Life as Best I Remember It

 **Wrote this for a contest that I didn't win.  Figured it would be good to let my audience read it.**

                Pulling into the gas station at the appointed time, I notified the contact of my arrival.  Figuring time was on my side as I was twenty minutes early for the rendezvous, I quickly pulled next to the pump and stepped out for a quick fill-up.  Pressing the appropriate keys for the “Pay at the Pump” feature, I could finally hear the sound of liquid fuel coursing its way through the hose, then to the nozzle, and finally into the gas tank.  This trusty Buick must be thirsty after the almost four-hour drive to this central Texas metropolis.  “Ahh,” I can’t help but to sigh in relief as I began to lean against the vehicle, gaining some personal time to gather my thoughts.   Barely noticing the view from the corner of my eye, the first black and white law enforcement vehicle pulled up.  “What are you doing?” the police officer asked rushing toward me.  Then two, three, four…six vehicles surround me.  The world blurs as I go numb with shock.  As a sheep headed to slaughter, I merely move as I am thrust about by the arms and hands of those handling me.  “You have the right to remain silent…”  The very familiar words recited by attorneys and cops alike on TV shows, I knew the gig was up.  Days later, I am processed and now reside in a dorm room of sorts with forty other men.  Pencil and paper borrowed from someone I met and sensed I could trust, the unmanageability of the life I made by my own creation, began to pour forth.  “Dear mother...!”

                 “Guiness in a bottle…Brilliant!” the TV commercial blared during a segment break in the baseball game.  Friday nights are a ritual among friends, especially my two best friends, at Capone’s, a neighborhood pizza joint in Houston suburbia.  Desperately needing this weekly ritual in the midst of my hectic life is crucial.  Another crazy week had come and gone.  Life in the shoe industry is brutal, even for longtime veterans of the business such as myself.   I had recently arrived back to the bustling metropolis after a week of traveling as a district trainer for Cole-Haan.  Over the years, each job and position would naturally evolve to the next level higher in the food chain.  Accompanied with each better job or promotion, the avenues of relief seeking that state of normalcy increased.  Reputations for people in the shoe industry are already shady as we are labeled party animals.  Over the previous five plus years I would annually acquire a new store with its own unique set of problems and staff challenges.  Striving earnestly for that coveted position of trainer and inventory control manager was elusive until the day I was finally awarded the golden prize.  Now I was faced with a new set of bitter sweetness, for I typically had a 50/50 chance of not knowing when and where I would fly out again to a new job assignment.  Even for “planned” trips, I knew each new store opening would provide great experience but could not be counted on as a cookie-cutter plan for every new trip.  Inwardly I yearned for stability and predictability, but outwardly I still hungered to make a name for myself.  “Strriiiiikkke three,” cries the home plate umpire. 

Shooting out of bed with a deep gasp, I immediately wonder what happened to the rest of the inning and who won the game.  Looking around searching for familiarity of surroundings, I begin to gain some calm as I recognize the apartment, a real roach-trap, I had been renting for the previous six months.  Accessing the situation, looking for clues or remnants from the night before, I see glass laying on the second-floor landing outside the apartment.  Getting more and more unsettled, I can sense there was company here last night.  Oh geez, what crazy shenanigans did I pull last night?  I’m sure, whatever it was, the details were the stuff of legend.  Calling one of my best friends I soon learned of the evening’s escapades.  Yep, the man, the myth, the legend…my alter-ego struck again.

Turning off the shower nozzle I immediately begin to dry off and to get dressed.  This morning’s work out was better than most.  I feel on top of the world.  A two-mile run at the gym usually sets the mood for my day.  “Two cranberry muffins and a large coffee again, Phillip?” Sarah asks with a warm smile.  Simply grunting a mumbled reply seemed to suffice as I simultaneously paid and grabbed my breakfast making haste for the door.  I was headed for the start of a brand-new work week at my home store since I wasn’t currently travelling for the company.  I absolutely love my job in spite of the occasional headaches.  Promptly arriving at the store I’m met with an email plus attached new itinerary and airplane reservations.  “Oh crap, where now?” I couldn’t help but to ask myself.  The new district manager set up the travel plans; she remains green behind the ears with a lot left to learn.  Not feigning to like her at all but willing to work with her professionally, I can tell she is out to make an example out of someone.  Did I mention my mouth usually gets me in trouble?  Well, I’m already in her crosshairs as I have been marked the outspoken one.  This bitch seems the type who doesn’t care if she goes down with the ship as long as she gets rid of me.

The day and week fly by as I prepare for another trip next week…this time to San Antonio.  Something tells me this will be my last hoorah with the company, which means I will more than likely sabotage myself by doing something stupid.  Looking each and every day for signs of trouble in paradise provided a false sense of security.  Thinking all is well, not realizing the trap and accompanying bait had been set, I was given the final day of the road trip as time off.  This was unusual but not so out of the ordinary as to provide cause for concern.  So I set out for the shopping center pub.  The hook had been set and I was being reeled into the wicked witch’s clutches.  At the appointed rendezvous, I, of course, show up having pounded away more than my share of beer and grub.

Oh boy this lady is good.  A week transpires before getting ripped a new one.  I am summarily demoted and reduced to part-time.  How the mighty have fallen…ouch!  Spiraling out of control, leaving a trail of wreckage amongst friends and most importantly within myself, I mentally and emotionally snap.  As much as can happen, stability on the home-front and the ever-increasing pursuit of great jobs are yanked right out from underneath me.

Having no luck in finding gainful employment, the three amigos, as I like to call us, venture to the dog tracks as a diversion for a little fun.  Fifty Cent beer and hot dog night…sounds like a cheap date to me.  (Coor’s Light is maybe worth fifty cents.)  Not knowing this would be the last beer I would ever drink, I might have picked something better.

                 “Eighteen…Davis.  Thirty-two…Schwab.  Please report to the picket” announces the guard from the picket at three o’clock in the morning.  “Man!  I don’t have time for this, it’s almost time for this dorm to head to breakfast.”  “You’re on chain, Schwab.  You finally get to go home.”  Six months early.  This was the amount of time I had remaining on my sentence.  Wow, it’s going to be a brave new world considering the three-and-a-half-year time warp I’ve experienced.  I wonder how much the world has changed in my absence.  I wonder how much I have changed.

                Stepping off the Greyhound at the bus station in Fort Worth, I could spot the two men waiting for me near one of the exit doors.  This isn’t so bad.  What made me a great fit for travelling for Cole-Haan continued to serve me personally as I experienced a brand-new place.  Unbeknownst to me is Fort Worth would become my new home.  But for now, I knew no one…I did not know my way around…I didn’t have the cognizant ability to find the local convenient store, even if I wanted too.  Essentially I was dropped off in a foreign land, only to meet two acquaintances of a personal friend along with a faint promise of a place to stay.  Under normal circumstances this was a recipe for adventure, speaking to the wild side of my soul.  I can still sense that aspect of my inner-sanctum.

                “What’dya do?” the man asked in slang-filled jargon.  Finding employment was becoming an ache in the backside as I simply responded, “Doesn’t matter, are you hiring or not?  I’m obviously qualified for the job.”  Walking away with another door slammed on the road of opportunity, I realize how close-minded society is in regard to people with a scarlet letter affixed to their persona.  Further reflection brought an epiphany…

Immediately a great feeling of peace descended upon me,

intermingled with a feeling of being suffused with a quite strength

Nothing had changed and yet everything had changed.

The scales had dropped from my eyes,

and I could see life in its proper perspective.

I had tried to be the center of my own little world,

whereas God was the center of a vast universe of which I was perhaps an essential, but a very tiny, part.

(Dr. Bob Silkworth and Bill Wilson.  “The Man Who Mastered Fear.”  Alcoholics Anonymous.  Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, 2001 Fourth Edition.  Print.  April 13, 2015.)

Nothing had changed except the stripping away of the external construct of habits and behaviors which were not me.  Spiritually wandering the desert those few years were a blessing and the best thing to ever happen to and for me.  Societal expectations dictate to pick right back up where I left off as if nothing had ever happened.  This is similar to the throes of pregnancy and childbirth.  The parents expect the child to stop screaming in spite of the shocking and traumatic experience it went through in the womb and birth canal.  However, slowly but surely, I was able to enter the mainstream of civilization once again.

                Stepping back on the Greyhound, this time under differing circumstances, I head for home to Houston in order to visit with friends.  Seasons of life come and go.  Diedrich’s Coffee House has shuttered…the old crew and gang of friends are gone, dispersed here and yonder.  The Cole-Haan store since remodeled and only one salesman remaining who remembers me.  Quickly counting my blessings for the good times, I make my peace and close the door on this season of life.  Travelling toward Yoakum to visit with Mom, I encounter much of the same but on a greater scale.  This town of 5,000 people can barely sustain the drying up of their economic base.  The once capital of tomatoes and leather industries, barely have a stop light and a grocery store…a ghostly reminder of days gone by.

                Opportunities are come and gone, but I know a person can never go back.  I’ve wrestled with my angel and have had my hip touched (Genesis 32:22-32).  I can never go back, nor would I want too.  The experiences I’ve undergone were for a reason, and I wouldn’t change a thing.  I welcome the future with the person I’ve become.  The inner-striving has quieted.  Whenever a remembrance of the party days arises, I simply smile and thank God for His shaping and molding.  Obedience to a higher calling is amazing as life falls into place.  Launching my own business was one outcome of following this new life trajectory.  This is life as best I can remember.