Ever since I was a small child, I've been raised to believe that success was defined by how many friends you have. My mother used to say, "If you can make it through life with six GOOD friends, you're a lucky man." Now that I am 44, I can happily report at least six very close, life long friends! I have met many people, and worked with countless more, but knowing their names does not automatically make them a friend in that sense of the word.
My life has been an unceasing roller-coaster ride. Many friends have shared my slow, bumpy, uncertain ascents into new chapters of my life. They go along, perhaps in anticipation of a great thrill, only to jump off before the ride really begins. A few have stayed with me just long enough to enjoy the view from the top, and fewer still have ridden far enough to eyeball the first steep decent. To those who have remained seated for the entire ride, laughing, screaming and wildly waving their arms overhead as we plunge into the deepest darkest parts of my life I say "Thank you for riding it out with me."
I must confess that I haven't followed much of the advice I've received over the years. I'm not sure anyone really does. As we collectively march along life's wonderous "beaten path", we occasionally stumble over some obstacle which we failed to notice, though our relatives and friends walking just ahead warned us repeatedly of the danger. The journey would seem effortless, if only we would look straight ahead, watch the ground and follow the crowd but then, whose life are we leading? It is human nature to stray from the path at some point, searching for something different, even if that "something" doesn't exist.
What is the purpose of living your life, if at every fork in the road there stands a well-meaning person telling you which way to go? Would you enjoy a game of chess if your only function was to physically move the pieces as you were told? The game is far more intriguing when you are allowed to make each decision yourself, based on your own experience, knowledge of the game and willingness to take risks. You may lose a few key pieces, and you might even lose the game by leading your king into some check-mate situation which you know you should have avoided. Life is not about winning the game. Life is about PLAYING the game!
We are encouraged to follow the "normal" patterns of human development. Go to school, get good grades, be accepted into a good college, become a [ insert any profession your mother can boast about here ], find a good mate, marry and have children, buy a home with a white picket fence, go to church, do Christmas and Thanksgiving with the relatives ... Despite the best efforts of a well-meaning mother and kind-hearted tep-father, relatives and friends, I have found that I am most content when I am following my own instincts. True, I have made many mistakes. I have stumbled many times along the path, and even strayed from the line to explore other possible routes. I have received and even required a helping hand on several occasions. I will even admit to occasionally creating the need for help, through my unwillingness to conform. The "cookie-cutter" formula for the accepted definition of success is horribly unappealing to me.
I applaud those who go through life with a clear understanding of their purpose. When I graduated high school, I was handed a diploma. A small piece of paper which certified that I've jumped through society's hoops for twelve successful years. Oh sure, I learned the basics. Most of my lower education was in Catholic schools. The nuns were very successful in their efforts to teach the three R's, and based on what I've seen being produced by today's schools, I'm grateful for the nun's stern discipline. Unfortunately, a diploma only tells you what you have done. It give you no hint as to what you should do next. American school systems offer no vocational guidance. I am one of many people who walked away from the graduation ceremony without the slightest clue as to which direction my life should move, but I have a few friends who were fortunate enough to have selected a career path.
When I graduated high school, I thought somehow everything would fall into place as it had always done before. Boy! What a rude awakening! I was holding a very good paying job with a food distributor company in L.A. Through a stroke of luck, I was able to purchase a 1968 Corvette for $2,800.00 This was already my 4th car. Fresh out of high school, cruising the boulevard in a schnazzy Corvette! I figured that things were pretty fine. Then, on March 11, 1977 at around midnight, my world imploded. Only six weeks after I purchased the car, I totalled the vette enroute home from my usual Wednesday night cruising of Van Nuys Blvd. in the San Fernando Valley, north of L.A. I had liability insurance, but no insurance on the car itself. Since I dumped everything into buying it, there was nothing left to replace it. I was sued for some gawd-awful amount of money, but they settled for the limits of my insurance coverage. Whew!
Now void of transportation, my dependability at work suffered, and I lost my job. In an effort to pick up the pieces, I bought an old Datsun 510 wagon, just for basic transportation. It turned out to have a bad engine which I discovered only after paying for two complete top end jobs. Without going into my complete history, suffice it to say that since that fateful night, my life has never been the same. I moved from job to job with such frequency that friends greeted me with "Where are you working now?" I changed locations so often that they'd all use pencil to put my address in their books. Only recently, for the first time since 1974, my driver's license, checking account and residence all have the same address!
I have worked as a veterinary assistant, welder, motorcycle messenger, truck transfer driver, busboy, cook, fast food manager, bicycle mechanic, forklift operator, security guard, armored car courier, deck builder, handyman, house painter, ice cream vendor, sign fabricator, silk screener, bandsaw operator, bicycle store manager, moped sales manager, acrylic fabricator, sailboat delivery driver, dispatcher and so much more.
Before the warranty expired on things like my back and knees, I was known for my bicycling. In 1979 I flew to Vancouver, B.C. with two friends, our bicycles and full touring gear. With little more planning than highlighting the roads on a set of maps, we rode 2,200 miles over 42 days, returning to L.A. in great shape, with memories of a trip which will last forever. I ate a ton of food and still lost 25 lbs! In 1981 I rode from Portland, Oregon to San Diego with two friends, and in 1983 we rode the inland route from Boise, Idaho to San Diego, skirting Mt. Shasta along the way. I have ridden from San Francisco to L.A. about five times. There was a period of time when I rode simply to accumulate miles. It was a daily routine for me come home from school, change clothes and ride 30 - 40 miles on the bike, so that I could tackle another century run (100 miles) on the weekend. After returning from the Portland tour, the L.A. Wheelman had their "Grand Century" ride the next day. I removed the 40 lbs of touring gear and blasted through the difficult ride in a hair over 5 hours! As I acquired my driver's license and the means to pay for things like gas and oil, the bicycle became less important. I had mopeds for a while, before developing an interest in motorcycles. Altogether I've owned 70 different vehicles.
In 1980 I attempted to run a business of my own. I have always been very good with my hands, so with the help of my step-dad, I started a handyman service. I was good. So good in fact, that soon I was working seven days a week. Unfortunately, I still had some maturing to do, so I saw this not as success, but as a 'job' which was cutting into my time. I wasn't willing to put in the hours, or take on additional help, so I basically allowed the business to die. When people asked me what I do for a living, I really couldn't answer the question. I have done so many things.
In this long roller-coaster ride, I have managed to injure my back several times. Any work which requires frequent or heavy lifting is out of the question. I am currently operating my own motorcycle towing business here in San Diego, hence the name "Bike Tow". I am less willing to pull up roots at the drop of a hat now. It has been said that The years force a certain amount of wisdom upon you, whether you like it or not. (I first heard this quote in an episode of "Barney Miller") I feel I am finally ready for something resembling a stable life. This is why I've started my own business!
Most recently, I have taken up the hobby of "Ghost Hunting." I have discovered that there are many images in photographs which are overlooked because we are simply programmed to go with the "default" image, and look no deeper. For some unknown reason, I began to see shapes and recognizable figures in photographs about four years ago. I make no claims of having any special powers or psychic ability although some of my friends will tell you that they believe I am psychic, and I have had experiences that make me doubt myself.
This domain has evolved out of a four year personal journey through the depths of my own mind, and a lot of soul-searching to find answers to questions that traditional sources of information cannot answer. I have had many experiences that some would dismiss as coincidence, but which I cannot so easily ignore. When I look at all of the experiences in my life, and begin to tabulate the number of instances when I have mentally calculated the odds of such things occuring naturally, I must conclude that there is a reason that this is happening in my life right now. I do not yet know why I see these images, but I most certainly do, and I have attempted to show these images to you through my technique of enhancing what I see using a computer. I call it "extraction" of ghosts, because even though they are there in the photographs, most people do not see them unless I take the time to point them out.
