The Beginning

In four days it will have been a year since my wedding day. While it is still technically my first wedding anniversary, there will not be a second. The divorce will be final before the end of this calendar year. It represents “the end” that I wrote about in my last post. However, as was alluded to in a comment to that post and as I elaborated in my own comment following it, every end is also a beginning; and so it is with this one. And while part of my path is a continuation of the educational goal I am already in the midst of, the recent turn of events has radically altered how that road will be traveled. This “end” also represents a radical new beginning for my future ex-wife. Although this reality is obviously not how either of us envisioned it, the fact remains that if we did not love each other we would not have married. Love is a necessary component, but no matter how strong it is, love alone is not enough. It can, however, be very convincing.

Break-ups are difficult under the best of circumstances. Ours has seen the entire range of emotions. We have finally settled into a civil relationship that will, I sincerely hope, continue to evolve as a friendship. Accepting that we must walk separate paths has been a difficult process that is finally settling in. I can look back and second guess myself; say if only this or that had been different, if only I had done or not done this or she had done or not done that, but in the end I can no more change the past than I could see into the future. Shit happened and from here on all either of us can do is pick ourselves up and move forward. It is a new beginning.

Hers is her story, but she is doing the things she needs to do. She has in some ways taken a step back to reestablish herself, but in other, perhaps more important ways, she has made huge strides and is discovering the person I fell in love with, that kind spirit that I know lives in her heart. She is about to embark on a new phase and I not only wish her well, I am sure she will discover in herself what I and many others already see. It sometimes takes a major disruption in life to spur one to new heights… some call it a “bottom.” There are many varieties and I have experienced my fair share, but it could just as easily be called “the end.”

Circling back around to this post’s theme, ends are also beginnings. I started my doctoral program at LSU two years ago. While this coming fall semester does not come with the trepidation that my first semester did, there are a number of factors that make my return to Baton Rouge new. First and foremost, this “return” is semi-permanent. For the past two years I have maintained my residency in California and viewed my school/work in Louisiana more as a long-distance commute. Even though I had what was euphemistically called an “apartment,” it was never home. When I go back, I will be moving into a house in a quiet residential neighborhood a lot like the one I currently have in California. With my house in California rented out, Baton Rouge will be my only home. I will live there – and only there – for the next two years. Furthermore, even though I will be a third year Ph.D. student, the coming semester will be the last of my coursework. In the spring I will be taking my qualifying exams and from there on, I will be writing my dissertation. All new. And the beginning to another end, which will be yet another new beginning.

I do not know what the future holds. If I did, things, lots of things, would be much different. Maybe this marriage would have worked out. Maybe we never would have been married in the first place. Maybe my first marriage more than 25 years ago would have worked out. Maybe we would never have married. The fact is that through the things I have done I have become who I am. The mistakes I have made have made me into a better version of me – and know this, there is still a lot of room for improvement. These cycles in life, these endings and beginnings, the bottoms I have hit and the process of climbing out of them, all of it is the stuff of life. I certainly have not made it easy on myself, but I don’t know that it could have been any other way. While I regret those instances where my difficulties, my pain, my growth has negatively affected those I love, I don’t regret my own pain that I have experienced throughout my trials. Each represents a new beginning.

The End

I haven’t written anything here for a while - a long while. While this blog has served many purposes, among them is an ongoing and public life journal. Yet that type of writing has been largely supplanted by short Facebook “status updates” and the conversation that ensues from them. Although those snippets can be useful in many ways and even cathartic the same way longer blog entries can be, it is not the same as sitting down with a word processor open and writing. Really writing. Much of what follows is perhaps old news to my Facebook “friends” (and absolutely old news to my real-life friends), but the words here must have some sort of a beginning, middle and an end. Of course, the end is never the end, but it can be concluded up to this point in time.

In early 2011, I met a beautiful lady. She and I began to converse and on January 29^th, 2011 we went on a motorcycle ride with some other mutual friends. Sparks flew almost immediately and before long we were in a “relationship.” At the time I was finishing my master’s degree at California State University, Sacramento and I knew that I would be going to another school for work on my Ph.D. I was hoping, for a number of reasons, that a school in California or at least on the west coast would accept me - and now there was a new reason. I ended up being accepted and fully funded at Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge, LA - 2,200 miles away from home. It would be a strain, but we were both convinced that our love would be strong enough to span the miles and the time apart from each other.

At first it seemed to be okay. We talked and video chatted everyday and I was home every four to six weeks. But even before I left, some things were not adding up and the seeds of distrust began to grow. We got engaged that October – she said she needed the security under the long-distance circumstances and although I wasn’t exactly sure getting married right away was the best idea, I did love her and wanted to make her happy. I thought it would help matters and in some respects it did, but the signs kept popping up. When I asked questions I was always met with plausible deniability. Because I wanted to believe, I did. The trust issues escalated to the point that I called off the wedding not once, but twice. Each time I was “talked down” with promises that were never kept. We got married on July 15^th, 2012.

It was a magical day. But soon after the signs reappeared (if they ever really left) and kept escalating and… they were getting more frequent. By this time I had turned into a quasi-private investigator because I was no longer able to believe the unbelievable. I sincerely wish that my efforts had turned up nothing. While this is not the place to go into specifics, the issues dealt with both relatively small things as well as all the big things. I was so wrapped up in what was happening back home last semester that it is a wonder I was able to complete my classes at all, let alone teach those I was obligated to teach. Every time she was caught, new promises came. Now, less than a month before what would have been our first anniversary, divorce proceedings are under way. It affects not only me, not only her, but also her children, her family, my (grown) children, my family and most of our friends. It was (and still is) the ripple effect on steroids.

She is trying to get help; part of what we are dealing with is classified as a certain type of disease in which a therapeutic environment is pivotal in the solution. Unfortunately, too much trust has been lost and part of that lost trust is that I have already been replaced. While I forgave a lot and remained hopeful up until not that long ago, the problem now is that what I felt and the commitment I made was not met in kind. And what hurts the most is that I could be so easily and quickly replaced by another man. As I write this, it is already old news, albeit ongoing old news. I am forced to conclude that the unchecked manifestations of the disease my soon to be ex-wife suffers from made it impossible for this to be “true love.” That is not to say there was no love, the chemistry we experienced was real, but the level of commitment and trust essential to any relationship was never there. In reality, I lost something I never had.

For a little more than a week now, everyday has had more good hours than bad. I have finally reached a place of acceptance that this was never meant to be. But that does not mean I am not still hurting and there have been at least moments in everyone of those days when I cannot help but think of what our lives could have been. My emotional investment was total and complete; I gave everything I had. I was committed to forming a new family with her and her boys. We had dreams. It is not easy to let go of, but let go I must. I wish her well, I still love her, but that family we dreamed of will not be, and that is sad for everyone involved. Soon I will have severed all physical ties to California and life will return to some semblance of serenity, but it was not the kind of serenity I was hoping for.

Living Memory

I have been riding street motorcycles on and off since I was 18 years old. For the past several years, riding has been an integral part of my life. While the fifty thousand or so miles I have logged in the last five or six years is not a huge total, it is more than the average “hobbyist” logs. And those I ride with are not hobbyists. We know the risks; we accept the danger; and when we ride we are responsible for predicting every stupid move unaware drivers might make. This ability to predict and ride as though drivers don’t know we are there does not come from a book and it cannot be taught in a weekend “motorcycle safety” course, it comes from experience and riding with others who have many miles under their belts. Even with this awareness and level of concentration, the danger still exists. Lots of things are dangerous and riding a motorcycle is one of them. The best we can do is to mitigate the risk so that we can enjoy an activity that brings so much richness to life.

Once in a while, that risk we take becomes all too real. Yesterday morning we lost one of our own doing what we love so much. The community of riders I ride with in the Sacramento, Calif. area is rather large and it is part of an even larger community that has nothing to do with motorcycles. Mel Deaton was a core member of both, a man who was as active and dedicated in this fellowship as he was to riding. I met Mel through this larger community about eight years ago, before I got back into riding, but I got to know him much better after I bought my first Harley about seven years ago. Through service work to our fellowship and through frequent rides with those of us who ride frequently, I gained a level of respect for Mel that I reserve for only a very few. We were not close friends, but through intersecting circles of friends, we had a relationship that transcended motorcycles.

While the details of the accident that took Mel out are not readily available, by all accounts he was not at fault. This comes as no surprise; I have ridden with him enough to know his level of skill on two wheels. This might come as some comfort to those who were very close to Mel, but it doesn’t change the outcome. The fact that he was doing something he loved, however, might ease the pain a little. But it does point out that even for someone as careful and skilled as Mel was, it still does not erase the danger or enable any of us to fully predict the unpredictable, to fully anticipate the scope and magnitude of inattention and stupidity some people drive with. I know from personal experience. I can’t count the number of times a driver was looking right at me approaching on my Harley and still pulled out right in front of me like I was not even there.

But I do not want to go on a rant about stupid drivers – it won’t help and it won’t change anything. The risk still remains the same as it always has. I do want to honor Mel Deaton who so unexpectedly left us yesterday morning. They say that as long as one’s memory survives, one is never really gone – the spirit lives among us as long as the memory lives. If this is true, Mel’s spirit will be with us for a very long time. He was a man who overcame much and helped more people, directly and indirectly, than could ever be known. Had Mel not done what he did years before I joined the fellowship, I would not be where I am today. There are literally thousands who would say the same. Mel left a lasting memory and, more importantly, a legacy. Mel’s spirit will live among us at least until the end of my days because he is a man I will never forget.

AT&T Cellular Data "Leak"

Some months ago, before the iPhone 5 an before iOS 6, the five devices on my family plan started to see data a usage spike. My wife’s phone was the first to experience it and we assumed that it was her son was viewing YouTube videos extensively. At the time we were all on the 2 Gb data plan, a plan that had recently been replaced with a more expensive 3 Gb plan. To avoid a $10 overage charge, we gave up the less expensive (and grandfathered, no longer available) 2 Gb plan and limited her son's access to her phone. At the time she had a 16 Gb iPhone 4 running iOS 5.x. Over the next two or three months, the same thing happened to both of my sons' phones (both Androids), my iPhone 4S and, quite shockingly, my iPad 2. AT&T could not explain the data spikes or the "coincidence" in light of the fact that our usage behaviors and locations had not significantly changed. The result after about three or four months was that each of the five devices were moved up to the 3 Gb plan - at a total cost of $25 per month. And, even at 3 Gb, on a couple of occasions one or another device (iPhone 4S - 32Gb, iPhone 4 - 16Gb, iPad 2 -32 Gb, and two Android based phones) came close to its 3Gb limit when in the past years of smart phone use with AT&T (I have had the same account for 12 years - longer than AT&T has been AT&T), I have never come close. This includes every version of the iPhone and iOS, Blackberry, Nokia, Motorola, Samsung and other smart-phones. After many phone calls and untold hours on the phone with their tech support, no one at AT&T has ever offered an explanation other than the standard "some apps are open and use data in the background," etc.

So I sucked it all up, paying approximately $300 per month for five devices. Just before the iPhone 5 and iOS 6 were released, maybe six or eight weeks before, I noticed that my data usage as reported through my AT&T online account management has shown some interesting regular patterns. It was apparent on every device, not just the iPhones and iPad 2 (the others are a Samsung Galaxy and a Nokia Lumina). The pattern was some data usage at hourly intervals even when the phones were known to be in WiFi. The recent buzz has to do with a data "leakage" problem on Verizon with the release of iOS 6, and apparently Apple has updated Verizon iOS 6, but when it comes to AT&T and others, there is no information forthcoming. Whether or not my bill data reflects the Verizon/iOS 6/Apple problem or not, I cannot say, but I can say this: Data is being recorded as used at hourly intervals when I know the phone (or iPad) is in strong, reliable WiFi. It happens with all five devices, but the most stunning set of data comes from my iPad.

At :52 after the hour, every hour, some data use is recorded on my iPad. It is almost always in WiFi, but this data usage happens even when I am sleeping, and even when my iPad is sleeping (cover closed). And this pattern is steady and constant going back three weeks at least - to the beginning of my billing cycle. AT&T's first explanation was that when the phone slips out of WiFi, it automatically switches over to cellular data until the WiFi connection is reestablished. If there was an app open that uses data at all, it would record some minimal data usage - and most (but not all) of these hourly hits are small. But they add up quickly such that with a week left in my billing cycle, AT&T sent me a warning that my shared data usage of 10 Gb is 65% used. So, lets just say that there are occasions that this could happen - a momentary loss of WIFI would created a small cellular data hit if an app is open - granted, that could happen. But every hour for weeks in a row? And a pattern that is apparent on every one of the various devices on my account? I don't think so.

Since the customer service agent could not explain these stark facts, he sent me over to tech support. That agent could not come up with an adequate explanation either, so a supervisor was brought in. She tried the same old "plausible" explanations, but the numbers I have defy any pat answer that they can give. She referred it to some "second tier" investigation - and offered me a $120 credit on my next bill. I never asked for a credit and, in fact, even with this strange data accounting, I will not exceed my limit anyway. Of course, I took the credit.

There is a lot of buzz about this problem with iPhones and iOS 6 - but I am telling anyone who will listen that it goes beyond that. There is something funny going on at AT&T and it has been happening since before any of this iPhone 5 and iOS 6 hoopla began - it started at about the same time the 2 Gb data plan was retired. I am not being financially impacted by this - yet, but when something stinks like this, I am compelled to find out where the stench is coming from.

Love and Life

It has been many moons since I have written anything for The 25 Year Plan. Too many. Since this blog has served primarily as an ongoing life journal for the past six-plus years, it makes sense that certain major life events would be documented here. Things like the completion of my master's degree earlier this year; things like the successful completion of the first year of my doctoral program at LSU; and it might be important to mention that I am getting married just a few hours from now. These are not everyday things that just come and go in one’s life – they are in a very real sense what life is all about. These are the things that are remembered not only by my soon-to-be wife, my immediate family, my close friends, and me, but for some these are the things that will be remembered long after we are gone. These are the things that constitute our legacy and they should be documented here.

My bride and I have not lived what most would describe a “normal” life. While it is true that virtually no one can claim adherence to any standard of “normal,” it is also true that we have deviated enough from that idealistic path that no one would describe us as conformists. Not even remotely. It’s more than just the fact that we are getting married later in life and more than the family we are blending – the mixing and matching of families is an all too common reality of modern life. It’s more than the quasi-tradition marriage (that is, it is traditional where convenient or affordable, quasi when it’s not) we have cobbled together. It is much more than any of that because where we are today – in love, getting married and living a life that has a future beyond the next hour – is not anything either of us thought could ever be attained. We each have years of experience that tells us so, yet here we are, living the dream.

That is not to say that we have somehow stumbled into a life of luxury. Spiritually, yes, we are overpaid, but the struggles of life on a daily basis are still with us. Our relationship will still be part-time long distance, albeit now as husband and wife. The bills still have to be paid and although I have completed both a BA and an MA recently, the real hurdle is the Ph.D. that I am still in the process of working on. My wife will have her own day-to-day details to attend to, not the least of which is raising two sons who will hopefully follow a path that is perhaps not well-trodden, but one that does not lead into a brick wall – or off a cliff. One can be a nonconformist without being dangerous, stupid or making life unnecessarily hard. Indeed, Jenny and I are living proof that following the path less traveled can be fulfilling and rewarding… or dangerous and hard. We have been there, we have done that.

It has become abundantly clear that life is a team sport. I became resistant to being committed, dependent, reliant, beholden - pick your adjective – on or to anyone for anything. I believed myself to be independent and lived that way, yet the truth is that I was never independent. Jenny has never been married, but I was and it ended very badly more than 20 yeas ago. It colored my world black for a very long time and it is safe to say that, while she was never married, Jenny built a wall that was equally robust. Don’t let anyone in and no one can hurt you. But that past several years have been witness to a transformation - an attitudinal change, a new perspective - that occurred independently until we met in late 2010. Since then a synergy that I can only describe a true love has propelled us back into the thick of life.

Our marriage is perhaps the most profound example of the changes in our lives, but also noteworthy are the many, many other relationships we have developed or repaired. There will be between 150 and 200 guests at our wedding and everyone of them represents a relationship with one or both of us that goes significantly beyond just a mere “acquaintance.” In fact, the vast majority are friends in the truest sense of the word. And, of course, there are many more that cannot attend. These are all things that make life worth living. These are the things that money cannot buy. This is what life is all about. Our wedding is, first and foremost, a celebration of our love for and commitment to each other, but it is also a celebration of love and life in general. It is what life is all about.

So, This is Old...

This blog has served many, many purposes; it has been kind of a catchall for what ever passed through my mind and out of my fingers. I used to post many times every month and while the postings here have diminished to less than once a month, the writing has never stopped. Today I am starting three stories for a local newspaper that I used to work for. Freelance news writing does not pay much, but writing for the newspaper has reawakened my love of local news reporting. No, I do not wish to re-enter the field on a full-time basis, but keeping my hand in it from time to time reconnects me to my youth – not as a news writer, but as a newspaper delivery boy. While I was probably too young to understand the vital public interest I was serving, the ancillary benefit of reading my newspapers as I was carefully folding them, preparing to fling them at my customers’ doorsteps, has lived with in my soul to this day. There was no Internet, no cell phones, no personal computers at all – people relied on their daily newspapers to keep them informed.

Like so many others, I get most of my news today via the Internet. I prefer sitting down to read my local daily newspaper, but sadly the days of washing the newsprint off my hands are gone. My news now comes from my local newspaper’s website as well as many other sources and although I like the almost unlimited availability of news sources, I really miss holding the paper in my hands. Oddly enough, I used to write with a typewriter and I do not miss that at all. I was, in many respects, a “techie,” I was onboard with the Internet in its early stages and stayed current until the late 90s. Now, however, I am more accurately a nostalgic techie and an experienced end-user; the kinds of things I used to know have no current value, but I do know my way around a computer. Technology has, of course, changed things. This ongoing rambling of “perspectives, purpose and opinion” would not have happened had there been no technology to drive it.

I have been around for nearly half a century. The past 50 years have been witness to evolutions and revolutions at a pace perhaps unprecedented in human history. Yet much remains remarkably the same. Humanity, while it might appear less humane than ever, still rests on a foundation of intangibles. There are “things” that exists outside of matter and energy. Truth, beauty, goodness, justice, love and a host of other intangible things are real, yet they cannot be quantified. Now, there are some scientists that might tells us that those things are simply the electrochemical impulses of our nervous system, that they exist as love, justice or what have you are simply human creations; they are labels or symbols to describe a physical reality – a nervous system response to stimuli. Even less appealing – they are instinctive survival responses. But that explanation does little to explain why love occurs, why some things are universally beautiful or why injustice is recognized as such even by those who are the most frequent offenders.

Fifty years is a long time, and I used to look at 50 as “old.” Now a little more than six months short of that milestone, I do not feel “old.” In fact, I am doing much of what a man half my age might be doing. I recently earned BA and MA degrees and I am one year into a PhD program that, if successful, will have me sporting the title of “Doctor” sometime in 2015. I am getting married in just six weeks and while I am not new to parenthood, new children are coming into my life. There is, of course, much more to this story than this rambling mind-through-fingers symbolic representation, but the very fact that these words will be read by someone else will help form what they mean. They are an addition to the wealth of human experience that has been recorded over the past few thousand years and the more I read of those who have gone before me, the more I realize how little we have changed. We have adapted the environment to meet our needs, but we have not conquered the world. We have technologized much, but that essence that makes us human has not changed one iota. Paraphrasing Kenneth Burke, we are animals that communicate and miscommunicate and it is perhaps the latter more than the former that truly makes us human.