basement apartment at 22 Lynnway. At the time of his death the place was being renovated and the plan was for him to move in there. Instead, my father rented it to a guy who was nice enough but always seemed to be fighting with his girlfriend. Since my bedroom was in the basement level at another end of the house, this often pissed me off. Sometimes I heard the make-up sex, and that pissed me off even more. It’s hard to get lost in your quiet, dysfunctional mind when people are making a racket on the other side of the wall. The guy moved out by late 1987 and I moved in.

He might have been annoyed when I decided not to pursue a career in drafting. I wanted to be a writer instead. The poetry I was writing at the time would have sent him into fits of laughter. It would send you into fits of laughter, too.

He was going to be a plumber, and he might have shaken his head back and forth in disgust at my inability to do anything useful with a set of tools.

What he would have thought of me in the 1990s, or of Sean Marley, for that matter, is probably not worth exploring. Had he lived a lot would have been different. I don’t know if Sean and I would have gotten as close as we did, and had that been the case, his death in 1996 wouldn’t have sent me into the self-destructive nosedive I found myself in.

He probably would have been pleased to see me get my demons under control in the last decade. He might even appreciate my decision to be open about it in this blog. But he might not have told me so.

One thing I’m pretty certain of: He would have loved his nephews, and they would have loved him.

I realize this post is a useless exercise. Things happen for a reason, and the past had to unfold as it did so I could be who I am today. You could argue that I would have missed out on a lot of experiences had he lived.

You could also argue — and I would probably agree — that he never really died. He played his part on this world and left, and the part he played is still shaping our lives today.

Whatever.

All I know is that this is May 3rd and he’s enjoying his birthday in a better place. This is my Happy Birthday to him.

May 2, 2011

Sarah Jones Memorial Service Cancelled

Just got a text from Deb Jones informing me that the Thursday afternoon memorial service for her daughter, Sarah, has been canceled “because of the ongoing investigation” into her death. There’s no word as yet as to when the service will happen.

This has to be a huge blow to the Jones family, and my heart goes out to them. Please keep them in your prayers.

For those wondering just what this is all about: Sarah was found dead nearly two weeks ago. Nothing is really known about what happened, other than that investigators are treating it as a homicide.

I first wrote about it because I’ve known the Jones family for many years and had been feeling like a jerk for dropping out of touch with them.

Twenty years ago, I would hang out with this family for days on end.

Jeff Jones (he goes by Geoff Wolfe today) was my fellow Doors freak, and I remember many pleasant afternoon’s and evenings in their back yard. I was there for July 4 1991, which I remember because someone slammed into my car and took off that night. The car, a 1981 Mercury Marquis, never ran right again. I got pretty smashed that night.

The next year, we celebrated the 4th by blowing up a mannequin with M-80s.

I remember their children, Josh and Sarah, running around the house and yard.

The last time I saw Geoff, Deb and Josh was at the funeral service for a mutual friend from back in the day, Bob Biondo.

Deb, Geoff and I reconnected on Facebook a couple months ago.

The family has been putting on a brave face since Sarah’s death. They seem to have a strong faith in God, which will certainly get them through these terrible days.

Here’s hoping they can lay their daughter to rest very soon.

May 2, 2011

Osama bin Laden’s Death And The Importance of Closure

I just wrote a blog post on @CSOonline about bin Laden’s death and how, in my opinion, it doesn’t change things. My good friend Alan Shimel read it and immediately took issue with what I said: “Sorry, it does change everything. A sense of closure that I didn’t even realize I was craving all of these years,” he wrote.

He can understand the craving for closure better than I can on this matter. He lost a loved one on that awful day.

Mood music:

He wrote to me, “I wrote something last night right after I heard the news, http://www.ashimmy.com/2011/05/the-night-the-usa-got-its-groove-back.html. But I have to tell you that Bonnie stayed up late to watch everything while we both had tears in our eyes. We felt like finally her sister could rest in peace. I didn’t realize how not catching him had effected me.”

I hear you, brother. God Bless you both.

That day definitely had an effect on my state of mind, and I didn’t know any of the victims personally. I came very close to an emotional breakdown.

There are two types of head cases headed for a breakdown: There’s the type that tries hard to get him or herself killed through reckless behavior, and then there are those who cower in their room, terrified of what’s on the other side of that door.

I fell into the latter category. I started drinking copious amounts of wine to feel OK in my skin, and I went on a food binge that lasted about three months and resulted in a 30-pound weight gain. The still-undiagnosed issues I had going on beneath the service were the perfect target for terrorists.

I do know many people who lost loved ones that day, and the lack of closure did indeed send them into their own personal torment of addiction and depression. Alan mentioned that one of his relatives has struggled with depression since that day.

In my security blog on @CSOonline, I suggested that bin Laden’s death doesn’t change much because we made him irrelevant a long time ago by getting on with our lives instead of cowering as he wanted us to.

I firmly believe that.

But at the same time, I do recognize that this is a major moment of closure for a lot of people. And that’s huge.

In the past year, I’ve gotten closure on a friend’s suicide by reconnecting with his widow and making amends for my lack of helpfulness when she needed it most. Closure lifts a big weight from your heart. But the wound never goes away completely. And whether we get closure or not, we still have to get on with our lives.

That’s what Alan and Bonnie have done since 9-11. They stood straight and moved forward. Alan is someone I’ve come to admire in the security community.

I’m glad his and Bonnie’s steps are lighter now.

May 1, 2011

More Kid Wisdom

Children continue to simplify life’s complexities for me, and this time I have video to prove it. But let’s start with a little history, courtesy of my younger son:

The story of Duncan’s birth goes something like this: Erin’s water broke in the car as I sped over the train tracks on Rosemont Street in Haverhill. Once at the hospital, as Erin was propping herself up to get out of the car, I accidentally slammed the door on her fingers.

The story, as told by Duncan: “When Dad was taking Mom to the hospital to have me, they had a rough ride. First her water glass broke, then she cut her finger.”

***

At Sean’s 10th birthday party, his friend Lukas expressed his awe over my being a writer. “I didn’t know you had a biography,” he said, meaning this blog.

“I sure do,” I said. “You want my autograph?

Lukas smirked, grinned and said, “Yeah, right. You wish.”

***

Sean, after watching Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith: “This is the best day of my life. I got to watch a PG-13 movie.

***

Sean, explaining to his mother why he should be allowed to watch more violent movies: “I know what a real heart looks like, you know.”

***

My 3-year-old nephew, Chase, telling me to use my brain: “Think about it, will ya baby?”

***

My almost 3-year-old niece, Madison, letting me know what she thinks of my humor: “Stop talking and walk away, Uncle Bill.”

***

Duncan, informing me that Sean just questioned his intellect again: “Daaaaaad! Sean said my brain is empty and his is full!”

***

Madison, looking out for Cousin Duncan’s best interests:

May 1, 2011

Crohn’s Disease in Revere, Mass.

An old friend from Revere came over last night, and somewhere in the conversation the subject turned to Crohn’s Disease and why so many of our old friends have it.

I’ve had the disease since the 1970s, and my struggles with it are well documented in this blog. But my friend noted how many of our friends from the Point of Pines, Oak Island and elsewhere have taken bad turns with their health in recent years, and several have developed my disease.

I won’t name names for privacy’s sake, but besides me, we counted three other cases. Could it be something in the water? my friend wondered aloud. After all, a huge General Electric plant sits just across the water in Lynn. There’s also a trash-burning incinerator across the Pines River on Lynn Marsh Road.

Could those industrial sites be responsible?

Who knows? I’ve never seen any studies on the matter, so it would be impossible to trace all the illness to those places.

I do know that when we were kids, before the Deer Island water treatment plan was built, the water of every coastal town in the Boston area was polluted with a putrid mix of bacteria. We all swam in that water as kids, and who knows what the long-term effects of that were.

I have another theory: Doctors simply know a lot more about Crohn’s Disease today than they did back then.

When I was first diagnosed with it in 1978, very little was known or understood about the disease. I endured very long hospital stays and severe dietary restrictions that I don’t really see imposed on people today. People still end up having to take these measures, but it’s not as commonplace. Drugs have improved. The understanding of what makes the disease tick has improved.

Maybe that understanding has simply led to more cases being found and diagnosed.

Of course, it’s all speculation at this point.

I’m just glad my case of the disease is in check, and I hope some of the fellow sufferers are doing better with theirs.

I heard another theory from another friend a couple weeks ago, that Revere had a curse hanging over it that shot down a lot of people from our generation. Besides the Crohn’s Disease, there were multiple suicides and drug addictions that ended in death.

If you asked me that about six years ago, I’d have bought the theory straight away. Today I tend to doubt it.

It was a sad and unfortunate period, but it wasn’t a curse. We all had our share of childhood happiness in Revere in between the bad stuff. And I know now what I didn’t get back then: That we weren’t meant to live soft lives devoid of pain and struggle. These things are tossed in our path to mold us into what we can only hope to be: good people. It doesn’t always work out that way, of course. But let’s face it: Has life ever been fair?

I recently wrote about the time the Brenners nearly left Revere. There’s no question that for a time, I hated that city and would have done anything to get out.

But I think I would have developed the Crohn’s Disease wherever I lived. Bad things and good things would have happened wherever I lived.

Why?

Because that’s life.