868 Moments

COLS Dynasty League Football 002

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 14:53:00 -0400

Gonna start posting the COLS Dynasty league podcasts here...hopefully that will jar me back into posting regular podcasts here more, too!

This covers week one and two of the 2012 season...there was a problem with the rcording though...so I lost like 20 minutes of it in the middle because I was using the trial version of Pamela instead of the REAL version that I own...ah well...live and learn...CDL 002

868 Moments Podcast: Ep. 0 part 2 David Simmons

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 23:22:00 -0400

This is the interview I had with David. The next episodes will be on format, where the focus will be stories.
This is all more of a test than anything else...Hell of a funny convo though.

This BLOG is about to get BUSY!!!

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 00:34:00 -0400

This is a podcast now, yo.

Deal with it.

Moment 898: Coffee with Charley

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Thu, 3 Dec 2009 11:11:00 -0500

This is going to be short and really it's just a post to remind me that I need to get into this era of my story.

Last Saturday, after pulling a shift at NBC, I met up with Charley for some coffee- but we never found a coffee place that was open. So we ended up going back to his sister's place (where he was shacking up) and had some pasta and beer.

We talked about a lot of shit but of course we always led back to our time at American Journal.

Now- the situation at AJ was the most fucked up, crazy, unbelievable shit you could ever think of. Really. I'm not joking.
But that was an awesome introduction into what it would be like to edit in NYC. It was so extreme! Everyone was a character in that tent and I miss every single...well, MOST of them- immensely.

Charley and I talked late into the evening about that place, where sleeves were chewed and the bodies of feinted P.A.s were casually stepped over in the name of journalism.

Yes.

I must recant some of that stuff here and I will. Daunting as the task may be.

Moment 072: Football- The Pop Warner years...

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Tue, 8 Sep 2009 22:09:00 -0400

It's that time of year again. My cup runneth over.

Football!

Every year my passion for it grows exponentially and I don't really understand it. It went from a gentle expectation that came with my favorite time of the year (Fall) to a full bodied lust that began to burn furiously sometime around June.

Anyone who has ever known me from before the past couple of years might only describe my interest in the sport as slight if at all, for I didn't carry myself as a football lover. Of course anyone associated with me even somewhat closely over the past 5-6 years would be able state with certainty that I am a football nut.

When I think back on it- you know, my introduction to football and how everything fell into place- it does make sense.

My step father was the football lover in the house. I don't know how he got me watching but I remember plenty of Sunday afternoons rooting for the Cowboys. Now, I wasn't a freak then. I was a kid. So if there was something going on outside for me to do- biking, running- whatever. I'd do it but I would never be so far as to not know what the score was.

And the Cowboys were a great team to root for. Dorsett, Newhouse- all the Cowboys were like shining knights of blue and silver. Stars blazing a trail across a stripped field of green. I remember watching Staubach have what seemed like the entire Redskins defense huddle over him menacingly- only to emerge from the cluster of red jerseys almost effortlessly. It was always amazing how many times he got out of a jam and made a great play.
On top of that, they had the hottest cheerleaders ever and since. Rows of beauties in every color and shape, all smiles and kicks and excitement.

Thinking on it now, those Cowboys probably made me feel like a real Texan, too. Not like someone who had been carted in from the hot sands of Arizona under the cover of darkness.

Pop not only had us watch football- he even talked us into playing for the Base pop warner league.
I would dread those weekly practices as they were sweat and tears, yo. We met up two or three times a week and it was intense.
Today- I would pay to go through some of those routines but back then- ugh. The hardest part really was doing all the exercises at the beginning. The running. The jumping jacks. The push-ups. The tires. The whistle stops...Yeah, the fucking whistle stops.
After that we would run through plays and that was pretty awesome but the cool shit was Saturday.

Game day.

Mom would pack a bunch of food and drinks and stuff into a cooler and Pop (who was coaching my brother's team) would have charts and whistles and pads and shit.
Then we would get out there in our uniforms (My team was the JETS- which is kinda appropriate-, Joe's were the Steelers) and just rip shit up like we were being paid. We were highly competitive back then. I never saw a parent hit a coach or a ref or anything like that kind of nonsense but the parents of the neighborhood that I raise my kids in now would frown on the sheer ferociousness burning in the eyes of my fellow team mates back then.

Sometimes that competitive edge got us into trouble.

Once- while we were on the bus to that weekend's match, we came across a kid from the opposing team who was walking, so the driver decided to stop and give the guy a ride.
This skrawny little thing slowly made his way to the back and a few of us decided to get the bus fired up to let this kid know he was being driven to the ass-kicking of his life.

"We're gonna whoop! Up! Side-the-head! We're gonna whoop'em upside the head!" we began to chant and it wasn't long before the whole bus was rocking with the righteous thunder of the Kelly AFB Jets.
Young girls dressed in green and white uniforms of cheer, gnashed their teeth and stomped their feet just as viciously as any boy on the team- Their Pom-Poms pumping rhythmically to the chant.

Our tender little visitor sat quietly amidst the choreographed chaos. He had a panicked look on his face- like some poor bastard sitting on a stake during some sacrificial dance.

When the bus stopped. He practically leaped off and ran to his team. We smiled as he as did so...until we saw what he was running to.

On the other end of the field were the biggest bunch of beasts packaged as preteens I had ever seen up until that time. Massive children that resembled gorillas much more than anything human and all of them dressed as our freshly released captor who was now pointing frantically in our direction.
We were done for.

What followed was the most embarassing display of a "football game" ever known to the sport. A one-sided event very similar to a Harlem Globetrotters game except muddier and intensely more violent.

Football was my first and only organized sport and I would have to say that My year with the Jets was probably my favorite- even though I would go on to play for a few years after that.

Micheal Jackson's "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" and The Gap Band's "You Dropped A Bomb On Me" are miracles of science as they are instant portals to the past. When I hear those songs I find myself sitting on that bus on the way to a game or standing on the sideline in my number "72" jersey waiting to get back into the game.

My position was defensive tackle but sometimes I would play offense too. I would get other positions later due to my tallness but never was I able to run the ball. My dream was to get into that end zone! I knew I was fast enough I just never got the ball.

My closest shot was a game where I was on the defensive line and once the ball was snapped- I shoved the kid in front of me to the ground (which was easy because he was smaller than I) and barreled down on the quarterback who was smaller than the guy I had just stepped over.

The QB, startled at how fast I got through the line, slipped and dropped the ball.

Now, I knew that once I picked that ball up they would call the play and we would pick up the game from that spot. The coaches told us several times that we weren't allowed to have run backs in this league,
BUT:
1. That rule never made any sense to me. and
2. This was my chance! I was gonna score, dammit.

I scooped the ball effortlessly with no one standing between me and the goal line. I was just a few leg pumps away from the dream that any kid wearing pads and a helmet has. I was gonna make a touchdown! Whether it counted or not.

A bolt of energy shot through me as the crowd collectively gasped- realizing the tables had turned.
I planted my first step deep into the earth and pushed. I propelled forward slightly, tucked the ball and shifted my weight all simultaneously. A young Dorsett in the making.
I went to dig at the ground again with my next step but it wasn't there. Something small lassoed my ankle and pulled my foot back and out from underneath me. Not prepared for the sudden change the top half of me came tumbling down like some old worn out Vegas Casino. Slow and hard.
I looked back and saw the kid who I plowed through to get into this joint, still clutching my foot with his eyes closed.

The ref took the ball away from me and planted it back where I picked it up- barely a yard away.

When I got back to the sideline the coach patted me on the back as he noticed my obvious disappointment- "Nice turnover, Kim- But even if you'd had run they'da brung it back."

Yeah- GREAT!

I think TD Remorse is popular with a lot of guys who played pop warner and didn't get in the end zone. I was talking to my friend Larry a couple of years ago and he had TD-R, too. Maybe they'll come out with a pill for that and hawk it to us during the news. I'd buy it.

I continued to play through for Kelly AFB for a few years up until I was a Freshman. Every year was pretty much the same for me. Pop (coach) and Joe (unstoppable tank) were the champions of their league one year.

Joe may not have been able to read worth a damn nor did he have the sense to comprehend many of the complexities of the plays but he could NOT be stopped. In this he was amazing. He could have been a great athlete if he hadn't been distracted by things he shouldn't have never ever been a part of.

Our final year playing for the base Joe and I were joined by our cousins, Marvin and Micheal.

Marvin was my age so he was on my team. Micheal was Joe's age. My mom and her sister, Jewel (Marvin and Micheal's mother) seemed to compete in everything- even this.

Anyway- we had some great times hanging out as we where growing up and playing football together was extra cool!

Marvin was the QB, green eyed, light skinned AND a ladies man- so I don't even have to tell you what his situation was like- Me? I was me. So, I managed to have fun telling different cheerleaders "secrets" they should know to get to Marvin.

I don't remember much from this year except there was this one game that we were losing horribly. I was a corner back and I remember running in after the quarterback in a direct line- which the coach had told me NOT to do! The coach always told me to make corners- BUT THE DUDE WAS RIGHT THERE!!! So I ran right at the guy and suddenly he spun and was running around me.
I turned to catch him but now I was falling behind and he was sprinting away from me like a gazelle. The worst part was that he was holding the ball down at his side just out of my reach- TEASING me with it.

After he was finally brought down, I was called to the sideline where I was admonished mercilessly. It was my fault, so I could say nothing.

The rest of the game went pretty much the same for the rest of the team. Until- early in the fourth quarter, there was an opponent running down field towards me. He was ducking and weaving all of our other players and it was looking like it was going to come down to only me!

I prepped myself, followed his waist and dove at his legs- I was told if you want to stop a runner- wrap up his legs where he can't use 'em.
I didn't know this but at the same time a team mate- Whose name was Scott, I think- Had hit the guy from above at the same time- from a different direction.

So we struck this poor kid with a one-two punch from two different directions simultaneously.

Not even thinking about it- Scott and I leaped up from the ground and high-fived each other for our success...over this kid's still unmoving body.

We giddily ran off the field- still not noticing the body- to the boos and disgust of the audience- That was when we looked back.

They were slow and careful about getting the kid off the field but he was alright.

It wasn't many games after that when I stopped playing for the Base in the middle of the season. School was different and required more attention. I had ROTC. And the practices were enough already.

But I still played street ball.

Many years later- I actually ran into Scott at some apartment party near UTSA. We didn't know each other for anything else- I never went to school with him or anything- but when we bumped into each other we instantly recalled the moment where we popped the kid from the other team. We had a shameful laugh- and a drink to the past and it kinda made me feel better about the whole thing- that I wasn't alone in the incident.

It's funny how things come 'round like that.

Moment 617: 911 Cable Ranch Rd.

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Thu, 7 May 2009 10:24:00 -0400

The first and only time I lived on my own, completely- was in a first floor apartment in a duplex on Cable Ranch Rd.

It was Apt. 911.

When I moved in, my parents gave me their old couch- I had some other furniture I cobbled together including a coffee table but not a bed. So I slept on that couch for the first month or so.

It was pretty cool.

So many great things happened in that place- I'm going to break up each moment of relevance- but this is just about getting the place itself and what the aura was like.

The complex itself set alone behind the Westlakes Mall area next to this man-made huge pond/small lake shaped body of water.

I got the bottom floor because it was the cheapest- I think my rent was around 350 a month. The apartment was about 427 sq. ft. so it was small.
It had two major rooms- the largest one was a Kitchen/Living Room area seprated by a counter so the place still seemed sizeable.
The second room was the Bedroom/Bathroom. Also a sizeable room- especially since I didn't have a bed in it at the time.

The place was pretty sparce for a while as I was collecting things to put in there on my measly $16,000 a year salary- Which I was HAPPY to make, mind you- it was a nice chunk of change for SA at the time- especially for someone my age.

I lived next to the H.E.B. I worked at as a High School Senior. I would visit this place like twice a week to load up on necessities: chirizo, tortillas, eggs, sausage, beans (refried and baked), corn in a can, wine, candles, bread, milk, cereal, ice cream, tomatoes, hamburger meat, a roasted chicken and premade potato salad.
This would cost me between 40-50 bucks and would last me a week- maybe longer. I would buy a pack of Dove soap, dish detergent, toothpaste and a four roll of toilet paper once a month.

It was rare that I would have to buy beer because there was always some left over from some get togther that had happened a couple of days before.

It was cool to be really on my own. I mean, I was always very independant and I was pretty responsible (except with paper work and mail- which I can't stand- but I had pulled it together enough to run things). So I loved it!
There were times when I was pretty lonely on my own but that came after I had lived there for a while.

In fact- there was always people coming over to my place. It was a hangout for Cisco and a lot of his friends as we had dinners/parties like twice a week. My National Guard friends rolled through once a month and Roger came over throughout the month as well.
Jerry, Susan and Ted paid me regular visits and Gary even had a key- so he would stop by and do his laundry PLUS there was a ritual we had where we would buy a Louisiana crunch cake and a box of vanilla bean ice cream and finish it off in one sitting.
Bryan would roll over and we would jam and watch cartoons.
Dave and his wife came by a couple of times so's she could drink my beer.
Rob would come by with the crew we used to hang with at the arcade.
Sarah came by a few times as well as Marcos and Joann, Mike and a few other peeps from Fox Rocks and KRRT.
Randy and Lisa visited me often.
My cousin, Teddy would come by with all kinds of people he was hanging with at the time.
Lisa and Alfred came by a lot too.

Thinking back, I don't know how I got so lonely in that place. But I eventually did-
I do miss it but I don't think I could live like that again. Not really.

Too many memories, yo. I will have to go into detail.

Before I jet on this opening to 911 Cable Ranch-
I remember finding a cat on my balcony and I happened to have a can of tuna so I busted it open and set it out. The cat ate well and hung for a bit then rolled. I was happy for the company while it was there but didn't think anything of it.

The next morning on my way out to work I found a dead mouse on my welcome matt as a thank you from the cat.

That was pretty much the vibe at my place. Give a little, take a little and everything was apprieciated.
Even though it was MY place- it kinda felt shared by the various networks I was associated with.

Yeah. It was a pretty cool place.

Moment 028: Guns, Wishes and Texas

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 12:51:00 -0400

Like I said before-
We used to live in a small trailer-sized apartment that was kinda connected to Mr. Fred's house- who lived next door to my Grandma.

We were hiding out from my real father because we didn't know how he was going to act when he was around. It was kinda like hiding right underneath his nose and we shoulda known that the cover was gonna get blown sometime.

I don't remember a lot of the details here because:
1- As a 5 year-old I'm sure I wasn't told a lot of the details.
AND
2- Did I mention I was 5?

I feel like we stayed there for a while though-

I remember watching a story on the news about a singer who died from choking on a sandwich while we stayed in that apartment. My mother had to explain it to me and I remember it being really odd for someone to be gone because of a sandwich and it felt- sad.

I also remember standing outside of that place on a New Year's evening and watching fireworks fill the sky- I'm pretty sure that was 1974's first day.

Now- my mother had been dating my step father for a bit around then and it was often that my brother and I would stay the night over at my Grandma's while she and he would go out at night and then retire there to- get to know each other a little better.

It was one morning after such a night that my grandmother looked out the window and saw my biological Dad's car pull up- she panicked and moved from curtain to curtain as my Dad walked past my Grandma's house in a bee-line towards that little trailer-sized apartment.

I bolt of fear struck my body and the energy from it just sat with me as I watched my grandmother fret-
It was that special kind of fear that children have when they see- and feel- that everything is not okay in their parent's world.
My grandmother paced back and forth-
chanting "Oh Lord, oh lord...Oh!" over and over to herself, under her breath- wiping her forehead and placing her hand over her mouth.
I watched her and I just knew the world was gonna end- you know?

Then, BLAM!

I had never heard a gunshot before- I'm sure I knew what a gun was- but I didn't know what that sound was. It was loud. It was scary and it meant something BAD had happened.

Before I knew it- I was streaking in the direction of the noise calling after my mother.
"KIM!" My Grandmother screamed out after me but I was already off the porch and around the corner.

When I got to the apartment my Dad and the man who would be my Step Dad were tussling. My mother scooped me up and was backing out as she yelled at the two men to stop.
That's when my Grandma busted in and somehow between she and my step dad they got my father wrestled down away from his gun.
My Grandmother sat on my dad 'til the cops came and took him away.

Sometime later- and I really don't know how long- it feels like a couple of days, there was talk of moving to Texas with this man who had fought off my dad.
Apparently- he had to go there because he was in the military- we didn't know if we were going to go with him, though.

One night after dinner, around this time- I remember being on the steps outside of that little place with a wishbone that I had split with my brother-
I turned and looked at the winning end of the bone and wished aloud to myself that we would go to this place called Texas- I felt that wish very strongly.

It wasn't long after that wish that we had everything we owned in the back of my Pop's Caddy and were headed to San Antonio.

It was a move that saved my life and made me what I am today- of that I am absolutely SURE.

I didn't know it then but it would be decades later before I would see my father again- at the time, I was very thankful.

Moment 410: Promotion to Squad Leader

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 08:55:00 -0400

We were a week or so into basic.

We were "pickled"- meaning we had been handed our green uniforms (now they wear BDUs- which are camouflage- so I don't know if they are called pickles anymore).

Our name tags were on order and we would pick up our Dress Blues later. Basic was getting easier but there was still one thing on our weighing heavily on our minds- Taking a dump.

Yeah. I said it.

You see- we had been warned early in the program that when you experience a drastic change in your lifestyle, Like basic training, sometimes this messes with your biological clock. So it is not unusual for a person to have severe constipation.
Sometimes, an airman would get so backed up that they would actually get sick from it.

So a lot of us were looking for that first bowel movement and already at a week and a half in- many of us had not had it yet- including myself. It was a little amazing because we were eating and drinking big meals, 3 times a day.

Other than that- I thought I was doing pretty well.
I had gotten the meal routine down and had managed to stay under the radar, like Gary suggested.

Then one night just before lights out, Dillard, our Dorm Chief, got my attention with a "Pssssst" and motioned me over into the Day Room.

Dillard was an interesting character. He was this tall, olive skinned man whose chiseled face prominently displayed his Native American heritage.
Apparently, he came from a family with some money, too as he had been a professional model and his family owned "Dillards" the department store. He didn't need to be here in the military but there he was.

I remember how he volunteered to be the Dorm Chief that first day we were there. I thought he was a sucker for doing it because he was just ASKING for trouble being the leader of our flight. There were four Squad leader positions beneath him that had to be filled- no one volunteered for those- the T.I. just pulled them out due to the size of a person. I had managed to make myself unnoticeable during the selection by using the Jedi Mind Trick-
Okay, maybe not but I WAS lucky enough not to be picked.

"Pssst" Dillard beckoned.

I walked over to him in the dark- from his expression, I knew that this was serious.

"A couple of things I want to tell you. First off' I found these." He dangled a set of keys in front of me.
"What are THOSE?"
"These are the keys to the closet with all our civilian stuff in it!"
"WHAT!?" I said in a whispered yell.
"Yeah, I found them in the Sgt. Jone's office desk-"

See. Sgt. Jones, our T.I., didn't stay with us- the T.I.s went home after about 6 or 7pm. We were to clean ourselves up at the end of the day and get set for the next day- which meant laying out your uniform on a chair next to your bed in the PRECISE way that was lined out in your basic training manual (your uniform had to be ironed and your shoes shined, of course) and your locker also had to be organized correctly (also in the manual).

Sometime before you woke up (like 4am)- T.I.s would creep through and inspect your displays and lockers with a flashlight. If your shit was wrong you would lose the 341* that you conveniently had to place on top of your clothes.

So anyway- it was after the T.I. left that Dillard had gone into his office at the center of the dorm and found the keys.

"We are going to have to figure out how we are going to use these because I definitely want to read the books I brought." he told me.

"WE?" I said. What did I have to do with this? I'm just a nondescript airman trying to get to his second week of basic. And while I WANT to get into that closet- why am I involved in helping the Dorm Chief figure out how to do it?

"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about." Dillard said, "Were you in R.O.T.C?"

My face dropped. My eyes bulged. I was in total shock.

"How- How do you know that!? You can't tell anybody about that."
"Sgt. Jones told me."
"How'd HE know that!?" This was worse than I thought.
"I don't know but he told me he is going to make you a Squad Leader tomorrow."

Way worse.

"He said that your R.O.T.C. experience could help a squad come along real fast."

"SHIT! I don't want to be a squad leader!"
"Well, he told me it's going to happen, so I thought I'd give you a heads up."

Dillard raised the keys as he began to move away from me "We gotta figure out what we should do with these." and with that he left me standing in the dark Day Room.

I was pondering the future- Gary's warning about laying low was ringing in my head.
Keeping a low profile would be impossible standing at the front of a squad and being responsible for how they set their displays at night- FUCK!
I could see it now- I was going to lose a book of 341s trying to lead a squad of airmen.
Basic Training just got really hard.

Then, I convinced myself that somehow I would prove I was a fuck up so he COULDN'T promote me to squad leader but I didn't know exactly HOW I would do it. I knew that I was going to get out of this promotion, though. No DOUBT!

That night, I tossed the problem around my head over and over with very little sleep.

The next morning came waaaay too fast and many of our flight woke up to find the 341 on their displays missing. It was going to be a long day.

We formed up downstairs so we could march out to our morning exercises.
We had barely gotten into formation when Sgt. Jones mentioned how shitty we had done on our displays.
Then he turned to the second squad leader- a blond dude named Harris who was not much older than me- I was the youngest in the flight at 18.

"Harris! You look like a pussy. Are you a pussy, son?"
"Sir, No sir."
"Well I say you ARE a pussy!"
"Sir, No sir!"
"Are you calling me a liar, son!"
"Sir, No sir!"
"-And I think I detect a smile on your goddamn face, Airman Harris! Do you find the fact that I think you're a pussy, FUNNY!?"
"Sir, No sir!"
"Well, I think you DO, Harris. YOUR FIRED! We're gonna get us a new Squad Leader up here- GORDEN! Front and center!"

I was so surprised at how fast things were happening that I forgot my plan to fuck up and stepped up in perfect military fashion. I messed up a PERFECT opportunity to be a dumb ass.

"Airman Gorden reporting as ordered, SIR!"
"You're the new Squad Leader."

There was a shuffle because I was taller than the guy who was leader of 2ND squad so he became the new 3rd Squad Leader and I became 2ND Squad leader.

And that was that. We marched out to exercises with me leading the 2ND squad.

Dammit.

Later that day we were headed to the Day Room for our afternoon meeting.

Davis came in from the bathroom area with a smile on his face and his index fingers spread wide indicating the length of the beast he had just created.

"I did it! I finally did it!"

The two or three of us that heard him celebrated with high-fives and light laughter.

"Hold it down, you all- hold it down." Sgt. Blake said. She was the assistant T.I. to Sgt. Jones. A small framed black woman who would say the word "Furnt" in place of the word "Front"- as in "Airmen, align yourselves to the furnt!"

She and Sgt. Jones began to ream us royal over how shitty our displays were the night before and they told us they expected a different story tomorrow morning or there would be hell to pay. They broke the day early to allow us time to get our shit together.

So we split up into our Squads and for the first time I was alone with the five or six dudes that were under me.

I gathered the guys and broke the work up into tasks and asked who knew how to do what. Most of us were familiar with shoe shinning, I had ironing skills so me and this one Asian guy got together on that- we did the folding too. The other two guys went through and made sure that the lockers had everything where they were supposed to be- you know?
Like making sure all the hangars where evenly spaced. That the shaving cream and the tooth paste was closed with the tops clean. That the underwear was folded and placed correctly in the locker.

We were actually having a good time with it. Telling jokes and busying our hands.
It took us a while but we got it all together and put away.

Right after "lights out"- I crept out of bed and double checked all my squads displays before finally laying down- I slept hard that night.
Next thing you know- Taps was playing and we were at it again.

Sgt. Blake broke the bad news in the morning meeting.

"It's not that difficult Airmen!- You have a manual that TELLS you what your displays are supposed to look like and yet you failed! The only improvement in this dorm goes to second squad who didn't have any three-forty ones pulled."

At this my squad, who had chosen to sit near me began whispering "Yes!" and high-fiving one another.

"I suggest you figure out what second squad did and DO IT!", she continued.

Later that day, when it was time to get our displays together- I was asked what we did and other squad leaders broke their squads up into groups to where a group of us were shining shoes- another ironing and yet another checking lockers. So if you were good at something- that's what you did. People who couldn't iron worth a damn got their clothes ironed my someone with some skill in trade for shining their shoes- etc.

It was that night that Dillard decided to bust out the keys. Since we all kinda had assignments as to what we were to do- we might as well have our Walkmans on while we worked.
The 4 Squad leaders and Dillard explained the situation to the flight-
We would have to work diligently-
We would have to round up everything and put it back in the closet at the end of the night-
And of course no one could say SHIT about having our books and Walkmans out- EVER!

So that's how we rolled- listening to music- and dividing up the chores and knocking them out.

I told the Airmen in our Bay-
(the Flight is composed of two areas called "Bays". Each bay consists of two squads. Squads 1 and 2 slept in "A" Bay and Squads 3 and 4 slept in "B" Bay.)

So- I told the Airmen in A Bay that I had crept out of bed right after lights out to double check displays. A couple of airmen asked me if I would look at their lockers too. Which I did.

The following inspection we did much better. This time Blake had a lot of praise for us especially "A" Bay for only losing a couple of 341s.

When we were released to our dorms at lunch a member of the crew started rapping- "We're
A BAY! There is none higher! Oughta take B Bay and set 'em on fire!"

And a tiny rivalry was born. All the other squad leaders were double checking lockers after lights out as well as some other volunteers and that is how we rolled on inspection for the rest of basic.

We did however get lax with putting the books and the Walkmans away at the end of the night because we had figured out places to hide them in our personal areas- such as under the mattress.

This lax behaviour would catch up to us eventually.

Moment 408: The Mess Hall

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 14:47:00 -0400

Like everything else in basic training- eating came with a policy that had to be adhered to or you would find yourself staring down the esophagus of some T.I. as he berated your ignorance.

The rules were fairly simple:

1. You must keep military bearing at all times when in the cafeteria.

This meant that you had to "march" to and from the table. That is to say you made "pivots" instead of just turning in one direction or another.
You kept your hands in a fist at your sides and you certainly did not stop to jibber jabber at someone else's table.

2. You must stand at attention at your table until all four seats are filled- then the last person there will say "be seated" at which time you may all sit and eat.

Um...yeah- that pretty much explains itself.

3. Each flight will have 10 minutes after the last of it's members sits down to finish their food- then the T.I. will dismiss the flight from the meal and they will get into formation outside the cafeteria and march back to their dorms.

So- this meant that if you were in the last squad of your flight- you were doing some SERIOUS eating and FAST. Each meal they would rotate which squad went in last so it wasn't always the same dudes rushing through meals.

4. You MUST drink 8 glasses of water a day.

If you went to your table and you didn't have at least one glass of water on your tray- you might get your ass handed to you. This rule was to keep you from passing out in the Texas sun from being marched too hard without enough H2O in your system. A very reasonable request- if you disobeyed this one you heard about it pretty quick.

5. DO NOT ATTRACT ATTENTION TO YOURSELF.

Okay- this wasn’t an official rule- this was just something you did- ALL THE TIME- especially in the cafeteria- because having one T.I. jump on you for not pulling a pivot the right way as you went to your seat was like having a paper cut in a pool of sharks- it isn’t long before they are all feeding on you.

So that said-
Here is a loose mock up of how the cafeteria was set up (at least how I remember it).

We would get our main food in a line (much like Luby's) that was in an area separate from this one. You would have a choice of a couple of main dishes. Then you would come into this room to actually eat.

We would enter through the "IN" doors at the bottom of the drawing.
The HUGE "Salad Bar" table had more than just salads- often it had the sides to your meal but most importantly it had the DRINKS and the WATER that you so desperately needed to get you through the Texas heat.

At the top of the room you'll see "The Snake Pit". That was the area where the T.I.s sat to eat.
Directly in front of them was where the condiments were. So, in order to get ketchup or mayo or mustard- you would have to march and stand DIRECTLY IN FRONT of the Snake Pit. Anyone going for condiments was BEGGING to get picked on my the T.I.'s and they did it OFTEN- sometimes they would even make airmen answer military questions or even sing them songs or do imitations- I'm not kidding.

Also there was an icebox filled with all kinds of goodies in each corner. That thing had Ice Cream sandwiches, Bomb Pops (red, white and blue as well as the banana/fudge variety), Orange Creams, Drumsticks- you name it!

Now, you will also note that there is a shit-load of open space between the Snake Pit and the icebox. Anyone headed to that icebox is an open target for any T.I. sitting in the Pit looking for something to yell at.

One thing I have to say is that the food was always GOOD and there was plenty of it. In fact, the whole of my Air Force career- they always gave me good food. Much better than other wings of the military.

Okay-
So very early into our first weekend there we were trying to get all these rules to the cafeteria down.
Some of us didn’t know how to march so bad pivots were being made and T.I.s were stopping people and yelling at them.
This person would then crack under pressure and forget to say “sir” because they’d only been in the military for 48 hrs and MORE T.I.’s would start yelling at them- next thing you know, they’ve spent their whole mealtime getting yelled at.

I remember sitting at the table with three other guys- we had done everything right-
We'd hit the salad bar- gotten our water and other drinks-
We correctly filled in the next available spot at the next available table and waited at attention for it to be filled then we sat.

We ate in extreme observance of rule number 5- well, at least as much as we could be because we were still “rainbows”- meaning we didn’t have uniforms- we were all in civilian clothes and stood out painfully everywhere we went on base as new recruits that needed to be broken into the military way of life-
especially in the cafeteria.

Still, at the table- we spoke in hushed whispers as we shoveled food into our mouths with our heads down.
Eyeballing those less fortunate than us as we tried to figure out the lay of the land-

Michaels: Damn, I want some ketchup on my fries.
Davis: (pointing to the Snake Pit) It’s over there-
Me: Fuck that- I’ll be eating dry fries for a while, ya’ll.
Michaels: Yeah, me too. Damn it.

Just then, Nelson- the dude who had the condom before- was sitting at his table when he realized they were out of napkins. Not thinking anything of it- he reached over from his table to the next to his for a napkin.

This was a HUGE mistake.

The first T.I. was on him so fast that I don’t even think his legs were moving. It was like he slid across the room right up to Nelson’s ear.
“Where the hell do you think you are, airman!? McDonalds!? –Stand up! Stand up right now!”

Nelson stood- he was kind of laughing at how stupid he had been or maybe the McDonalds line got him- the T.I. didn’t like that and yelled at him harder.
Nelson started to get upset- his stance became aggressive- he was from some gangs up north and getting yelled at over a meal was unacceptable.
He said something back to the T.I. that I can’t remember- before you know it- 2 more T.I.’s were on him. He was catching three mouthfuls of shit for the rest of the meal and they only stopped because our flight was dismissed from the cafeteria.

It was a big lesson for our flight- we knew that a screw up at mealtime was costly- especially if you lost a 341* for doing something stupid in the damn cafeteria.

About a week in (remember we had been getting 3 meals a day in this circus) when I was a pickle- I finally got the nerve to go to the condiments bar.
I had heard stories of people being asked to do Elvis imitations- I had seen many an airman on their way to the condiments table only to be stopped short because they had made a wrong move or took too long to get to the table as they were focusing on their marching movements.

What drove ME to finally get up was: fried fish.

While I could eat dry fries all day long- I couldn’t STAND to have dry fish- and there was ketchup AND tartar sauce sitting right on that table at the front of the room mocking me- daring me to come and get it.

Me: I’m gonna get me some tartar sauce.
Michaels: You’re crazy.

Was I? - I wasn’t worried about my marching- the one thing I kicked ass at in AR-OH was marching- that was cake- I just needed a little luck not to get noticed.

I waited ‘til I saw some other airmen head in that direction and I stood up.
I feigned confidence with each step and each pivot was like a dance move. As I got to the table and turned my back to the T.I.’s, I quickly scanned the table for the items I was interested in- ketchup and tartar sauce.

Other airmen- they were jarred pickles- meaning their green uniforms had their names on them- were doing the same.

I noticed that there were lemons there- salt, pepper- all kinds of wonderments- but I was taking too long-

“AIRMAN!” One of the T.I.’s shouted-
I didn’t turn around- I didn’t move.

“AIRMAN!”
An airman next to me turned-
“Come here and tell me about the chain of command Airman- STEVENS.” He said reading his name tag.

Stevens had fallen for it- The T.I. was just waiting for one of us to turn around so he could fuck with us.

I took what I had in my hand and cut back to the table with a precision that would have made any drill instructor proud. That day I had tartar sauce and all was well.

About a week and a half later it was Michaels who would risk it-

“I’m going to get a dessert.” He whispered.
“Are you fucking CRAZY?”- I asked with a hushed yell full of envy because I had dreamed so much about the ice cream in that box.
“I haven’t had dessert in two weeks! I’m going crazy- I’m going for it.”
“Bring me back one, too!” Davis said-
“Fuck you! I’m not gonna get called out because I’m holding TWO ice creams in my hands.”
He had a point.

He stood and began the long trek to the icebox in the corner of the room. We watched him with great anticipation as we continued to slowly shovel food in our mouths.
In what seemed like hours he made it to the icebox.
Michaels opened the top and pulled out a Bomb Pop in one move.
He spun on his heels and began his march back to the table- he had a smile on his face- and then it happened.

“Airman Michaels!”
It was our T.I.

“Sir, Yes sir!”
“Getting a little dessert this evening?”
“Sir, Yes sir!”
“Good for you. Carry on.”
“Sir, Yes sir!”

Michaels got to the table with a huge grin and began to eat the Bomb Pop like he’d been in the Sahara for weeks and this was his first meal. He got halfway through it before they dismissed our flight. Michaels took two huge bites as he stood and we all ran out to formation.

From then on I had the fortitude to go to any of the tables and I only got called to the Snake Pit once, where I was asked about where I was from (which was right there in San Antonio) and what I was going to do on our free day off base- sexual exploits were alluded to- (They thought I was going to go to some woman’s house and get shagged the entire day) then I was allowed to go back to my table.

In time- we learned to relax in that mess hall- even as we saw other rainbows get shattered. When I look back on it- it's kinda funny- but when I was in it- It was fucked up- MAJORLY.

*don't worry- I will describe what a 341 is in a post very soon.

Moment 064: Dancing With Kelly On Echo Valley

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Wed, 4 Mar 2009 10:07:00 -0500

We lived on a street called Echo Valley for a while-

I was about 8 or 9 at the time. The street was a Cul-de-Sac so all the kids would hang out together and knew each other pretty well even if we didn't all get along all the time.

There were a couple sisters named Kelly and Becky there. They had an older brother named Hank who was in the 6th grade.
I used to hang with Kelly and Becky- mostly Kelly though. Kelly was crazy into "Grease"- that hot little musical starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John. Now at the time, I was into Star Wars- but this Olivia chick was kinda smoking. I also thought Kelly was the bees-knees so on one of my MANY trips to the Century South movie theater- I happened to see "Grease" and it was THE BOMB (you know, in a good way- not A bomb).

So now I understood what Kelly was so freaky about and we would sing and dance to the songs together.

One day we decided to put on a show for our siblings- Well, not Hank because he was a dickhead 6th grader and you never knew what kind of attitude he was gonna have from day to day- but my brother Joe was in the audience and so was Becky. I forget if there were other kids but it feels like there were...

Anyway- we took a couple of boards and put them on the fence in my backyard so that they straddled the corner- this made a great stage.

How we didn't fall off and kill ourselves was probably a better show than the one we put on but we DID put on one HELL of a show. We did songs from "Grease" and The Bee Gees and I think we even made up some shit.

Good times...

Now, it was sometime around here there was a school dance at my elementary. Going into the dance I was a bit of an outcast 'cause of who I hung out with. All the popular kids were there though- Ronnie included.

They had this dance contest where people would some and tap you on the shoulder when they thought you sucked and you would have to leave the floor.

I was kickin' ass as they were playing a bunch of Grease songs and Bee Gee songs. Between the sessions with Kelly and the shit my Aunt Lo-Lo taught me- it was like I trained for this contest my whole life!

I totally came in first place and had the time of my life (you know, so far).

The next day at school- even Ronnie came up to me and gave me mad props for my dance moves. I didn't give a shit about his approval but I have to admit it was cool of him to say so- I also didn't get picked on as much after that.

School dances ROCK!

Moment: 060 Five Palms Elementary

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Tue, 3 Mar 2009 13:28:00 -0500

When I lived on Echo Valley I went to Five Palms Elementary- At least I think that was the name of that school- I went to like 3 or 4 different elementary schools so it gets a little confusing. Anyway-

Five Palms was alright. I mean, I liked it- more than my other schools so far.
For third grade I had Mrs. McCormick and for fourth grade I had Ms. Buck.

Ms. Buck I'll never forget because she gave me a ride home after the fourth grade picnic and we did the egg race together. She was very pretty. She had long, straight, dark hair and a butt that was- thick- meaning she was a healthy girl but by no means fat- Hmmmm- I would say she was like Jennifer Lopez but not hispanic-

Okay, spending waaaaaaay too much time thinking about Ms. Buck's butt.

*Ahem*

So- one of the really cool things to do in the morning before school started- a lot of boys would bring tennis balls to school. They would stand back about 10 feet off the wall behind the school.
Boys who hadn't brought a ball would attempt to run the length of the wall without getting hit by the hail of tennis balls being thrown at him while they ran.

That game was fun as hell! I always got a great rush out of running past that wall with tennis balls slapping against the brick with that loud "SPOOCK!"- sometimes it would be right in front of your face.

Another game we used to play- and looking back- this game was soooooo UN-Politically Correct in it's name- It was called "Smear the queer".
Now, this game was known across every playground and school yard in Texas I'd ever been on and non of us kids had any idea how fucked up the name of this game was- Honestly! It was just what it was called.
I felt that way about "Gerry-rig" too until I heard the word "Nigger-rig" (Gerry-rig is the German or Nazi version of Nigger-rig).

I digress...

This is how you played smear queer (as if you didn't already know)-
You get a group of people together and a football.
You all huddle together and throw the ball up in the air.
The person who picks up the ball runs for their life while everyone else tries to tackle (smear) them.
When that person is tackled eventually- they throw the ball up in the air and we start all over.

It's a hell of a game and beats the shit out of Atari.

So sometimes we would play Smear The Queer in the morning.

There was one dude who was mad popular in my grade- his name was Ronnie. He was this black kid who was hella fast, so he was our track star. He hung with this blond haired kid- named Mathew, I think.

Another kid was named Nathaniel. Nathaniel was- as my mom would say- "so black he was purple" and he was a fuckin' bully.

Now, when Ronnie got the ball we spent a long time chasing him- and when Nathaniel got the ball we spent a long time trying to knock him down.
I fell somewhere in between these two but I could run the ball for a good long while.

Ronnie was friendly- kinda but he kinda treated me like the nerd I was and did I mention that Nathaniel was a bully?

One time we played a game of STQ and Nathaniel ripped my house key from my neck and sent it sailing- the bell rang and he just laughed as he trotted away. Man! I was pissed (I was a bit of a hothead back then anyway).
I spent a long time looking for my key but I finally found it and went into the school. I actually challenged Nathaniel to a fight later but somehow it never went down. Maybe he didn't take me serious- I can't remember...

Sometime after that there was this new kid who came to our school. I'm gonna call him Steve.

Here's the thing- Steve was 9 and was sure he was gay. And he pretty much was! Everything about that kid screamed that he was gay- from the way he carried himself, to the dolls he would have- We used to draw comic books together and I would draw Spiderman and he would draw Wonder Woman.
All of his Wonder Woman adventures would be cool as hell though- she would be kicking ass and trying to look beautiful. And he had a real nice style for his age- I remember him drawing her with real long legs.
Steve and I were pretty tight friends- but all the other boys would make fun of him for being gay and therefore make fun of me for hanging with him. I didn't understand what the big deal was- It was so stupid. We were outcasts but we had a good time.

Steve must have had some weird shit going on in his house (I feel like I went there once but I can't clearly remember) because I remember seeing him in some weird places all by himself just hanging out.

One Saturday, my brother and I got up at 6am and went down to the living room with our covers and a big bowl of cereal and started watching cartoons- That's what you did on a Saturday (I just realized my kids do the same fucking thing- except the cereal is usually a Nutella sandwich and cartoons come on EVERY day so it doesn't have to be Saturday).

So everything is going cool when about 7:30 someone rings the doorbell- And it's fuckin' STEVE!
I invited him in- the three of us are sitting on the couch with the covers draped across us- watching toons.

About 9:30 or 10- my Parents came out-
Now, my parents are anti-social out the ass. They didn't like kids coming over or us going to stay at other people's houses or any of that shit. So here it is- 10am and there's this little white kid sitting on the couch with us. I thought they were gonna freak-
Of course they didn't- Steve had breakfast with us and hung out and my parents were really cool about the whole thing. My mom kept looking at him all weird like "WTF?"
But that was really fun.

I don't know what happened to Steve- I did run into Ronnie when we started going to this big Baptist church downtown. Ronnie's dad was one of the bigwigs that worked with the Reverend there. That church was on the radio and everything- it was HUGE and you would be there like a job as it went on for like 6 hours-
So I ran into him one week- then the next week they had this big sermon on the evils of being gay- I was like- "that stupid motherfucker".

Yeah. Five Palms...It was cool.

Moment: 002 Lil' Kim

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Mon, 2 Mar 2009 12:37:00 -0500

I'm a blur in this picture because I jumped at the camera at the last moment. Lil' Kim was always in motion with his trusty walker underneath him.

This is a shot I stumbled across while digging through my treasure chest of memories.

It's the only picture I have of myself as a baby, though I know there are more out there somewhere.

Now, the story with this picture is NOT the crazy carpet that looks like something outta Vegas and it's NOT the fact that this is a polaroid from 1969- something a great many of you would not understand the significance of- hrrph! I'm not old. I'm distinguished.

No-
The point is the walker.
As a baby- I was told- I was a fuckin' madman in that walker. I would run that bad boy around the house like it was nobody's business- And I believe this is my Grandma's house.
I would be darting all over the place in my little walker- until one day I actually ran that walker right off the front porch steps of my grandma's house.
From then on- you couldn't get me back into that walker.

However...

I DID still grab onto the walker and use it to putter around the house. You couldn't get me into it but I wouldn't go without it.

I can still relate to the philosophy.

You'll also notice that I got my pacifier on a string 'round my neck- much later in life, when I became a latch-key kid, I would wear my home key the same way.

I don't know what I have on that second string around my neck but I DO look happy as hell to be hanging out.

I guess this would be the place to talk about my name-

I was born right after my mom had lost several people in her life. Her father. Two Brothers and my older brother.
She DESPERATELY wanted a girl that she would name Kimberly- but I was a big ass boy so she decided to name me after one of her brothers who had passed away- Kenny.
That's when my grandma- being superstitious- informed her it was bad luck to name someone after someone who had so recently passed.
So she combined the two names and got "Kimmy".

People ask me all the time if that is my whole name- and I used to just say- Yeah! and tell the story.
Then I started telling people that my full name was "Kimethius" expecting them to say "OH. Yeah, Kimmy is much better than that."
But they ALWAYS say- "Wow! Kimethius is a COOL name." To which I moan and walk away.

Now, "Kimmy" is actually used for men in Chinese culture- it means "Chief". "Gorden" I think is Scott and means "Of the Hill People".
So yeah, I got that going for me.

Moment 025: Hiding out with Mom and my Aunties

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 10:01:00 -0500

Alright, I'm getting into some sketchy memory here- but knowing what I know, there is only one or two ways this could have worked out-

See, when my parents split because my dad was whacked out after the war, apparently on several types of drugs and was catting around- there must have been some sort of agreement that he could still see us (my brother and I). I say this because, I know that when my mom left we went to stay with my Aunt Marie and we were completely on the down-low about it.

We also stayed with Aunt Loraine (Lo-lo) as well as my Grandma-
Now, my Grandma we stayed with last because we eventually moved into a little trailer house right next to my Grandma's place that Mr. Fred owned- and that is probably where I remember stuff (or choose to remember stuff) a bit more clearly- I was six then.

Anyway- We were in hiding because my mom was very scared of my dad and didn't want to see him- as a five year old I did understand this a little- as my mom confided in me a lot and I had seen some of the things he could do.

Well, I say that there must have been an agreement because I remember one day my dad spent time with my brother and I-
I don't remember how we hooked up nor do I remember what we did- I DO remember my dad asking me the directions for where we stayed so he wouldn't be dropping us off at the agreed meeting place but rather at our new locale.
I had the feeling that I shouldn't be helping him find out where we were but this WAS my dad and he did have a great deal of influence over me. I was scared of him too.
He figured out the way back to my Aunt Marie's place which was a small trailer like place if I'm not mistaken.
There was trouble as my dad waited no time before smashing the glass that was in the door trying to get in and my mom frantically locked him out.
There were words, screaming- Marie did some threatening. It was a scene that I can't remember how it ended. Alls I know is that was the last time I saw my dad in a nice way- and I can't even remember what we did because of the way it ended.

I had to promise my mom I would never EVER lead him back to the house should we see him again but like I said, I didn't see him really after that and if I had- there was NO WAY he was going to be lead to my mom again.

That was when the real hiding out began. We stayed at either of my Aunts houses for a bit and at Grandma's 'til we finally settled in that little trailer joint next door to Mr. Fred.
During that time I have a lot of great memories of things I learned from my Aunts.

One thing my Mom, her sisters and Grandma loved to do is play cards. Spades was the game and I loved it. Hell, I loved games and they always let me play.
I used to hang on to the Ace of Spades 'til the end so often that if it didn't pop up after a while they knew I had it. I learned to smack the cards down so that they would spin.
We also played dominoes. My Grandma would drink a beer sometimes with her girls- a long way away from what they used to be like under my puritanical grandfather- or so I'm told.

Sometimes we would hang with Aunt Jewel who was the mother of my favorite cousins on my mom's side, Marvin and Micheal (we called him Newey- I don't know why) but they weren't around much in the beginning.

Another thing we would all do is DANCE. Aunt Lo-lo was the best and spent significant amounts of time showing me how to do the latest moves (I looked like Re-Run) and she delighted in how fast I caught on. Lo-lo and I had a lot of fun dancing together and I credit her for my love of dancing.
It was this love that would lead to so many great moments later on in life.

Moment 873: Valentine's Dance

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:23:00 -0500

I was walking my oldest home from school when he began to ask me the normal barrage of questions he usually pelts me with.

"Dad? Can I buy Halo for your Xbox"
I just looked at him and he knew the answer.

"I'm hungry- can we get some chips."
"Nah," I said annoyed because he knows the answer I'm gonna give him "...we're going to be home soon and you're going to be at the table- not hungry anymore and when your mom asks you why you're not eating what are you gonna say? Dad bought me some chips after school!- just wait 'til we get home."

We walked a bit further and then he asked- "Dad? Do you remember your first school dance?"

I hesitated- partly because- Yo! How old do you think I am, kid!- but mostly because the memories of school dances poured over me like cool water on a summer day, so I was taking them all in and wading in them.

"Dad?"

"My first dance was when I was in the 4th or 5th grade"- I began, "There was a contest- it was a lot of fun."

"Did you have a dance when you were in the 6th grade?"
"Yeah...that was my first slow-dance."
"I want to ask a girl in my class to our Valentine's Dance."

"Oh!"

This was different. My boy is growing.
Alright, I can see we're about to have a discussion.

We stopped at the hotdog vendor just before getting on the train and I bought two dogs. "You better eat your dinner!"
"I will!" he replied happily.
"And I mean all of it."

First thing I advised him to do was NOT to ask this little girl to the dance. "You don't want this to be a "date"- I warned him. Better to just go to the dance and make sure you make time and talk to her.
He was afraid and nervous about talking to her- I remember how that felt and now, looking back, it feels silly. It IS silly.
I told him to ask her questions and listen to the answers- there's nothing easier than asking people questions and then listening.
He felt it was too hard though. Yeah, you read it right- Capt. Question was going to have a hard time asking this girl anything.

"You'll be alright. Just don't ask about Pokemon, videogames or anything like that- be general. Ask her what she likes to do."

"Idunno, dad."

"One thing that we could do is retwist your hair. And we got a week to get it done. So you can count on that. Also- ask your mom about asking this girl as your mom will know much more about being a preteen girl than I do."

We got home. He ate his dinner with no problem and later he asked his mom about girls and she agreed with me about asking her to the dance. I knew though that my oldest wouldn't be satisfied with that. We would have to be vigilant.

Valentine's Day fell on a Saturday leaving the Valentine's Day Dance to fall on the day before- Friday the 13th.
My son was worried about this but I told him not to- the day will be what you make of it.
I finally got to twist his hair on Tuesday night- the next day he had an ice-skating party at the school- Yeah, I know- when the fuck do they have SCHOOL in the school!?- I certainly don't remember having this much non-school happening in my school days but then maybe I just choose not to remember...I doubt it though.

He told me that the girl he was interested in inquired about his hair and spoke to him a little bit.
"This is good." I said. Did you talk more?
"No."
"Well, talk some more during the dance-"

When that Friday came up we got ready for the day as we usually do. When he got out of the shower, I sprayed my oldest with a couple of hits of my cologne for good measure.
Gaby and I sent him off to school with best wishes- as I didn't have to work that day and would be walking our youngest to school. My son insisted that we pick him up at 4:30 even though the dance would go until 5pm.

After letting him go and dropping off the little guy, which I enjoyed a nice walk and talk with him as well- I did a load of laundry, hit the gym and then Gaby and I went to a nice little lunch at Bar Toto. Shrimp Salad, Panini Burger, soup, fries and a bottle of wine- THAT'S lunch, baby.

We finished in time for me to scoop up my man from elementary.

Our oldest called us at about 3:40 and said he was having a great time and not to come until 5- A secret admirer gave him a rose with a teddy bear on it earlier in the day so he was floating. I worried because earlier in the year he got a note from a secret admirer and it turned out to be a joke by some other kids.
Yeah. Kids are fucked up at that age.

When I picked him up he was ecstatic about the time he spent dancing with his school mates. Then he stopped and quietly told me that he had failed- He didn't really speak to the girl he was interested in- she was doing a lot of the music.

I told him this was not failure- if he had asked her to the dance she probably would have said no because she was doing the music. Also, she has seen him out and about so she now knows you're not a stay at home and you like to have a good time. All you have to do is take some time out to talk to her. Which, eventually- you will do.

He was very happy though because he had been a finalist in the dance competition- I grinned at this and waded once more into my own school dance memories.

We still don't know who the secret admirer is.

Moment 407: The First Day Of Basic

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 10:10:00 -0500

The Day I left out for basic I was pretty nervous.
It'd been a while since "AR-OH" and my Pop had been laughing and telling me "They're gonna eat you alive!" for the past two weeks.

They told me to report to Kelly AFB at the National Guard HQ that morning about 10am or something- and they would take me to Lackland where my Basic Training would begin. I guess they did this so they would know I actually showed up to go.

My mom walked me out to the car- I forget who actually drove me there or if I took a cab.
I'll never forget the huge hug she gave me in the driveway. We were never a family of hugs and "I love you"s. Not that I was deprived- we just showed our love in other ways- mostly bonding over movies, making each other laugh or encouraging one another to do better than we'd been doing.

When she pulled back she was crying! It had been a while since I'd seen my mother cry- long ago, back in the days of the divorce and all that craziness.
It caught me a little off guard because I was doing what I needed to do and at the time I was kinda in the mind frame of taking care of business- then there's my mom crying!
These were tears of joy, though- Tears for losing her big boy to the world- Tears for me. I always knew my mom loved me but at that moment- it was huge and still warms me to this day.

As I rode to Kelly AFB I checked to make sure I had all my shit- I had a couple of books I bought and my trusty Walkman! I knew if I could zone out at the end of the day I'd be alright.

Everyone at Kelly was SUPER nice to me. Offering me coffee and doughnuts. I had to fill out some paperwork. I did some swearing in thing. Kinda hung out for a while. It was cool!
People were saying hello and asking me what job I had. There were a few jokes about basic training- It was all good.

Finally, They put me in one of these shuttles where it was just me and the driver the whole way to Lackland- guess I was the only dude going to basic that day.
We talked for a while and he was giving me advice like everyone else at Kelly. "Keep your head up and your nose clean- you'll be done in no time."

Once I got to Lackland, he let me out with a "Good Luck- You'll need it." type line though I don't remember his words exactly.
I entered the building he told me to and sat on a bench in the hallway as I was told to do- He went around another way to let someone know I was there.
If The National Guard office made me feel all warm and cozy inside with their smiles and donuts- This hallway at Lackland was the exact opposite.

I sat solitary for a while- I could hear the clicks of taps against the highly polished black tile in the distance.
I was familiar with the sound from "AR-OH" because all the hardcore kids would get taps added to their shoes- I didn't think the military was any different. "Of course all the hardcore enlisted would have taps-" I thought to myself.
That's when I could hear a set of taps coming towards the hallway.
A uniformed woman- a Sergeant- appeared in the hall as she was passing through rooms- she looked at me sitting on the bench as she passed and as we had made eye contact, I smiled and made a small "hi" gesture with my hand.

This was a mistake.

She barreled down on me and began to shout.
"Is there something wrong with your hand Rainbow!? You see something to smile about here!? I'm not something to smile about, Rainbow! Do you know where you are!?"

Sometime during this barrage of questioning my R.O.T.C. kicked in and I snapped to attention. My hands pinned at my sides and my eyes locked forward.

This took her by surprise and in mid-tirade she stopped to admire how military I had become right before her eyes.
"Hmmm. Hands are pinned- You've done this before- R.O.T.C.?"
"Mam, Yes Mam!"

It was right about then that this other Sergeant showed up and he took me outside where my flight was waiting for me...

I filed into the formation they set up and after a little bit of yelling they "marched" us towards our barracks. Apparently I had missed out on quite a bit of yelling by being late to formation.

When they got us to the dorms in which we would be staying for the next 2 months- we were introduced to the "Day Room". This was a big area in the front of the barracks assigned to our flight. All of our big meetings would happen here starting NOW.

Our T.I. (Training Instructor- or Drill Sergeant to you laymen) introduced himself and laid down some rules:

"Now, some of you might have gotten a hold of some of these pamphlets that tell you
that your T.I. is sworn to respect you and will not use foul language in your presence..."

Which it DID say that and I was kinda thankful I wasn't going to have a Sgt. Killian type of situation in here...

"...Well, that is a shitton of BULLSHIT. We WILL do any and everything to make you into an Airman worthy of wearing a stripe in this man's Air Force- Including calling you out as a dumbfuck when you decide to screw the pooch!"

Damn! I should have known!

"This very same pamphlet advised you to bring your Walkmen or books and a slew of other kind types shit from your personal lives- well, I'm here to tell you that we will be collecting all that crap and putting it where it belongs- in a goddamn closet along with anything else you deem "personal"- you're military now. There is no "YOU"- just US!"

Ugh! Fuckin' Pamphlets. I fuckin' HATE military pamphlets. They've been jacking me up since middle school!

They then lined us up in front of cots and told us to put all our belongings in a locker behind the cot that we'd been assigned to.
We stood at attention in front of those beds- that looked like little soldiers themselves as they were tightly covered with thick, dark green blankets- as the T.I. and his assistants went down the line, going through our personal things and collecting all the "un-keepables". All the while they were calling us out and informing us what out new lives would be like-

"What you are now, are "Rainbows"- You are called Rainbows because you are still wearing the clothes you came here with. This is a sign that you are NEW and undisciplined.
T.I.'s LOVE Rainbows. There is nothing like chewing a little Rainbow ass in the morning.
On the following business day- you will receive your uniforms and then you will cease to be Rainbows. You will then be "Pickles". T.I.s love chewing the shit outta pickles TOO- but not as much as Rainbows.
Unfortunately for you the next business day is Monday! That means you get to spend the weekend being a Rainbow! Enjoy it because come Monday morning your personal clothes will be going in the closet with the rest of your shit!"

It was about then that one of the assistants going through the personal belongings found something of interest and handed it to the T.I. with a "Look at this-"

"What is THIS!" The T.I. remarked as he held up a condom. He looked at the owner which was a dude whose name I don't remember but I think it was Nelson.
Nelson was a young black dude with kind of a wild look in his eye. He just kind of smiled.
"You weren't planning to use this while you were here were ya!?"
"Uh, no." he said with almost a laugh.
"I don't see nothing funny here, Rainbow! What's your goddamn name!?"
"Nelson, SIR!"
"Give me twenty, Nelson- 10 for grinning and 10 for being stupid enough to bring a condom to basic."

The rest of the day went pretty much the same way- All of our personal items including my Walkman went into a bag and was stuffed in a closet in the Day Room and was shut with a big ass lock.

We had dinner and called it for the night.

That night I slept deep and for what seemed like forever. You know, that mind erasing kind of deep sleep where when you wake up you don't know who or where you are.
This was compounded by the fact that this was my first morning there and I was awoken to the sound of trumpets and someone banging a trash can as they walked up and down the aisle of our dorm.
The T.I. was yelling things like "wake up sunshine" and the like- and I will never forget how- typical it all felt.
It was like waking up in a movie- "What am I doing here?"- I thought to myself as I slowly climbed out of my bunk. For the first time- I was really looking my decision right in the face- and though the thought of what was about to happen really frightened me, I was also proud that I was going to face this like an adult. There was something manly about being in this situation.

This was the day that Airman Gorden was born.

Moment 868: Obama's Inauguration

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 09:09:00 -0500

"I never thought I would see this day-"

That is probably the most popular quote I've heard for the past 2 months.

Now, I'm gonna jump out there and be real patriotic and tell you I LOVE THIS COUNTRY.
I always have.
As a young kid back in Texas I heard a lot of shit. Some of it racist as hell- and I didn't think much of it. I STILL loved this country.
I've had people tell me about Africa and how I should go back there (in both nice and not so nice ways) and it always pissed me off because THIS is my country. I ain't never been to Africa, SON!
I was born in the country of the brave and the free. Where you can be whatever you want to be...

Well, I'm older now- I've since learned that there are caveats to that be whatever you want to be and I DO want to go back to Africa- at least once.

Then here comes Obama.

My parents raised me to know whats up as far as being black in this country. It isn't a big deal if someone tells you from the start what the situation is.

"Keep your ass off the streets- 'cause if you fuck around and end up getting in trouble or killed the cops ain't going to give a shit about you. You just gonna be another nigga dead." My mom would tell me-
Mostly, I thought she was saying this to scare me straight- which I didn't need as I really didn't wanna "run the streets"- but as I grew older I knew she was actually being straight up.
When she was coming up people were getting ganked in the civil rights movement. Dogs where chasing blacks down in the streets- there were pools and public places she wasn't allowed to use or frequent.
God knows what Grandma told her!
Grandma used to work with SLAVES...YO! That ain't that far back.

People who stood up in the name of equality were getting put down.
Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King were both taken in the year that I was born.
What kind of world was my mother bringing me into? What was going through her head about that?

Now here I am. Married to a woman I could not be married to legally 40 years ago. With two boys who would have been considered abominations back then. Back during a time when Obama was coming up. He was being RAISED in the shadow of being an abomination to everything that was "right"- and yet...Here he comes-

The day was simple.
I took the day off work because I had to be with the family surrounded by friends.
The boys stayed out of school- which they were naturally happy about- but this would be the payoff for the campaign canvasing we all did in Philadelphia- we can thank Gaby for that, being the little political dynamo that she is- I was scared to do ANYTHING outwardly for Obama for fear that we might jinx it in the same way we did for Dean, Gore and Kerry.

We started to go to Barbes but Maura called and told us She and her son Declan could not get to the back because it was so crowded- so we all ended up at the Gate- which couldn't have worked out any better- Things happen for a reason.

We stood and watched. We laughed. We cheered.
After Biden was sworn in Nicolai broke out with "Well, there goes Chenney!"

Then it happened. He came. Obama was sworn in- nearly flawlessly. Then it was real.
Tears streamed down my face as I thought about all the things that my folks and relatives went through- I knew what their attitudes were and now we were looking at this! I kissed Gaby who was sobbing heavily. And I watched my boys as they stood with Declan between them- all three transfixed by the event. It is a sight I will never forget- these two boys, one with dreads, the other with green/blue eyes and Declan with his freckles and porcelain skin- all taking in the event as equals.
What a world we were passing onto them.

The Bartender at the Gate gave a short speech about community when it was all done and thanked us for choosing the bar to witness the event. The owner bought us all a drink and we continued to watch and get as drunk with spirits as we were with emotion.
I remember thinking- "You know, I shouldn't be this drunk at 5 o'clock."

Earlier in the day they talked about "The Beast". That is the presidential car that PRESIDENT Obama was being shuttled around in from all the events he had to attend during the day. It was said that he could run the White House from that vehicle- it had the lastest technologies- he could talk to world leaders- So you KNOW that shit is bullet proof, right!
So I was shocked and amazed when I look up and see that the President had decided to get OUT of the car and WALK in the parade towards the White House.
Oh HEEEELLLL NO! DUDE! Get yo' ass back in the car, man!

What a great day. We watched the balls and called it a night early.

The capper is this...

Today, Gaby is walking Adryanne to school and he asks-
"Mom, what do you have to do to become President?"
"Well you have to work hard, study hard, do work in your community and run for office."
"I want to be President- I already have some speeches ready."

Yeah. How cool is THAT?

Moment 405: Mr. Gorden Joins The military...

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 16:18:00 -0500

It had been an long, winding road for just being a year and a half or so outta HS.
I had had enough of Target and so many of my friends had gone one way or another already. Some with kids. Some in college and others in the military.

I was looking for a chance to do something and I wasn't sure what but I figured school would help me figure it out.
I also knew I wasn't going to school without any cash- which I had very little of. The military was an out.

Now, I fiddle-fucked around with the idea and put it off for a while. You know, there was a shitload of things to do- taking a placement test and having a physical, meeting with a recruiter.

Back in the day- right outta high school I used to have this Army guy up my ass about getting into the military. He used to call my house. He talked to my parents. He saw me in the mall. One time this dude even CAME OVER! Seriously. He like knocked on my front door one Saturday morning.
The Army had put a bad taste in my mouth when they sent me a "free pair of stockings for Ms. Kimmy Gorden" with one of their pamphlets to join up. Even if I was a woman that didn't even make any damn sense!
But that was all like RIGHT outta high school- and now I had a good year plus of growth under me so now I was ready-

Now. I had a friend who had joined. His name was Michael Rogers. He was a good friend in school- meaning we didn't really hang outside of school but when we were at school we were pretty tight.
He was in ROT CEE and we had classes together. He didn't like it when I dropped AR-OH in my senior year- but we were still tight.

One afternoon I got a call from this dude. It seems in that year and a half or so that I messed around after High School- this dude had actually gone out and joined the Air Force! He was back on leave and of all the people he wanted to see- he fucking called ME! I told him I was thinking of going in but hadn't taken the time to go do the test or anything like that- so he was like "That's IT! I'm taking you downtown tomorrow so you can do the test and the physical- You're going to join up too!"
So the next day he shows up and we head downtown and next thing you know I'm taking tests and getting my nuts tweaked to see If I'm fit to serve in this man's military.

After all that Mike and I hung out a bit. I thanked him for running me down there- it was so spur of the moment and he seemed so determined. When he dropped me off I thanked him again and he was like- "Hey man, don't sweat it. I want you to join because it's a good thing and you wanna do it but also misery loves company!" And he laughed real hard.
I laughed with him. The bitch got me- but really that was a HUGE turning point in my life and I thank him for it to this day.

As he drove off I didn't realize that would be the last time I saw Mike Rogers. Sometime shortly after he returned to his base somewhere up north, he died in a car accident while street racing.
When I think about all the crazy shit I did in cars back home and came out alive- this dude gets his life cut short after one race. Damn.

This is a shot of Mike at our HS graduation- he's showing off the new haircut he got before going into basic. If I remember correctly- he went in a little after we graduated.

I digress...

I got my tests back and I was healthy and had a good enough score that I could choose which branch I wanted to apply for.
If I was going to do this- it was going to be Air Force.

It couldn't be the Marines- because it takes a special kind of person with a special kind of drive to do what a marine has to do.

It couldn't be the Navy- because SOMEBODY might expect me to swim and I wouldn't wanna disappoint anyone by drowning and dirtying up their pool.

It couldn't be the Army because- well, they couldn't get it together enough to know I was a man AND they tried to bribe me with pantyhose AND they had the audacity to knock on my front door. So- yeah, the bum-rush is not the way to get at me.

The Air Force was it.

I spoke to a recruiter and they were all down for it...until I told them about that time I accidentally took speed in the 10th grade. Then they were like "Sorry, no drugs."
I was like, "Dude. It was the 10th grade and it was an accident!"
"Nope. I can't help you- but maybe you should go talk to the Air National Guard. They'll have you."

He was right. I signed with them and they told me I would have to pick a job in a week or so- so I rolled home and called Gary.

Gary and I went Night Riding on the subject because after he had spent a year in Austin, partying his college money away (which was weird because Gary WAS a genius- He just had been withheld from fun for so long!)- he actually joined the Air Force Reserves some time ago. He was back in town after spending a great amount of time in "Tech School" which is where the military trains you in the job you have been assigned after basic training (which teaches you about the military).

San Antonio was a military town with like 5 bases including the Air Force training base (Lackland) so we already knew quite a bit about how shit went down. Plus my step dad was in and knew the deal but all he ever really told me was I would never be able to cut it in the military.

Gary had been on the inside though- so he had the latest skinny on basic training and all that- so this night ride was essential.

"You don't know, SHIT!" he said.
"What?"
"If they ask you if you know how to do something- tell them NO."
"What do you mean?"
"They'll ask you if you like to garden or something like that and if you say "yes" they're going to have you mowing a field."
"Oh!"
"Plus- never volunteer for anything because you will just end up putting yourself in a position to fuck it up and get in trouble."
"Oh- yeah!" I said- starting to see the light.
"You want to keep a low profile- just do what you have to do to get it done. Keep your head down and don't talk if you don't have to."
"Okay. I'm used to that. That's pretty much what I did in R.O.T.C."
"Oh yeah, you DID take that, hunh? I would definitely NOT tell them you were in AR-OH when you get to basic. That is some shit they do NOT need to know."
"But I'm supposed to earn an extra stripe." I replied.
"Don't worry about that- they'll get you your stripe AFTER basic- if they find out you were in AR-OH though- that can only lead to trouble because you're going to be expected to do stuff- stuff that you can fuck up and get in trouble for."

See! I told you Gary was good at doing math.

He told me a lot of good stuff that night- but one of the ones that stuck out was to try and avoid any Tech School that was longer than 4 months because he was in his 9th month of a sixteen month school and he was ready to kill someone.

Okay- No problem.

After a few days I went to a special recruiter on base to pick out a job because unlike joining the actual Air Force (where you get assigned a job based on what the military needs over what your skills were) the Guard showed you a list of jobs you qualified for and you would pick from that. Your actual start date would depend on when they had a slot opening up.

I had a big ass book to choose from- and I remember looking at it for quite a while.
Each job listing had a description of what you would be learning in tech school as well as how long the tech was. It also listed when the next slot was going to be open.

I don't remember all of the jobs that were in there but two of them stood out to me-
One was a meteorologist. That sounded like the shit. You got to study the stars and the weather. Stuff that I was kinda into- plus you had to stay in the woods for like 6 months... Idunno about staying in the woods for 6 months! Lemme see how long this tech school is- whoah 9 months!!! I don't think so- plus the next available slot was like in 4 or 5 months. Nah. I kinda needed to turn my life around sooner than that.

Then there was Medic. This appealed to me because if we ever had to go to war it wouldn't be my job to kill people- I would actually have to SAVE them. That would be cool. That's the kind of stuff heroes do. Lemme see the tech school here- 4 Months! Plus 1 month of on the job trainning! I think I like that. I likes that a lot.
The next slot opening was 2 weeks.

"I want that one." I told the recruiter.
"90210, eh?"
That was the job's title number.
"Pretty good, you will be assigned to the fighter pilots- you'll be their medic."

This job was getting cooler by the second.

"Alright, you got the slot- you will report here to me in two weeks in order to start your basic trainning." he said as he handed me a pamphlet about basic.
The military LOVES pamphlets.
This one was telling me about all the things I needed for basic.
It said I could bring my walkman and some books to read for when we had down time! How cool is THAT!? Man, as long as I had my walkman I knew I could do ANYTHING.
Yeah. This Air National Guard thing was gonna be a SNAP!

Moment 296: Kim, The Military Ball and Teen Clubs

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 19:41:00 -0500

While we are in the vacinity of High School I will admit that I used to have this incredibly HUGE crush on a girl named Kim.
In fact- I get off on chicks named "Kim" 'cause I'm narcissistic like that.

Just kidding.

Seriously. I had a massive thing for Kim and I really can't tell you how I met her or anything like that. She wasn't in ROTC- Or was she? Maybe for a year-

She was a year younger than me AND she was in with the "cool kids" pretty much- because she was a total hottie.
Kim was Asian, petite, with a huge smile and warm eyes. She was just a nice person.

Again, I don't know HOW it came about that I was hanging around with her but we hung A LOT.

I used to go to her house which was completely out of my neighborhood back in some new developments on the other side of Marbach Rd.
It would take me about 30-40 minutes to walk over to her hood.
Man, I don't even know what I would be doing over there! Just hanging and what not.
We would listen to The Police because I was such a Police fan and she would tell me how much she was in love with Sting- each word would be stinging me right in the chest 'cause I didn't have nothing in common with Sting- OR that dude Corey Hart- You know, the "I wear my sunglasses at night" guy? Yeah, she liked him too.
Hated that motherfucker and his damn glasses. What kind of a dumbass wears sunglasses when the sun ain't out? Anyway.
If she was my Molly Ringwald, I was her John Cryer. Although, I'd like to think I was cooler than the Duck but truly, I wasn't. Heh.

Now this is terrible... I was going to work for Kim's mom as she owned a resturaunt in a little plaza area. It seems her mom wanted to fire her dishwasher and I would be filling that job.
I was anxious to get to work too. On the day that I was to show up, for some reason I could not find the place and ended up not going.
I called Kim and apologized and she said it was cool- Her mom would see me a few days later.
But that day never came to pass because the dishwasher ended up stabbing her mother to death in one of the most gruesome murders in the area. Real Bad Shit, yo.

I was there for Kim- totally. And I felt responsible somehow, too. Definitely bad shit.

Looking back, I never truly understood what she was going through but now I kinda know- How do you do that as a kid?

Kim lived with her dad after that- and I think he liked that I spent time with her as he was always working and whatnot. He must have sensed that there was no way I was going to be taking advantage of his little girl.

Yeah. So I would hang with Kim. Sometimes her friend Laurie would come over. It was cool and different from hanging with the dudes back on my block- but mostly it was crush time.
I remember one time being over there with the two of them and we decided to make something to eat that involved onions and the three of us dove for the onions at the same time because we all wanted to dice them. Hah. Weird memory but one that I often think about when I dice onions.

I digress.

It came to a point where ROTC was gonna have their Military Ball and I of course asked Kim to go with me. She said YES! Damn, I was happy.
I took all these extra shifts at "Jim's" as a busboy so's I would have the extra ducats to have a good time.
She drove and we went to the Ball and blew it up. There was food and dancing (which was my forte-) it was all pretty formal though and it broke up early.

I was happy as hell with that- but we had planned to go somewhere afterwards so I switched outta my Class A uniform and Kim was like, "You ready to go somewhere else?"
so I said, "Yeah!"
She wanted to take me to "Image".
"What's Image?" I said.
"It's a teen club."

Teen club? That don't even sound right but before you know it we were pulling up in front of this place with a buncha teens hanging out on the outside. We went in and it was like walking onto the set of an 80's teen movie with the exception of the dance floor which was an exact replica of the dance floor in "Staying Alive".

We ripped that floor up. I will never forget the freaky dance moves people did back then. This one kid was dressed completely in white- A big white suit that made him look like a member of Talking Heads- and he did this dance move where, every now and again, he would just pose with his arms out in front of himself and turn real slow. Funny as hell. But Deep man. DEEP.

So. The terrible thing about that night is after all the partying and Taco Cabana- The work I did all week finally caught up to me and I was nodding in and out of sleep on the way home. I got a peck goodnight and that was it. D'oh!

Hanging with Kim also meant that I got to know some of the cool kids, so I kinda hung with them too.
Once she set up this HUGE party where ALL the kids came. Laurie and I helped her set it up. There were people EVERYWHERE. There was all kinds of alcohol and out-of-control-ness.
The cops came and broke us up- TWICE.
That party put Kim on the map completely.

Kim and I were separated by life as she was a year younger than me and I was out in the real world while she was a Senior. I saw her every now and again because I still had some ties to other people in her class but it was rare.

A year or two later we met up somehow and she was living in her own apartment. She had a boyfriend but he wasn't living with her. We caught up. She had changed her name from Kim and apparently been through a thing or two.

She took some pics of me and poof- I never saw her again.

I don't remember exactly why I had her take some shots of me- I think I was trying to enter some modeling contest- but here are a few of the pics...

Total 80's here, man. Damn!

Total 80's again! But this time from the worm's eye view.

Aaaaand Sexy 80's! Get ya'lls mind outta the gutter! All we did is take pictures and I ONLY have my shirt off.

I shoulda bought some muscles before I took this shot!

Moment 290: ROT CEE

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 18:34:00 -0500

R.O.T.C.
Or "ROT CEE"
OR "AR-OH"-

Whatever you wanna call it- I wasn't that good at it. I mean, I could march. I kinda knew what my uniform was supposed to look like- I don't think I had the head for it at the time though, you know?

We spent a lot of time learning about the military and how it works. It was very informative. You'd be learning what stripes meant what. Chain of command. A little bit of Air Force history- shit like that.

I used to love it when Fiegenbaum would roll in puffing on his pipe. That shit smelled awesome- plus his class would be mostly zen like. You know- like some jedi master passing knowledge onto his padawan. This was a rare treat though because usually the class was taught and run by SGT. Killian.
Yes. His real name was Killian.

He was what they call- "a screamer". That comes with that whole "SGT" thing. You would be in the class all nervous and shit, hoping you didn't get called on to do something. And now- when I think back- I can't remember exactly what the hell we did in class with him. I just remember not wanting to be called for anything. I should have kept a journal back then...

The BIG thing I remember about ROT CEE is inspection Fridays.
Every Friday we would have these inspections where you would show up to class and immediately file out to line up in "flight".
Sgt. Killian would come down the line and slowly pick us apart. First he would stand in front of you- almost nose to nose, then leaning to the right and then back to the left.
He would call out errors one by one and his assistant- another student from the class who was some sort of leader or something- would mark them down.

"Gig. Haircut."
"Gig. Mustache."
"Gig. Wrinkles."

and if there were too many- it would cause him to go into tirade.

"Gig. Shoe shine. Gig. Gig line- GORDEN!"
"Sir! Yes Sir!"

"What's wrong with you, Gorden?"
"Sir! Nothing Sir!"
"Oh! Well, did you iron your shirt this morning?"
"Sir! Yes Sir!"
"Really? 'Cause it looks like you ironed your shirt with a brick, Gorden!"
"No sir!"
"And then it looks like you used that same brick to shine your shoes, Gorden!"
"Uh, no sir!"
"And do you know how to shave, Gorden!? Because you have more hair on your face than I do my chest, Gorden!-"
"I've never- uh-"
"Do you respect this uniform, Gorden!?"
"Sir! Yes Si-"
"I don't think you DO!-" he would shout, as he got so close to my face it felt as if my nose was tickling the back of his throat- "Because you look like a HOG, Gorden! YOU LOOK LIKE A HOG!!!"

Yeah.
And I would do ANYTHING not to be in uniform that day- I had excuses out the wazoo, lit it was at the cleaners or I needed to get a new shirt that fit better- which was ignorant because I would just have to wear my uniform on Monday and get inspected anyway, but there was a slight chance I would get inspected by a fellow student as opposed to Killian.

The other thing that kinda bugged me out is that, like any military organization- we had a ranking system- which is cool! I mean, you need ranks in the military- but it was especially weird to give this sort of- you know, POWER to one student over another one in High School. You know? 'Cause they don't know how to deal and whatnot. For the most part it was cool but you can imagine some of the shit that went down. It was a fuckin' soap opera.

I didn't realize then that the actual military would be the same in a lot of ways. Bottom line is- I got to do some cool shit. Marching was kinda fun. I met some cool people too.

Ron- who lived on my street was an ROTC dude as well and I was thankful to have him as he was the only other dude who grew up with us that was in with me. So I had someone I could relate to. His mother was a single parent, too so- even though my Mom had been with my step dad for a while at that point- I think we could relate on that level a little as well.

I don't know whatever happened to Killian or Col. F- In fact- after I did my three years of ROTC (enough to earn an extra stripe should I join the military) I got the fuck out. My senior year was spent in art classes and rolling out to lunch early and my Fridays belonged to me.

Moment 001: It Begins

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 13:03:00 -0500

My father spent time in Vietnam.
He was shot down several times and earned more than a few medals (some of which he has yet to recieve credit for).

Now, I don't know the details of all his adventures- (for lack of a better word) because we didn't spend a lot of time together and the time we did have- well, it wasn't war story time.
My step mother told me yesterday that she is putting a book together of the stories that he told her. Apparently, he told her all the stories- several times.

This story was told to me by my birth mother long ago.

It seems that father and his crew had gotten separated in the jungle- it was probably after one of the times he was shot down. And so they were looking for each other.
I don't know how long they were apart but eventually the troops that were with my dad found their fellow soldiers hanging from trees. Their genitals had been cleaved from their bodies and placed in their mouths.

Angry and hell bent on revenge, the troops headed to the village they thought was responsible for this travesty and they did some pretty black things.
They didn't ask too many questions and they didn't show any mercy- not to the women, not to the young.
Dark, black things.

The crew made it back to base where my father was beside himself about the things he had done out in the jungle that day. It was then that he got a phone call about some news from stateside.
He was told that he had just become the father of a baby boy...me.

My mother told me that he had some very mixed feelings at the time and that's understandable. I never got to talk to my dad about any of this. I did try but I think the war was something that he didn't want to associate with me.

Tomorrow will be the first year anniversary of my father's death. He succumbed to a cancer that was brought on by Agent Orange.

You know? When you step back to look at your life, it's weird to see how the wheels have spun within all the circles you have created.

Moment 321: Night Riding

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 08:31:00 -0500

As a teen, there is nothing more liberating than having a set of wheels- Which I DIDN'T have but Gary did and often he would have me tag along with him as we would roll to the outskirts of the city in an effort to get lost.

We did this many times, mostly after a shift at Luther's (the BBQ place that employed us). Each time we did it, it was an adventure- and it is truly amazing I am alive today to tell you about some of them.

Once, after a shift, we found a back road way out in the boonies somewhere. Now, that little Monza probably couldn't go over 70 miles an hour but we were going a hell of a lot faster than we should have on those little roads.

The air was crisp and the windows were down. I could feel the loose dirt under the tires as we floated from side to side without any real traction. The combination of that and the speed we were traveling made it feel more like we were hoovering than driving.

Because that wasn't crazy enough, every now and again Gary would turn the lights out. Now, I don't know if you've ever been outside at night on the back roads of Texas but if you turn out the lights IT GETS PITCH BLACK! So you can't see shit!
Which I'll admit, at the time- that was really exciting. STUPID but exciting.

So we were doing that. Rolling at top speed with the lights out- barely making out what was ahead of us and feeling indestructible- When suddenly Gary hit the lights just in time to see we were heading headlong into a sharp hairpin turn. At the base of the turn was a thick ass tree- abnormal to Texas as it is my feeling that most trees in Texas are really more like big bushes than trees.

It is amazing how fast your brain works shit out in situations like this.
When that light came on- we instantly calculated that our speed + the angle of the turn + the slippery ass dirt road + the huge tree in front of us = big trouble.

Gary, being a math genius anyway was already way ahead of me and hit the brakes as he spun into the turn. We would have been able to make the turn if the dirt had been more forgiving but things being as they were, the car slid sideways towards the tree.

I closed my eyes and braced for the impact-

When I opened them again all I saw was a thick collection of limbs and leaves that had been jammed into the window and amazingly none of them had ripped my face off.

Apparently, as we slid towards the tree, this huge bushy limb had slowed the car and prevented us from hitting the trunk. There was no damage to the car. There was no damage to us. That limb was pretty fucked up though.
We laughed at our fortune and on the inside I thanked a higher power as we sped off.

Another time- we decided to take Jerry with us and because we had been talking about how much fun we were having tooling around out in the boonies- little Jeff wanted to come with us- He had to be about 9 at the time, maybe 10. Idunno how it was that this little kid was allowed to go riding with us 16 and 17 year olds but I guess we had a reputation of being good kids. Idunno.

So, its the lot of us and we are out on some road in the boonies between San Antonio and Hondo. We were speeding down some dirt road that was very hilly. If you drive some of these roads fast enough you get a real roller coaster feel out of it.

Yo. We were hauling ass on this road with the car bouncing all over, then it would plummet down the steep end of some hill with us laughing and grinning the whole time.
Then Gary turned the lights out- OH SHIT! We'd roll for a bit and then Lights on. Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!
Then the lights would go out again.

After a bit we slid to a halt. Breathing hard and taking in the excitement of it all.
"Let's go again!" Jerry said.
"You wanna?" Gary replied.
"Yeah!" I agreed.
"Idunno- I think we should go home." Jeff threw in.

We all laughed. Even Jeff, albeit a bit more nervously than he would have liked. Gary spun the car around and we headed home giggling the whole way.

Again, we went rolling a lot and it wasn't always about trying to get ourselves killed. A lot of the time, we would have deep discussions about life and whatnot- at least- you know, what little we knew about it.

There was one night we went out riding that I will never forget. We didn't speed. We didnt' slide across any loose dirt roads. We didn't almost hit a tree or careen too fast down a hill.
We came across this vast onion field. The night was perfect and the smell of the onion field was amazing. All of it sat under a Texas sky littered with stars that shone brightly through the darkness- kinda like the whole universe was sprawled out above us.
I feel I really can't describe that night because words seem to fall short of how beautiful it really was.

I don't remember us saying much- just taking in how cool everything was. It was so...peaceful.

Idunno.

Night Riding was the shit.

Moment 286: Introducing Col. Fiegenbaum

868media@kimmygorden.com (Kimmy Gorden) — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 12:24:00 -0500

It was the 8th grade Job Fair thingy- You know, when a buncha parents and other adults roll into your classroom and talk about how great their jobs are in order to inspire you to do something with your life.

Honestly, I don't remember ANY of the jobs that were presented to me. I mean, I remember being able to pick different classes to go to in order to hear about these great jobs but I couldn't tell you what I chose, who I saw or anything interesting I heard that day. I'm sure there were some good things about the day- I just don't remember what they were.

HOWEVER- I DO remember that at the end of the day the teacher had us all in the classroom and announced that one more dude was gonna come talk to us. He was the instructor for the ROTC program at the High School I was going to attend.

Now- I had no idea what the hell ROTC was so I was doubly shocked when this man walked in the room dressed in an Air Force uniform smoking on a pipe.

He was a short, olive skinned man and almost Yoda-like in his demeanor.
I don't remember what he said EXACTLY but he did have a lot of good things to say about ROTC and how it would be a benefit to be a part of the organization should you decide to make the military a career choice.

He's name was Col. Fiegenbaum- now, I'm sure I don't remember how to spell that right but I remember his words making a lot of sense.
I remember his description of ROTC being somewhat enticing.
I also remember the smell of his pipe floating to the back of the room where my friends and I were laughing our asses off at the idea of ever joining the military.

We were still giggling when got on the bus on the way home- telling each other funny stories and doing funny skits about how crazy it would be to be in ROTC and the military.
I took the pamphlet on ROTC he gave us and stuck it deep in my folder and then jammed that to the rear of my backpack. This was not going to happen to me. I was an artist. Creative first and foremost AND it was gonna stay that way.

So I get home and as I'm walking across the yard I see my Mom has just gotten home herself and she's at the mail box. I was very excited to tell her all the funny jokes we were making at the back of the class as the Col. spoke- but before I could get my mouth open good, what does she pull out of the mailbox? ANOTHER COPY OF THE PAMPHLET HE GAVE US IN THE CLASSROOM!

"Ooooo Kim! Look at this."
"Yeah, Ma- we were talking about that at school-"
"Look, it says if you do 3 years of ROTC in High School you will get an extra stripe if you join the military-"
"Unh-hunh- Gary was laughing because-"
"Seriously Kim, this is really good. You gotta do this. If you pass something like this up I don't think I would talk to you again."

She handed me the pamphlet and made her way to the house as she continued to shuffle through the rest of the mail commenting on each little piece under her breath.

I followed slowly behind her flipping the pamphlet in my hand. I thought about all the shit my family had gone through to get where we were- we weren't rich but we were nicely middle class up from rolling into Texas with nothing but the clothes we had in the trunk.
It WOULD break her heart if she thought I was being cavalier about my future.
I mean, I didn't have any plans to really be in the military- but it would be a nice backup- AND I did have two electives as a freshman so I could take Art and ROTC...

The decision was made. Now I just had to figure out how I was gonna live this down with all those dudes I was giggling with earlier in the day.