After forty years of playing Martin Sheen playing on even smaller riverine brown water down stream from horse piss and army shit, proving points for prophets...actually Charlie No Profit, but better known Just as Charlie on the other end of the phone...working angles, and his angels...actually raising them from pups, and spitting them out into the wild blue yonder to do what ever it took,

             After forty years of that I was in therapy most Tuesday’s with a company PTSD expert. The same PTSD that did not exist a few years earlier. There would be only a partial recovery, and more field work, after validation and vindication. 

               Charlie was Dead, had been for half a decade. I went to work for him in 1972, at fifteen. Perhaps the last of his many thousands of hires. Charlie never smiled, he grimaced. The stress on him was visible. Nobody did it better, and nobody kept it quieter. 

                The third floor two office suite had landscapes hanging on the wall. I’d look at them during the one hour sessions for as long as she would see me. She painted when she was not dealing with PTSD...Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps...on their facilities and me in the office, her office, with the landscapes she had painted. I looked at one in particular, nearly every session, as I learned about EMDR, and PTSD, finally after decades of working and living with it, one of Charlie’s last hires, as he had retired from his job as head of HR, right about that time. 

                   She stopped seeing me, and I went back to winging it. I was not well, but better. Validation and vindication helped...she knew.  I was better. A few years later I was waiting for the sun to rise over the coastal hills from the back porch of the doublewide. I was looking at the pre dawn details in the landscape, and then I got it, It was the view, that view, or her interpretation of a view that was close enough to pass as my pre dawn glimpse. 

                    Traumatic Brain Injuries made me slow, but only slow. I Columbo my way through, outsmarted..but eventually getting it. The sun rose, and I was grateful, If not well. I have never been well, or normal.  I got over that a long time ago, still a little disappointed I did not get that PhD, but I’m happy. I worked three decades without an AA. 

                     The MIC has been very good to me. The sun rose, and I’m having a golden year, not driving...all after the midterms I wanted. Six months now, and got my first social security check Wednesday. I’m sticking with fearless optimism, Raytheon5, and not driving. 

                                         Happy Holiday

Views: 22

Comment by J.P. Hart on April 23, 2019 at 11:10am

This rates right up there with that giant concrete piano on the Summerfest grounds.

RBJ: Should I drop the Learned Opinion LO ;}?

"...waiting for my boot hills to be wondren..."

Mutiny on the Bounty (1962) (Debit,Credit??)
Happy Billie Holiday??
OS hath become such a STAG party...
Would 'Yellow Lights & Endless Nights' be a workable title??

Comment by Robert B. James on April 23, 2019 at 10:02pm

Dr. Hart: You the Dr. I’m just a brain Dead has been, pecking away. I can’t even write the screen play. Charlie was no saint, but left us without fallout. I never felt insecure, once I got the hang of duck and cover. I’ll peck until the peckers won’t let me post, or I stop breathing. Even money on what comes first.


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