William Kind Hamburg Jottings From The Labyrinth

1. Auflage 2013
ISBN: 978-1-4835-0657-9
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 130 Seiten

Jottings From The Labyrinth is a compilation of short stories and adult humor written by Vietnam Veteran, William Kind Hamburg, Jr. After spending several years in Egypt and the middle east Hamburg became a journalist and writer for a local newspaper in Cairo. Learning to speak and write Arabic in just 1 year, he was able to explore the depths that the muslim country has to offer that most people never get to experience. This book is about his experiences during this time. This book is filled with adult humor and stories that make you laugh and cry. In a brilliant compilation to create Hamburg's first published book.

Autoren/Hrsg.

William Kind Hamburg, Jr

Leseproben

Introduction

We were sitting together crying as he was about to pass, watching him barely breathing, only able to because the ventilation machine next to him forced it. You could see his pain, his sadness; he didn’t want it to end like this. I imagined that he wished it was over quickly and painlessly, not like this, with his loved ones sitting around crying and holding his cold hands, unable to voice his last goodbye to us.

   We were waiting for his daughter and her husband to arrive from the local airport. They had received the news just a few hours prior and were on the first flight to Flagstaff, Arizona. Unsure if they were going to arrive before it was too late, we waited anxiously, serenaded by a beautiful acoustic guitarist who offered to play next to him.

Then they arrived. With terror and sadness in their eyes, they walked through the door. With some delight, however, they realized they were not too late; he was still breathing.

   They embraced him with tears, and we all prayed together. I’m not usually the praying type, but in this moment it felt right to send him free with a prayer from all of us. When we were finished, we all stepped away. That was when she did it…

Dorothy whispered something into his ear that none of us could quite make out because it was drowned out by the respirator as it inhaled and exhaled. Then, she kissed him and removed his oxygen mask. I was terrified at first, knowing that this was the only thing keeping him alive, but then I realized that this was something they had discussed in depth. He did not want to be kept on life support.

   He tried to breathe on his own, but within a few breathes, he was gone. There would never be anyone like him again.

   I had never seen anyone pass away before. It was quite pensive to watch someone’s soul leave their body right in front of me. Leaving this world, forever.

We all wept loudly when he took his final breath; then we held Dorothy as she trembled and the reality set in on us all.

They informed the staff that he had passed, and we slowly walked out of the room and headed outside. I could tell by the look on my father’s face that he really needed a cigarette. Without saying a word to each other, we walked out to the car. He opened the back door and lit a cigarette, as I predicted. Then he grabbed a beer he had stashed and cracked it open right there in the parking lot of the hospital.

“That was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through,” he said, barely looking me in the eye as his were full of tears. “I’m sorry you’re going to have to watch me leave someday, too,” he quickly added before chugging down half a beer. I responded with a sob, “What do you mean, Dad?” He quickly replied, “Never mind, I’m sorry.”

It took me a minute to even grasp what he was talking about. Once I’d registered what he’d said, it brought a deeper sadness and realization that it could have easily been him today in that hospital bed, instead of his father.

He was clearly not in the best health at his current age, and little did I know how soon his somber statement would become a reality.

   “If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible. If he has to make a choice, may he make it now. Then I will either wait for him or forget him.”

- Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

My mother had left my father when I was only three years old. In her own words, the reason she did was, “to save me” from him. She would tell me, whenever I would inquire, that she “was afraid that one day she was going to go to work and he was going to be drunk and forget me somewhere.”

I never knew anything about my father growing up. I had never even heard from him once. I didn’t even really know what he looked like. I had a few photos of the two of us playing together on the swings at the park in Sedona in the late 80’s when I was probably 2-years-old, but that was it. As a kid, I’d look at these photos and think, I wonder if he is alive. I had no idea. Neither he nor any member of his family had ever tried to contact me.

I met him simply by chance. My mother was shopping in the local Walgreens and happened to see my dad’s father - my grandfather. She couldn’t believe it! After all of these years; it was incredible to see each other in the same small town! He was just as delighted to see her and invited us over to his home. My mom told me the news right away, and I was in shock. She said that my dad was alive and had been living in Egypt for many years as a journalist. She then told me that he was going to be in Sedona very soon!

I didn’t know what to feel. Anger? Happiness? Sadness? I knew I was in for a roller coaster ride of emotions. I will never forget the day my mother and I drove to my grandparents’ home in Sedona. To add to the shock, we realized that they lived only two blocks from the home we had lived in for 12 years of my life! Were they secretly watching over us? Had I see them walking around in my neighborhood before? I could have walked right by them and never known!

When we arrived, we entered a gorgeous home in the hills overlooking the red rock mountains of Sedona. It was surreal to finally meet the grandparents I had only seen in pictures and heard stories about. When I asked my grandfather about their serendipitous location, he responded with a smile and shine in his eyes that they “had no idea you lived down the street.” To this day, I still don’t believe him and will never know the truth, but I enjoyed the feeling that they were secretly watching over us all those years.

About a week after I met with them, I received news from my mother that my father had arrived in town, and we were to meet at my grandparents’ house!

When my father and I finally met in person, it was incredible. Finally, I was meeting my actual biological father! I was filled with a concoction of emotions that day, to say the least. I was teary eyed when I first met his eyes with mine but did my best to keep my composure as a young man of 17.

He was very welcoming, and I immediately noticed what a character he was. I observed his mannerisms and speech, noted how much I looked like him, and was aware of the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. But I didn’t care, I was happy to be reunited with him again. I never asked him why he never tried to contact me or my mother. I never blamed him for any of my hurt feelings. I just accepted him for who he was and loved him as best as I could.

After finally meeting him in person after 15 years and continuing to observe him, I could definitely validate my mother’s concerns for me as a child. I couldn’t be mad at him or my family, though. To be honest, it was mostly sadness I felt. Sadness that I was left and forgotten. After spending some time together, I finally accepted him as my father and worked up the courage to call him dad.

I couldn’t be angry with him. I could see the joy it brought him when I would him dad. I believed everything had happened for a reason and that regardless of the situation, I was going to love him. I couldn’t be mad at my mother, either. I admired her for being strong and raising my siblings and me, all on her own. I trusted that her judgment was for the best, and I remained grateful for everything she had provided us growing up, given the circumstances.

My father and I immediately grew close, and I eventually stayed with him in his parents’ house while they spent their summer in Stone Harbor, New Jersey. We grew closer and made up for time lost. Two years went by and my father’s health continued to decline as he habitually drank and smoked all day, every day, starting at 8 a.m. It was quite clear to me how quickly he could be gone again. This time, forever. To me, it was just who he was. I had only known him for a few years now and had no memories of him being otherwise. So, I did what most young men at 20 years of age would do, I joined him. I never partook in the 8 a.m. beer; but nonetheless, we bonded through drinking and smoking together. I had survived my painful teenage years and was in a time of celebration. I had developed a strong drinking and smoking habit all on my own before I had met him.

Instead of scolding him on what was right or wrong, I enjoyed his unconditional love towards me and his ever exciting company. We would always be drinking and laughing together. When I would bring friends to his home, he would always say to them, “If you’re a friend of Will’s, you’re a friend of mine, now grab yourself a beer!”

Growing up with my mother, it was never like this. I wasn’t even allowed to have friends at her house, let alone a virtually unlimited supply of beer and cigarettes. I was thoroughly enjoying my rebellious father and his ways. Without the scrutiny of an authority figure telling me what to do, I continued down the path of obliteration with him.

Soon, his home became the party house of the town for my friends and me. Almost every night we would go there and enjoy his company, hear stories of his worldly travels, and then get to partying with or without him.

With his open mind and open doors, he quickly became a local character in town. Soon, everyone in my crew knew who he was and gave him his nickname, “Poppa Dolla,” an elder offshoot of my nickname at the time, “Dollawill.”...