“How do geese know when to fly to the sun? Who tells them the seasons? How do we, humans know when it is time to move on? As with the migrant birds, so surely with us, there is a voice within if only we would listen to it, that tells us certainly when to go forth into the unknown.”
~Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
It's Sunday and I've been meaning to blog ever since the movers came to get my stuff, but just have not been able to make myself. I suppose that the willingness is actually in the doing, but on some small scorecard somewhere I given myself about a half a point for meaning to update my blog.
Anyway, that's enough of my rationalization nonsense . . . the movers got here Wednesday afteroon ~3 PM. Originally, they were supposed to be at my place between 8-10 AM, but decided to pick up another move intead - I didn't realize this, but the moving industry is pretty "free-form" like this. I was ok with that because they were going to show up between 12-2 PM so it was cool and I could get a nap. Ahhhhh, gorgeous nap . . . interrupted!! Phone calls from my wife wake me every 45-60 minutes - YES! - I KNOW my family is crazy. Please be patient with them. Later calls from my family . . . YES! - I KNOW my wife is crazy. Please be patient wth her. After being up all night? FUCK! But actually and amazingly (I thank God) I was able to be present and deal with those situations without telling anyone to take a flying leap or to go fuck themselves. Nice. Growth. Maturity. Perhaps there is hope for me yet, no?
So . . . because of the wonderful SoCal traffic my mover does not get to my place until closer to three. Gerald. That's name of the guy holding my shit for the next week or so. He's the driver of the truck - he owns and operates his own rig and drives for an honest and hardworking bunch, Golden Eagle (United), out of Upland, CA. Gerald is about 6' tall, in shape, looking tough but honest. He speaks with a West-side Chicago accent (which seems appropriate because he's from Chicago). The inventory occurs first and Gerald is NOT fucking around. He inventories everything, tagging it - takes an hour. He goes over the paperwork with me, gives me a fair description about what to expect during the move, hands me a business card with his personal cell-phone number on it to reach him on the road. I sign about 10 pages worth of paperwork. Know what all the paperwork means? That paperwork means myself, Gerry, his outfit (Golden Eagle), and United Van Lines are all friends - leagally binding friends where if shit happens there is recourse and we can still all be friends. With the paperwork done, Gerald turns into a "moving animal" - damn this guy is HARD - if you are ever about to get into a fist fight with a truck driver, I would advise you to ask if this guy is named Gerald, and does he drive for United, because if yes to both questions, you'd better apologize and leave that man be!
Gerald brings a friend/"packer" - Duke (they call each other "boss" or "old man"). This guy looks like he's seen enough troubles for three lives. You can tell he's a smoker by the lines on his face, but he didn't take one smoke break until all of our stuff was loaded onto the truck. He wraps everything. He tells stories from 30 years in the business - new people and new towns every day. Packers are hired by the drivers and Duke actually lives in Arizona, but says Gerry only uses the best and Duke's one. I agree. Duke needs a larger pair of pants with "permacrack" showing the entire pack, but that was his only flaw - if you can even attribute such an idiosyncrasy to the realm of "flaw". I LOVED Duke. The man had a heart of gold and he took care of our stuff - almost lovingly. Another hard-boy. Duke would straight-up kick your ass if he had to, so don't make him. Movers are scary. Thank God I got a good bunch.
These guys packed for ~5 1/2 hours and then were gone around 8:30. I bought those guys dinner - they earned it.
Looking back, I was very stressed leading up the movers arriving. I still have yet to blog about "movers hell" and I will soon, maybe tonight, because people need to know this stuff. So after my experiences, which you will better understand soon, I was STRESSED - also lonely, I miss my wife and little boy - also melancholy about levaing California. I laid in that empty house and I cried. I was finally able to let it all go. Life is hard you know? It's not the way I expected it to be when I was a child, and now that I am supposed to be a man. I find myself often confounded and confused with what I once assumed should be so easy. That's life. It's hard. I make mistakes, but I am me, and I like me. You live and learn, and sometimes when all your stuff is loaded onto a truck and your wife and child are safe and you are having a hard time with the stress of moving from one place to the next, you just lay on the floor in a empty house and sob.
Sometimes.
2 comments:
I have really appreciated your last three blogs. I know all the feelings and emotions since I have made seven, yes 7!! major moves I my life time as a family man. The good news, it really does get easier.
Several blogs back you talked about how it was useful to write about the current emotional experience you were going through. What I am going to say next is a little of topic, but maybe not. You will probably laugh your ass of and wonder what someone my age is even doing on the internet.
Well here's the story. It was the day that Richard Nixon the crook was forced to resign from office of the Presidency of the USA. I know he was a bad man but in those days I still believed in the value of government and was quite emotionally traumatised that a man holding the presidetial office of the USA could be found so wanting that he had to resign.
At that time I had the notion of writing down my feelings of that day so that I could review them from time to time. I put it off for several days then several days more and finally, forever. I regret that. I will occasionally think about that time and wish I had a written record of my emotional state at that time. Why? I don't really know but it might be useful to compare old emotion with present feelings. Why? I don't know.
Any way keep up the blogging I enjoy hearing about your experiences and your thoughts which reflect many of my own.
Hey man, I wish you the best in the next step that is this crazy process to becoming a doctor sans training wheels. We've come a long way brother. Your journey has been a tumultuous one, but you're there, you've got the M.D. More importantly, you're a man who understands and appreciates what is important in this life we live, and that is more valuable than any title. Congratulations to you [and all of us poor (monetarily) residents] for finally getting to live the dream. Keep posting, keep in touch.
[also, do post a bit more of your nuggets of wisdom regarding your experiences with getting relocated--I have another year here in SoCal, but then I have to deal with all that crap too. Not looking foward to it...]
Post a Comment