Love And Hate

When I moved into my apartment last year, I can truthfully say that it was the absolute lowest point in my life.  My mother and I became estranged after the death of my father last year.  It was quite a shock to me since I always considered myself to be a "mama's boy" and I thought our relationship was on rock solid ground.

Little did I realize how much of a liability she considered me (because of my financial debacles) and how frightened she was to be left alone to run the family cab business that my father had built.  I should not say alone because she chose my younger brother with which to align herself, while she legally incorporated what was a smooth running cash Taxi business, leaving my name off of all the paperwork.

Sorry, but I am not being a jealous baby here.  While my father was alive, I was the one who handled all his affairs,and did all the business legwork after he lost his vision to "macular degeneration", and most certainly felt that I would be the one to continue to do so after his death.  I was not even offered a clue by my remaining surviving parent, as to how the "now legal" Taxi
business was to be run, and was  summarily cut off from its existence.

I am not embarrassed or ashamed to state right now that while I was busy pissing away the rather good income I earned my entire employed life (a union carpenter), I always had a deep rooted security in assuming that in my older years, I would inherit, or at least be a part of a million dollar Taxi franchise.  To be severed from the family business, due to my father departing from this world first, is a nightmare I could never have imagined.

Thus, the culmination of my Natural Disasters.

Oh, and by the way, the casino chips were genuine.  I sent the blond into the casino on her own as I waited in my car that I parked adjacent to valet parking.  There was no way I was going to go into the casino and stand next to that girl while she passed 25 - $5 chips that she found on the ground, in a white plastic bag, along with 2 hunters knives, outside the door of the visitors annex of the Union County Jail.  Blondie (see previous blogs) later told me that she pawned the knives herself for some pocket change.

So, as my ex "go-go girl" girlfriend emerged through the lobby doors of the Tropicana Casino, with no security guards on her tail, I beeped the horn to alert her as to my location, which I changed after dropping her off.....just in case. 

She hopped in, handed me my cut, and we drove off to another casino up the road, where she proceeded lose her share, and I managed to somehow not even gamble one penny  of it. I just couldn't see driving 2.5 hours to come home empty handed .

As I continue to recount the numerous self inflicted disasters of my life, I am reminded of a glowing bright spot that ventured into my life during the weeks and months that followed the move into my new apartment last year.

This splash of happiness came in the form of a little 4 year old Indian boy named Manu, who resided in the apartment next to mine.  I will save the tale of our meeting and the bond that we developed for a new blog page. This little boy named Manu, who could not speak a word of English, would give my life some meaning again, and help me to understand the power that love and caring for others can have in filling our voids in life.