Wednesday, May 15, 2013

My First Bike Ride


When you are four years old, there is only one thing you must learn before you are considered a “big kid” and that is how to ride a bike without training wheels. If you still have training wheels you can’t join any biker gangs or go on any bike excursions. I practiced like a fiend usually before lunch and after nap time. These were the perfect times for practice because then I was fully energized and ready to pedal. I rode continuous circles around the green belt in the town homes where my family lived at the time.
One night I was on my last lap without the training wheels everything I had ever done had all led up to this. I surpassed a different member of my family as I rode around the giant complex and they kept me going, cheering me on with encouraging words. Almost finished, I could see my front door and accomplishment was building up. I heard one last cheer from everyone, and in a swift moment of distraction, lost all control then collided head first with a hanging metal “for sale” sign that was posted in the neighbor’s lawn. The beast knocked me right off my bicycle and threw me to the floor. It was an unforeseen enemy. Low clouds had overcast the arena and a sudden wind began to kick in. A slow trickle of rain fell onto the ground landing onto my cut knee and face. My mom ran over, and I no longer knew if I was crying or if my face was wet from the rain. Helping me up from under my red bike she said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, bubba.”
            I trudged along till we reached the steps, “I did so good, huh, mom?”
            “Yes you did! I’m so proud of you, in fact once we get you cleaned up there’s a Butterfinger in the fridge for you.”
            The following week my mom thought it would be a good idea to take a bike ride outside of the confines of the townhomes. I have not ever ridden on the street before so I didn’t know what to expect, but I was very excited. I just had to be sure to follow any directions my mom gave me and to always stay on the sidewalk. It was mid-April and everything was in bloom. The trees swayed like monkeys moving vine to vine which caused leaves to fall and get crushed beneath my tire. Sometimes they would get caught in my wheels spoke and make a noise that I imagined a motorcycle made when starting up.
Bright oranges, vivid pinks and blues illuminated the dessert sky until it all cast over to an ominous purple that was caressed by glowing city lights. Once the sun set, we headed for the streets. Starting with a quick warm up, we circled the green belt, then we headed off out towards 23rd Ave. I had never been there on my bike before. It was a place I had only seen from the booster seat in the car. Other kids were playing across the street kicking around a soccer ball. The tantalizing song that every child knew crept up behind me. I looked back and a line had begun to form in front of the big white ice-cream truck.
It only took a few minutes to finally leave our complex behind and enter a whole new world! I was keeping a steady pace, but every now and then I had to duck in order to avoid getting hit by low hanging tree branches. The street was desolate, and my brother rode into the middle of it, which my mom didn’t seem to mind since there were no cars coming. It was as if we were the last people on earth and everyone else had been exterminated in a zombie apocalypse.
            “CAR!” I belted out, to my mom, as an oncoming car sped towards my brother.
            “Joshua Anthony get back on the sidewalk!” my mom only used his middle name if she meant business! “Okay so I want you two to listen to me, we are going to reach an intersection up here, okay?” Both my brother and I continued to ride and listen. “When the light turns and the sign says we can go, I want you two to just ride across Josh you go first I will go in the middle then Jonathan, you follow me.”
            “Why does Josh get to go first? Why can’t I go first?”
            “Because Josh has known how to ride a bike longer then you have! Just follow me Jonathan this is very important!”
            We approached the intersection of 23rd and Camelback no more than a minute later and were at rest for only a little while to review one final time what my Mom had told us. Right across the street was a Burger King. I had never eaten there, but I had always watched it pass by in the car. Everything was a vast change, all the bright lights and reckless noises. I was a bit dumbfounded. My head was spinning.
            Just then the light changed to red and all the cars to my left came to a sudden screech. Across the way the mechanical light said “WALK.”
            “Okay, Josh, you can go!” my mom shuffled him along and he rode across without any hesitation. Then she bolted right after him. I was still trying to get a hold of the pedals and get a good grip on my handle bars. By the time I left the sidewalk they were in the middle of the crosswalk vastly approaching the other end.  We were headed northbound on the left side of the intersection. I kept looking to my right at the mesmerizing red light. When I reached the middle of the intersection my mom and brother were on the other side and I was lost. Half way in the intersection, I began to turn left, heading west bound into traffic. There I was a tiny four year old riding next to a colossal silver monster truck that had the letters 4x4 stamped on the back. Once my mom saw this, she dropped her bike and sprinted into traffic to come save me. When the light turned green, the man in the truck called her a “stupid idiot” and loud horns began to honk. The next thing I knew I was on the sidewalk in my mom’s arms crying, and my bike was there too. For all I know my mom’s super human maternal senses tingled and she stopped time, kicked that guy’s ass and brought me back to the sidewalk safe and sound.      
            My mom held me in her arms for what felt like a lifetime.
“Mom, what did that man call you?”  I asked picking my head up from her soaked shoulder, “A very bad name!” she said.
I forgot my brother was even there until he said, “Can we get Burger King?” She thought it would be a good idea to go in after what just happened and take a break, “I can see if they’ll let me use their phone to call dad.” My mom was still a bit shaken up.
The aftertaste of Burger King still remained in my mouth when we got home that night. I retold the story to my dad as if I were the star in a big action film. He sat me on his lap and said, “This is something you will remember for the rest of your life.”   

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Big Brother


Every individual, when broken down to their finest form, is composed of the same anatomy. Five senses: sight, hearing, taste, touch and smell. We each contain a heart that beats at different speeds; some thump and bump rapidly while others hold a slow monotonous pace. Then there are others that cease all together. But perhaps it only stops for a short moment in time—due to heartbreak. You aren’t dead but you don’t feel alive anymore.  All you do is exist; you go through the most difficult motions of life while others proceed to pass you by.  And although we can’t control anyone’s behavior, we can control how we decide to react.  So perhaps we aren’t all composed of the same anatomy. There are people in the world who are blind, deaf, missing limbs, special needs, black, white, purple, orange…whatever. The point is, when it comes to basic appearances it is obvious that we are all different. Yet, we all have simple emotions. Each of us have those “buttons”, and when pushed they tend to set us off (whether it make us sad, angry, annoyed or embarrassed), we all have these triggers. 
                On St. Patrick’s Day my family sat out on the patio to enjoy the nice weather and our newly revamped backyard. There were lights that dimly shown upon the food as we all indulged.  I always figure, we are either very hungry or the food is very good if the conversation is kept to a minimum.  That night it was me doing a lot of talking and eating, partly because I was extremely hungry and also because I can’t stand unnecessary silence! When the meal came to an end, we all began to banter about different things from the past, to what we having going on in the upcoming week. I grabbed some things that were set upon the patio table and brought them to the kitchen then came back. It was just my mom, brother and myself for the moment, and my brother turned to my mom and said, “So when do you think I can get my drivers license? You know how much I love classic cars.” He was neither begging or pleading he just seemed to state something that had been on his mind.
                My mom replied, “Sweetie, you won’t be able to get your drivers license because you have uncontrolled seizures.”
                “Yeah but I really want it!”
                “What would happen if you were driving and you had a seizure? That would cause a big accident. Maybe we can talk to dad about getting a classic car to drive you around in.”
my brother Josh & his girlfriend Diane
                My older brother was 23, he’ll be 24 in July, yet he has the mental capacity of about an eight year old. At times it can be very difficult having an older brother with special needs. I have always wondered how my sister was able to get along with him with such ease, while him and I do nothing but fight. There are days where we get along, and I think as I have gotten older I’ve become more understanding of it all. But somehow it scares me; when my parents, “What’s going to happen to him when we aren’t there anymore?”  My mom has told me I need to be so grateful for what I have, because I have a brother that will never be able to drive, get married, live on his own or go to college.
                Maybe he won’t be able to do any of those things, but he’s made so much progress from what I can remember.  He’s making his own bed now, and being a bit more independent when he gets dressed. Perhaps he can’t drive, but he is learning to play the guitar which he has loved to do for as long as I can remember. He sings the blues like he is B.B. King or any famous Blues singer. And although I don’t know a hell of a lot about bowling, he comes home saying how well he did.
He isn’t your typical big brother and I know he never will be. There are days where he annoys me, makes me laugh and even proud. He’s my family, my “big brother”, and I’ll always love him.