Pulp Non-Fiction

August 17, 2008, about 9:30AM

Lazy Sundays are hard to come by for me because of the new job I got about 6 weeks ago, When they asked me if I was available to work on weekends, I didn't realize they meant I would work every weekend. Anyway, you live, you learn. However, I had requested this day off, not just to sit in bed and watch "The Practice" on Tivo, but to be a loyal servant to the Queen of Wakanda; my best friend turned girlfriend, Jesika. We have been dating for about a year and a half and have been living together since May. This is the first time I have lived with a woman who couldn't tell stories about how I used to throw up on everyone as a baby, and while I must say it has been an adjustment, it has been the most fun time I have ever had in my life. Anyway, she was already up, perusing her library of recorded programs on her Tivo. Finally she settled on watching "Nigella Bites" on the Food Network. Last but not least, laying under his "mommy", was the Feline Prince of Wakanda, and my newest "little homey", Snoopy the Wonder Cat. Moving in with Jesika meant that at the very least, I had to make an attempt to co-habitate with Snoopy. When I moved in, I was armed with a family pack of Zyrtec, and Band-Aids for when he channeled the spirit of a feral Wolverine. But as it turned out, Snoopy rarely triggered any sneezing and was as friendly as could be. When I work on my laptop at the table, he climbs up on my computer bag, lays down and watches me click away. If in my superhero fantasy world, I am He-Man, he is undoubtedly, my Battlecat.

Anyway, my servitude on this day was not because of any punishment or forced subordination. Today was August 17th, Jesika's birthday and I had promised, I took the day off, and Jesika's wish was my command. Now, I am not Diddy or Jay-Z, and Jesika knew this, so there were no private jets to Monte Carlo or Dubai. But as always when we go out, fun is definitely had, so once we got dressed, we got in my Santa Fe, and headed off to Portage, Indiana for a rendezvous with a knight and clown.

August 17, 2009, about 7:00AM

Restful nights of sleep are becoming harder and harder for me to come by, and today was certainly no exception. I had only been to Jesika's grave site one time since she passed away in April, and while trips to my father's grave site have become a calming, almost meditative experience, I wasn't expecting that same type of thing on my trip to the Mt. Vernon Cemetery, I felt nothing but sadness, and anxiety, and anger. Because of the sudden and painful way Jesika had to die. Because of the way Jesika's family treated me and the rest of my family. Because I didn't and still don't have any idea of what the rest of my life will hold for me. As I have said before, marrying and starting a family with Jesika was THE plan, and everything else was to fall in place around that. Now, I am just like a boat with no sail and no motor, just floating and moving at the whim of the current of life. Now, I had gotten word that a member of Jesika’s family, who as I understood, still continued to express hostility towards my family and I, was supposed to be visiting Jesika’s grave on the same day, and I thought it best not to go to the cemetery alone. So, I called, Jesika’s childhood friend, Becky. (For the record, I call her Jesika’s friend, not because she isn’t my friend, because she very much is, but I just want to provide context.) Anyway, before I knew it, 11:00 had struck and Becky was ringing the doorbell. After exchanging greetings and checking in on each other, we were off to Lemont for our rendezvous with our departed and beloved Jesika.

August 17, 2008, about 12:00PM

After racing down the Chicago Skyway, we made it just in time to the IMAX theatre in Portage to catch the matinee showing of “The Dark Knight”, the first phase of Jesika’s birthday celebration. I don’t think either of us had ever seen a movie on IMAX since seeing the space shuttle movie at the Musuem of Science and Industry, and it was well worth the drive. It was incredible. Jesika was always someone who stayed pretty laid back, but I think she really had fun. She even screaming and grabbed my arm with the Joker made the “pencil disappear”. We had a great time. When the movie was over, and we walked in the parking lot, I told Jesika that I would take her to any restaurant she wanted. Frontera Grill, Park 42, Morton’s, anything was fair game. Jesika’s choice; The Olive Garden. I asked her if she was sure, and she insisted that she was. So off to Calumet City we went.

August 17, 2009, about 12:30PM

The ride to the cemetery was about 45 minutes, and during our trek, Becky and I discussed the different travails we were facing in each of our lives. As I drove, I realized, 2009 has been just an awful year for a lot of people. A lot of death, a lot of pain, and a lot of unforeseen changes. If I were to have one prayer, it wouldn’t be for mercy or enlightenment. It would be just to just endure until January 1, and then to have the opportunity to try to start fresh in 2010. Eventually, we made it to the gates of the cemetery, and before we knew it, we were standing at Jesika’s grave. Her temporary grave marker, an 8x10 inch slab of marble simply stated her name, her dates of borth and death, and the phrase “BELOVED DAUGHTER”. In the weeks leading up to this moment, I had run through this scenario many times in my mind. What will I say? What is one of Jesika’s family is there and there is some kind of confrontation? Will I be able to hold it together? As it turned out, when we arrived to the cemetery, there didn’t appear to be ANYONE in the whole graveyard. And as I stood before Jesika’s final resting place, I couldn’t think of anything to say. It was like I was there in suspended animation, my eyes fixed on the grave marker. All I heard was the sound of the various insects in the trees and the traffic on Archer Street. Physically speaking, I felt numb except for the heat and humidity of the August after beading down on my bald head and the back of my neck. Emotionally, it was like I was frozen in ice. It was hard to move, it has hard to speak, it was hard to tap into how I was feeling. Eventually, I was able to eek out a few words expressing how much I missed and loved her. After a few more minutes, Becky went back to the car, and left me alone at Jesika’s grave. I stood there for a couple more minutes, and as I was about to leave, I rubbed the face of Jesika’s grave marker in the same way I have done with my father’s gravestone as a way to make a tactile connection with my departed loved one. And the only words I could think of were the ones I told her everyday when I went to work,

“Aight Jesika, I love you. I’ll holla back at you soon.”

I walked back to the car, and Becky and I was off to the next phase of our afternoon, lunch. So off to Downtown Lemont we went.

August 17. 2008, about 7:30PM

Full of unlimited salad and breadsticks, Jesika and I headed north on Stony Island Avenue, to make a final stop for the celebration of her birthday, my mother’s house. We chose to pass on the tiramisu because my mother had given me strict instruction to bring Jesika to the “Smith House” immediately after dinner, because she would have a surprise for us when we arrived. Well eventually we arrived, and there my mom was, in all of her motherly splendor, with a very homemade looking cake on the counter. We sat at the table, and just as my family did when my brother and I were five years old, we broke out in a verse of “Happy Birthday To You”.

After the ceremonial song, the tradition is that everyone gets a piece of cake and while the cake is being enjoyed, the birthday boy or girl unwraps the presents. As we each enjoy a slice of the lemony confection, I signal to my mom that it is time for the moment of truth. I go into my mom’s office which is adjacent to the kitchen via a hallway and grab two gift bags; one from my mother and one from me. As I sit here, I am ashamed to say that I honestly cannot remember specifically what my mother got for Jesika’s birthday. I am fairly certain that it was a scarf or something. Needless to say, Jesika graciously accepted it and thanked my mother for her generosity. Next up was my gift, and as I handed Jesika my gift bag, I think I may have been more excited than her. As she looked in the shiny gift bag, she found a small jewelry box which contained even smaller ruby and diamond earrings. Coincidentally, these earrings matched the modest ruby and diamond ring that I had given her as a birthday gift the year before. On the gift card in the box, was a paraphrasing of a line from Beyonce’s, “Upgrade U”;

“My dynasty ain’t complete without a chick like thee…”

Now as I said before, I am not Diddy nor am I Jay-Z, and the jewelry that I gave Jesika would likely never be the stuff of an “MTV Cribs” segment. But Jesika looked as if I had bought the Hope Diamond for her. Jesika was a truly an “it’s the thought that counts” type of person, and she knew that I just wanted to make her happy. After several hugs and kisses, I came to the gleeful realization: mission accomplished.

August 17, 2009, about 1:20PM

With full hearts and empty stomachs, Becky and I made our way to Downtown Lemont, which consisted a shopping plaza complete with a façade to make it look like an early 20^th century town square. Just down the road from the “town square”, we found a small road hot dog/frozen dairy dessert stand to have lunch. Sma’s, a Lemont institution since 1952, isn’t much more than a seasonal snack shop with several picnic benches under a canopy as a dining room, but this day, it would serve as Becky and my debriefing location.

Becky opted for a brat and an order of cheese fries, while I went for two red hots with everything and a tamale. The conversation were familiar themes: Jesika, the economy, and how 2009 has been a terrible year for a lot of people in a lot of ways.

Since Jesika’s passing, and all the subsequent drama that has ensued, I have come to the realization that sadness and stress build within a person like pressure in a boiling tea kettle. As the pressure builds, one has to regularly let some of it go, or it will consume you until you explode. As Becky and I traded feelings of sorrow and anger and loss, I think it was us being sounding boards for each other and allowing each other to blow off some emotional steam.

August 17, 2009 about 9:30PM

This has been a crazy day; both heartwarming and tragic in one powerful dose. Heartwarming in that I got to recall one of my favorite days with the woman I so loved, and tragic in the stark realization that there will absolutely be no more such days with Jesika, at least not in this life. I decided to end Jesika’s birthday in 2009 much like it began in 2008. I found myself driving west on 87^th, looking to become reacquainted with some friends I haven’t seen since my childhood. Their names; Duke, Ripcord, Snake Eyes, and General Hawk. I decided to go see “GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra” as a way to end my whirlwind of a day. I imagine if things had been different, Jesika would have graciously been in the passenger seat, willing to indulge my desire to reconnect with the 9 year old boy inside of me. But things aren’t different and I am on a solo mission on this night. But I know that Jesika wouldn’t want me to mope or feel stagnated on this day without her. She would want me to “keep it moving” and try to enjoy life as much as I can, as if she were right by my side. Jesika would want all of her loved ones to truly live and not just exist. This is something I know, and knowing is half the battle.

364 Days Later

Today is the 3^rd Sunday in August, 2009. It is exactly 364 days after the love of my life, Jesika, celebrated her 30^th and last birthday. I have been thinking about writing this article for some time now; really since I started this blog. As a matter of fact, this version of what you are reading is about the fourth attempt to pen this entry. I started out thinking I would just give a recounting of what we did that day, and talk about the happiness Jesika and I shared on that day. I just don’t know if I can conjure up enough positivity to write that kind of article. I know it would probably be a heartwarming read, and it would more than likely encourage those who read it that I am somehow making emotional progress after this loss in my life.

As I sit here in the kitchen of my mother’s house, all I feel is anger, and resentment, and loneliness. I don’t understand why this had to happen. Why did a woman who possessed so much in the way of strength, and intellect, and was such a genuinely kind and caring person had to be struck down by such a terrible illness? Before I sat down to type this, I was working on a freelance video project that involved the use of gospel music. One of the songs I used had the familiar theme of, “when you pray to the Lord, he will answer with blessings”. THAT’S what made me so angry. It’s not true, and I am tired of hearing people tell me that it is. When I found out that Jesika was sick, I prayed all the time. I didn’t ask anything for myself, all I asked was that God spare Jesika’s life. I told the Lord how much she meant to me and my family, and that she was one of the only reasons I was able to go on after my father passed away. I told him all of these things, and Jesika died 24 days after we took her to the doctor.

I have seen people pray to get jobs, to make more money, to win football games, and other seemingly trivial matters and then thank God when they received them. I asked for Jesika’s life, the life of a human being, to be saved, and she was given 24 more excruciatingly painful days on this Earth.

I realize that the content of this entry may change a lot of people’s opinion about me. I can’t control that and wouldn’t want to because everyone is entitled to their opinion. I have to be honest; I am struggling with my faith right now. I see so many people, who treat others with so much cruelty, prosper, while those who are the most fervent believers in a higher power are dealt the worst possible hands. Call it karma, or whatever else, it just doesn’t seem to hold true. Some of the most negative, hateful people in this world don’t seem to ever be held accountable for the energy they put into the world, while those follow the tenets of religion, or faith, or even just secular morality are heaped with more than I would consider their fair share of misfortune. In many respects, those who are the least empathetic to the feelings of other people are rewarded for their efforts under the guise of being shrewd or cunning.

So, there it is. It’s not Jesika’s birthday post. It’s an emotional purge. I don’t really have anything else to say, so I will stop now. Maybe, after some rest I will feel better. We’ll see.

"If It Bleeds, It Leads"

First off, let me apologize for the time that has passed since my last post. I wish I could say that I was involved in some wonderful freelance project that has monopolized my time or that I have been reaching daily epiphanies during some self-imposed period of introspection. I could tell you that, but it would be a lie. The fact is, I just haven’t been feeling it. The intersection of my emotional health and spiritual stamina has just not put me in a place where I can put words to paper in a semi-coherent manner. I have tried, though. I have a very serviceable first paragraph about my thoughts on the Skip Gates/Cambridge Police Department altercation, which at some point I may finish. Anyway, I just didn’t want you to think I had forgotten about the five or six people who read this blog on a regular basis. My bad.

Anyway, I am writing this entry to explain the next couple of entries I plan on writing. For the past few weeks, I have been thinking about my next entry of this blog, my personal recounting of August 17, 2008, Jesika’s last birthday. I had also planned on publishing this entry on August 17th of this year to commemorate Jesika’s birthday. The only thing is, there are going to be a lot of noteworthy things going on in my life right around the 17th, and I don’t want my recollection of Jesika’s birthday to get lost in the shuffle.

The first thing I have on my plate is a trip to Cincinnati, the city that was my home for almost 7 years. Officially this trip is for business, but I think it will be a good opportunity to reconnect with friends and reflect on the trajectory of my life since leaving the "Queen City". The second and more “bloggable” set of events involve my activities on the 17th itself. Not only is it the day that Jesika’s childhood friend, Becky, and myself have decided to have the next installment of our monthly lunch series, but we also have decided to visit Jesika’s grave site that day. This would be emotionally charged enough, but I have gotten an intelligence report from one of my clandestine sources that one of Jesika’s more hostile family members is coming to town to visit her grave site on the same day. Now needless to say, I am not expecting nor I am hoping for any kind of confrontation, but whether there is such an altercation or not, I think some very “bloggable” things might happen. And with our, “if it bleeds, it leads” journalistic culture, I am afraid that even I would be tempted to gloss over Jesika’s 30th birthday, and opt for the sexier story, “[Potential] Showdown at Mt. Vernon Cemetery”.

So, I will be writing about Jesika’s last birthday a little bit early. There is no great conflict or adversity in the story. But it’s one of my most cherished times with the woman I so loved, and even though, like much of our relationship, it will probably seem quite dull to the outside world, it’s important to me and I think me writing about it would be important to Jesika. Thank you for your time.

You stay classy, blogosphere.