party fun with the enemy

i'm recalling the time that my immediate family (mother, father, sister, brother, wife, kid) went to the first communion of my mother's godchild's daughter (got that?).

so there we were, my side and my mother's godchild's side made up of mostly costa rican and cuban immigrants and the side of the husband (of my mother's godchild) made up of a extended family of vietnamese immigrants.

a couple of my dad's old work buddies are at hand (part of the reason the happy communion parents met was through the labyrinth of immigrant aerospace work) and they, of course, are discussing old times.

all in the lovely east valley of los angeles (somewhere near dante's 5th or 6th circle) and the temperature is 100 degrees.

everyone is getting along fine...barbecue, broken english, tiptoes around the various alcohol problems, melting cake, fighting for shade, odd cultural confusions...

when suddenly, the usual police copter buzzes overhead, stopping all conversations.

i note a couple of the older vietnamese look about nervously.

as the copter gets further away i hear my dad commenting on the type of rotor assembly he spied.

suddenly, my knees go all wobbly and my stomach lurches.

(flashback)

i had always been a bit proud of my dad's work in the aerospace industry in the '60s '70s and '80s...he had helped build apollo parts, after all...

for a short time in the early '70s, he was also part of the workforce for apache helicopters. the birds used all over the formerly lovely bits of southeastern asia during that lovely 'police action' that the french had let slip to us...napalm, genocide, forrest gump...you know, fricken dennis hopper, maaaan...

and as a result of that war, thousands of war refugees came to southern california to leave behind the home that we had helped trash.

(flashforward)

so, the party was quickly getting back to normal but all i could do was think:

half of this group would not be here had it not been for the other half that was currently sharing food and drink. i look over at my wife and siblings, but no sign that we are in some kind of psychic bond about my helicopter epiphany.

my appetite's gone. i feel discouraged and vaguely guilty.

my father is still talking about the 'bird' and it's to the proud papa of my mother's godchild's kid.

the vietnamese papa.

i then note that by this time, they are both drunk, and the irony is lost to them.

i grab a piece of cake.

you, me and ied

"By definition, intermittent explosive disorder involves multiple outbursts that are way out of proportion to the situation. These angry outbursts often include threats or aggressive actions and property damage. The disorder typically first appears in adolescence; in the study, the average age of onset was 14. "

well, well, well. in my day this was called 'having a temper', or 'being an asshole'...

if i were more of a comedian, this would make an excellent basis for a whole monologue, but alas, i am but a poor union office worker and dad that can ill afford to go to some sort of therapist to have himself diagnosed with this wonderful new malady.

can you imagine the range of excuses that can be swept away with the simple declaration of 'i have IED and am not in control of myself. sorry 'bout that broken arm/fender/hole punched in the wall, but i've been suffering with this since high school. can you imagine, i used to be called a bully? oh, the heartache!"

i mean, this will probably soon become another ADD to have more kids on drugs at school, or more caring sensitive commercials from pfizer aired during world news tonight showing montages of 'angry' people finding the 'cure' and then cycling or petting their dogs or sitting on the beachfront porches with a loved one's head on their shoulders...

'warning: possible side effects of explosisine may include dry mouth, vomiting, muscle spasms and in a few cases, death due to built up rage inhibitions and burst blood vessels in the neck...should not be taken if driving is intended, or if your spouse has a history of being a nag. should not be used by adherents of klingon philosophies or anyone who has any chance of being around children, or fellow human beings...'

i mean, come on...do jerks prone to outbursts really need backing? do wife beaters need yet another prop or excuse? does little suzy get her pony now? do folks in berkeley need another reason to hug someone?

then again, flying into a rage at work, or going into a clocktower with a rifle might just be that much more acceptable a way to 'vent' our emotions, since we could now justify it due to our new disorder.

mention your suffering with this lifelong problem next time your boss crosses you....


ooooh....

tvod

yes, me and the t.v. have been close personal friends for most of our lives.

and that's t.v. as in telly, idiot box, boob tube...not that i have any problems with other tvs...

i could go on for hours about how many potential years of my life were spent in front of that contraption memorizing everything from 'star trek' dialog to monty python routines to first discovering my manliness watching julie newmar in tights (there is no other 'catwoman').

also, too many hours watching dreaded family shows like 'the waltons'-nothing sexy there-or 'little house on the prairie' (weird, weird, weird...especially the insane charles finds/loses a son, goes berserk, builds a religious monument after growing a beard) that my mother approved of. i suspect that her requiring us to watch this dreck was to make up for all the dreck her kids watched at other times.

a lot of my views were probably shaped by 'kung-fu' or 'the prisoner' of 'land of the lost' or the other 50,000 hours of eye-drying zombietood experienced in my youth.

t.v. viewing came in spurts as an adult, though time was usually made for any 'star trek' spin-offs or guilty pleasures such as 'thirtysomething', which the punk in me could only sneer and laugh at.

all this before basic cable...imagine if i was a kid now....wait, i don't have to imagine...i do have one...

and she loves the telly.

so we decided that cable might be too much and that a wee bit of control would ensue, but still:

insane japanese anime, 'smallville', saturday morning cartoons, NATURE SHOWS! (at abuela's-cable there).

so with no basic cable for years, little mavis has had to do with videos and box sets of dvds.

and there the gorgon has risen.

she owns more dvds than i had books at her age (and she IS a voracious reader, like her folks) so it only strikes me as odd once in a while when she requests that we watch an episode of 'kung-fu' or neil gaiman's dr. who-esque 'neverwhere', or a few 'superman' cartoons or the latest superhero complete season box set...and no commercials!

she cried when #6 dropped off the village survivors and went hand in hand with the butler.

we constantly discuss product placement and proper story-telling and whether or not kwai chang-caine really had to resort to violence.

she drew me a picture of the stargate for goodness sakes!

part of me relishes the little nerd i am steering along...part of me worries, so i do spend an equal amount of time walking and talking, or visiting friends, or reading.

plus, notice how with mr. carradine i am indoctrinating her into the subtleties of buddhism?

and no charles ingalls wilder, prophet, in my house.

except as kitch, of course.