2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 5,300 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Sonny Ricks

“What’s so new about Mexico”?

That is the question Sonny posed to me while driving down Washington Blvd.  Though I was no geography expert, at 16 I knew the states pretty well.  I was laughing, assuming he was making a joke.  When I turned to look at him he was staring at me seriously.  “Are you being serious?”  I said laughing.  “Yes!  What the hell is so new about Mexico?”  I couldn’t breath I was laughing so hard.  “Sonny, it’s a state!”  I replied.  “No it’s not.”  Sonny was two years my senior and definitely a smart guy.  Why this failed to make sense to him still has me laughing today.  He didn’t believe that New Mexico was a state until I went home (to my parents house) and looked it up in the set of encyclopedias my parents owned.  Even then he thought it was some conspiracy against him.

Or the time he came home from the police academy and was complaining of his calf hurting.  We looked and he had two small red marks on his calf.  Sonny looked at me with all sincerity and said, “I think a snake bit me.”  I started to roll around on the carpet in laughter and said, “You didn’t get bit by a snake.”  Sonny’s retorted, “You DON’T KNOW, you’ve never been bitten by a snake!!”  I was in tears from laughter and said, “…Neither have you!”

Sonny always had the ability to make me laugh.  His sense of humor was off the wall and his wit was quick.  We spent so many hours just driving around and talking about what we were going to be when we grew up.  We’d listen to police scanners, knowing that this would help us learn the 10 codes, and just dream of the day we’d become cops.  For me it was a way to show every teacher that said I couldn’t be a cop I could, but for Sonny it was a way to help those less fortunate.

When Sonny was finally hired on as Salt Lake City Police it was one of his most proud moments.  Unfortunately it would be our marriages downfall.

I met him when I was 13, married when I was 21 and divorced when I was 22.  Those 9 years were pivotal in shaping who am I today.  We both taught each other so much about life and though he couldn’t take the strain of living anymore, I’ll always remember him as the “Dr. Pepper” guy.  It wasn’t until our divorce that Sonny turned to alcohol to medicate his emotional traumas.

In our numerous conversations in the last few years I would encourage him to get help.  Hell, I even wrote to the TV show Intervention hoping they could give him the help the rest of us couldn’t.  But in true Sonny fashion he refused help and bull headedly claimed he was doing fine.  But those of us that really knew him where aware this was a lie.  Knowing the pains he suffered as a child, the pain of our divorce, the suicide of his wife clearly led me to believe that Sonny, yet again, was suffering.

I’d take his calls at 2am and listen to his woes.  I’d listen to him speak about work, the meaning of life, the downfall of people in general.  In all of this I’d know, and tell Sonny, that he was hurting.  On numerous occasions I told him that he was acting tough when he just wanted to be weak.  Most times he’d mock me for saying such things, but I stood strong in my opinion and usually, he’d concede that he was lost.

He’d ask me over and over why I loved life.  I’d try to explain that it’s the people, groups we involve ourselves in and passion for anything that keeps people going.  I tried explaining that his love of animals could be a passion.  I told him to volunteer to anything he liked, but he just didn’t seem ready to involve himself in anything.

We spoke frankly about Aimee (his wife who committed suicide) and on most occasions he’d try to down play this traumatic event.  Well downplay isn’t the word, he’d try to act as though he were ok with it.  We all knew better.

 

On Dec. 16^th I got a text from a friend that grew up with us asking if I’d heard about Sonny.  Immediately I knew.  I knew that the burden of living was just too much for Sonny and that he had taken his own life.  When it was confirmed that he was dead I didn’t even need to ask how, I knew.  I’d known for years that Sonny wasn’t meant to remain here with all the trauma he’d endured in his short life.  But even knowing this, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d done everything I could for him.  Could I have called more often?  Could I have had him over at the house more?  Could I have text him each day to make sure he was ok?

And then reality hit me.  It wouldn’t have mattered.  None of those things would have helped Sonny.  Those things would have helped me cope better.  Only Sonny could help Sonny and he was tired of trying.  And truly, who am I to judge another person and their decisions?  Who am I to say this was the wrong decision for him?  Selfishly I wish he would have chosen some other way to cope, but that’s not for me to decide right?  Selfishly I want to get more phone calls from Sonny (even the annoying early morning ones).  Selfishly I wish I could have had the perfect words to change Sonny’s life.  But none of us have this power.

So with tears in my eyes I will say goodbye to you.  I still have every single letter we ever exchanged, and when I won’t become a slobbering mess, I’ll go through them and think of you when you were happy.  I have a lock of your hair, and I’ll touch it remembering how safe you used to feel.  I still have a motorcycle key from the accident, and I’ll remember how endearing and protecting you were when tragedy struck.  I still have every picture from every high school dance and I’ll protect and preserve them for the remainder of my days.  But most of all, I have 9 years of incredible memories from when we were kids to becoming adults.  I had ALL my firsts with you.  First road trip, first dinners out, first date, first hand holding, and my first sexual experiences.  You’re an amazing man Sonny and my life would never have been the same without you.  Thank you for loving me.  I consider myself lucky that I had the chance to love you back!

Karma’s a bitch …

So I’ve been told …

This week I’ve had the great opportunity to watch a person’s actions turn right around and bite them in the ass … and I’d be lying if I weren’t a little bit giddy about the whole ordeal.  When a person is in the habit of doing and saying horrible things about others it’s bound to catch up right?

It’s been my experience that people who manipulate get away with it so long that we don’t get to see the full consequences catch up, but fortunate for me I’m still around to see this person get what they deserve.  I’m not usually one to wish harm upon anyone,  so I was surprised at my delight in someone’s misfortune.

I’ve watched this person lie more times than I can count, watched her manipulate her co-workers but most of all, this person lacks a conscious.  She seriously has no regard for others (including her family) but herself.  She is the epitome of selfishness.

So when I heard that her supervisors finally saw through her sham and that they actually took action against her I laughed.  Not the, “funny ha ha” laugh but the “it’s about fucking time” laugh.  I actually had the urge to send her a text, but then it struck me.  What kind of person mires in another’s misery?  And then I answered my own question … woman like her.  I don’t want to be anything like her, so instead I thought I’d throw up a blog about Karma (no I’m not a believer of Karma but continue on … )

Too often we place our hopes, fears and worries into some mystical concept.  “I sure hope I get that job” translates into “I’m afraid I won’t get that job.”  Stop hoping for things and just do them.  If your worried you won’t get the job, fill out another application (or 100, whatever eases your fears.)

I had “hoped” that this person would get what was coming to them, but in reality I was afraid that she would continue to get away with it.  Instead, I should have realized that you can only slip and slide in the snow so many times before you fall on your ass.  Well, ex co-worker liked slipping in the snow and I should have known that eventually she’d fall on her ass.  I have wasted too much time and concern on things I can’t change, and this ex employee is proof of wasted time and emotion.

There is no designed plan of the universe.  It’s a bunch of chaos, but with enough time and patience, you find an order to it all.  Don’t let other people’s chaos interfere with the time you should be spending finding the order of your own chaos.

Becki Woldberg Hadley

Truly, where do I begin?  My first memories of my life include you.  I can remember you were a constant in my youth.  I think I was one when we met and I can’t remember a time running through the neighborhood without you and Kelli.

One of my favorite memories was climbing up your mom’s linen closet to the little hide out/kid playroom stashed behind all the towels.  If I remember correctly you had a small table and chairs and a light with a string attached too it.  It smelled like mothballs and dust, but it was filled with giggles and plans of trouble (you know, big trouble like devising a plan to ride our bikes when it was dark out.)

I remember hide and seek, ding dong ditching and jump rope.  I remember your sister reading me Edgar Allan Poe when I was nine and since that time I’ve read him with an obsession!  I remember you playing mamba at our house and whipping your head so fast that you hit the corner of our piano chair with your forehead.

And who can forget the big wheel races in the basement?  Hitting the brakes so quickly it would whip us around in a 360!  And the big ass queen bed that we would all snuggle into when our parents were shit faced!

With all sincerity those were some of the best times of my life!  That carefree attitude with friends is what we still crave in our adult lives.

I still try to understand why it all fell apart when Kelli died.  Perhaps our parents’ seeing each other was just too much of a reminder of the past.  Perhaps we didn’t know what to say.  Perhaps it’s just a part of life to fall away from one another, but I know that you will always have a piece of me, and I’ll have a piece of you … my god, we were practically sisters!  Though it’s been ages since I’ve seen you, you truly are a part of me I carry and think about everyday!

Thank you Becki for being such a huge part of my life growing up and helping shape me into who I am today!

Catching up …

Going back to school is the best thing I’ve ever done for myself!  But in doing so, I’ve found less time to write in my blog.  With writing critical analysis and making chapbooks (look it up it’s really cool!) I’ve found less time to write about what’s going on with general life.

Wyatt and Cheyenne are doing amazing in school (straight A’s) and both are spending the weekends with their dad.  Makes me sad not to have them here on their days off school, but I know that their school work is getting done.  I hate that we can’t just pack up the car and head off to the museum or planetarium … we did get a telescope so my spaced out (in the good way) son can enjoy the night sky.  Cheyenne is obsessed with duct tape and making wallets with it.  It’s amazing to watch them grow up and find their interests.  Wyatt has his whole life mapped out, ok he’s had it down for at least 3 years, and he’s determined he will get his PhD in geology (he’s going to be a Palentologist of course!)

Rizzi is still at the S.O, but it’s worked out really well.  Rizzi is my constant, my best friend and just amazing!  I’d be lost without her and quite frankly she’s put up with more than she has too!  I’d be so damn lost without her!!

I start the U of U in Jan and I’m so excited!  It’s amazing to follow your dreams!  Don’t let fear tether you from your life … that is my best learned lesson this year!

Keri Lynn Jones

I was scared for her.  Rizzi was the non-bio parent to her son and I, being “new” to the lesbian world, was unsure of what could happen to her rights as a parent.  I was scared that she would lose her son.

I love research, always have and always will.  It began with a phrase in the Google bar, “Non-bio mom Utah.”  A name that I will never forget popped up.  Keri Lynn Jones.

Once I double clicked the story my heart was pounding, I was afraid of what this article would tell me.  As I read, I learned that Keri was a non-bio mom fighting to keep the rights to a little girl, who happened to be the same age as my Cheyenne.  The Utah Supreme court was reviewing her case and no decision had been made.

I became obsessive.  I would check weekly for news about this stranger’s case.  What was she feeling?  Was she optimistic?  Was she as scared shitless as I felt?  All those questions would be answered on 16 February 2007.

The Utah Supreme Court told her she wasn’t a parent.  They had the audacity to say that all the plans she made prior to her daughters arrival meant nothing.  They told her that the taking turns to feed and diaper this beautiful girl were all in vain.  But most of all, the Utah Supreme Court told Keri Lynn Jones her love for the little girls she’d spent years raising was not enough.  I was stunned.  I read the whole entire dissent and cried … and cried … and cried.  I found comfort in my daughter, but I couldn’t help but think that Keri, a complete stranger, was robbed of this comfort.

I wanted to hug her!  I wanted to fight with her!  I wanted to do ANYTHING to help this mom.  This feeling was so overwhelming that I began researching more about her.  I found out she worked at Equality Utah and, lucky day, they had a listed phone number.

I slowly picked up the phone.  I set it down. What would I say?   This woman knew nothing about me.  I picked up the phone again and set it down immediately.  I couldn’t very well call and start crying right?  I picked up the phone and began dialing.  Talking to myself (and yes it was out loud) I said, “there is nothing you can say or do to make her feel better!”  I stared at my phone.  Perhaps I was doing this to make myself feel better.

I hit send… no going back now.  My heart was racing.  I had never randomly called a stranger to let them know how bad I felt for them.  Would she be receptive or annoyed?  Would I only make this harder for her?  As these thoughts were racing through my mind I kept reminding myself not cry.

“…Hello??”  Oh geez, I missed her answering the phone because I was so wrapped up in my pep talk.

“Can I speak to Keri Lynn Jones please?” I asked.

“This is her.”

She sounded little, that was my first thought.  She sounded so young and sweet.

“Hi Keri, my name is Marcy and you have no idea who I am…”

I’m sure she had these calls numerous times and I assume that my call didn’t have a big impact, but for me it was the beginning of being involved with something larger than myself.

I can’t remember everything I said but I do remember telling her I’d hold her hand through hell to make sure she could hold that little girl again.  I remember crying, breaking a promise I made to myself prior to my call.

Since that first call so much has happened in her life…good and bad, but I’m so glad that I get to be a part of it all (even if it’s a blog post at a time.)

I think of her often, speak of her often and fight for rights on a daily basis.  Keri has taught me how to deal with adversity with grace and dignity.

“This blog is open to invited readers only ….”

“….Please contact the blog author …”

I wish I could!  You see she left this world on March 09, 2011 and I can’t seem to delete her blog, even though I no longer have access because she isn’t here to moderate her posts.

I met her in 1997 at the Box Elder County Sheriff’s Office.  She was leaving to go to Weber County and I was taking her spot … she actually gave me her badge on her way out the door.  We worked together only one day at Box Elder but our futures would be intertwined.

Come to find out numerous cops rely on rumor for truth, and the stories about Jewel had me scared of her when I was finally hired at Weber County.  I actually avoided her in the beginning, but that all changed when we were sent to training together, sharing a hotel room in St. George.

I’m an ass clown.  I’ll admit it.  I like to break the ice with humor and I didn’t change that tactic with this beautiful Polynesian co-worker.

After settling in the hotel room I wanted to take a bath and freshen up, I was sweaty from the heat of Southern Utah roasting me in my long car ride.  I entered the bathroom, started up the tub, while Jewel was meticulously unpacking her bags.

It was unreal how put together this woman was.  I had my overstuffed bag of cosmetics; deodorant, make-up  and other potions flopped out on the counter.  She had unpacked her toiletrie bag and everything had a set place on the counter.  Hairbrush, then face lotion, next to the body lotion, next to the cosmetics.  It was in order of use.  This was in major contrast to my sporadic, uncoordinated way of getting through life.

As I undressed I could hear her unpacking her bag of clothing and actually hanging up her clothes.  I had no fucking idea people actually used those closets.  I had assumed, up until this point, that everyone was like me and lived out of her bag for the few days you were thrown into key card living.  This made her interesting and uptight in my hastily formed opinion.

The bath was full of hot water and just right to relax my aching muscles.  Feet first, sit down and slip back, letting my face submerge in the water.  I slowly lift my head out of the water, like a mermaid breeching the water and close my eyes and begin to think.  Bath time for me is the best time for thinking.  On this day I couldn’t help but concentrate on breaking the ice with a co-worker I knew nothing about.  Should I start out with a little chit chat about work?  Boring!  How about recent social events in the news?  What am I thinking, I hardly keep up with world events and if she was the worldly type her assumption would be that I was a complete idiot (perhaps I was at that age.)  All the while I kept hearing the light clinking noise of hangers being hung in the small box otherwise known as a closet.

My mind wondered and I opened my eyes too be greeted again with marvel in the line up Jewel had created on the bathroom counter.  I glanced at my mess next to hers and it hit me … I didn’t bring my damn lotion!

That’s it!  That’s how I’ll open the door to conversation.  But how does one go about asking an essential stranger to borrow something?  Will she think I’m weird to be asking to use her stuff without knowing one another?  Will she assume that I’m just a person without boundaries?  Fuck I hate being a girl sometimes!

No, I’d take the path of humor and to this day I’m glad I did!

While lying naked in the tub I mustered up the sultriest voice I could and said, “Heyyyy Jewwwwel.”  At this point a smile spread across my face and it took everything I had not to laugh.  You see once those words, drenched in sex, came out of my mouth that light clicking noise of clothes IMMEDIATELY stopped and a very unsure and shaky voice answered with, “yeah??”  One thing I knew about Jewel is that she was a strong, and obviously, well put together person and I had just thrown her for a loop.  Once that shaky response was given I changed tactics.  With a voice that can only be described as “Barbiesk” with all the perkiness of a cheerleading squad, I said, “Can I borrow your lotion.”  You heard the relief in her voice.  I heard her sigh and she responded, in much the same voice as mine, “of course you can.”  That’s all it took.  That one moment of ass clownery changed our whole dynamic.

I let the water out of the tub, draped a towel around my body and walked towards the counter, spying all the delicious flavors of lotion to choose from.

TBC ….

Undercover

I was sitting on campus Tuesday watching all the 18-20 year old girls traipsing around in their mini-skirts, short shorts, knee high boots and flip flops and couldn’t help but think about myself at that age.

I, standing alone outside the Social Science building smoking, watched as everyone passed by.  And then I saw him … the poster child of law enforcement.  You’ve seen him before.  He has a Crew cut, stoic look on his face, somewhat muscular frame and usually wearing BDU pants during his casual time.

At that moment I couldn’t help but think that I was an imposter … an undercover agent in the Law Enforcement world who now knew all their secrets.

Perhaps I’m over simplifying the last 16 years of my life, but I never fit in from the beginning.  I was 20, 85 pounds and female to top it all off when I started the academy. I had decided to apply for law enforcement after being told I couldn’t be a cop by a high school teacher (more than one actually.)  I had a chip on my shoulder and wanted to prove to others that I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up.  I’ll show them!

Thus began my undercover gig.  From working shift work and being line staff bitching about administration to infiltrating the ranks of Sergeant.  Then my assignment took me to the SWAT team as a negotiator.

All of these things were done as if I were a reporter on special assignment.  I took my role seriously.  I immersed myself in their culture; listened to their stories, cried tears over the horrible things humans will do to one another … I was one of them.

But was I?  There were more times throughout my undercover gig that I was perplexed at decisions made my administration, people who donned uniforms merely so they could punish inmates mentally (and sometimes physically), and the good ol’ boy attitude was in full effect throughout my assignment.  I wasn’t this person!  I wasn’t one to judge others, I wasn’t one to get off on being an asshole and I sure as hell wasn’t one of the “boys.”

It was in November of this year that I knew I had to get out.  I knew that I would completely lose Marcy if I didn’t start detoxing from my undercover work.  Sure I had only 7 years left to gain a retirement, but at what cost?  That fear is what had kept me there … well and the fact that I truly felt like a cop now.  I had given up so much about Marcy that I actually started believing I couldn’t do more with my life.  It took a death of a friend for me to remember that this was only an assignment, one that should have lasted less time.

So after 15 years my gig was up.  My undercover work was complete on April 28^th, and to be quite frank, it feels like I’ve been paroled.  Not paroled into a state institution, but one of higher learning.  And each time I see a police car, someone in uniform or a person that has the appearance they could be a poster child for Law Enforcement, I’m reminded of my undercover work and how grateful I came out of it still being Marcy.

Paul Garcia

It took years for us to finally work together, but it was Kiesel in this last year.  Too be honest, I had no idea you had a sense of humor, boy was I wrong.

Your amount of respect is unmatchable and your work ethic is second to none.  You always complete a task without complaint and when I was a Sergeant I wanted a whole shift of Paul Garcia’s.  You are relaxed but ready for anything.  Your stoic with just a hint of personality when it came to working with inmates.  I always looked forward to the Wednesdays that we worked together, you had a way of making them interesting, fun and quick.

Now your politics .. they are completely wrong but I can forgive that .  No really, we don’t agree on most political topics, but again, you are always respectful in your opinions and know how to debate without allowing personal feelings to interfere (not found often enough I might add.)

Paul, I miss working with you … hell I just miss you.  I think of you often and please know that I was always thankful to talk and work with you!

Brian Baggs

Ah, my own personal Frodo!!

We worked together but truly our draw to each other; …. The best baseball team EVER … the New York Yankees (truly I didn’t have to write out their name as everyone with half a brain knows this team is the best!)

It was during the World Series a couple of years ago when you and I would spend most the games chatting with each other over Facebook and then you began sharing with me some of the crazy things going on in your personal life (good to know it’s the past right??)  You’ve since moved on and have an incredibly wonderful life, but I miss our time on Facebook just catching up.

Your intelligent, witty, crazy (in a good way of course), and just plain fucking strange.  Those are the reasons I love you so much!

You love animals and who can hate a person like that?  I miss running into you at work, your shit talking and your even temper.  You truly are a great friend to have and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wish we spent more time together!

Thanks for being a great friend to me and always lending support …