BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Part 1 of 12…

What’s a nice girl like you… Doin’ married to that guy?

We’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I just have to say that I absolutely loved that bit from The Princess Bride.

“Mahwage…Mahwage is what bwings usth togethwerrrr …tooooo-dayyyyyy.”

Of course, I actually got a huge kick out of the whole movie. I even own the DVD… But, like usual, I didn’t come here to talk to you about a 1987 comedy. Well, not one that spent time on the big screen, anyway…

The reality is this: I get asked, more often than you can imagine, how it is that E K and I met up, “lell in fuhve”, and came to be hitched. I fully suspect that there is a kind of interest there born of circus sideshows. You know, the train wreck awe of seeing “Timmy the ape boy” or “Lulu the tattooed lady”. What I mean is, my guess would be what’s really going through their minds at the time is, “How in the hell did a troll like you end up with a hot babe like her?” But, in the end that is really just my own self-deprecating insecurity showing through.

I usually tell myself to ignore what my off-kilter grey matter “thinks” they are asking and simply answer the query with an abbreviated rendition of the  true and bizarre tale. You know, just enough to tell them what time it is in at least four geographical zones, but not quite enough to explain exactly how to build a clock. However there is an inherent problem with that approach, because more often than not it just ends up begging a few more questions. And then a few more… And then a few more…  Until finally, the entire story has been told, albeit in a roundabout and somewhat disjointed fashion – and as always, leaving out something or even some things entirely, simply because the discombobulated sequence has confused me and I forgot.

The truth is, the full span of our story is semi-complicated. I say semi because it isn’t really fraught with major complexities – just a few bumps, a couple of dips, a hill or two, a small mountain, and a handful of incidents that read like a script for an episode of a sitcom. All in all, no different than anyone else’s “love story”, other than the fact that it’s our story, and not their story. Know what I mean?

Because it truly is a FAQ when I am on the road, and even in email from interested fans, I had this bright idea that maybe I should blog about it.  Get the story out in the open and in a chronological, coherent fashion so that the next time I am asked I can say,  “Here’s the thumbnail sketch, but if you want the whole story, then you should read my blog…” I mean, how’s that for a segue to my website, eh? (no, not the mall cop electric two wheeler thingy – I’m talking about the  actual meaning of the word and all that).

Besides, when you get right down to it there is also that whole dying brain cell factor to consider. I mean, since I’m getting old and stuff like that, it might be  time to think about recording these important memories for posterity (or, posterior as the case may be) before I lose them for good. I mean, hey, my kid might need something to laugh at in her later years when I am in Depends^TM, drooling all over myself, and being a burden on her. (You see, I think E K will probably still be a hot babe and most likely have run off with “Ricardo the Pool Boy” at that point… I’m pretty sure I’m her picture in the attic so to speak. As the years go by, I just keep getting greyer and she keeps getting prettier…)

Well, moving on, I think we all know how bright ideas can turn out to be really intense Xenon flashes with no diffusion filter fired directly into your face, or in some cases just a really dim flashlight with almost dead batteries. It all just goes back to perspective, I suppose. At any rate, I think maybe  this particular stroke of brilliance is kind of like a whole row of  bulbs in one of those fancy, flashy signs, winking on and off in a taunting fashion. Why? Well, allow me to explain… You see, when I sat down to compose this blog, I gave it a bit of thought. First I had the initial question to answer, and then there were the often forwarded followups…

Yeah, you guessed it… Dominos began to fall, and before I knew it I realized that this “little ditty ’bout E K and Murv” was in no way something Mister Mellenkamp would be able to condense into 4 or 5 verses over  approximately 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 minutes. I mean, he’s good…real good, in my opinion. I am actually a fan… Loved Scarecrow. Great CD…

But, I really shouldn’t go off on that tangent…

You see, the thing is this story has legs – and, I mean besides those shapely gams belonging to E K herself – yet another tangent that could keep me occupied for hours, but we won’t go there in public... The simple fact of the matter is that it will take more than one song, or even music video, to do the story justice. Well… maybe if it was a music video… Hrrrmmmmm… Well, let’s just not go there either…

Seriously… it became painfully clear to me that this tale really and truly has a life of its own. One that I wasn’t going to be able to condense into one blog. Therefore, I set about the task of figuring out just what it was going to take to do it justice. Well, the answer surprised even me. All I can tell you is this – it’s way bigger than a breadbox.

And, so begins a series of blog entries. An interconnected web of how E K and I came to be a couple joined together in wedded bliss (or so they say, whoever “they” are), and moreover the insanity punctuating it all. At this stage, I have sketched outlines for 7 separate entries to tell this story. Some long, some not so long. But, in any case, 7 separate incidents throughout the process, each of which deserves its own title and place in history. Some of them are funny,  some of them are simply Hallmark Channel^TM sappy, and others are just plain “WTF” moments. But, in the end, the real point is they are all 100% true, with witnesses and everything…

And, just so we are clear, I’m not going to guarantee that the number of entries involved here won’t grow to 10, or even 12 before everything is said and done… it could happen. I am, after all, a “writer of books”, and the process kind of does that fluctuating thing at times. But, right now, I can almost assure you that there will be a minimum of 7 over and above this introduction.

So, what I would like to do now is start you off with a picture.  A picture from the first page of our wedding album (note: we did not hire a professional photographer for the basic reason that we couldn’t afford it, therefore all of our pictures in the album are candid and amateur… but, we feel that captures the moment even better than if they were truly posed.) When E K reads this blog she just might beat me about the head and shoulders for showing this pic to the world, what with it not being the most flattering of them, for either of us. But, I think it sets a tone that you will come to understand as this blog series progresses… (Note – throughout this series you will see my dear and lovely referred to as E K as I do now, as well as Kathy, her given name, and even Kat, her preferred moniker… E K has become her tongue-in-cheek persona over the years, so it is just one of those things. Suffice it to say, the three names are interchangeable and refer to the same person, just in case it seems a bit confusing…)

By way of explanation, the photo below was taken in the kitchen of our  recently purchased (recent as in 1987 when the photo was taken) “Handyman’s Fixer Upper” of a house (read between the lines here – “needs to be totally gutted and completely redone”).

That would be my young and gorgeous bride on the left, running about with a container of sugar and her mouth hanging open. The guy in orange with his back to the camera would be me.  (see, I told you it wasn’t exactly flattering.) As you can see, the house needed more than just fixing up. It needed life support, which we were both willing to provide. Unfortunately, we had just purchased the money pit less than 30 days prior to this photo being taken, and had already been spending every waking hour  when not at work, refinishing hardwood floors, patching plaster walls, rewiring, and all manner of other things involved in rehabbing a house.

Oh, and the MOST IMPORTANT point. This photo was taken a mere handful of hours prior to our actual wedding ceremony and reception, all of  which took place in our partially remodeled living room, October 31st, 1987.

But, before we can get to that, we have to back up a bit and start at the beginning… A beginning which, unfortunately was a very dark day for our country and space program. And, an even more horrible day for 7 astronauts.

January 28, 1986… The day of the Challenger disaster.

I know, I know… It seems a morbid way to start a blog series about love, romance, and marriage, but certain events in our lives are impressed upon us like technicolor still frames, individual in a sense, but interconnected by a thin thread that ties everything together and makes us whole…

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Mahwage: Love At First Sight…

…to elicit a prescribed response.

Yeah, I stole that from Roadhouse. Why? Well, because I think it is a funny line when heard in context, but mainly because I just came back from Texas. Okay, okay, you silly movie purists, I know Roadhouse supposedly took place in a fictional town outside of Kansas City… But, it might as well have been Texas, so just bear with me a bit, okay?

Get your coffee and settle in. This one is going to be long…

So, Texas…

First off, I did manage to find my passport. While the hat police did have a bit of an issue with me when I got off the plane at DFW, they finally granted me a Visitors Visa and due to my nationality (US Citizen) the cowboy boots and hat ordinance were waved – something to do with diplomatic immunity or some such. Anyway, that meant I didn’t have to wear a hat or spend four thousand dollars on a pair of cowboy boots, which is all good. Not sure I could have expensed that one and gotten away with it.

As soon as the Visa was issued I walked 916 miles from terminal A to terminal B (had it been over 1000 I would have taken the skytrain/tram/thingamajig). After arriving there I grabbed a 99 cent turkey sandwich from Starbucks. (AKA Star-make-a-Bucks…Note, I did NOT say I actually paid 99 cents for it. In fact, I think I paid something on the order of 6 bucks for it…And these were real bucks, not “star” bucks… It was, however, still nothing more than a 99 cent turkey sandwich if you get my meaning.) After that I did my good deed for the day by opening a bottle of orange juice for a little Asian boy whose family couldn’t read the instructions on the side of the bottle. Only then did I catch my connecting flight, which was interesting in itself. Why? Because we took off, had a glass of water really quickly as Nancy, our flight attendant, did a wind sprint up the aisle and back, then we landed. Yeah…short flight. REALLY short flight. I’m given to understand it would have been even shorter but we had to fly around Dubyah’s ranch…National security and all.

Arrive Killeen/Fort Hood…I had been told that everything in Texas was big. The Killeen Regional Airport, however, was the exception. 6 gates and a parking lot. Let’s just say the average K-Mart is a LOT bigger than this airport. But, they had my luggage, so it was all good…Now, speaking of luggage, as I wait for it to arrive I look out the front windows of the airport…Across the parking lot I can see Morrison waving her arms. But, she wasn’t waving at me…she was simply talking…(You see, if you were to tie her arms at her sides she wouldn’t be able to talk…So, no gag necessary. Just don’t let her wave her arms and she’ll be quiet.) With her she has the sisters. As in, the Sisters of the Earth and Sea. Now things get really interesting…

I really don’t want to bore y’all with a long and drawn out diatribe, so I’ll touch on the important points…

1) We were assigned “handlers” so that everything would run smoothly. You’ll see why I tell you this in a minute…

2) We have these ABSOLUTELY INSANE rooms at the hotel… And, when I say insane I mean they are the size of my living room and dining room put together, with enough amenities to make them self-sufficient. See below…

3) We had baskets full of cool stuff like cigars, booze, and the ever necessary Texas to English/English to Texas dictionary. Very important while visiting a foreign country when you don’t speak the language.

4) We had itineraries which included times blocked out for fabulous dinners. (Yeah, they FED US! Can you believe that? I didn’t even have to beg an MRE!)

So anyway, I suppose I should get to the good stuff.

Day one – We do a meet and greet that evening after being checked into the hotel and given some time to freshen up. The Meet ’n Greet goes off famously. We meet and we greet a ton of wonderful folks at a local restaurant bar, where they have our promo posters hanging in the windows and everything. We even get a visit from several members of the local Chamber of Commerce.

Day two: Our handlers retrieve us from the hotel late morning. Morrison and I have had plenty of time to relax, have leisurely breakfast, and sit around shooting the breeze while downing several pots of coffee.

When our handlers arrive at the hotel they have the front desk call us from the lobby. I had not yet perused my Texas to English dictionary and that combined with the fact that I am hard of hearing to begin with led to a bit of confusion – It went something like this:

Ring! Ring!

Murv: Hello?

Front Desk: Is this Mister Sellars?

Murv: That’s what it said on my driver’s license when I checked it this morning.

Front Desk: (confused silence) Ummm, okay… I was asked to call you and tell you that the Bride is here.

Murv: (chuckle) She is? Well, what’s she wearing?

Front Desk: (VERY CONFUSED Silence) Uhhh… Ummm… Multi-colored tie-dye.

Murv: Okay, tell her I’ll be right there.

Front Desk: Ummm…yeah. Okay.

During the elevator ride to the lobby Morrison and I discuss the confusion on the part of the desk clerk. It finally dawns on me that she and her Texasness had said to me “The RIDE is here.” Rather than allow Morrison to use this as a story to embarrass me, I make a preemptive strike and tell everyone about it myself, effectively turning it into a great anecdote and reaping the humor benefit for myself (2 points for me.)

Anywho, after having a good laugh over this we get taken to a wonderful lunch, then off to the store (Sisters of the Earth and Sea) where we meet up with many of the wonderful folks we had met the night before such as, Helga the Evil German Woman (also known as Althie – she owes me Sauerbraten next time I’m there…), Stephanie the adMINION, Tiger, Mark, Spanky the Wonder Monkey, and a whole mess of other folks. Morrison goes in the back and plays cards. Rumor is the house paid out, so she must have done pretty well. Oddly enough, the folks who walked out of the card room seemed happy, so I’m guessing they didn’t lose too much money. Me, on the other hand, I hung out with the rest of the folks since Morrison was being antisocial with her card game, and I even presented a seminar on writing and getting published. We had fun, and what was supposed to be a 1 hour talk turned into 2 hours. Morrison got a little pissy about that, but that’s just because people decided I was more entertaining than her. I’m used to that, so I just ignore her. (LOL)

After that we had dinner at a place where they serve big ol’ hunks of dead cow. Life was good.

Day three: Ostara Fest 2008. Now, as it happens, this is the reason I felt a need to quote Patrick Swayze’s character from Roadhouse…Why? Because Ostara Fest ’08, presented by The Sisters of the Earth and Sea, was held in a real, live Texas roadhouse. Yeah. No kidding. Big ass building with bars everywhere, huge dancefloor, stage, and…well… huge. Really big. GI-Normous. Gi-Hugic. Hunormous…Extra Large… XXXL… You get the meaning…

And, it was a Roadhouse. I kept expecting Swayze and Eliot to walk through the door at any minute, but I guess they weren’t really needed because everyone was very well behaved. (Grin)… And, I have to tell you, I had never attended a fest in such a place before, but I can’t wait to do it again. It was an absolute blast! They even had a belly dancing troupe that did some kind of two-step line dance thing wearing jeans and cowboy hats instead of the regular dancing outfits.

The attendees were amazing. Being an Army town the was a huge percentage of military and military family. Some of these people had only been home from Iraq for a month or two. Others were going to be on their way to Iraq before long. I have to say I was proud of all these folks, as well as humbled. Some of these kids were less than half my age but have already seen more than they should have ever had to face in an entire lifetime. I literally lost track of how many books I signed for these folks, and what amazed me is that they were all so genuinely appreciative of me simply being there…Not that I am saying other festivals aren’t… Please don’t take it wrong… But, to put this in perspective, I will usually get the “thanks for coming to xyz fest” from 2 or 3 folks at any given festival. Not so at Ostara Fest, and by “not so” I mean very simply that I cannot count that high even if I take off my shoes… Everyone I spoke to thanked me for coming. That, in and of itself, was worth the world to me.

And…as if they hadn’t given me a humbling enough experience, at the closing of the festival Dorothy, Ellen, and I were each presented with a coin… But not just any coin… These were commemoratives that had been specially minted for the members of Victory Base Open Circle, the largest open circle in the military based in Baghdad, Iraq. It was as if we had been adopted by these people, and I’ll be honest with you, I almost started to tear up. No matter how much I thanked them, I don’t think they will ever know how much that meant to me…

I know… I’m not being funny anymore… I’ve turned all serious and stuff… Sorry, but sometimes I have to do that…

Now…Back to the funny… It’s this whole “Handler” thing… You see, I was assigned to Sister Earth.. AKA Laurie… AKA Lolly… So, everything is cranking along… Morrison’s and Dugan’s handlers are seeing to it that they have everthing they need. My handler, however, is nowhere to be found…Gets to be time for Morrison and me to give our workshop. My handler shows up and asks me if I have eaten yet. I say no, but I figured on eating after the workshop – besides, I had a big breakfast and wasn’t really hungry. Fast forward… It’s after the 2 hour workshop and Lolly asks me if I have had anything to eat. I say, “No”. She says, “Okay”, and disappears. Time passes. Lolly shows up again and asks me if I have had anything to eat. I say, “not yet”. She says, “Oh, well they ran out of food.” I say, “No problem. I’ll survive until dinner.” Time passes. Lolly shows up and asks yet again, “Have you had anything to eat?” I say, “No.” She says, “Oh Shit!” I say, “I thought they ran out of food?” She says, “They got more and scurries off.” She returns with a brisket sammich just for me.

Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea here, I’m not complaining at all…Laurie was busy as all hell with the fest, and if I had been that hungry I would have found something. I certainly didn’t expect anyone to wait on me. I’m not like that. The only reason I told this story is because Laurie felt soooooo bad about “forgetting to feed me” that it became a running joke for the rest of the fest and weekend that “my handler was falling down on the job.” Well, nothing could be further from the truth, but I have to admit, the joke was fun, and Laurie is so good-natured that she rolled with it and spent a lot of time making fun of herself over it. They told me when I come back they are going to assign me a different handler, but I really hope they don’t. Laurie and I got along way too well and besides, I bet she won’t forget to feed me again (ROFL!!)

Anywho – Later that evening, another fantastic dinner, this time at the hotel restaurant. Here is where I have to give kudos to our waitress, Samantha. She had been our waitress that morning for breakfast as well. She was working a double shift with only a half hour or so break, but she was still right on top of things. Pleasant, cheerful, and really took care of us. When we found out she was working a double the next day as well, Morrison and I arranged to be seated in her section for brunch so that we could see to it she got a gi-hugic gratuity. And, as always happens when Morrison and I are together with her gray hair and my gray beard – we got a senior discount. (ROFL!)….

Day four: This was the day all about seminars. Following the most amazing brunch buffet I have ever seen, with shrimp the size of small lobsters, Texas shaped waffles, and damn near anything else you could dream of to eat, we visited with Samantha for a bit then were picked up by my handler. She was running a bit late due to some issues she had to deal with at the store, but that just made for something else I could rib her about, and it was all in good fun. We did our seminars and chatted with some wonderful folks about all manner of things. Then had a relaxing evening at Sister Sea’s (Joyce) house, visiting with her, her husband Butch, their daughter Jenn, Granddaughter Emma, and Laurie. They served a spectacular meal of Red Beans & Rice, and Chicken Gumbo…I was stuffed.

The next day, Monday, they actually allowed me to emigrate from the Republic of Texas and back into the United States before my Visa expired.

So…There you have the basic rundown… If you are ever in the area, or live in the area of Killeen/Harker Heights, TX, you really should visit the Sisters and tell them I said hey. Tell Althie she needs to get going on that Sauerbraten, and let Stephanie know what a great job she is doing. And, not only should you shop there, you should make it a point to attend Ostara Fest 2009. I’m telling you, it was fantastic, and if that was only their first festival, I can’t wait to see what 2 brings…

So, in the end, other than leaving all those wonderful folks behind, there was only one real disappointment for me – Fort Hood shares the airport with Killeen so when we landed I saw a tarmac full of Apache Helicopters sitting there. What’s the disappointment with that, you ask?

I didn’t get to ride in one.

More to come…

Murv