"Between Here and Gone" (part one)
For many, the year 2001 is defined by the horrible events of September 11th. For me, 2001 would begin a chain of events that would change my life in ways of which I'm still recovering.
Starting in February 2001, I lost a job, not just any job, but one I felt I could finally call a career. I had just gotten a promotion and was flying between coasts from San Jose', CA to Fort Lauderdale, FL doing tech research in an attempt to eliminate our outdated database. Too bad I was following the car headed for the cliff. The company was growing too fast and ended up in bankruptcy in October 2001. Luckily I took an early severance, but $2000.00 is not much considering what was in store.
By this time Greg was now the Associate Dean of Students at Tulane and served on the board of an AIDS non-profit in New Orleans. There was an opening for an "events coordinator." I had been encouraged to take this job in the past, but it seemed to close to home with Greg on the board. I saw it to be a political nightmare in the making. I would be right.
I took over the position in April 2001 diving right into old files and familiarizing myself with the organization's annual events. I did like the creative side of this position. I should have seen the red flags when everyone came in to congratulate me and warned me about my boss and that there were four previous people in my position in less than a year. A card would have been enough. My boss would be the least of my worries.
I had a bulging disc in my lower back from years of pressing forklift tires for an industrial machinery company (butch huh?) I still think it was the whole uniform thing that Greg liked (you know the "Garanimals" type pants with the matching shirt that had a little patch with my name embroidered) that, and the fact I drove a truck. Anyway, one weekend while eating out with my folks, I tripped in the restaurant parking lot and my back absorbed all the shock. I should have just fallen and took the hit to my pride. As the days progressed, the pain in my lower back seemed to get worse, but I worked through it.
By early May 2001, I developed a limp and sleep had become almost impossible. To stand to shave and shower in the morning brought tears. Here I was with no insurance (I had not reached the 90 day window at my new job and elected to take no temporary coverage) and I was in serious pain. I desperately needed an M.R.I. I was running some paperwork downtown for the task force one evening. I fed a parking meter and walked a few blocks. When I got back to my truck I was in tears. I felt stupid and embarassed as people walked by and asked if I was okay. The body ALWAYS wins. I would be forced to take an unpaid leave of absence from NO/AIDS.
It was Memorial Day 2001. Greg headed to Michigan to visit family. I stayed behind and would visit my mom and dad on what was a rainy holiday. The pain began to manifest itself into my mental state. I remember sitting on the couch at my folks and I felt a crying attack coming on. I held it back as best I could, but my mom saw the tears. I brushed it off as the pain, but it was far more than that. Greg seemed strangely distant, I was now without a job, and the sciatica had become so bad it felt like a razor running up and down the back of my left leg.
I returned home with the rain still pounding my windshield. I was parallel parking in front of our house and busted a rear tailight (the third) on a tree. I got out of my truck in the rain and picked up the red, jagged pieces and suddenly it felt like someone knocked the wind out of me. I made my way to the front door sobbing. I got inside and sat on the couch, the house quiet and dark. This was not usual crying. It was the hiccup, heartbroken, someone rolled over my cat type crying. Never in my life did I feel so alone. The rain continued to pour. Stay tuned.
"Tonight, the moon came out, it was nearly full.
Way down here on earth, I could feel it's pull.
The weight of gravity or just the lure of life,
Made me want to leave my only home tonight.
Now I'm just wonderin' how we know where we belong.
Is it in a photograph, or a dashboard poet's song?
Will I have missed my chance to right some wrong,
Should I find myself between here and gone?"
"Now I could grab my keys, peel out in my truck,
With every saint on board bringing me their luck.
And I could drive too fast, like a midnight thief,
As if there was a way to outrun the grief.
Now I'm just wonderin' how we know where we belong.
In a song that's left behind in the dream I couldn't wake from.
Could I have felt the brush of a soul that's passing on,
Somewhere in between here and gone?"
Up above me,
Wayward angels,
A blur of wings and grace.
One for courage,
One for safety,
One for "just in case".
-"Between Here and Gone"- Mary Chapin-Carpenter
Starting in February 2001, I lost a job, not just any job, but one I felt I could finally call a career. I had just gotten a promotion and was flying between coasts from San Jose', CA to Fort Lauderdale, FL doing tech research in an attempt to eliminate our outdated database. Too bad I was following the car headed for the cliff. The company was growing too fast and ended up in bankruptcy in October 2001. Luckily I took an early severance, but $2000.00 is not much considering what was in store.
By this time Greg was now the Associate Dean of Students at Tulane and served on the board of an AIDS non-profit in New Orleans. There was an opening for an "events coordinator." I had been encouraged to take this job in the past, but it seemed to close to home with Greg on the board. I saw it to be a political nightmare in the making. I would be right.
I took over the position in April 2001 diving right into old files and familiarizing myself with the organization's annual events. I did like the creative side of this position. I should have seen the red flags when everyone came in to congratulate me and warned me about my boss and that there were four previous people in my position in less than a year. A card would have been enough. My boss would be the least of my worries.
I had a bulging disc in my lower back from years of pressing forklift tires for an industrial machinery company (butch huh?) I still think it was the whole uniform thing that Greg liked (you know the "Garanimals" type pants with the matching shirt that had a little patch with my name embroidered) that, and the fact I drove a truck. Anyway, one weekend while eating out with my folks, I tripped in the restaurant parking lot and my back absorbed all the shock. I should have just fallen and took the hit to my pride. As the days progressed, the pain in my lower back seemed to get worse, but I worked through it.
By early May 2001, I developed a limp and sleep had become almost impossible. To stand to shave and shower in the morning brought tears. Here I was with no insurance (I had not reached the 90 day window at my new job and elected to take no temporary coverage) and I was in serious pain. I desperately needed an M.R.I. I was running some paperwork downtown for the task force one evening. I fed a parking meter and walked a few blocks. When I got back to my truck I was in tears. I felt stupid and embarassed as people walked by and asked if I was okay. The body ALWAYS wins. I would be forced to take an unpaid leave of absence from NO/AIDS.
It was Memorial Day 2001. Greg headed to Michigan to visit family. I stayed behind and would visit my mom and dad on what was a rainy holiday. The pain began to manifest itself into my mental state. I remember sitting on the couch at my folks and I felt a crying attack coming on. I held it back as best I could, but my mom saw the tears. I brushed it off as the pain, but it was far more than that. Greg seemed strangely distant, I was now without a job, and the sciatica had become so bad it felt like a razor running up and down the back of my left leg.
I returned home with the rain still pounding my windshield. I was parallel parking in front of our house and busted a rear tailight (the third) on a tree. I got out of my truck in the rain and picked up the red, jagged pieces and suddenly it felt like someone knocked the wind out of me. I made my way to the front door sobbing. I got inside and sat on the couch, the house quiet and dark. This was not usual crying. It was the hiccup, heartbroken, someone rolled over my cat type crying. Never in my life did I feel so alone. The rain continued to pour. Stay tuned.
"Tonight, the moon came out, it was nearly full.
Way down here on earth, I could feel it's pull.
The weight of gravity or just the lure of life,
Made me want to leave my only home tonight.
Now I'm just wonderin' how we know where we belong.
Is it in a photograph, or a dashboard poet's song?
Will I have missed my chance to right some wrong,
Should I find myself between here and gone?"
"Now I could grab my keys, peel out in my truck,
With every saint on board bringing me their luck.
And I could drive too fast, like a midnight thief,
As if there was a way to outrun the grief.
Now I'm just wonderin' how we know where we belong.
In a song that's left behind in the dream I couldn't wake from.
Could I have felt the brush of a soul that's passing on,
Somewhere in between here and gone?"
Up above me,
Wayward angels,
A blur of wings and grace.
One for courage,
One for safety,
One for "just in case".
-"Between Here and Gone"- Mary Chapin-Carpenter
posted by Matthew Cortez at 8/17/2005 09:09:00 AM
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