Monday, November 7, 2005
Hey thanks to all of you who are reading my blathering!!!! It's nice to have comments and input on all of this and amazing that anyone could be so interested in anothers life.
Now onto the next leg of the journey. There is a very confusing story behind this so try to bare with me here. I'm going to highlight dates not only for the benefit of those who will suffer through this but for myself. Pat and I have been sitting here trying to figure out this VERY complicated time line for about an hour realizing what a blur our life became with our daughters broken leg. So, buckle up and prepare for this journey.
On the day of our first daughter's baptism, January 7, 1990, Pat received a phone call from a guy I will call "Ronny". This guy had placed an ad in the paper for someone to lay down some guitar solos for his solo album. Pat plays a mean electric guitar, or used to, but anyway, this is how this scenario began. Pat worked with this guy, got the music laid out and so ended this job by roughly the end of March 1990.
All is quiet on the homefront until our second daughter arrives into the world in May 1991. Things remain so until that fateful day in October. Now, my rollerblading blunder occurred in the middle of this fiasco that I am attempting to recreate. This fiasco I speak of starts in October of '91 and goes all the way to November of 1993.
We had that big snowstorm for Halloween that I wrote about, I cut my hair off and got my finger stuck in a light socket--a perm--thinking these things would make me feel better, I took on a job thinking if I distanced myself from my kids that I would be better, all these things to try to cope with the emotional damage that was inflicted. Pat on the other hand stayed home with the kids. We flip-flopped our roles. Par for the course.
Now, skip to roughly March of 1992. Pat received a phone call from "Ronny" two years after he had worked on this guys solo album. Apparently, he was in L.A. working with a band named Bluex that was planning to tour Europe. They needed a guitar player. Pat was "Ronny's" first choice. He played like Joe Satriani was what this guy liked to say and I tended to agree with that, I'm a big fan of Joe. So, they wanted him to go to L.A. to audition. A week long trip. He went and the group liked him and invited him to go on this tour. He returned home roughly at the end of April.
Bluex had a manager in France already and had been working on this for awhile. They were talking about Belgium, Sweden, Germany, Switzerland...any woman's dream and I was ecstatic. Something good in our life. Too unbelievable really to grasp but it was real. And the kids and I were welcome to come along as well and tour Europe. WOW!!!
The tour was set to start in December, 9 months for Pat to rehearse and for us to make plans. Of course as these things go, dates kept changing, plans kept getting messed up. But the date of departure remained the same; sometime in December. Of course not only were we dealing with the leg issue and this big life change, but the whole biological mom thing. Simply put, we were running on emotional empty. Things were just spinning and we were just being pulled along like our Beagle on his leash.
Pat rehearsed a lot, he not only was asked to play guitar but also to do back-up vocals. Each week we would get updates on this tour that just seemed too good to be true. In November of 1992 they had wanted Pat to leave. When I say leave, they wanted him to spend three or four weeks in L.A. rehearsing with the band and leave for France that final week. The kids and I were to come a couple of months later once things settled down, they found places for everyone to live, and the plans were more solid as far as the tour and gigs went. I was devastated by this news but was so excited at the same time.
Pat left for L.A. and I was scheduled to go spend one week with him before he shipped off. What a nice week it was. His parents are the people I have to thank for that week...they took our kids and sent me off to L.A. Upon arriving, I was surprised to see a tattoo of the band logo on Pat's right shoulder. I liked it though, it was kinda sexy even though his arms were nothing to brag about....hehe, sorry hun, have to pick on you. I also found out that he and the "Ronny" had been riding around on crotch rockets as well. I can't say that I was too happy until I got on the back and rode down those crowded highways between all thewaiting cars. Weaving in and out of rearview mirrors, getting cussed at, well that was all great. We were still kids so to speak and that week we acted accordingly. We were on that motorcycle more than the band rehearsed. We had planned a road trip to Mexico for later that week and I couldn't wait!
It wasn't until we were on our way home from Encinada, Mexico that I got terrified of the ole motorcycle. The trip there was roughly a 2 hour ride each way. And it was absolutely breathtaking. We traveled along the coastline for most of the ride, I was introduced to octopus, clams, shrimp, and other foods I never even heard of. We were also blessed enough to see rats walking along the piers that night before we decided to head home. Eeeeeew!
It was dark and the weather was great for a bike ride. I was disappointed though because I couldn't see the sites. Upon going over a bridge that crossed the Santa Ana area we were hit with gusts of wind at our side. They weren't too bad at first but the further we got on that bridge, the stronger those winds became. And they were not relenting one iota. I looked ahead of us at "Ronny" and his girlfriend and they were riding practically on their sides allowing the wind to take them however it would. You see, "Ronny" was an old pro at this motorcycle stuff and these gales of wind as was his girl. Pat and I were not. Pat had never really drove a motorcyle on the road, he is more of an dirt bike/motorcycle guy. Me, well that was the first time in which I had the lovely free experience of a motorcycle of any kind.
I was crying in my helmet and I was squeezing the life out of Pat's waist as cars went flying past us at 80-90 miles per hour. We were traveling 70mph at this time and all I could see was us laying down that motorcycle and our heads getting crushed and my two daughters wouldn't have any parents. Death by motorcycle. Pat on the other hand was trying to get me to stop squeezing so hard and screaming underneath his helmet. Terrifying and an eye opener for both of us. I kept telling him we had to stop, we had to get off the road and there just never seems to be an exit when you need one. We didn't care that we were still a good hour away from our destination, we just needed to get off that highway and now.
Finally, an exit appeared, Pat slowed way down and signaled to get off. Neither of us cared whether or not the others saw us, but they did. And guess what? "Ronny" laughed at us, goaded Pat, made him feel like a heel because he didn't tough it out. I was pissed, shaking, wiping tears from my face and struggling to stand as I listened to this and gave his girlfriend a really dirty look. I was not the type to speak up at that time, just to flash nasty looks. Well, she got the hint and went off on him, told him to knock it off, and demanded that he find another route home. Pat was yelling at him telling him that we wanted to see our kids again, and that he should've known better than to take an inexperienced driver through something that treacherous. It was bad, I could feel that motorcycle racing sideways with the wind and Pat struggling to keep us up. I didn't envy him for having to endure what he had to. I thanked him for keeping us alive that night. For protecting me and himself.
Now I must end this entry as it is the entry that leads to Pat's broken bone.
And oh what a tale that will be........thanks for stopping by :)
Written by louie0768 .
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