An old friend reminded me of the fact that “the gift” runs in her family. In fact her Aunt, her two male cousins all have a “sixth sense.” Hers, deals with the discernment of spirits and communication with the dead, usually in her dreams. She recounted one of her earliest experiences. “When I was eight years old, I stayed overnight with my Aunt Carol. My Aunt also has the gift. Her house was directly across from an older cemetery, but still in use. She has two sons (both with some gifts, too) but none of us were scared of it. We were raised to respect the dead, so no thrill seeking. I stayed in her guest bedroom. Us kids went to bed around 9:00 P.M. Wee into the morning, I distinctly remember being woke up. Now, this room had a window that faced the cemetery. I was drawn to the window. After my eyes adjusted – I seen them! There were hundreds of spirits. They were dancing! These ghosts were of mixed eras – Civil War, Flappers, Dresses with corsets, I distinctly seen pinstriped suits, too.
I ran into my Aunts room, waking her up. I told her ghosts were dancing in the cemetery, come quick! She did follow me and peered out the window. I said, “let’s go over there!” But she wisely said, “I see them too, but we can’t disturb the spirits.” I really wanted to go over to them, but instead we watched them dance around for at least half an hour. Finally, my Aunt said we needed to get back to bed as it was almost 4:00 A.M. by this point.” I asked her to describe how they appeared to her. “Have you ever seen ‘Haunted Mansion’? They were like that, translucent, and white, but a tint of color.” So my take is maybe, just maybe, the film “Carnival Of Souls,” had it right!
Late Night At Old Cemetery
So here’s a few tales about visiting the old local cemetery at night. An acquaintance told me about her and her man visiting a local cemetery late at night. This cemetery sits high on hills and happens to have a shrine cut into the front of the hill. This is where pilgrims may light a votive candle, which at the time, was open around the clock.
So, neither one was Catholic, but decided to go because of all of the lore that surrounds this cemetery. First, there’s the “Stairway to Heaven” steps that rise up a large hill, leading to a life-size Crucifix. Again, this is a 200-year-old cemetery, so supposedly at night, thrill seekers have seen an eerie glow around the stairway. Second, there’s another nearby hill, where again after a series of steps, you reach a life-size Crucifixion scene mounted high on a granite base. Many have seen white mist surrounding this. So the couple are making their way to the candle shrine, when he suddenly stops. On the hill atop of the shrine were dozens of shadow figures, backlight by a white glow. She seen them, too. They watched for a few seconds as the shadows gathered closer to hill slope to watch them. The couple whispered to each other – “Let’s go.” And they back peddled out of there. When the had safely drove away, they discussed what had happened. They both concluded that the shadows did not want them there, because they were just thrill-seekers!
I have more tales about this cemetery which I plan on posting soon. Do I believe it’s haunted? No. I went to school there, classmates are buried there, I visit it regularly. Our family plots are there! If anything, this cemetery is blessed and serene. But I do know it’s protected, which I feel is what the couple witnessed.
I should know…I’m a Generation X who had to grin and bear it…
This is my story. As a Generation Xer, born to the Silent Generation parents – who did nothing to nurture me, comfort me nor show love, compassion or caring -I have a tale to tell. It turns out unbeknownst to me I was diagnosed at 2 years old with a PDD, high- functioning on the Autism spectrum. From there, the doctor wanted to do further testing, therapy – but No!!! My parents weren’t going to pay for that! (Oh, heck no they wanted all money for themselves. But that’s another story.) So no, special treatment for me. No help from teachers or specialists to help me progress. To help me understand, to help my fears to help me fit in. No. None. Nothing. In fact, my real diagnosis – though brief was concealed from me until I was 30 years old. You read that right. And I was told this by my Mother in one of her fits of anger and rage. I was left uncertain if what she said was true. She’s a classic refrigerator Mom. She never told any of us she loved us. Nor were we kissed, cuddled nor coddled. Just told to get away from her – she’s “busy.” My Father could have cared less about any of us. He never interacted with any of us, because he thought he was a “rock star.” Yes, for real.
What I remember Most Of My Childhood…
Rocking back and forth, constantly. For hours and hours on end. When I became drowsy, I’d bang my head into my pillow for hours until I fell asleep. When I was finally noticed/caught, my older Baby Boomer brother would mock me and punch me to stop. My older Boomer sister would shake me. But my Father would yell and say ‘Knock it off!’. Mom would yell to stop or make me get into the rocking chair. It was an open secret, but one that was never discussed, nor allowed to be shown to others. My parents drilled into me to never, ever, EVER let anyone else witness how I acted. Or else. We had to project the perfect family unit. When they were gone – which was every weekend (Dad thought he was a rock star, remember) I would stand and rock side to side and hum for hours. Make no mistake, I loved this, rocking and banging my head. This was THE only relaxation I got. And full confession. I banged my head until I was 26 years old. I rocked until I was 39 years old. I had to force myself off out it. (That will be discussed later.)
NOT Communicating Well.. I was always and still am to some extent, very afraid to speak to adults. I know that some of it is due to my rearing, but mostly because of the awkwardness. Because of that, and the realization that my parents didn’t care what I was going through, I took a lot of verbal abuse from other kids – and my other siblings.
Forced To Go To School..
No special classes for me. Oh, no, I had to be integrated with other kids. All was well for the first 5 years of grade school until 6TH grade. Suddenly, the other girls and boys were focused on topics I didn’t quite understand. The girls focused on their appearance. Trying to speak and act prissy toh get the boys attention. The boys also wanted to know which girls liked them. But I could have cared less about any of that. I was just stuck. Stuck, like I always have been. Caught up in one way, space, time or topic. And there I would stay. At school, to calm down either on the bus, or at the desk I had to constantly swing my feet. Of course, I endure TONS of ridicule and correction because of that.
Stuck. Hollow.Alone.
Conversations that my peers wanted to hold – meant nothing to me, nor did they hold any interest. At home, I sought out my younger neighbors to continue playing like I always had. I could ride bikes, play in the woods or play with their toys. (I never had any of my own). Because I would get frustrated and angry, sometimes I would be abusive to the younger kids. This got me into trouble twice with those parents. Those kids had parents that cared. My didn’t, so I was soon left friendless. I started playing with my older sisters hand me down doll, in secret. I would “act out” that I was the parent and no matter how the doll begged for me to love him and spend time with him, I’d beat his butt and tell the doll to get away. I did this for YEARS until I was thirteen easy. I’d hide secretly, and make that doll grovel, beg for my parental love, but no – he’d never, ever get it. But he got plenty of spankings and verbal abuse. At school, I’d find myself just tagging far behind the other kids on the playground. Mostly because they would mock me, because back then you would be called a tub of lard, or a beached whale if you were 5 pounds overweight. You read that right, too! Five Pounds!!! You were a fat – a**. Nowadays, I’m considered thin!!! I mean this. You haven’t a clue how cruel everyone was about this. And I stress only 5 pounds overweight.
Taught Morals By Sesame Street And Catholic School – Thank GOD!!!
I would never have been able to keep my anger and temper in check, if it weren’t for the morals taught by the Sisters and Priests, Bert, Ernie, Grover, Cookie Monster or Bob. PERIOD. And I thank them for it. Also Little House On The Prairie and Family. Thank you Kristy McNichol. I dreamed of a better world through those shows. I memorized all kinds of trivia about any teen idol, I could draw just about anything on scraps of paper or bags. I was never supplied anything except from school. Only to hear my Dad tell my older brother when he asked why we weren’t like The Waltons? “That’s not real. No family talks like that.” Oh, I beg to differ. The other kids at school had parents who came for events, to kids Masses, who participated in field trips. My only other refuge was my discovery of the band Kiss. Kiss kept me company through those tough years – and as any trur fan knows, only brought on more ridicule.
Any time alone at night in my room. I would rock sitting Indian style for hours on end. In the summer, it would be in front of the box fan. I would day dream my life away. I was always myself, but in a different setting. Usually, a mother figure who would come look for me out of concern, while I was off saving the world from bullies. (Whatever scenario I had just seen on TV that made an impression would be that week’s continuous daydream). This went on until I was 30 years old.
For many years, (even now I wonder) I felt hollow – like if I were to be cut open only a black empty void would exist inside. Like an automaton sometimes. Just going through the program, the actions, the motions of what is expected of me. Poems, love songs mean nothing to me. And they never will. When I’m forced to hug anyone, I feel – nothing. I’m not fond of being touched. I really don’t like it. I’m sure I could have learned to accept these early on, but I was left alone on my own to figure out this life. I excelled in art (I’m a natural artist) I loved history (I’m a non-fiction reader) and music. These all fascinated me, and again gave me comfort.
Huge Fear Of High School Transition
My Catholic school ended at 8TH grade, forcing my into public school. My parents never planned for any of us to attend Catholic High School, let alone any College or future hopes. So I was thrust into public school only 5 days before class began. My Mom didn’t want to be bothered enrolling me in a timely manner, so I came to school not knowing where ANY classrooms were. All of the so-called childhood friends shunned me because I wasn’t wearing any fashion – only Mom’s and my older sisters hand me downs. Mom needed the money for her flowers. She wanted to impress the neighbors with her yard and home to give the appearance that we had money. My parents could care less about our present or our futures. I walked alone in High School for at least 3 weeks every day at lunch break. Until I heard girls snickering at me saying “All she does is walk. She doesn’t have any friends.” After that I hid in the library during lunch until one boy said: “Why is she always in here?” The teacher hushed him. And I then started rotating hiding by going into various restrooms – in and out until classes resumed. Where were my former Catholic classmates? Oh, I tried the first day to sit with them at lunch. They glared at each other and rolled their eyes, suppressing a chuckle. (FYI- one is now a spinster, the other- still homely, wears her make-up with a trowel and is married to a MUTT!!!) Oh, and my neighborhood child friend? She ignored me COMPLETELY for four years until she needed to sell for her class fundraiser. But that’s another sad story…
Meanwhile, because I was accustomed to bullying, shunning and being unwanted I didn’t totally understand when I was told to get away. I thought those mean kids said it the way my family did. It meant get out of here but still be on the radar. Oh, no, they meant don’t come over again. So finally, relief came I thought, when about two months into school I was called over by a former classmate. She only attended four years of Catholic School but remembered me. She wanted me to hang with her and two of her friends. I did and was very relieved. But one of her friends was a HUGE morbidly obese girl would stand 5′ 9 inches tall and had to have weighed 450 pounds. She was disgusting. Super huge and gross. She was a HUGE bully. I had learned long ago to buy friends. I had stumbled across on a whim, bringing a huge bag of lifesaver suckers to school. Those swirled pops. I became very popular when I had something to share. So, I had brought a huge Cadbury Carmello bar to school to share. Big girl then demanded that I bring her one every week or I couldn’t hang around with them. I’m not kidding. That HUGE girl gave me this ultimatum. I didn’t bring it. She and the friends gathered around me and said: “I told you if you didn’t bring it, you’re not hanging around us.” Again, by the skin of my teeth an acquaintance overheard and said, “Come with me.” I did. She didn’t have any lunch money. So, every day, I gave her mine. So, for the next year, I hung around a huge burnout at school. We never did anything after school, nor did I ever call her nor me. We never really spoke. I just gave her my lunch money, so I wasn’t alone. You have no idea of the loneliness I felt. Of the fear. Of the anxiety of having to go to school. I hope no one ever goes through that. I had no prospects or hopes for a future. Only my daydreams. Because I’m from a rural area, I was able to attend a trade high school for my final two years. Actually, my mom told me I had to go, because I was not going to college. My older sister told me which class to take. She also insisted that my mom allow her to buy my school clothes. My sister sought out to reinvent me. She knew my issues; she knew our parents never gave me proper care. Both my older brother and sister left home as soon as they had established themselves, so home life became even scarier.
Vocational School
Because my classes were centered around my chosen trade – graphic arts, I excelled. My grades were great and our classes were only about 24 students. Much more like what I was used to at my Catholic School. There were cliques of course, but because of my makeover, I won an early friend. She was talkative, so I just went along for the ride. She did come over to my home several times for a day visit. But, sadly she moved after our Junior year. So come Senior time, I was alone again. And the same thing, shunned by so-called friends until finally the work program. Now, the last 6 months of the years we all worked part-time. Of course, I was one of the last to go to work. I had no car. I was deathly afraid to drive because of my wicked mother screaming at me while trying to drive just down the road. Once again, my older sister procured me a job – but with one other student. So, low and behold another mean girl SUDDENLY became my friend, offered to drive just so she could get a job.
Every day, she drove me into work acting all nice. I by then, became enlightened. But still bewildered by the job. I didn’t quite get it; I still did not fully believe that I was really expected to go to work. And go to work doing something that I didn’t enjoy or want. I really thought that someone a teacher – my mother – my father, would put me into a program to hone my artistic abilities. Or to pursue my archaeological interests. I wasn’t prepared for “this is it.” Everything I’ve endured has been against my grain. How could all of my hopes, fantasies be just left empty. My parents never even asked, nor showed an interest in anything about me. No, I was left to rot alone in my room. And that’s what I did. I was so petrified. Constantly under scrutiny. From my family throughout my childhood, in school and now FORCED to withstand it in the workplace. I was given no choice.
Graduation – Totally Lost
My older sister once more got me into her latest workplace. Without an interview, I was to show up at 6:00 A.M. My sister picked me up at 4:30 A.M. and I had to go to work. Terrified. Nervous, shaking. Me who could never even speak to an adult, had to go to work for 10 – 12 hours each day plus half day Saturday. And this printing shop was 1 and 1 half hours away from home. I was exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. It was technical and I was under intense scrutiny. I was 19 years old. Even writing this, I’d would never be able to fully express my utter disappointment in my life.
Workforce Misery
Put under a magnifying glass. Every imperfection scrutinized, corrected. With fiendish delight I was nitpicked by almost every co-worker. Why? Because of my condition I was a perfectionist. I RARELY made a minor mistake. So, envy ensued. Conspiracy – literally. Especially by those co-workers I was fond of. I had no idea until it was much too late. Because of my preciseness, I was made Department Assistant. Again, this brought on mutterings. After many years I gained confidence and began finding other positions, closer to home with better pay. These same scenarios occurred in every company. Over and over. And still do to this day. When I’m focused, the job or task must be completed correctly. And most subpar employees resent me. I can’t even begin to go into all of my so-called friends who conspired against me for their benefit. It took me an extremely long time – decades to try and figure out why.
ENVY – JEALOUSY- Because of my attempts at success! Yes, strange as it may seem, someone trusted confided in me that in years past, co-workers were envious of me because; I became friendly with male co-workers. The fact that I could be friends ONLY, was off-putting to others. Also my creative talents inspired jealousy – so much so that ONLY management gave me compliments. In addition, unbeknownst to me, I was considered attractive, nay, sexy by my male counterparts – which of course escaped me altogether. Because of the sum total of these occurrences I have never, ever had a best friend. And boy did I want one. I prayed for one. But each time, they would take advantage of me or back stab. So, I just started having male friends. If I wanted to go or do something, I recruited a male co-worker. I never had any problems, until they would get a girlfriend. But, there was no shortage of single male co-workers, so on to the next!
The Opposite Sex
I’ve always felt unworthy, not correct or right inside, and of course outside. I wasn’t good enough. That with the fact that my PDD Autism (though I was unaware of this) makes me process things much differently. Again, I stress love poems, sappy love songs -almost every song is a love song – to me were alien. I knew that certain men were very attractive, even sexy, but I knew that I would never be able to do anything with them. But I listened to most of their woes. I understood them. I feel it’s because I’m more analytical than emotional (besides anger). A lot of rumors swirled around me that I was gay, because I was always alone or just with “male friends.” Human love means nothing to me. I have pets whom I love and care for. Many who are my home, my little friends. I ‘love’ my family because God wants me to. I’m not sure to this day if I ‘love’ my friends, or if I’m just accustomed to them. It’s not something I think about, ever.
This Pattern Went On For Years…
I get stuck a lot. I repeat what feels comfortable to me over and over. I repeat phrases over, too, until people tell me to “stop saying that, you say it constantly.” Can you imagine a co-worker saying that to you in this day and age? I got it so-many times. So I did what I learned to do. Stop going near that person. That person was not a friend. I knew by the time I was thirty that I needed to find a way out of this life. I couldn’t foresee being working class and not pursuing my true talents. Big mistake. If I even expressed any rebuttals to my mom it was a big issue. In the course trying to ask for any guidance she blurted out that I have autism and I need counselling. If I didn’t have proof of an appointment the next day – she would have me checked into a hospital. Scared beyond fear, I called my work insurance and went for 6 weeks. I was so ashamed and embarrassed. I had never spoken to anyone about myself before. The psychologist asked me a series of leading questions. In one of them I told her why I had to come there. She asked me “Oh, are you autistic?” I had no real idea. All I knew is that it was a shameful, dirty word. You were really a lost cause if you had that. Like everything in my life I suppressed it. Until…
Mom Mentions Autism Again…this time in front of my sister years later. I was speechless. Mom had watched an Oprah episode and decided it was time to be open about me. I didn’t know how to react, so I just listened. Late at night I searched for info on the internet careful not to be seen. I was so very frightened by what I discovered. All of the characteristics, most I have. Also some testimonies on dedicated sites. At the time, there was NO way I would have ever dared to write anything, nor talked to anyone. Let alone divulge my deepest secrets. But here were these people similar to me sharing their experiences. I was so ashamed, embarrassed, to even presume that someone would care enough to know about me. Why would these others feel that anyone would care about their circumstances? It mystified me. Who did they think they are? Why did they feel worthy? Though it took years, I’ve learned the answer why.
Tried Living Alone
I attempted to live alone three times, but each ended with my fear of being isolated, not by myself but fear of being overcome by illness/disease. I essentially panicked due to thoughts of being alone in old age with no one to claim me. Then I would be institutionalized and left to die alone and locked up. I ended up having to ask to come back home. Though I was not wanted and was used to the hesitation – the power over me by my controlling self-centered, self-absorbed parents, I meekly, quietly came home. Certainly, per usual I stayed in my room and rocked every spare moment. I would bang my head into my pillow when I knew they weren’t at home. Unexpectedly, was caught by my mother and told I had better stop-or else. I tried to be discreet, so instead at night I began wagging my foot over the side of the bed until I drifted asleep. Eventually I was able to stop altogether. Rocking was much harder to stop. I later discovered that all of my actions were me decompressing. I agree and I can’t quite express the places that doing these things would take me. Yes, I was physically present, but yet my whole ‘person’ was elsewhere in whatever faraway place I thought of. This was my life.
My Peers Moved On…
All of those my age were marrying, buying homes, some starting families. Since I had even less now in common, any “friends” were even fewer and far between. Once more – I turned to younger acquaintances for any companionship. Because of my mentality/condition I looked much younger than I was, so this was never a problem. As more of the younger set moved on, I realized again that I was different. Becoming fearful once more, I decided maybe to pray and hope that God would help. I was always respectful but terrified of God’s wrath. I felt I was unworthy to ask personal favors. So, instead I asked Mother Mary if it were possible, if she felt I could do it, if I were worthy, did she know of any man who would understand me? Anyone who would want me? Anyone who would take care of me and vice versa? And I was answered very quickly. I feel that this really was a miracle granted to me. A mercy shown. We’ve been together 14 years. He’s tried to understand me. He’s worked with me. He’s patient. He lets me know if I’m becoming stuck. He explains when I just do not understand situations or conversations held in social circles, that I interpret another way. He’s also very physically beautiful. He’s a gentle soul. I’m very grateful, because I will not be alone. He understands that saying ‘I love you’ doesn’t hold meaning for me. I keep our relationship in perspective by thinking how it would be if he were to die. To me, a sadness must then be a ‘love.’
Socialization
I’ve tried to hone my social skills over the years, and yes, they are lacking. I’ve never enjoyed small talk; I like to say what’s needed and move on. I’m big on brevity, I also abhor personal questions, yet I understand that this is an integral part of society. I’m not adept, so I was able to find a profession that affords me the great freedom of working alone. I still interact with clients, but it is minimal and therefore doable. I go to extremes to earn a decent living but for me, I mostly avoid those awful judgmental, situations of the past.
Resentful Of Autism Awareness
Yes, I am. Why? Because I never received any assistance. I was repressed. If I had to conform, so can they. If I had to work, so can they. If I had to learn how to speak, so can they. Yes, I know it’s my anger. Yes, I know it’s wrong of me. Yes, I need to calm down. I know I need to move forward. I thoroughly do understand the missing puzzle pieces from the Autism logo. I completely understand the magnitude of never experiencing life like most ‘normal’ people. The fullness of life. I could expand on things, situations, scenarios, but it’s difficult for others to comprehend fully. Also, I’ve always been very aware that truth be told, most could care less. For instance, it took all of the courage I had to tell an old neighborhood ‘friend’ that I have Autism. This, I had hoped, would give some explanation to her about my actions all of these years. I literally had to fight back the tears telling her, I was so ashamed and embarrassed. The next visit I had with her I was nervous about seeing her after the ‘talk.’ And guess what she asked; “What did you say you had again?” Yes, really.
As a Generation X who was sold on the 401K Millionaire Myth, I know first-hand the truth. MY generation was THE first to rely on the 401K as a retirement plan. All the Baby Boomers landed what was left of the union jobs (they were bequeath from their Silent Generation parents via nepotism or networking). Which left us out, scrounging for any entry level jobs. And they were entry level. Made all the worse if you did not have a college education. Most of us in rural areas went to trade/vocational high schools. The idea was, that you would arrive at the work place with some specific skill sets geared to a certain industry. Thus, you’d have a leg up on the competition and your chances (though slim) would get you an interview. With that said, this is where the majority on Gen Xers found themselves within the workforce.
The Average Yearly Salary In The Midwest is $31,500.00
And for most Gen Xers it remained that amount for several decades. So we will use $32K as our base model for this article. By law you can only contribute 10% of your yearly income to your 401K. This includes any employer match. So if you put in 5% and your employer would match up to 5% you were very fortunate. But after a few years suddenly employer policy always seemed to change to 4% match, then dropping to 3% in most cases. Afterall, most of us were never employed by a Fortune 500 company. So small business or retail was our lot.
The 401K is Based On Compound Interest…
So if we take the $32K and contribute 10% (with our 5% and employer 5%) we are at $3200.00. So, if you enrolled into the program at say 25 years old, (the average age one started) back then once you chose your ‘portfolio’ you were pretty much locked in. Also, we had very little play in where and what we were investing in. You were given options usually three choices and given recommendations. This was in a brief hour long seminar. Many promises were given about investing in the stock market. Of course no details were divulged, but it seemed like a great mysterious plan to acquire wealth beyond anything your average lower middle class family ever had. It was an automatic withdrawal from your pre-tax dollars ‘you’d never miss it!’
Autopilot Deduction…
So…we let our deductions roll on year after year to accrue. Back in the 90’s the growth seemed okay (but nothing like 2016-2020) so after 5 years our $16K would be more like $20,800. Again, most of us had to ‘borrow’ from our 401K for downpayments on homes or help with large expenses. (We didn’t get much help from family – we raised ourselves more on that in another post). So for this model, we’ll let this 401K go on for a total of 30 years, hitting the 55 year mark. Why? Because after 55 you can increase your contribution without tax penalties. And even though there were raises, job changes, etc., once we figure in any cash withdrawals, this model still holds. So 30 years later at $3200. 00 a year our 401K should have an average of $ $144,000.00 Except that we lived through the recession of 2008 so subtract $35,000.00 and the great hit of 2022, which lost another $30,000.00. So with the gains on the last year we are back up to $120, 960.00
Retirement Age Increased…
So right when we were knee deep in the workplace, Social Security increased the retirement age from 55 years old to 62 years old. I guess were are living longer now. But! At 62 you would have to pay for your own healthcare if you choose to retire. So, 67 years old it will be for the majority of us Gen Xers. Back to our 401K contributions. So now at 55 years old, we better up our contributions. We have slight increase in salary let’s go with $37, 000.00 yearly. Let’s make a bold 20% deduction, too. Now we are putting in an aggressive $7,400.00 yearly – again no employer match. With the onslaught of easy online access to your 401K, it’s time to move into an aggressive ‘portfolio.’ We need to take this risk for bigger dividends. It works – do it. For the next 12 years (especially if a Republican is sitting in the Whitehouse) our $7,400 should easily balloon to $133, 200.00 plus our initial $120, 960.00 has grown to $181,440.00. This equals $314,640.00.
How? It always seems to come down to this formula. If the economy is good. The stocks doing okay, the amount will be 1.5 times the amount. The Trump years were greater, but for our model, the average Gen X er should retire at 67 years old with at least $300, 000.00 in their 401K. Period. The truth. Again – start at 25 years old. Contribute a sum total of 10% with employer match. We’ve taken in any withdrawals or borrowing. We’ve taken into account changing jobs where you hadn’t earned the right to participate until after 3 months or 6 months depending on the workplace. Also factored in are all of the years, decades where your salary remained stagnant at $32,000.00 a year. Again, keeping in mind that you finally received a small increase, albeit from finding a new employer or finally being recognized. Either way, when all elements are considered – the average Gen Xer Joe should have $300K to retire on. And that’s no small feat. We had immense hardships at work, in our upbringing and all we had to navigate in our lifetime.
As Opposed To Living Life For Others… My Theory On Long Life Versus Early Death
Keen Observation Theory On Shorter Life Span – Those that chase fun, adventure, take lavish vacations – all for their own glory – that scream look at me. The ones that want and need the attention, to beat others to it, one-upmanship, you know the types. They are the first here or there, posting photos on social media. Let everyone know of their accomplishments. Those that burn the brightest, are struck down early. Most often, they are childless. Also, in my experience are either located far from family or, choose to allow siblings to attend to parents or family issues.
I’ve seen this more often than not. The first time I was alerted to this phenomenon was by a friend. Her older sister, married, childless in her 50’s was diagnosed with colon cancer. Her and her husband had lucrative careers and would go off galivanting. Meanwhile, the majority of the siblings who lived close by, helped their aging and ill parents. These siblings kept up the childhood home and cared for their mother who had Parkinsons. They each took turns helping Dad and assisting Mom. But not said sister. She died two years before the mother.
Then within the same family, the oldest son moved out of state decades prior, would visit only once a year if that. He left all of the hard work, dealing with the parents, to the remaining family. A few years after the mother died, he came home to visit and stayed with the Dad. Sometime in the early morning, he died in his sleep. They were told later that he had just had a check-up and everything was fine. He had a massive heart attack.
Coincidence? I think not. Here’s another example.
A childhood friend years ago moved out of state with her new husband – why? Because they wanted the fast lifestyle. They were childless with substantial salaries – and they partied. I mean they drank, went to bars, out to dinner, seen shows, traveled all over to exotic locales. While they partied with “friends” and posed for group photos, back home the oldest brother died unexpectedly. He was out of shape and collapsed from complications. Then the father died. Who was there to get the mother and family through? The siblings who stayed local. They kept up the households and helped the widow. But not this friend. Sure the funerals were attended, visits made twice a year. But then came the cancer. She died two years ago. Had this friend moved back home, who knows? I think she would have lived cancer free. I think she would be right where her mother needed her. Instead, her mother went into a nursing home. None of the living siblings, who had families, were able to stop working to care for her.
And the most recent, Prime example…
A distant relative in his early forties moved out of state chasing the money. He had an exorbitant salary. So he travelled. Climbed mountains, had a houseboat, had all of the toys. Let everyone know about his great, selfish life. That’s right, back home some of his family and friends were struggling. No matter, he had his life to live. He married, had kids, but since the wife had a huge income, the goods kept coming. The mansion, the autos, the dinners, the excursions. Meanwhile, back home, the family struggles, the hardships continue. One day he wakes up with a severe pain in his abdomen. He couldn’t understand it. He was in tip-top shape. After a series of tests, stage 4 pancreatic cancer. He died 8 months later.
“For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required”; Those mentioned above – failed the test. The test of doing more for others with the resources they were given.
Again, I say, live your life for others. Help your older parents. Take care of your siblings. If at all possible, help your friends in need. Yes, it’s a sacrifice. Yes, it will suck up your time and money. But it’s the right thing to do. And you will lead a more rewarding, impactful life.
My Discussion With A Real Current Resident And Who Lived There During The Defeo Incident In 1974
I’ve met an acquaintance from Amityville New York. Once I heard that – I had to ask about THE House, THE movie and what’s it like now… :
It’s a fascinating story. I do remember reading that Alec Baldwin grew up in Amityville, too. He said that no one believed the Lutz story either.
Do you remember much about the aftermath? I’m assuming curfews, fear and camera crews? Were you/kids afraid to go near the place? And how do you handle all of the publicity and inquiries from people like me!?
Also – did the old movie scare the crap out of you? Or was it forbidden to watch? Is ten minutes away too close? I’m a sissy!
Here’s the response…
I’ve lived in Amity for about 50 years and in my current house 18 years. We live about 10 minutes from Ocean Ave. It’s a gorgeous neighborhood with trees up and down the sidewalks and a very wide street down the middle. Very picturesque. The facade of the house is very different than the one you are used to seeing in the posters/films. I imagine the work was done to discourage visitors to the house. I think someone lives there, but I can’t swear to that.
My family had just moved to Amity in 1974 when the DeFeo Murders happened. I remember my parents talking about it. I think Ron DeFeo died in prison a few years ago. As for the other happenings, there are many sides to that story. There is a documentary out there where Ron DeFeo says his sister murdered the father and the mother killed the siblings and he only killed the sister out of self defense. There are so many different stories from DeFeo that it’s hard to know what really happened that night. As for the Lutzs’, no one really knows if any of what they claim is true. None of the neighbors ever reported anything unusual about the house and as far as I know, nothing weird has happened since. It’s just a really beautiful old house in a nice quiet neighborhood.
I’ve lived here for so long, I never think the murders or the Lutzs until someone asks about the house. We are not so close that we see the house everyday but it’s about 10 minutes from my house. Personally, I think it’s a beautiful house and I would live there. I love that neighborhood…so beautiful and quiet and quaint. I don’t think news crews have been in front of the house for years. (Overnight parking is not allowed in Amity because of the chaos from the movie.) There really is no reason to. I saw the Margot Kidder/James Brolin movie in the theaters with my mom. I thought this version was much creepier than the Ryan Reynolds remake.Â
 Also if you ever visit the Amityville Historical Museum, there is absolutely no mention of the murders in any way.
What a unique story and I am grateful for your answers. Thank you for sharing!
I’ve managed to accumulate several tales from the workers and managers at several local chain stores. And not all are grocery stores, in fact one is from a huge drugstore chain. Let’s start there…
Drugstore Mayhem
Recently, I was at our local drugstore chain. While talking to the shift lead, a stuffed toy simply fell off of the shelf. (This happens a lot when I’m near, and knowing the signs – I asked…) I motioned to the toy and asked “Is this place haunted?” Carrie, the shift lead said: “You know – it is! Many times we’ll come into the store in the mornings – and several things will be on the floor. And we know it wasn’t like that when we left.” She went on to tell me her personal experiences several years earlier as a bar chain manager. “I ran a small chain of 5 bars out west for over 12 years. The owner and his wife swear that two of them are haunted by former customers. During closing late at night, He would hear male voices near a cluster of tables, never quite able to make them out. On more than one occasion he heard ‘Hey!'” There’s more “We had a lot of regulars, retirees who would come in early and wait for their other friends to stroll in. One older woman had her own mug, which we kept frosted for her. She would usually come in first, always with her deck of cards in case anyone wanted to play. She sat at the far end of the bar on her favorite stool. Well, after several years she passed away. Several weeks later, I took out her frosted mug and returned it to the dishwasher. Wouldn’t you know it, late night during closing I thought I seen a shadow out of my peripheral vision. But, I dismissed it and started counting down drawers.” In about an hour the owner came out and helped me with wiping down and moving chairs. He joined me behind the bar and then we heard the sound of cards shuffling. It was loud and clear. Cards shuffling at the end of the bar, where she sat. I looked at him, he looked at me. He said ‘I heard it.’ I put her mug back in the cooler and there it stayed.”
Carrie Has More Encounters
She went onto tell me about her only son. Many times after closing the bar, her son would jump into the bed of her pick-up truck to hitch a ride home with her after bar hopping on the weekends. So she wouldn’t be alarmed, he would bang on the sides of the bed so she would know he was there. This is important later… Tragically, her son was murdered. The wake was held at her home. In the family room was a table shrine, with flowers, photos and cards from the over 200 mourners who came to share in her loss. After everyone had left, Carrie went up to the table. She caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye, of his lanky shadow. She recognized him instantly because of his shaved head, it was a perfect silhouette. Several days later she was cooking, something her son loved doing with her and she was overwhelmed by his “scent.” She explained that mothers know that each child has a “scent.” She smelled his and called out to he husband “He’s here.” Her husband nodded in agreement. Several weeks later, Carrie leaving the bar late at night in her truck, heard loud banging. “This was clanking and pounding and banging from the back of my truck. I thought ‘He’s hitching a ride.’ Then I remembered he’s gone. This banging sounded like canned goods were smacking the sides of my truck. Since it was late, I waited until I pulled into a well lit parking lot. I carefully got out and peered into the bed. There was nothing. I think he wanted me to know ‘I’m here with you Mom.'”
Dollar Store Shenanigans
Becky
Once again, this time in a dollar store chain, a random paper towel pack literally flew off the shelf in front of me. So I asked Sherry the store manager. “Oh, yeah. Once I watched a framed picture wiggle up and over the shelf rail and fall to the floor! Two of us seen it. I would find dolls misplaced after hours on the floor. So I call her ‘Becky.’ If the girls clothes are tossed around in the morning I yell ‘Becky behave!’ ”
About two years ago, Sherry’s husband died unexpectedly. He had been ill, but Sherry and family were not prepared for his death. Months later while trying to lie down to sleep, she felt his depression on the bed next to her. She wasn’t afraid, she felt his hand touch hers. It comforted her. She drifted asleep. She went onto to tell about when her father died years prior. Her mom called and asked if she wanted any mementos. At the time, they lived out of state. So Sherry asked about her Dad’s class ring, and a few photos. A week later, she opened the envelope her mom had sent. It had several photos, a belt buckle, but the ring was missing. Sherry didn’t mind. When her mom called to ask if she received it, Sherry said she had to photos and buckle. After they hung up. Her mom called back ‘Did you get the ring?’ No ring. A year later, doing some spring cleaning, Sherry got the step ladder to clean the top of the curio cabinet. There was the ring. “No way could it have gotten up there. I needed a step ladder, not a stool to reach that. No one would ever get that high to put it there. I think Dad found a way to get it to me.”
More Chaos
At yet another dollar store location, I was behind the counter speaking to the manager. Above my head on a high shelf, dryer beads fell right in front of me, just missing my head. Before I could ask he shouted to anyone: “Did you see that! That just flew off the shelf!” He went on “I told her (district manager) this place is haunted! I was on speaker with her after closing when I heard all of these thuds from the back of the store. She (district manager) was watching the monitors (remotely viewing the CCTV) and said ‘I see it!’ She seen all of these cereal boxes just flying off of the shelves.” He went on “So many times items just in the aisles after I went and picked them up, crazy.”
Dollar Store Storm
One of my first encounters with flying products was at yet another dollar store location. This time, for no reason I could think of, a can of tuna fell at my feet. The first time this happened, it scared me and I ran up to the manager (who I was acquainted with) and said : “Oh hey is this store haunted?” Both her and her worker said : “Hell yes! We have it on camera!” She went onto say that each morning they would come in to open, it would be a huge strewn mess, even after putting out all products from truck day. Even if all U boats of products, nothing left in the backroom, all aisles were tidy the night before, it would be disarray. When the store finally installed security monitoring, which would tape for several hours and loop over – they caught it. ”When we came in to the wreck one morning, we went to the cameras. It took a while to find it, but we did. We all watched it, even our district manager. In the early morning hours all of the sudden, things just started flying off the shelves, like someone to a broom and swept them. I will not work here by myself at night, period. No one will!”
As I was in the huge backroom warehouse of a big box retailer. I noticed a small huddle of employees starting to gather near me. This almost always means a meeting, announcement or orientation is about to begin. Which means for me, relocate or I’d be intruding. But no, the night crew was gathering around a story telling employee. First it began with the crew counting all of the people that died at the store during business hours! There were two in the parking lot. One was found in his car after several days of missing work. Finally, someone recognized his car. Peered into the window to find him slumped. The second was a customer who overdosed in his car. Security noticed during a night patrol. The next was a co-worker on lunch break. The storyteller goes on to say: “I was sitting right next to him. He had his head down on his hands on the table. I thought he was sleeping. Thirty minutes after he didn’t come back from lunch, the assistant manager had me go look for him.” He was still there sitting at the table, head on hands. Then there was the customer, who had a massive heart attack in the shopping aisle and died on the scene.
But the real eerie tale began when the storyteller said – “That ain’t nothing wait till you hear this-“
“Come Play”….then he recounts HIS story. When I was eight years old, I moved into a three story townhome in (Midwest Small City) with my Mom, Dad and 13 year old sister. My room had the door which led up to the 3rd floor, which was basically he attic. Mom and Dad kept it shut, it was drafty and the steps were steep. Well, soon enough I would wake up late at night hearing the attic door open. There would be a little boy standing there. I wasn’t scared. This happened many times, it seemed almost nightly. I’d fall asleep most nights. I’d wake up to see him playing with my toys on the floor. He would say : “Come play.” Several times I’d hear the door open. He would be at my bed and say: “Come play.” Then he’d disappear. But most nights I’d wake up and he’d be waiting for me on the floor with my toys.”
I had to press him for details – this was the best ghost story, and I hate creepy dead kids! I asked him what did he do?! He said – “I played toys with him till I got too sleepy! He stayed playing while I crawled in bed and fell asleep. So I asked what happened then? ”Well, once at breakfast I finally mentioned how the boy kept me up late playing.” My sister freaked she did not believe me, thought I was making things up to scare her, trying to get another room, all kinds of things. Mom and Dad waved it off. So…I finally convinced her (his sister) to stay in my room for a few nights and see what happens.”
It Happened – the first few nights nothing. ”She was ready to call my bluff, but still stayed in my room. Then it happened. She heard the door open. They boy came up to the bed. As she laid there, he put his hand on her leg and said: “Come Play!” He disappeared. But she SCREAMED and ran out of there!”
So then what happened?! I asked. ”Oh it was a big deal, we only stayed there a little while longer and then moved. To this day me and my sister still talk about it.”
Me too! “Come Play!” Creepy dead kids playing at night…
My Interview with Darren after his life changing event
Darren asks “How do you describe perfect.” Darren found himself in the “perfect” place, or lack thereof after collapsing at home. Let me tell you about Darren. I’ve been acquainted with him for over 8 years. He was a slender, white-haired man in his early 60’s. He was a quick moving, helpful, dedicated worker a at big box store. If he didn’t know, he’d find out, he seemingly was everywhere at once. All co-workers liked him, all customers knew him. He’s a genuine, helpful, gentle man.
I hadn’t see him for months on end, and you know how it is, you get busy with your own life and you forget. I forgot until I happened to see Darren almost a year later, at the big box store on a motorized cart. He had gained weight substantially, so I almost didn’t recognize him. I was caught off guard and thankfully Darren volunteered about his ordeal. ”I died almost a year ago and had to learn how to walk and talk again.” I was astounded, he went on – “I had something happen while I was dead, everyone here knows about it.” He agreed to make sometime a few weeks later, to tell me his story in detail.
His Story begins mid-pandemic. He wore many hats at the big box store – and he was enlisted to clean the floors with a sterilizing solution. He had a sinus reaction, and after struggling at work, he finally had to go home early. He went home, sat in his comfortable chair – and collapsed. His wife found him unresponsive and called 911.
Darren was on a ventilator for 12 days. Unbeknownst to him, he had a brain deformity, a fluke which caused a stemic stroke, no bleeding. He was induced into a coma, and due to his sinus blockage, a feeding port was put into his stomach.
Darren is not a believer in God. He hopes there is a God. Nor is he familiar with near-death experiences. ”Someone told me that what they are called.” Darren found himself in total darkness. A black place. He couldn’t see or hear anyone or thing. Time does not exist there. It was infinite. ”It was perfect. Peaceful. Love. No need for anything.” Darren continues;” Felt a presence, felt everything was all good. There was no fear. I didn’t even care about my wife or family – they’ll be fine.” Amazed still as he recounts what happened, “No questions – no stress, just peaceful.”
Darren’s a real worker and on the side, he installed carpet with his friend. His friend was diagnosed with rectal cancer. He went through chemo/radiation, and he felt okay. But his doctors wanted surgery. In Darren’s experience, if the doctors don’t get it all – it spreads. His buddy went through the surgery. Later on a carpet job, his friend told him he didn’t feel well. Darren told him to go, he’ll finish. The next morning he called him. His daughter answered and told Darren he’d passed. He was 59. Darren was shocked. In the darkness (I called it the void) Darren knew he was there with him. He felt his mother (who died at 94) and others, but couldn’t see them. No one spoke. ”It was contentment.”
When Darren awoke – he was fighting the staff, he was so angry to be removed from the “perfect” place he had to be restrained. Initially, all memory was lost upon waking, but it came flooding back to him once he got his bearings. Hospital doctors and staff were dismissive about his ordeal. They insisted it was drug induced. The VA doctors listened. His therapist listened, too. He told everyone who’d listen at the hospital. They said all scans/monitors looked fine. They couldn’t place him as clinically dead.
Gradually he had to learn all of his motor skills again. It took one week before rising from bed. Two weeks before swallowing. Three months on a feeding port. Months going to a speech therapist. He ate ice cream through a feeding tube. All of his food came in boxes from Nestle. He had ordeals with the local VA hospital yanking his tube which released air.
What He’s learned. This has changed his perspective. “Money means nothing.” Everything in modesty, temperance. His mother was a RN. “She smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. She died at 94. She said many times that people choose how they will die. Let them pass either easy or hard.”
Darren has contemplated his experience extensively. He’s not afraid of death, he knows what’s coming. He believes in reincarnation. “Everything is matter. It doesn’t die.” He promised me that when the real time comes, he’ll think of God and look for a light. ”I’ll promise I’ll think about it.”
I’m going to write a series on my Cleveland concert going in the 90’s…and it wouldn’t be the 90’s in Cleveland without Mushroomhead!
I want to talk to you about all the fun I had at the infamous Agora in Cleveland Ohio. I want you to believe all the stories you’ve heard – Cleveland really does Rock. I’ve experienced so many Fantastic unbelievable garish sinfully outrageous bizarre concerts people and Situations at the awesome Agora and of course in the early days and the hey day of Mushroomhead! Because during the 90s it was nothing for me to see about 80 concerts a year, I feel it’s really important to document for those of you who weren’t there who wish you could have been there and those of you who should have been there to read and understand all about it.
I Cannot say enough about the Agora it’s my absolute favorite place to see a show in Cleveland. For one, it was general admission, my favorite. You could get as close or as far as you needed to be from the stage.
But first, the exterior… parking was so far away you had to walk a few blocks because the parking lot was always full, but the best spot was by a now-defunct Mr. Hero or the gas station right across the road on East 55th. You would have to start lining up along Euclid and wait in line until you got into the building. Posters that would line the side of the building, all from the 70s – half of the Bands I didn’t even know but I knew that they were important to Cleveland. By the time you were able to get in and you’d enter through a foyer and hallway and then you would turn to the left there would be the ticket window to the right and you’d have to go up some steps before you get stamps and later you’d have to get patted down but that’s after a lot of fisticuff. Being patted down in the metal detectors – that became normal probably I say sometime in about 94 when Mushroomhead started getting pretty gosh darn big. After getting through security there was a smaller bar to your right and one larger bar to your left and then there was the merch table you descend down some steps and there’d be all the Mushroomhead merch you want to fight over.
THE BALLROOM
It was separated into two venues joined by a common big huge hall, one was called the ballroom my absolute – favorite because it was so small and so near the bars and you had to walk down a another flight of steps to get down to it. It’s just a fantastic place you’d be smashed in there, so much fun. I’ll probably talk about that later. Mushroomhead was just too big to play in that section. Just wasn’t big enough to hold the crowds and Mushroomhead drew so big for a local band it was so hard to even get a ticket and I’ll go into that later too. The interior is so Majestic and has all these plaster reliefs I know they were crumbling but it was so royal it was almost like a museum. And then there are balconies . I never really went up there because I wanted to be close to the band but if you haven’t seen it you’ve got to.
THE THEATRE
The big theatre that’s where Mushroomhead played you’d walk through those doors they would be a Bar to the extreme right and then there would be all these rows of seats set up like a theater rotund so they would descend to the left and to the right. Along the walls they were series of steps then Plateau series of steps of plateau series of steps and then finally you would come down to the orchestra where you could descend the steps. It was huge space before the stage and the stage is up pretty high. Huge stage and a vast open space like I said they were balconies but they were also private to the left into the right more little private balcony booths. Again all kinds of plaster reliefs just an awesome awesome place.
Mushroomhead at the Agora would usually bring outstanding supporting bands with them local bands like Runt, 13 Faces of course Mushroomhead side project 216. In the early days Mushroomhead with string together a curtain of brown craft paper they would play all their intros and then Yank It Down they come out with wearing all kinds of masks- gas masks Ace Frehley mask Pig – Good Times. The original Roxy and Mario would be there all decadent. And the crowd would go wild they were hostile, violent, push you around crowd-surf all night long – but if you fell they would help you up it was a rarity when things got out of hand. Sometimes especially if guys got too drunk they would get it ejected. And I’m telling you I’ve never seen so much crowd euphoria and audience participation I mean from the get-go Mushroomhead had it. I’ve been to many kinds of shows and I know Mushroomhead are fans and I love Kiss, too, but I got to tell you nothing absolutely nothing could top a 90s Mushroomhead show – I’m talking even before the camo.
Mushroomhead became so big that ticket agencies started carrying their tickets. I stayed down in the pit but far enough away so I wouldn’t get smashed or too many people would fall on me that happened a lot. I lost a couple of shoes but being a short girl I just knew I wanted to be down in that action and they were loud make no mistake about it – my ears know and I’ve lost some hearing from too many shows but in order to get that full experience you had to be there! Like I said I’ve been to many Kiss shows but the level of people dressing like their heroes from Mushroomhead was crazy. Especially in the beginning when the mask was something that you could probably find at a store good stuff. A lot of the more risky girls would dress like Roxy. But I never understood why none of the guys tried to be like Mario, darn! As a footnote I wonder where that guy is now!
Mushroomhead used to toss all kinds of stuff into the crowd, sometimes their merch but mostly just things they bought specifically for the show. Speaking of merch even in the early days they had VHS then later DVDs stickers patches I remember them having jumpsuits masks and this was before all the camo of super Buick CD. Back in the crowd there were guys who landed on my head and I haven’t even touched on the Halloween shows so let’s start there.
HALLOWEEN
Mushroomhead Halloween at The Agora soon became legendary…. everyone would scramble to get a ticket. They have the biggest best show for Halloween they design stages specifically for the shows and they were super fun and again I’m talking about the Jman years. And anything with Jman was outstanding. Remember this was the 90’s so I was dressed as Batgirl. I remember trying to crawl out of the pit but somebody was stepping on my cape! There was a lot of booze beer pot crazy women trying to be Roxy, not too many Mario’s though! The Mush guys before the show with mingle in the crowd sometimes without their masks or makeup and then of course after the show. It was so unbelievably crowded in there a lot of guys sweating slimy drunk puking in the trash cans but it was so thrilling. I would take friends of mine who in no way shape form or means even remotely liked metal music, they’d go once and experienced it and want to come again! Problem of course was getting the money up to buy everyone’s ticket! So usually I’d have to rotate friends but from 93 on until Jman left I never missed a show. Only later after I experienced Waylon it just wasn’t the same for me I’m sure it wasn’t the same for a lot. There would be lines to the restroom people passed out sometimes the bouncers dragging guys out the side doors. The bar inside the theater was always lined up. The balconies were full of private parties amps were loud but luckily my hearing lost helped a lot.
The Faded Elegance of the Agora cannot be topped and one time when I did get a little tipsy cuz I’m usually light-duty and I don’t drink much. All I remember about a Mushroomhead show are three things – confetti, two tall guys looking down saying ‘ are you okay’ and my one friend in a balcony yelling down to me ‘hey I got up here .’ After that only two screwdrivers for me period. Can’t say enough about the crowd and how everybody was just part of the fan base and we all got it. We all knew the music cues and what to say and how to react. I’ll never forget all the girls in the restroom passed out vomiting smoking .
I’ve seen it least 80 shows minimum at the Agora alone. That place just hold so many great fun memories. I absolutely love the way it was so dark in there when you want to see a band so you’re just focused in that atmosphere. I never did drugs and like I said I was a light drinker so I am so fully aware of all the great things that went on and all the bizarre things that people did. These people were probably doing some recreational drugs worse they were drunk but boy were they having a great time. You’ve never seen so many shirtless big guys all sweaty because they’re in the pit it was a rarity to see a guy who still had a shirt on. It was a huge party to get your aggression out and to be honest since I was in the pit I’d keep track of Jman and that was about it. I was too busy hearing the music and making sure then I got out of there alive.
But absolutely everyone who attended those shows won the lottery. You are a multi-millionaire if you attended those shows and were able to see them in succession. Now bear in mind I live a good hours drive from there but I would go to Cleveland every time for Mushroomhead and then some. I would be remiss if I didn’t thank the owners of the Agora for all those great shows. Cleveland really does Rock no doubt about it.
I did see some other great shows there so many I really have to write them all down and think about but those that stand out especially are 311 in the ballroom. I went to get my friend a beer and you have to cross the crowd to go up the steps to get to the bar by the time I got the beer went down the steps across the crowd to get to my friend the beer can was crushed and there might have been a quarter of the beer left – great freaking times!
Mushroomhead at the Agora wow you had to be there -you can’t even describe the atmosphere so much excitement just leading up to it and the other bands opening bands Runt so fun and angry 216 angry Mushroomhead they were ferocious but it was a good anger not a violent anger. Everyone who I took to experience it would want to go again and again and again. It was unbelievable it was a phenomenon. People would be lined up around that building waiting to get in.
We actually knew the parking lot attendants at the Mr. Hero section. They recognized us that’s how often we were there. I remember the man telling me he recognized quite a few of the people but us especially because we came from afar. Mushroomhead was kind of like a movement it was different listening to the CD you had to experience it. I’ve seen them relatively recently and again not even close to what they were. A show then was a tangible feeling of excitement and energy like nothing else I’ve experienced since.
If you want to one show you probably went to them to them all!
Rich and Strange! 