I have loved these days, though gone, years ago and folded away as if to be placed in little folded envelopes to keep in my inside pocket of my so-called vest and keep them as keepsakes.
This is my worth, right here.
And yes, this is all I have now.
I have these moments of life when the sun was high, the wind was warm, and the feel from the ocean at my feet was enough to leave me with the feelings of satisfaction.
But to add, I have more to this which is far deeper than what the surface mind would catch or understand.
And so, if you wouldn’t mind and if I can lay down my mask and shield and put my swords away, I would like to share my softer side.
Or more, I would like to show you what I fear most and never dare to show anyone.
I do not have many of these, but I have some envelopes, so-to-speak. I have these tiny recollections and little windows which happened to me.
I know I was there.
And maybe you were there too, at least, in “some kind of way,” or perhaps this is me contacting you in more of a spiritual form or context.
I do believe in the words kindred and soulmates.
I believe that our lives overlap for reasons to which the intentions might not always be clear or obvious—but no matter what happens, or how life changes or what our results will be; I know that there is something to be said about the people who are designated to us.
I have this little box which I keep in my heart. And this is small, perhaps, but its contents are larger than anything I can compare them too.
Even the universe which expands beyond comparison is too small to contain this little box of mine
I promise you this.
This is my treasure.
These are my most precious jewels and yes, I can understand that these things might not be tangible or worthy to anyone else—but to me, this is all I have.
Nothing is more worthy than the contents of this little box.
I have this box in a safe place and kept away from the rest of the world.
But more, I keep this like a secret, which only you and I (and maybe a few others) would know about.
I can’t have this ‘get out there” to the world because this would make me weak, like a child that could hardly hold hid own teddy bear.
Understand?
I dare to say this and yet, I say this timidly because the contents of this little chest are pure and vulnerable and perhaps I am afraid that my fears of being exposed might compromise my integrity of being a man.
But to me, these little treasures date back to my oldest or earliest memories.
Like, say, the tiny lamp that I had in my bedroom as a boy. There was a red and green navigation light that acted like a nightlight at the bottom of the lamp. This nightlight like ones at the bow from an outgoing ship.
I was afraid of the dark.
well, I was afraid for a lot of reasons. . . .
I remember this lamp well because I remember being young and small and sick as could be.
I remember being hospitalized and worse, I remember coming home, still sick and so afraid that perhaps this would be as good as my life would get.
I was so sick that I wished I would die
And that’s a crime.
I was only eight at the time.
I had some kind of bad stomach problem and nothing was working. Nothing made me feel better. Nothing could help me and at best, all I was given was medicine and shots and still, nothing worked enough to make me feel better.
I was home and petrified that I would have to go back to the hospital.
I remember the sound of the front door opening, which was at the bottom of the steps that led up to my bedroom.
It was my Father AKA: Pop.
I heard my Mother explaining that she needed help.
I remember the sound of my Mother crying to my Father because I was so sick . . .
The Old Man decided to come upstairs into my room.
He tried to talk to me, but my fever was burning up.
I couldn’t keep any food down.
I couldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t get any rest.
My pajama shirt was riding high above my ribs and my Old Man noticed this.
I was skinny and bony too.
Pop told me that my ribs were like piano keys.
And then my Old Man tapped them gently, like piano keys, and then he sang a song that was far before my generation.
My Father sang the song “Tea for two and two for tea.”
I know every little about this song and yet, this song holds a very important and special station in my heart.
And there’s why –
Somehow, this was better than the medication. This was better than the needles and the shots they gave me in the hospital.
I remember looking at the tiny lamp in my bedroom and noticing the green and red at the bottom while The Old Man sand me to sleep.
See?
These little things are what I keep in my treasure chest. And no, none of my contents will help me board the E train down to my stop at The World Trade Center when I go to work.
But to me, this little treasure means everything, and to me, this is worth more than diamonds or gold or any jewel known to us on Project Earth.
And it was this little treasure that helped me on the evening of December 29th, back in the year 1989.
The Old Man was sick. And he couldn’t get comfortable. He was sedated and still fighting the inevitable.
This was my Old Man’s last day in the flesh.
I knelt beside his bed and played the same tune on his ribs as he did for me when I was sick.
And just like my Father did when I couldn’t rest, I was there to sing my Father to sleep.
My treasure . . .
My worth . . .
My Father.
I have shared so much with you and yet, I have more to share, more to show, more to say and more to unfold, even if only for myself.
I have these little treasures, which I keep hidden the same way a child might hide his teddy bear or his little toy figures with the same belief that somehow, these things are alive.
And to me, this is alive because this is my life, albeit crazy at times and albeit unmanageable at other times; this is my life, kept in the tiny value of little gems that hopefully, one day, these will make up the memories when I die.
I don’t know if my Father heard me or not.
There are conflicting arguments about this.
So, I don’t know whether The Old Man did or did not hear me.
But I know this –
I know that a tear formed in one of his eyes which were closed when I was singing him to sleep.
One could argue this was his tear ducts letting go of their liquid.
One could argue this is the body and one of its bodily functions that operate separately from our conscious thoughts or feelings.
But to me, this was my Old Man remembering that he has his own treasures and that this treasure of mine was so valuable that I saved it to share with him. And I gave it back to him.
I offered this back to comfort my Old Man at the end of his life.
(Sleep well, Pop)
And now, I want to share something with you.
I have these little gems that I’ve been storing and holding in trust so that one day, I can share this with love to the only true love of my life.
I don’t have much.
My life has shrunk to a small little place in the upstairs of a small two-family house.
I don’t have the same cars nor the same property and of course, the size of my bank account is not what it was; and perhaps I might never be where I used to be.
But I am where I am
(now)
And so, the same as the memories I have of the little lamp in my bedroom, I have a place that I will tell you about. And I tell you about this place often too because it means the world to me.
The Beach . . .
Although there are different ones that have deeper meanings, there is this one place, Point Lookout, Long Island. And this place means everything.
This place has been my sanctuary.
This place has been my therapist and my savior.
This was where The Old Man used to take me when I was a small boy.
This is where I go to offer my confessions.
I go here to let my dreams escape their chambers and free them from my self-absorbed oppression.
This place is a place where The Old Man and I allowed ourselves to have a moment of truce.
We walked here every New year’s Day.
This place means more to me than you would ever know, and at some point, you might feel pain or sickness or an ache that can never be soothed.
And here . .
this is yours now.
Please take it but please, be gentle and beware to tell me that no, this won’t mean anything to you or that this won’t help you.
I want to give you this.
I want you to feel the healing that pained me so deeply when I was young.
I want you to feel what I felt when I was older and alone and needed “someone” or “something” to guide me—but who could guide a young man aside from his Father, or the Father Above.
I come here to find myself
or you, if possible
Before I go, I want you to know something.
I do not go to cemeteries because to me, this is where dead people live.
Instead, I go to the beach and look at the ocean because to me, this is where my Old Man lives, —out there, in the open sea, far and free from the world that only exists in the flesh.
There are times when I struggle to face myself. And there are times when I find it difficult to look in the mirror because the reflection disturbs me.
There are times when I beat myself up or let myself down.
But the beach though . . .
The beach and this place at Point Lookout does the same thing for me as when The Old Man sang me to sleep when I was a small boy and too sick to find rest.
And so –
I know that we live in a world where words do more harm than good. And I know that money buys a lot of things, but no amount of money can buy this feeling I have when I stand where The Old Man took me.
I am still small in so many ways.
I am still that scared, sick boy.
And no . . .
None of this is easy for me to say.
And none of this is easy for me to give away.
But I have to –
I do not have much, but what I have (if it helps) is all yours because if I could do anything for you, then I would want to find a way to take the pain away, the same as my Father found a way to take my pain away from me.
I don’t sing very well.
I don’t know how to play the piano either, but if you ever need me to kneel by your side and play the piano on your ribs, I can sing Tea For Two, just like The Old Man did for me . . .
because I love you
and I would do anything
anything
to take your pain away.
Please, know that no matter where you go, where you are or how far away I might seem, I am never too far away for you to know this –
I love you.
And I am always yours
Always and forever
Because the term “Never”
Should never exist when it comes to love.
Trust me –
Not even the end of my life can take this away from you now
Hence, this is why I offer my treasure because in all fairness,
–you are the only thing that makes my diamonds sparkle
or gives my jewels their worth.
please, never forget this.
The Written Addiction 