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He’s With Sean Now

I write a lot about my friend Sean Marley in this blog because he helped shape the man I became and the struggles I face. Right now, I’m thinking of his dad, Albert J. Marley.

Mood music:

Al died a couple days ago. I got the word from one of the Marley cousins, who told me, “Al is with Sean now.” I’m sad, but more than anything else, I’m grateful — grateful that he was such a big part of my formative years.

This post is a tribute to Al. I practically grew up in his house and he treated me like one of his own.

My fondest memories with him involve the sea. We lived on Revere Beach, but he’s really the one who taught me to appreciate it. The Marley home was a cozy, loving place in the 1980s and early 1990s. I spent so much time there because it was a happier place than my own home two doors down. At least that’s how it felt to me at the time.

The Marley house was steeped in seaside decor, especially the sun porch. I loved that porch. In the summers I’d sit there sucked in as Al told me one story after another about his ocean experiences. He was a captain in the U. S. Coast Guard and a past commodore of the Pleasant Park Yacht Club in the neighboring town of Winthrop. He was an Army veteran. He loved to tell me stories about those days as he sat in his chair and chain smoked.

He always had a story. One day their Irish Setter Shannon was busted after finding and devouring a box of doughnuts. They found the box and a trail of powder that led under the kitchen table where the dog was hiding. This reminded Al of the time a previous Irish Setter they had tore into a roast beef on the counter while they were all at Mass.

Like any good Irish-American sailor-storyteller, he embellished every detail — how much he was looking forward to the roast beef as he sat in church, how they came home to find pieces of the roast all over the house and how the dog cowered under the kitchen table, just like Shannon did after demolishing the donuts.

Al was in his element on the water. He would take me and anyone else who wanted to go in his small boat on a tour of the outer Boston Harbor islands. And nothing made him prouder than when Sean took the wheel of the boat. Whenever Sean took the helm, Al would glow with pride and give his son a kiss on the cheek.

He meant the world to my brother, Michael, too. He gleefully taught Michael everything there was to know about the sea, fishing, and oceanic culture. He eventually got Michael a job at the Pleasant Park Yacht Club. He was devastated when Michael died.

After Sean’s death, I didn’t see the Marley family much. Everyone moved to different towns and moved on.

But the family will always hold a place deep in my heart. By now the reader knows how much Sean meant to me. Now you know how much Al meant to me, too.

—

MARLEY, Albert J. of Winthrop, and Ft. Meyers, FL, formerly of Point of Pines, Revere, passed away on September 8, 2011. He is the beloved husband of Barbara A. (Indresano) Marley. Son of the late Albert E. and Mary E. (McMackin) Marley. Devoted father of Grace (Marley) Cloutier and her husband Jeffrey of Freeport, ME, and the late Sean J. Marley. Cherished granddad, of Marley, Maxine, and Samantha Cloutier. Dear brother of Mary L. Andrews of Falmouth, MA, and the late Elizabeth Marley and Paul Marley. Also survived by many nieces and nephews. Funeral from the Maurice W. Kirby Funeral Home 210 Winthrop St. WINTHROP, on Tues, Sept 13, at 9am. A Funeral Mass will be held at St. John the Evangelist Church at 10am. Relatives and friends are invited. Interment will be private. Visiting hours are Mon. only 4-8pm. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the West Roxbury VA, c/o Voluntary Services, attn. Cardiac Unit, 1400 West Roxbury, MA, 02132, or to St. John the Evangelist Church 320 Winthrop St. Winthrop, MA, 02152. Albert was a retired Insurance Broker and the owner of A.J. Insurance Co. He was a graduate of Merrimack College, a U.S. Army Veteran and a Captain in the U. S. Coast Guard. He was also the Past Commodore of the Pleasant Park Yacht Club and a member of the Mass. Bay and Commodore’s Club of America. For guestbook and directions, go to www.mauricekirbyfh.com.

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My Brain Is On The Pavement. But At Least I Showered

It’s hard to pinpoint the moment my recovery started getting wobbly and I started getting sloppy. I don’t know if it’s fully accurate to call this a relapse, but it’s pretty damn close.

Mood music:

One thing is certain: I’m in a shaky place lately, and this is as good a place to sort things out. Talking is always better, but sometimes I have to write it.

I’ve been very tired lately, and in my fatigue, my recovery program from binge eating and other addictions has gotten sloppy. Twice in as many weeks, I’ve forgotten to pack an abstinent lunch before leaving the house. When you’re recovery is on sturdy ground, that’s a mistake you NEVER make.

I haven’t been making it to many 12-Step/OA meetings of late, and I can’t remember the last time I called my sponsor. I guess I’ve been too tired and short-fused to go over the same bullshit, over and over again.

I haven’t gone on any binges, thankfully. But I know how it works. I’m not stupid. When you start getting careless, you open yourself up for the crash.

I’ve been going over the last few months in search of the moment things started to go wrong.

My father having three strokes was certainly a factor. It’s hard not to worry all the time when the guy who has been the strong man in your life is suddenly in a wheelchair, not able to do much for himself. But I decided early on to be strong, cool and rational for other family members.

To do that, I guess I felt I needed a crutch. I didn’t want to binge eat or drink, so I smoked. Then Erin found the cigarettes I was hiding, and I resolved to quit that, too. Then and there, much of my patience for people went down the garbage chute.

I won’t lie: It still pisses me off that I had to stop smoking. Sure those things give you cancer. But to me it seemed much safer then the other things, which leave me in a mental state that disrupts everything, even my ability to dress myself. And so I start wearing the same clothes repeatedly, so I don’t have to think much about my appearance.

And, in the last week, I’ve been quietly re-assessing the status of things with my mother. I think I’m finally ready to reconcile, though it’ll never go back to the way it was. It can’t go back to the way it was. And so I have to think carefully about how to do this. That makes me even more tired.

At least I haven’t stopped taking showers and brushing my teeth. I’ve done that before, and it’s not pretty.

My next actions are clear:

–I’m going to consider all this a break of abstinence and go back to square one.

–I’m going to get a new sponsor. The current one has done his best with me, but I haven’t returned the favor.

–I need to start getting to more than one meeting a week. Actually, one a week is a good place to start.

–I need to make an action plan to deal with my mother.

–I need to start being honest with myself and stop pretending I have perfect control over everything.

I’ll come out of this. I always do. This is part of managing my life. You go through periods when everything is running like a Swiss watch. Then there are times when the machinery falls out of its casing, scraping your wrist on its way to the ground.

Venting here is how I deal with it and keep upright. I do it publicly because there are many people like me out there, who have no answers and are looking for a place to start.

Take it from me: Writing it out is a great place to start.

From there, realize you can’t fix yourself without help. Next, go find that help.

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Screw Obama’s Jobs Speech, and Screw The GOP

Bad news, kids: That speech Obama is giving tonight will almost surely suck, just like last night’s debate of the Republican presidential candidates sucked. But it’s not all bad.

Mood music:

It’s funny how I used to get sucked in with every election as if life would suddenly change for the better when my candidates won. Looking back, it almost makes me feel stupid.

When Obama was elected in 2008, there was a feeling in the air that this guy would change everything. I’m not talking about the legislation he would push through Congress. I’m talking about a change in the public discourse.

I thought we finally had a guy who was going to tell us what we needed to hear instead of what we wanted to hear. I thought he would put aside bullshit party politics and talk above the partisan divide, directly to you and me.

And the Republicans? I already knew they were damaged goods. Their politics always seem mean-spirited, appealing to our fear and anger. The solution to everything is a massive tax cut that never seems to help the people who need it most.

If I were one of Obama’s speech writers, I would urge him to say something like this tonight:

“My fellow Americans, the system is broken, and I admit to being part of the problem. I came into office promising a change in the national dialogue and instead resorted to the usual partisan politics.

“I thought the best way to move the country forward was to get a bunch of legislation passed. I did, but nothing got better.

“I should have told you from the beginning that the only way forward is for each and every one of us to make bold sacrifices. Instead, I offered you more candy.

“When the nation became paralyzed by the debt ceiling fight I should have pushed with every fiber of my being for a plan that would truly work — not a deal that would do nothing but push the debt crisis off the front pages until a later date.

“Now, as Yoda would say, ‘matters are worse.’

“Tonight I start over. It’s time to do what’s right, not what will get me re-elected. I’m going to start telling you what you need to hear.

“If I’m a one-term president, so be it. Besides, what good is winning a second term is I can’t do what’s right in this term?

“The Republicans — crippled by their confused efforts to appease the tea party — won’t do anything bold because their only answer to anything is to cut spending and taxes. It sounds terrific but ignores some simple truths.

“One is that all of us are responsible for this crushing debt because we always demand the easier, softer way from our government. Let’s fight and win a war on terror, but let the enlisted men take care of it while we get some extra spending cash to blow at the mall.

“Let’s go trillions of dollars into debt fighting two wars because telling Americans we have to pay for these wars as we go would be political suicide. Let’s tell them what they want to hear and not ask them to make even a quarter of the sacrifices the Greatest Generation made in the Great Depression and WW II.

“The Republicans always talk about spending cuts and living within our means but it’s always a lie. Just look at the spending orgy we saw last decade at the hands of a Republican White House and Congress.

“The Democrats always talk about fighting for the little guy and helping the neediest in our society but that’s a lie to. Just ask the honest, hard-working people who have been mired in government red tape during their greatest hours of need. Just ask the hard-working people who see so much of their pay go into Social Security and Medicare, only to discover later that once they’re old and sick the government isn’t going to give them anywhere near the services they paid for during a lifetime of sweat and tears.

“It’s time for some honesty. You want us to get rid of the debt? You helped create it, now you have to help pay it down. No tax breaks for anyone until we do what we must. And if you are among the wealthiest, you have a patriotic duty to pay your fair share.

“Like JFK once said, ‘Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.’

“Tonight I challenge the Republicans to do something astounding — put politics aside and work with Democrats to do the hard work in the next year, election be damned. I make the same challenge to my own party.

“Let’s put our jobs on the line and show our countrymen the kind of courage we want them to aspire to.”

“Thanks for listening.”

He won’t say that, of course. He’ll take the safe road like he always does and offer a plan that has no hope of making things better. He’ll pander to Republicans that need their asses kicked instead.

But I’m ok with all that, because in my own struggles against evil I’ve realized an important truth: My life can only be better if I decide to be the change.

Government never could have helped me get control of mental illness and addictions. Government can’t help my family stay financially sound. Only we can pull it off.

We make mistakes along the way. But the strong survive because they don’t let the mistakes destroy them.

That’s always going to be the case, no matter which party controls the government.

So screw Obama’s speech and screw all those Republican candidates. Shut the TV and go to bed. Then get up tomorrow morning and make the best of what you can control.

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Which Believers Go To Hell First?

Yesterday’s post on my journey from the Jewish faith to Catholicism rattled a few nerves and, I think, led to some misunderstandings about my attitude toward the faith of my youth.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/d5dd_o9lpW0

One good friend said he hoped I realized that there was much more to a Jewish conversion than getting a circumcision. Another reader said that had I been living in Germany during the 1930s and 40s, the Nazis wouldn’t care that I had converted. They would have killed me anyway.

“You are a Jew via bloodlines either Ashkenazi or Sephardic who has chosen to practice the religion of Catholicism,” he wrote. “You are a Jew and would be a dead man in Hitler’s Germany even if you converted, as well as your children even if raised Catholic. Please don’t confuse the religion with the fact that Jews are defendants from the 12 tribes + the 13th ( Ethiopian Jews ) and you may chose to leave the religion but the Blood will never change. To a anti-Semite you’re a dirty Jew no matter what religion you practice. Don’t forget it.”

So, let me make two points:

1.) The last line in yesterday’s post was not meant to insult or make fun of people. It was simply two friends having lunch and needling each other. I was curious about how circumcisions are handled when an adult converts. Sure, there was mischief in my question. But it wasn’t an effort to belittle the faith.

2.) My journey has never been about running from one faith to another. I never set out to lose the religion I was born into. My beliefs changed slowly over time, but I have never been ashamed of my Jewish roots, and I never will be.

It’s funny how we haggle over faith. Some people are certain God doesn’t exist, and they look down on those of us who have faith like we’re dumb sheep; like they are so much smarter than we are.

There are others who are certain that anyone whose beliefs fall outside their own denomination are going to hell. I remember a fellow student at North Shore Community College who was a Protestant. She told a friend point-blank that Jewish people were going to hell because they weren’t of her exact denomination. I’ve heard Catholics say similar things about non Catholics.

When I hear those bullshit declarations, I remember something my father once said about people who cling so viciously to their version of religion:

“Won’t people be shocked after they drop dead to discover it (the different denominations) all comes from the same place.”

The Catholic faith is what I most identify with. But I also think God is way, way bigger than any one denomination.

In that respect, I think my old man has it right.

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Clearer Language From The Catholic Church On Suicide

For those, like me, who struggle with suicide, particularly how the Catholic Church feels about it, I have something useful a good friend sent to me this afternoon, presumably after reading this morning’s post.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/jrRfoEEDENo

From the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

“2282 Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide. 

2283 We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives.”

Thanks to my friend for sharing.

I think the language shows that the Church doesn’t see this issue in the black and white way we often think it does.

So if you know someone who died by their own hand and it tortures you to think about where in the afterlife they are, take comfort in knowing that they may not be in such a bad place after all.

And do something to honor them, like doing things to raise awareness about mental illness.

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A 9-11 Obsession

It happens every time the calendar rolls into September. I start watching documentaries about 9-11-01 and can’t stop.

Mood music:

Most people do this in the days leading up to a 9-11 anniversary, but for me there’s the OCD element, where after I watch something I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ll forget the rest of the world exists and just replay the scenes in my head over and over again.

I’ve been like this for the last couple of days. Thanks to YouTube I can watch all these documentaries at will.

I’ll get this out of my system. All these little compulsions pass sooner or later. But I wanted to direct you to one documentary that is worth watching obsessively, because you can learn a lot about the goodness man is capable of. It’s a Discovery Channel documentary called “Inside The Twin Towers.”

Here’s part 1. If you start there, YouTube will play each 10-minute clip in order. There are 10 in all.

There’s a morbid aspect of the program where they show what it was probably like to be inside the towers as they collapsed. But this is mostly about people helping other people despite the risks to their own lives. You see a lot of strangers helping each other.

Once the haunting aspect of the documentary wears off, you’ll walk away feeling inspired.

And maybe — just maybe — you’ll realize that you are capable of great things, of touching a lot of people, regardless of your own personal demons.

Events like 9-11-01 are full of evil and sorrow. But, as Mister Rogers said in a show he did right after the attacks, the helpers ALWAYS come. Some are firefighters running up endless flights of stairs with 60 pounds of gear on their backs.

And some are stock traders who, when put in a certain place at a certain time, did something they were always meant to do.

God has a plan, alright. Sometimes it involves awful events. But it’s a plan that sorts the boys from the men, the girls from the women, and the good souls from the selfish and indifferent souls.

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Jay Nickerson From The Point of Pines, Revere MA

A few months back when I wrote “The Lost Generation of Revere,” I forgot to mention someone very important to the story; a kid who died six years ago: Jay Nickerson.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/2R0Q5YE-JMw

I don’t remember Jay doing what a lot of us kids were doing: smoking pot and drinking under the General Edwards Bridge that connects Revere to Lynn, fighting (or cowering from a fight); bullying or getting bullied.

Jay always seemed to exist in a cheerful fashion, peacefully co-existing with the punks and the more mentally-balanced kids. I don’t think he ever said an ill word of anyone. He was just this big, lovable bear. He did insult me once. But the problem was more my lack of humor at the time.

We were standing in the Gibson Park tennis court. I was just starting to get into heavy metal and was wearing a Motley Crue “Shout At The Devil” t-shirt. Jay looked at me and said, “heavy metal vomit.”

“What did you say?” I asked, shocked.

“Heavy metal vomit,” he repeated.

If I remember correctly, I told him to fuck off and walked away. I don’t remember how he reacted to that, but I can picture him shrugging, smiling and going about his business.

We started out in the same grade at the Roosevelt School, but I was forced to repeat first grade because I was a year or two less mature than the other 7 year olds. But when we were still in the same first-grade class, I remember him hounding me to share my Ritz crackers with him. Actually, he wanted the whole sleeve I would usually bring for recess.

Both are fond memories of a big kid with a bigger heart.

I lost track of Jay after high school, until one day in the summer of 2005. My mother called and told me he had died of cancer. I couldn’t believe it. I had no idea he was sick.

That a former schoolmate died young wasn’t the shock. I had already seen that happen plenty of times. The saddest example was Zane Mead, a troubled but tenderhearted kid who threw himself off the top of an apartment building off of Shirley Ave in the late 1980s.

An old friend recently suggested that there was a curse hanging over Revere natives from our generation. I found that intriguing.

As a teen I was so self-absorbed over my brother’s death that I didn’t realize how much loss our generation was suffering.

Was there some kind of curse hanging over the city in the 1980s? Were all my adolescent traumas part of that curse? Was my brother’s death and Sean Marley’s death part of it?

If you asked me that about six years ago, I’d have bought the theory straight away. Today I 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 kids like Jay always seemed to be happy.

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 has life ever been fair?

Some would say that what happened to Jay was brutally unfair.

I wasn’t there when he was sick, but I suspect he handled the illness with the same good cheer he always seemed to carry in abundance.

I have no idea if he thought life had dealt him an unfair blow.

But I’m pretty sure he made the best of it.