CHAPTER 45 Circunstances Beyond Our Control
One More Time became prosperous and healthy. Each week - sometimes several times per week, I served as Emcee/DJ for an endless round of parties and wedding receptions all over the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. Success was such an intoxicating drink that a friend and I decided to share it with others.
The Party DJ industry became organized under the name Loose Connections. There were about 20 DJ's and DJ companies that became networked on a voice mail system, each with it's own phone number and answering service. The entire network had a common forum where messages could be forwarded. Darn handy if you got a call for DJ work and were already booked.
Time marches on. If you can ignore the military discipline that mankind has demanded of that march, you can enjoy the passing of time as a leisurely stroll. Strolling leisurely requires that you walk to the sound of a different drummer who may be more interested in the acoustic tuning of the drum than the rhythm. It's nice to have that kind of freedom. It's necessary if your life is going to be a happy one.
I became both daddy and mommy for Summer, for most of her day. Day times, Debby had her job as the librarian at a local high school. In the evenings, Summer and mom enjoyed their bonding times together. Life was good and business was good but the mortgage began to grind at our resources. Trying to buy the house was a mistake. In late 1985 we got a notification. Our house would need to be expanded. Someone else was moving in. Permanently.
He was a big, blonde-headed, blue-eyed Irishman. Coming through the birth canal, the top of his head looked like cauliflower with curly hair. I became concerned that something was wrong. When the birth happened, his personage seemed to inflate the skin of his head like a balloon. This time it was Debby's turn to pick a name.
Dustin Wortham was born on St. Patrick's day, March 17th of 1986.
By this time Summer was displaying an independence that no toddler can be trusted with. She began opening locked doors and one day she simply disappeared. Our neighbor brought her home asking; "Is this yours"? She had been making her way to the park - a familiar playground, just over two blocks away. We grew and grew as a family while 1987 waited to land on us with both feet. It was time to deal with life on its own terms.
Debby quit her job as high school librarian. We allowed the mortgage its two month grace period and moved out. The rest of the world shook with us in that economic earthquake. It was the worst time in the world to choose to be poor, during the economic collapse of 1987. It matters not a bit to children. Being with them was the whole point. It was a package deal.
There are times when any move you make is a bad move. This was one of those times. My parents tried to set us up in a very nice and relatively new home, but the ends we had to deal with simply would not meet. We moved to an apartment. Good move. We lived there for about a year. Next, we were offered another move which would be unquestionably tough, but would I hoped, be eventually a good move. Debby's aging grandmother needed help. So with two kids, one van, a hearse and a failing business we moved in the summer of 1989, to a little town in extremely northern Texas called Sadler. Just over 300 people at the 1990 census and with old-fashioned bulb type street lights. Our main street had an average of six cars per hour passing through. Maybe less. It was quiet. No gunshots at night, no gangs. Only two TV channels.
We were there for perhaps a month before Grandma Hester got her call to come home. Everything nice went with her. The weather turned viciously cold with temperatures less than freezing for several weeks and spells of several days at less than zero. The heater went out in our van.
I had found a job at a local radio station and was made Program Director. There was enough alcohol at the radio station to keep everyone either warm or numb. I found myself cast in the roll of an unwilling leader with a crew of unwilling followers. Shortly after that the hearse was robbed right in the back yard, of my entire sound system and music library. Then it began to rain.
Lake Texoma on the Texas/Oklahoma border filled to overflowing for the first time in over fifty years. Water stood several inches deep in the neighboring yards and under the house. The entire North Texas area was awash. What is really fun at a time like that is wondering how you will survive such a situation. Debby and I made love a lot. That's always a good idea, especially if you don't have cable TV. A few months later we got the news. Someone else was moving in. Permanently, it seemed. Actually it was just for a short but memorable visit.
With our two kids and one on the way, it appeared as though we were to be the architects of the next family generation. Quite an achievement for a man of 48 years and no expectations, said I.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet", came the voice of Deja' Vu.
The Party DJ industry became organized under the name Loose Connections. There were about 20 DJ's and DJ companies that became networked on a voice mail system, each with it's own phone number and answering service. The entire network had a common forum where messages could be forwarded. Darn handy if you got a call for DJ work and were already booked.
Time marches on. If you can ignore the military discipline that mankind has demanded of that march, you can enjoy the passing of time as a leisurely stroll. Strolling leisurely requires that you walk to the sound of a different drummer who may be more interested in the acoustic tuning of the drum than the rhythm. It's nice to have that kind of freedom. It's necessary if your life is going to be a happy one.
I became both daddy and mommy for Summer, for most of her day. Day times, Debby had her job as the librarian at a local high school. In the evenings, Summer and mom enjoyed their bonding times together. Life was good and business was good but the mortgage began to grind at our resources. Trying to buy the house was a mistake. In late 1985 we got a notification. Our house would need to be expanded. Someone else was moving in. Permanently.
He was a big, blonde-headed, blue-eyed Irishman. Coming through the birth canal, the top of his head looked like cauliflower with curly hair. I became concerned that something was wrong. When the birth happened, his personage seemed to inflate the skin of his head like a balloon. This time it was Debby's turn to pick a name.
Dustin Wortham was born on St. Patrick's day, March 17th of 1986.
By this time Summer was displaying an independence that no toddler can be trusted with. She began opening locked doors and one day she simply disappeared. Our neighbor brought her home asking; "Is this yours"? She had been making her way to the park - a familiar playground, just over two blocks away. We grew and grew as a family while 1987 waited to land on us with both feet. It was time to deal with life on its own terms.
Debby quit her job as high school librarian. We allowed the mortgage its two month grace period and moved out. The rest of the world shook with us in that economic earthquake. It was the worst time in the world to choose to be poor, during the economic collapse of 1987. It matters not a bit to children. Being with them was the whole point. It was a package deal.
There are times when any move you make is a bad move. This was one of those times. My parents tried to set us up in a very nice and relatively new home, but the ends we had to deal with simply would not meet. We moved to an apartment. Good move. We lived there for about a year. Next, we were offered another move which would be unquestionably tough, but would I hoped, be eventually a good move. Debby's aging grandmother needed help. So with two kids, one van, a hearse and a failing business we moved in the summer of 1989, to a little town in extremely northern Texas called Sadler. Just over 300 people at the 1990 census and with old-fashioned bulb type street lights. Our main street had an average of six cars per hour passing through. Maybe less. It was quiet. No gunshots at night, no gangs. Only two TV channels.
We were there for perhaps a month before Grandma Hester got her call to come home. Everything nice went with her. The weather turned viciously cold with temperatures less than freezing for several weeks and spells of several days at less than zero. The heater went out in our van.
I had found a job at a local radio station and was made Program Director. There was enough alcohol at the radio station to keep everyone either warm or numb. I found myself cast in the roll of an unwilling leader with a crew of unwilling followers. Shortly after that the hearse was robbed right in the back yard, of my entire sound system and music library. Then it began to rain.
Lake Texoma on the Texas/Oklahoma border filled to overflowing for the first time in over fifty years. Water stood several inches deep in the neighboring yards and under the house. The entire North Texas area was awash. What is really fun at a time like that is wondering how you will survive such a situation. Debby and I made love a lot. That's always a good idea, especially if you don't have cable TV. A few months later we got the news. Someone else was moving in. Permanently, it seemed. Actually it was just for a short but memorable visit.
With our two kids and one on the way, it appeared as though we were to be the architects of the next family generation. Quite an achievement for a man of 48 years and no expectations, said I.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet", came the voice of Deja' Vu.
posted by freespeak@gmail.com at 11:35 AM
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