Allen Wood was a hard guy to understand, both verbally and mentally. I myself most likely didn't make the most since of the man either. Our relationship was one of oddity. I was 18 and he was 26 and the brother of my step mother. He was raised in the Bayous of Louisiana and I in the Johnny Cash Song, "I've been everywhere."
His father raised him off the land and mine, well mine disappeared for a couple years, while I should have learned all those life skills. His dad failed him through other ways, and mine failed me the way as stated above and in so many many other ways. I think through this bond we connected. It was never really talked about in depth between us, it was more complaints in passing or a sentence or two. Never any more than that.
Allen was never really the kind of guy for talking. He was straight to the point and didn't speak unless he had something worth hearing. Small talk was really not a thing he excelled at. His relaxer of course was cannabis, and this miracle of a drug always did bring out a little more conversation in him.
Every time I think back on when we would go out into the woods i cant help but think of how much i learned from him. How fast he was to take me under his wing and give me a little male guidance that I had lacked growing up. How to flirt with a girl, how to fish, how to hunt, how to hang out with and be one of the guys. All this and so much more.
I remember a time when we went out to a little secret fishing spot out in Vidor, Texas. Around 5pm like clock work, the gators surface the water. There eyes become visible like fireflies in the night sky. Normal people like you or I would assume alright i guess that means the fishing trip is over. Well, that is not the case when your hanging out with a back woods Cajun. Those eyes mean lets see if we can snag one and pull him up.
Well that day with my open cast I tossed out a three foot lead over a gator that didn't bat an eye when the spinner hit the water. Slowly I pulled the leader back and set the steel hook right in its snout. Instantly the gator sunk into the dark murky water and yet no pull hit the drag.
my heart stopped instantly. I can recall actually trying to hand off the fishing rod because I never thought I would actually hook it. However he was not one for fear... if he saw you were afraid of anything you are best to believe that you are going to face that fear that day. Should it be a spider, a snake, or even a gator, you were going to face that fear if he caught wind.
Slowly I began reeling in the line. Turn by turn it was like reeling in the dead weight of a dodge 3500. I had a counter on my reel and when it hit ten feet I cannot begin to explain how terrified I was at that point. At any moment this thing was going to pounce from the water and eat me alive. Arms shaking and sweat coating my skin from the Texas heat my other uncle Jimmy showed up with a rifle. (I am usually not one for names, but for the sake of any children reading... Jimmy was a no good cotton headed ninny muggins and what happened next proves it.)
Jimmy came up and patted me on the back, "Alright boy reel him in."
A couple more turns and his eye was looking in mine. If I was a betting man I would feel it pretty safe to say that gator was pretty peeved. The hook didn't hook his snout it hooked dead center of his right eye. My uncle Jimmy slowly leaned over the top of the gators head to get the sweet spot where the head meets the back of the neck and...
""CLICK""
""CLICK..CLICK...CLICK"""
That gator heard that clicking and I swear it became a rag time dancer from the 30's and tapped its way up the bank and to the other side of the sand bank we were fishing on. I through that rod and ran maybe a mile down those rocks before I stopped to look back at no one.
That was Allen... by time I made it back they had packed up the bags and were still crying tears of joy at the amount of fear I displayed. Not even his laugh was normal... I swear... it was more like a damn chuckle.
Anyhow as time passed I learned how to get back in my ways, but earning your place is common among men who tend to be more alpha suited. I myself, I had always been more independent when it came to doing things so I never really needed to try to be alpha male. I spent a lot of time alone or helping others. With them though they amount of people they all knew was insane. and in every group of friends we hung out allen and his brothers were always the top dogs at the party.
I could not go anywhere that Allen didn't know 50% of the people in the room. At least not within the 30 miles we lived. While Allen was an amazing friend who would give you the shirt of the back... he was a horrible provider both as a husband and father. He could hunt all day long till the cows came home, but getting him to hold a steady job would have took an act of congress. I lived with him for a few months and it turned out to be a horrible idea. His old lady hated the fact that he lost his job once a week. Understandably so of course.
I was waiting to ship off to basic training when I first moved in with him and his wife. I stayed for about 3 weeks and I had to bail to other living arrangements for another couple months because it was just that toxic. Of course at the fault of him.
My stepmothers mom was moving down to Roma Sur, Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, México. There I spent the next three months till I caught a bus back to Huston to ship out for basic. We had lost contact till I had graduated basic training. We kept up by using a sentence or two for a month or so after basic and then just lost touch. Our outings became nothing more than memories for the next year or so that I spent in Iraq. Until I got a message from my dad telling me that Allen shot himself in the head after an argument with his wife.
After reading that message I had to let it sink in while I was on the move... I was heading out for another 36 hour mission and I was not even going to be able to make it to his funeral. I would be a liar if I didn't say the next 36 hours were not spent in a turret blaming myself for leaving him without a friend.
Each day of that second deployment past even slower as I heard all the news from the family about who was now fighting over possession of his remains. They couldn't even give the man dignity in death. By time I made it back home, the fighting had ended and his remains had been scattered out in Bayou Sorrel down in Southern Louisiana. Bayou Sorrel is where they recorded some of Allen's favorite show, "Swamp people."
I never got to say good bye, never got to see him off. Never really came to terms with how I could have done better as a friend. September 10th, 2010 will mark 10 years since Allen's death. The tattoo I have in memorial of him has now faded and the memory has made it hard to touch up.
"The reason I write about Allen is I think I want to talk about the men who influenced me for a little while. Growing up without a father I sought out others and others sought out me naturally. My environment made me lucky. I grew up in religion which now, even though atheist, I have got to say I think church saved my life by giving me direction. I had no other direction and who knows living in Flint and Detroit most of my childhood, I could have found a lot of horrible alternatives to passive mysticism.
I want to be more active in this community and I have spent a great deal of time trying to make up my mind in how I want to use this page. I want to be honest with my audience and in my life I find myself alone often in thought an in my surroundings. I love my wife very much and she I, but many of my memories tend to be unpleasant and uncomfortable. Others can be funny and full of love. However, Most tend to burden my wife. I felt this may be a better way of venting my mind and organizing my thoughts. Maybe there is an audience for such a niche.
Its not that my wife is not supportive, it just feels horrible to share a life of shit with someone who you are glad never had to go through it.
Many of my memories play on repeat and this was today's memory of the day."
Just a side not for anyone reading... Suicide is a real thing and it had effected me personally on several occasions. Suicide is the most permanent solution to any temporary problem and I know what its like looking down the end of a barrel. If your that person please seek help... the pain you feel now only moves to those who will miss you when your gone. Those who would miss you are people like me who would help you.
Any thoughts at all the suicide help number is 1-800-273-8255 CALL CALL CALL
