Vision
(vizh-uhn), n. | A vivid, imaginative conception or anticipation
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My Life Experience – Succeeding Past Enormous Life Challenges
Blind Destiny
By Peter Searle
CHAPTER ONE:
Dawn, Beginning the Journey to Key West
When the dark and dreary Monday morning began in March 2005, I awakened from a half sleep, trying to make sense of my pathetic and paradoxical small world, all crammed inside my ‘95 Pacific Blue Honda Prelude, feeling very alone. My car had over two hundred thousand miles, and I felt as if I had as many, with a few rough dents, a bit of oxidizing paint, a small crack in the windshield, brakes in need of repair, a front bumper almost ready to fall off, held on by jumper cables, ropes and masking tape (from an accident at a gas station in St. George, Utah, where a Chevrolet slammed into my car) … all adding insult to my injury, to hear the sheer pounding of a mixture of hail and rain from an unexpected severe thunderstorm. I first grabbed hold of my steering wheel, pulled myself up, then grasped for an icy-cold cup of black gritty day-old coffee, nestled in-between my seat and the passenger side center console, thinking briefly that my coffee still must be piping hot. I then momentarily imagined that I was stuck in a distant foreign land, on a covert mission, as a bolt of lightning struck just outside my window, striking the tip-top of a parking lot lamp post, sending sparks everywhere around me.
In a parade of electricity that seemingly spiked through my cold and humid body, while seated inside my car, sending a shock wave of terror right through me, I worried and wondered about the potential of a tornado coming right down the street and ripping the roof off my car, or simply picking the car up and slamming it against a nearby building. The wind again roared. The rain and hail blew sideways, picking up new momentum, rocking me back and forth, until I wondered if the wild and wicked weather might yet kill me.
I felt so darn tired.
I shrieked and hollered from inside my sports car, but no one could even begin to hear me. Then, in an instant, the sky cleared and the rain almost ended as fast as it once began, eerily capturing my mind with thoughts, that maybe I was just imagining this entire nightmare?
Rubbing my eyes, finding pebbles in my tear ducks, I hadn’t had a wink of good sleep in weeks. I slept in a lying sideways position on the top of my remaining possessions, squashing them in my back seat, compacting them, in my house-car.
I squeezed a few quick drops of Visine into my eyes, clearing them, and squinted, peering outside, peeking around the edges of several collapsible windshield covers (usually used to guard against too much sunlight), hoping to revive the true nature of my dire and complex situation.
“I’m just so darn tired,” I repeated.
The truth be known, I was living in a homeless realm in my small sports car. It’s another profound test (I thought). Experiencing another videotape movie–over and over again … experiencing so many of these guiding psychic moments in my half empty life (I believed). Momentarily, I wondered if my lack of energy (feeling so tired all the time) might be the result of eating a very poor diet. I noted that my triglycerides were off the scale (recent doctor appointment) and my cholesterol levels were extremely high. My fast food lifestyle and poverty level was also likely killing me.
“I’ve survived many of these tests in my life. This is just another one.” I said. For a moment, it all felt like déjà vu.
I’ve already succeeded past corneal blindness with successful corneal transplant surgeries in ’96 and in ‘99 and the unexpected death of my dear mother from cancer just 3-days after 9/11. My life was once again in a dramatic uncontrollable tailspin.
I took in a deep breath. “I just want to spend a few weeks on the beach, to get my energy level back. To be on the beach for my birthday,” I said.
Now the beginning of another long journey, to leave some of those bad memories behind, I planned to visit my Aunt Helen in Texas, whom I had never met. My life was replaying (recalling events) like a movie cast on rewind. One moment, my thoughts wildly moved forward, paused, and then moved back–
. . .
After 43-years of my life, I finally found my real father, Richard, in a slim once-in-a-million chance of fate. For most of my lifetime, I had a stepfather (John) and my mother (Susan) who told me to never look up my real father (Richard). According to them, he wasn’t a good man.
I finally found him with the assistance of US Search (on the Net), a Texas telephone operator and some true luck, after my mother had passed on. Helen (in Texas) was Richard’s eldest sister. When we first talked over the phone, she said that my voice sounded exactly like Richard’s voice, so she believed (when I called) that I was indeed his child.
Unfortunately, as fate would have it, I would never have the opportunity to meet my real father, Richard. He died shortly after our very brief telephone conversation in 2003. And at that time, he was living in Raleigh, North Carolina … and, I was living in Las Vegas, Nevada … but he was on his way to the Philippines, to be with his youngest of more than a dozen wives (throughout his life) before he succumbed to heart disease. Richard told me that if you begin a relationship with a woman, you marry them.
Richard also expressed a desire to die on his own tiny island in the middle of the South Pacific (that’s why he was going there), with just one palm tree. How fitting I thought that was … as a way to end your life, since my father and I had visited many of the same places over the years, with a few palm trees (Hawaii), but our paths never crossed or met up with each other. In fact, he didn’t know for 40+ years that I even existed. My mother and Richard were married for only a brief year, but he left us (my mother and I) after a couple of months. My mother tried to find him, but he disappeared after they had a short argument–never to return. He did not appear (could not be found) for a requested divorce hearing.
One of the last things Richard had expressed to me over the phone is that I should be very wary of my ticker (my heart), with his own problems of heart disease.
Now in route to Orange, Texas (planning the trip first in my mind), I visualized sitting on that warm sandy beach with that one palm tree, just like my father, to celebrate my 43rd birthday. Maybe, my real father would be looking upon me as I traversed the countryside, from Heaven.
. . .
“BAAM, BAAM, BOOM!” a bolt of lightning struck close by, the light infiltrating the interior of my crammed car, sparks flying, as an electrical power converter blew, cracking the stem of a power pole across the street, again wondering how much of this was indeed a true nightmare and not some cockeyed dream that I was just imagining?
Richard? I sat wondering.
Looking down at my wristwatch, it was 2-minutes before 6 A.M. And now, because of the pouring rain, the inside of my windows were perspiring with a collection of pellet-like droplets. The humidity of my breath had accumulated on the windows like oil, while I was feverishly trying to keep the rain out, working the sunroof ajar for more air.
Starbucks might already be open, I thought (just one more minute to wait) as I noticed the “closed sign” being reversed to “we’re open.” I quickly pulled out my dark brown wallet and decided that I cannot begin another day without my daily refuge–a hot cup of Starbucks coffee, placing a smile on my face, especially after the cold driving rain.
It became almost a commonplace occurrence, to be seen driving from one 24-hour Starbucks location to another–if someone was indeed watching—-while I was taking showers and working out at several 24-hour-fitness locations in Denver–to be studying and living inside my car (homeless) for over two years–even as my mother was left dying from cancer (hospice), with the dream of someday completing an eventual Masters degree in Non-Profit Management at Regis University. My family had all but abandoned me, in my attempt to save my mother from ovarian cancer.
If only I had a few [ ___ ] toys, just like my high school friend, Gilbert did. I’d be able to spy on all the life experience activities (of others) that I was witnessing. I could then be ahead of the game. In hindsight, I might have even been able to rescue the life of my dear mother (with what I now know), in what I believed to be their grand conspiracy against us … with some raw video film, I could capture their schemes of gaining wealth, rather than protecting her?
I exhaled.
My thoughts spun like a web. A spider ran across the inside of my windshield. The tiny spider then dropped to the floor. I was reminded of a time that Gilbert and I were chasing a Fiat Spider (convertible) in Denver … while listening to random conversations … utilizing some of the most advanced and complex [ ___ ] surveillance equipment. It was a real eye opening learning experience (psychologically speaking) to hear what was the overall chatter in Denver, back then. A lot of the talk was simply sexual in nature–relationships in high gear. I was always interested in hearing what was going on from Gilbert’s [ ___ ] perspective, but rarely did I ever request more information. I acted as his undercover [ ___ ] [ ______]. Over time, however, that fact was changing, bit-by-bit. I began to meet many others who worked for government agencies, namely [ ___ ] and [ ___ ]. Gilbert and I trusted each other like we’re the best of brothers. Although, our friendship between Gilbert and I began (initially) after meeting his brother, Mike, in high school. Over time, Gilbert heard about my dysfunctional family life (step-brothers and step-sister) and I learned all about his Mormonism.
I found Gilbert’s interests to be almost the same as mine. I’ll never forget the fact that when I first met Gilbert, he had a large wall poster (6-feet tall) of John Wayne in his bedroom, holster with a revolver on his belt. Gilbert made claim to the tough guy Sheriff image and he walked with that similar swagger, a Texas Ranger personality that is, with the “don’t even think about messing with me” scar across the bottom of his lip. In truth, he was born with the scar and a rough and tough personality.
Gilbert always appeared intimidating to most folk, in my opinion. Over the years, Gilbert grappled with his Mr. Tough guy image. For me, I took a much more reserved path in life. I believed in using more raw Intelligence (precision/critical thinking) over those who would use such an aggressive (physical) behavior. Nonetheless, I respected Gilbert and his idealism, and I looked up to him. Gilbert knew from the outset that he would eventually become a Sheriff mantra (because of his father), and his aim to become an [ ___ ] [ ______ ]. Although, he was worried about taking his first polygraph exam with the [ ___ ], reading up on the subject for weeks in advance (asking for my advice), before he took the exam. His polygraph test (it’s outcome) was “very gray” the [ ___ ] examiner told him. It bothered me as to why he did not pass the exam, brilliantly. Nonetheless, [ ___ ] hired him. But at first, he was roundly denied … and the [ ___ ] refused to hire him. For more than 7-years, he worked to construct an incredible resume, to get in. He later became an [ ___ ] Chief Pilot (after washing out from the Top-Gun Academy in Las Vegas, NV). He then added to his resume, listing his certification(s) as a paramedic, a marksman, a locksmith, a communications specialist, a terrorism specialist, etc. He said that he had accumulated (acquired) more raw intelligence ( [ ___ ] skills and gadgets), better equipped than that of any 007 had ever dreamed of having. He told me exactly on how the [ ___ ] operated. He told me on how they conducted high-level [ ___ ] [ _________ ]. He told me a lot of things, over the decades. I began to know so much, that my brain could hardly keep track of it all. Yet, the [ ___ ] never hired me. I was never paid a dime! They didn’t help me when my mother got cancer. They couldn’t do anything about the horrendous health care that she received, but I continued to tell Gilbert everything … a direct route to top-level [ ___ ] and [ ___ ]. I became a very valuable informant for them.
Gilbert did have a dark side to his personality, causing me to wonder what was so hidden in the darkest recesses of his mind. He could be very threatening and intimidating. He threatened me more than once. He would often say, “your life, it will be very fascinating, to see on how it all turns out.” Not sure, exactly, what that meant. We’ve experienced the best of times. We have also shared some of the worst. His divorce from his ex-wife was no less shocking, sending our friendship into a huge tailspin. Gilbert was Mormon and he wondered if I was interested in his wife. I had no concept about his Mormon faith, at that time. I had no interest in his wife. He must be joking? Somehow, he pressed me further, into-the-middle of their heated cold war relationship.
Again, it was never my intention to ever double-cross Gilbert, especially with his to be ex-wife. I’d had talked with her less than a dozen times throughout the years — only briefly did I ever talk with her. When I found out that his brother was diagnosed from Schizophrenia a week earlier, that better explained what was wrong with Gilbert. Gilbert threatened to kill his children. He had threatened to kill his wife and others, all while being employed by the [ ___ ]. Gilbert had a top security clearance, but that was all (eventually) taken away. After a successful career, the [ ___ ] finally fired him in 2009.
Over the years, Gilbert’s father began to warn me about his unprofessional and dangerous actions. He told me what kind of car he was now driving, to be very wary of him. Gilbert’s father told me that his [ ___ ] career and his war against his family and friends had continually transformed him (his thoughts and level of experience) into a very dangerous man.
I shook my head. How did all of this become my problem? Gilbert’s father explained, “You have gotten into it, because you wanted to know things. Gilbert told you a lot about the [ ___ ] and so have I, and about what our country and world is facing. Either you are with us or you are against us, Peter.”
. . .
The spider crawled up on my passenger seat. I never liked spiders too much. I questioned, should I kill the spider or rescue it? I named the spider Keratoconus. For years, I couldn’t see things too clearly, had trouble seeing dust or even a cobweb in my apartment. My vision got so bad, that I could only read the big E on an eye chart for most of the day. I had suffered from an eye disease, named Keratoconus for over twenty-five years (from age twelve to age forty-five). I was trying my best to just stay alive.
Diseases tend to follow you everywhere, even after being cured from them, I later noted.
I captured the spider in my empty coffee cup. I carefully put the lid on the cup. My thoughts then returned back to my economic weaknesses and my constant state of danger.
Gilbert continually told me about the rising crime rates. Crime was rampant (he told me), that one car out of every twelve cars had an ex-felon in them. He also said that my life of poverty had made me very vulnerable to crime (I should consider buying a firearm). He also thought that I might be suffering from a case of mild depression, since I was unsure of what direction to take in my life. I decided to not take his advice and buy a firearm.
Gilbert couldn’t possibly understand the challenge of my road in life. I wasn’t suffering from a mild case of depression. I was suffering from a society that did not offer much for those who are going blind, or for those who were facing poverty.
I stared out the window of my car. My mind was racing.
I bit the inside of my mouth, feeling the incredible stress of a multitude of new challenges in front of me. I bit down harder, remembering the items that I had only recently conquered. Many things were simply out of my control. After a minute or so, I let go. Although, my hands were still gripping the steering wheel so tightly, that I left imprints (finger impressions) into the black foam rubber (leather) of my steering wheel. I questioned, what in the world should I do now? I was penniless. I opened my wallet and I saw only a few dollars left.
My heart pounded. My thoughts moved back—
. . .
I still believed that if I placed my soul into a career of helping others, that I would never become un-wealthy, nor considered to be too overly selfish in my bank executive years (at age 35), with a growing desire in finding greater levels of financial freedom and wisdom. I refused to give up. I questioned on how I could have become such a successful person (only years earlier), as a banking executive, but now finding myself in such a dramatic turnaround (Banks are not now likely to hire me, since I had worked closely with the US Secret Service, reporting instances of money-laundering at US banks). Indeed, very little of my current negative situation was that of my own making. I spent a lot of my money in trying to save my mother from cancer. I never asked to go through corneal blindness (either), nor any of this financial ruin in trying to put my life together with a college education. My life failures were seemingly connected to my eye disease, my dysfunctional family, the loss of my mother and my friendship with Gilbert ( [ ___ ] ) and his father ( [ ___ ] ), ( [ ______ ] ) I concluded. However, my whistle blowing lifestyle had also become a very dangerous hobby. For the most part, people don’t like a snitch. I held (carried) the fear of being murdered in the pit of my stomach for years and years. Again, Gilbert made the suggestion that I should buy a firearm. I steadfastly disagreed.
Many people told me to be very careful. I was trying my best at being an honest man, to prove my worthiness (honesty) to others, to make my mother proud of me. Maybe, I was too weak to be an informant and a [ ___ ]? Maybe, I should have fought much harder, somehow? Maybe, I should not have become an [ ___ ] informant? God only knows that I fought so damn hard to do what was right, in reporting criminal behavior. Over time, my attempt at fighting crime became part of who I am.
I questioned my decision-making about going back to college. Was that a mistake? I questioned just about everything. When faced with eventual blindness, I began to continually analyze each daily decision. I figured the only way out of this complex life puzzle (problem) was in becoming more educated. But now I faced a tremendous amount of student loan debt. Years earlier, I questioned, who would want to marry me, as a blind and poor individual? How would I survive with not being able to see correctly? How could I survive without a college education? Who would want to employ me? Relationships we’re destined for failure in my life, I determined. I decided at a young age, to forget about my needs of finding love and I avoided dating altogether. Many women were just looking for financial security and sex, Gilbert told me. He told me to concentrate on my own survival.
I was on a vast uphill climb. I knew that my chances of succeeding past this entire life struggle was poor. Statistics proved that I was likely to be murdered. Life became more and more complicated.
Gilbert had children. I had no children. Why was I destined to always make comparisons with Gilbert’s life? At times, I wished that I had his life. Gilbert’s life was successful and mine was not (at age 35). And yet, he later blamed me for his divorce from his ex-wife?
Why would Gilbert blame me for his own life struggles, as I envisioned? I stood as his best friend, for many decades. But his decisions were becoming increasingly dire and doom orientated, defining those who suffer from Schizophrenia. I questioned if Gilbert was moving more and more into that perilous extreme conservative direction, with each day that I talked with him. Maybe, we weren’t always destined to be the best of friends?
. . .
My thoughts jumped back–
As a thoughtful listener, I shared strong premonitions with Gilbert, with what I could see, about his life. I expressed these concerns with his father on numerous occasions. Maybe, they thought I was a bit off my rocker, at first. I made many suggestions to him. Gilbert decided to visit me in Sacramento, CA. I did not want him to risk such a long journey on a motorcycle ride. I continually told him, No … but Gilbert would not listen. He was in Colorado at that time. I even called his parents to warn them about what I was seeing, this fateful vision (my psychic ability) that he was on this path of destruction, in following very poor decision-making. But again, I could not change his mind. Just before he left, I told him what I could clearly see in my mind and I warned him as best that I could. I told him to be very careful as he rode his motorcycle just outside of the Rocky Mountains at dusk, outside of Grand Junction, CO. I told him that I was very worried that he would hit a dog or something on his motorcycle, while driving at 60-miles-per-hour. He thought I was imagining things (he laughed). The next day, I received a phone call from his father that he was in the hospital in Sevier, Utah, after hitting a dog with his motorcycle at 60-miles-per-hour, flying head first over his motorcycle at dusk. Gilbert never made it to California. A trucker saw his motorcycle lights bouncing down the highway in the distance. The trucker and others came to his rescue on the side of the highway as he was blacking in and out. However, Gilbert was so determined. He got back on his bike after 40-minutes, re-adjusted his handlebars on his motorcycle (in the middle of no-where) and rode for another 100+ miles, to Sevier, UT. Incredibly, Gilbert had only a bad (deep) laceration on the top of his shoulder (where his head and shoulder met the road) and a very severe open cut above his right kneecap. Doctors were no less shocked and amazed when he walked into the hospital lobby, with his clothing soaked in blood. Thankfully, he didn’t break any bones. Gilbert was so thankful for my warning. He was bruised badly, took a few weeks for him to heal, both physically and psychologically.
Gilbert said, while talking to me by phone (after the accident) from Sevier, “… that damn dog, I was looking for him, Peter … you we’re right, I was wrong. I should have listened to you. How in the world did you know?”
Later, after he healed, we talked again about this event and he and his parents were astonished that I had this rare gift of such a precise insight and vision. Again, he and his family are devout Mormons. These vision experiences were very important to them. I later explained to him, that I get this ability all the time, but that I can’t always control it. Some premonitions just appear to me. Some are very strong, while others are distant. I never discount them. I asked Gilbert to not discount them. I also asked, please don’t double-cross me and please don’t challenge me too much in my life, Gilbert. I’m trying the best that I can to do what is right, in my life.
Gilbert then said, causing my stomach to sink, “… that the double-crosser (corruption) is everywhere and you must always keep your eyes wide open, no matter from where it comes. You will never know when you’ll get zapped by a double-crosser, my friend.” In response, my thoughts were that things do (often) get really complicated in life, especially after knowing so much. I hoped that Gilbert was not making some reference to becoming a double-crosser! Gilbert and his father had shared a lot with me. I now felt as if I worked for the [ ___ ] .
Over time, I must have become the poorest (unpaid) [ ___ ] (informant) in the country. Gilbert again said, that the [ ___ ] doesn’t pay a dime to [ ___ ] informants, Peter. He also added, as long as, I was willing to be his Mormon informant … he would share bits and pieces with me about [ ___ ] operations. He also encouraged me to get that piece of paper and keep plugging along (to get an education). But again, on this day, I must realize … I now have gained 125K of college debt.
. . .
My thoughts again veered, moving fast forward and back–
Gosh, he and his wife (later) met me inside the Planet Hollywood Casino in Las Vegas, asking me if I wanted to marry his wife, while they were getting their divorce! That’s right. Gilbert asked me if I believed in a true Christian lifestyle or that of being married to numerous wives? My heart rate climbed and I instinctively said, No … this cannot be right, Gilbert. The conversation then really got started, heated up, dramatically.
“Peter, I’ve had numerous relationships at the same time, while being married,” Gilbert said. “Do you agree that it’s okay to have numerous relationships all at the same time, or not? You’ve succeeded past corneal blindness. You’ve become successful, you are now a Baptized Mormon … I just knew that you would eventually join us and our religion, Peter … so, with two degrees from Regis, at a Catholic Jesuit University, what is your opinion? You have studied religion at length, Peter. We both want to know your religious opinion.” He questioned me, with a roulette table spinning directly behind me in the background.
“Please place your bets, place your bets,” I remember the Casino employee saying.
“My god, Gilbert. This isn’t a game. That’s a very profound question to be asking me, especially from your [ ___ ] perspective and with your wife sitting at the same table with me … with us, in Las Vegas! What in the world are you trying to do and ask me?” I said.
Gilbert then said, “Michele and I are getting a divorce and I have no more interest in her sexually. She is monogamous, while I am not. We have sex once every other month, at the very most. She believes in a purest lifestyle and I do not. She doesn’t want sex anymore with me. You and she might be perfect for each other.”
“I cannot believe with what you are asking of me, Gilbert. My opinion is that I would never date or have a relationship with your wife or to be ex-wife. I cannot do that. This is crazy! We are good friends, aren’t we? I don’t feel that it’s right to do so, Gilbert. You would hate me. I cannot believe that the two of you are breaking up. When getting married, it’s supposed to be Covenant, Gilbert. I thought that the two of you had a perfect relationship. I cannot fathom that you are trying to match me up with your wife, or to be ex-wife? From a religious standpoint, all this mixing up of relationships causes big time problems, in my opinion. I believe that your wife, ex-wife is right.” I rambled.
“So, let me get this straight, Peter … you’re saying that I’m wrong … that with all those relationships that I’ve had … while being married was wrong? Is that right?” Gilbert asked, stating it very sternly, pointing his finger at me, in anger.
I swallowed hard. “Yes, I think it’s wrong, Gilbert. It’s because it causes great distrust and envy, great hatred, among other bad things.” I said. Gilbert’s wife then smiled.
Gilbert then said, turning to look at me, “I knew that the two of you would be perfect for each other. She would love you.” He pounded on the table.
My thoughts again swayed, recalling the immensities of that conversation, about religion and personal opinion(s). Oh my god, that premonition did eventually happen, by the way!
. . .
After having successful corneal transplant surgery, my ability to see future events increased ten-fold. Yet, I had no control over when I received these miracles of insight, premonitions of the future. I’ve had so many of them (throughout my life), that I’d have a very difficult time in remembering all of them. Truly, it would be an impossible task, to keep track of them. I receive these premonitions almost every day. Some are extremely important and others I question (their importance). All together, the larger and smaller premonitions act to guide me in my complex life.
Gilbert and his father became convinced. My psychic abilities were proven to be accurate. After a few of them, Gilbert told me that I now have a file with the [ ___ ] and I have gained the admiration of some very high-level people within his own department and with the ( [ _______ ] ).
Again, I met with several [ ___ ] [ _______ ] throughout the years, working on many cases in Denver. Most of the time, when I came across something important, I shared it with Gilbert and his father, immediately. However, once an [ ___ ] [ _______ ] got what they wanted, as an informant, most folks are given that typical, thank you for the information, and goodbye. It’s like … “we are now done with you, we soaked your brain like a turnip, now beat it.” It’s all about that need to know basis … with what is happening within an investigation. Over time, I caught bank-robbers, I located missing people … but I remained very poor and unpaid. I had to accept that reality. They recruited me.
With Gilbert, he wanted more of the James Bond, 007-spy lifestyle. He wanted numerous relationships. I was seeking and hoping for just one. Again, my life was so complex. My eyesight caused me headaches. My life was far less than positive. I had little to offer, anyone. I’d be looking for a diamond in the ruff (in a relationship) in my up-side-down storybook life.
Gilbert, on the other hand, seemed to have his life in great financial order. And I couldn’t even begin to keep up with all of his raw ambition. But for me, the definition of finding greater levels of financial wisdom (a career to support myself and a family, in finding a meager level of happiness) seemed less and less possible. For Gilbert, he seemed to be reaching for more power and authority, using people to get what he wanted. Over time, the [ ___ ] seemed to cause me more grief, but I had no other choice and I accepted it.
I sought an escape, a modest way to support myself … to pay my bills, and just eek out an average lifestyle. I jumped from one career to another, likened to a spy. I thought I had a good plan. I joined the airlines, working for Continental for more than 4-years. I could get on a plane after my shift and fly across the country, or even to Hawaii for 5-bucks. I could fly to Hawaii for 25-bucks in first class! I thought my life was perfect back then. Although, I was ill prepared for almost everything!
Gilbert was not so convinced of my plan to gain happiness with the demands of ever having a family of my own, when my life started going downhill. His father told me that I should not seek any more education. He said that the Mormon Church would take care of me and find me a wife, (after my mother was gone) so that I could have my own children. They explained that I would have to follow their rules and become a good “do as your told Mormon.” Gilbert then changed his mind. He told me that being married is now not for me, it’s not my cup of tea … that I wouldn’t like it very much. His divorce and family was destroying him, he said over and over again. Gilbert and his father continued to make these contradictory statements, making one statement one week, sidestepping what they said only a few days, weeks earlier.
My thoughts were scrambled.
If only I could turn back the hands on the clock … to be working for the airlines again, getting on a plane, to be back on a beach in Hawaii. I wanted the tranquility.
I gripped my steering wheel again, tightly. The rain had almost stopped. I closed my eyes.
I recalled–
I was in the passenger seat. My mother and I were driving down a street in Littleton, Colorado. I noticed a family getting into their Jeep Cherokee. I swallowed hard. My thoughts were that I would never have such a life. I would never find true love or happiness … and so, I began to cry.
“Peter? Are you okay? Why are you crying?” My mother asked me.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Mom.” I explained. It was too painful to share. My mother then began to cry too. We both cried until we got back home. Later, we talked about why we were both crying and I told her the truth. She told me that she had guessed that I became depressed about where my life was heading … in a downward slide into a life that robbed away any kind of normalcy. It’s all because of this horrible disease of Keratoconus and eventual blindness!
Now at middle age, age 35, where can I now find my happiness, Mom? “Peter, I think you’ll find it in paradise someday. You should move to Hawaii. I’ll look for you there,” She said back then.
“Look for me on the beach, Mom!” I cried.
. . .
I dropped my chin. I opened my eyes. I noticed a Starbucks employee walking in front of my car and into the Barnes and Noble Bookstore and café. My watch now said, 6:15 AM. I’ve got to stop all of this reminiscing, moving forward and back! I’ve got to get myself motivated and get moving, buying a cup of Starbucks coffee for my energy level! The caffeine does seem to work.
Yet, my thoughts returned to Gilbert, again–
The Planet Hollywood Casino was filled with smoke and my heart rate climbed. I closed my eyes.
“Gilbert, I’ve succeeded past corneal blindness, but I’ve not lost sight of my own ambitions or opinions. You certainly have your own set of opinions and I also have mine. I agree that you have a right to your opinion. I’m not going to get in the middle of your divorce and relationship battle, between you and Michele. I care greatly about the both of you. This conversation is over the top, in my opinion.”
I grasped at my steering wheel, clenched my teeth, biting down hard. I wondered if again, if I was dreaming. My life is continually filled with these raw edge-of-your-seat situations–from that first diagnosis at age twelve–until now. I most certainly can handle it, can’t I? I must keep track of all of this, remembering all of it, if possible.
I’ve spent what seemed to be an eternity, in the measure of my deep thoughts. And it has felt as if I’ve fought a big life long medical battle. I’m now just trying to figure things out, from the inside of my car in Broomfield, CO … in trying to solve one riddle after another! I worried if I was beginning to get some of these things confused. My poverty level was killing me!
The time now read, 6:17 AM.
“How in the world did everything get so messed up? Shouldn’t I get out of this car and do something? I’m so close to having my degree. “Maybe, this truly is class warfare, on how to survive life? What the heck am I doing? I’ve also had these incredible examples of great success! What should I do now!”
I slowly opened my eyes. “What a soaking mess.” Turning on the radio, listening to 850 KOA, Mike Rosen. They were talking about those who received a free education? They must be kidding, me?
My mind now wanted to blame someone, because of what I was hearing on the radio. I had gained over $125K in student loan debt and these folks received a free education? How the heck did they do that?
“Golly, I wouldn’t have sought a graduate degree if it were not for my friend, Gilbert.” I said. “It’s all his fault that I’m now in such financial debt.” It’s all because of his raw ambition. He challenged me. The [ ___ ] challenged me. He and his father took me under their wings (especially after my mother died) and convinced me that I should shoot for the stars, since my vision was now restored to 20/20, after successful corneal transplant surgeries! But where has all of this now taken me?
It’s the damn Mormons, I said to myself. One minute they tell me to shoot for the stars, then the next, they said, we’ll promise to take care of you. I figured, that they lied. All you need to do is stop drinking that coffee! Are they crazy?
“If you stop drinking coffee and do as we tell you, we will lead you to the Celestial Kingdom, Peter.” What in the world is the Celestial Kingdom? I asked. They continually said, “… you must climb a ladder to Heaven to get there.”
I scratched my head. I must put all of these things down on paper.
“You are a very important person in the eyes of the Mormon church, Peter,” I remember Gilbert’s father telling me. “Let us guide you. You don’t need an education anymore. Don’t take anymore classes!”
“Really?” I questioned.
“How was I more important, exactly?”
Gilbert’s father said that my life experiences had made me more knowledgeable and powerful than I had even realized. But now I should stop attending college? Was that a joke? What type of future employment will I have if I don’t finish college, without a Masters Degree?
“You’re not ready to know everything, Peter. All of this will soon pass.” He said. “You’ve been chosen.”
“Haven’t you read the entire Book of Mormon?”
. . .
I curled into my seat, grumbling, “What a freaking mess!” I yelled.
With only a few more classes to finish my Liberal Arts Degree (at age 42, with honors), I must finish what I have started (I roared) … a Master’s degree education might then be the way out for me … what else can I do? All I have is a Bachelors Degree. If I ever wanted to work for the CIA, I would have to have a Masters degree!
Maybe, I should just continue at this effort? I’m living the life of being a homeless man after getting my eyesight back. This is crazy! I guess I should finish my Liberal Arts Degree, continue to place my life into more and more poverty and debt, living atop of my life belongings, living like so many people do in the world today (homeless), to study at the library? And then, I’ll go into law enforcement? Is this the right answer? Why is it that Gilbert is a [ ___ ] [ _______ ] and I’m cast into such dire poverty?
“It’s not fair,” I yelled. “Decisions, decisions,” I said to myself, in anger. Indeed, once you are living homeless, it’s extremely difficult to pull yourself back out of it,” I screamed. “This has not been my decision, by me … to experience homelessness. Living life homeless is simply too dangerous!”
“Mom, (speaking to myself) this life … it’s all about a war against poverty and blindness!” I yelled.
*** NOTE: Individual names above have been given pseudonym names, to hide the individual’s real/true identity, in their protection and others. However, the context of what has been written above is true and accurate. Most of what is written above occurred in Denver, Colorado and in Las Vegas, Nevada, more than 15-years ago.