It's been a few years since we buried Chris, I wrote about it within a few days of hearing the news. He's the one who got a bad batch of cocaine and left behind a wife and young son before his 36th birthday—him. Every once in awhile I fire a random group text:
Thanks Ash!
She gave me permission to run that photo:
Deal!
Two and a half years is a long time, a lot's changed since then—lot LOT. Memorializing someone today at the same venue we memorialized Chris would likely have limited seating and more than likely require disguises. Life continues, Chris stopped, he'll always be 35.
The weirdest part is shortly after he died Ash began dating a mutual friend of both mine and Chris. A friend of everyone's actually, he's a brother out of my Local Union, he and I go waaayy..
Only Weird @ 1st
We even shared a roof at one point, carpooled I don't know how many times, super close. Pura's still remorseful about that one. We weren't married yet when the three of us attempted to share an apartment together cuz he and I were working out of town—didn't work out. My buddy who's now dating Ash who's now raising Chris's boy, one morning on our way to work after sharing rent for about two weeks: "I found a new place to stay dude, your girl's mean to me."
It's funny now
'Sorry man I get it. We've talked about it, I can't explain it. Get out before it gets worse I guess.'
They're close friends today, that was just a unique time and place (something like that), he's a good dude. For this article, we'll call him DeLa. When I needed new shirts in Europe because all they wear over there are v-neck's with elastic sleeves and streeeetched waist lines, DeLa shipped me new threads—him. That isn't what this is about.
I probably played a significant role anyway, it was me who introduced them. Chris's service was the week before Pura and I split for Central America. It's my fault they exchanged phone numbers. Before I left I told her 'anything you need, call DeLa, he's 20 minutes down the street from you. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate, you can count on him.'
Fact—he accepted a father role for two kids who aren't his. Ash, who's battling leukemia herself, also has a daughter from a previous relationship. There's plenty of bastards out there who I'm sure wouldn't mind having someone like DeLa around.
He updates me regularly with photos and video clips of Driver—Chris's boy. He's probably seven or eight years old now, a hair-trigger just like his dad, he's already hitting bigger jumps on his bicycle than I do. That isn't what this is about.
Dec 2020
A few weeks ago my phone rang—DeLa. We talked about his work, the kids, whatever else for 20 minutes. He told me they enrolled Driver in gymnastics and he loves it, he gets to jump on trampolines and do flips and stuff twice a week. Positive updates are my favorite date.
The boys grandparents have water front property on the Colorado River. DeLa and Ash take him mountain biking on the weekends and gymnastics during the week, run him back and forth to grandmas regularly. He has a lot to occupy his young little life for a little kid who buried his dad. As miserable as things could be, Driver's happy, he's surrounded by love and that's what he needs—answered prayers.
I told Pura about it later that evening. We talked about Driver for awhile, she can relate. Pura was in gymnastics as a kid so it brought back fond memories of her dad—buried him when she was 21. Driver will never get over losing his dad but he couldn't be in a better position considering the circumstances. He goes camping, fishing, hunting (DeLa's so outdoorsy he doesn't shave!) jet skiing, mountain biking, gymnastics was the latest and whatever else the kid's into. That isn't what this is about.
Couldn't have been more than 12 hours since I talked to DeLa. The following morning Pura's playing footsies with me under the table. Early—little before 8 o'clock. I'm going through Hive and crypto, she's going through instagram, both of us sipping on coffee, my second, her first cup'0 Joe: "Dude what's up with Ash?" I sensed her concern.
Ssssp. Hot. Scrolling - sc - roll - ing through my feed with the other hand, 'whad'ya mean?'
She's reading me something Ash posted on instagram about All you people who think you can question my son because we enrolled him in gymnastics.... ....How dare you ask me if he's gender confused.... Pura continued reading out loud everything Ash said about gymnastics is good for the core and goes on and on about how it teaches balance, discipline, comradery bla whatever else she said bla.
The longer I listened the more irritated I became. Driver suffered one of the most if not the most traumatic events a human will endure in their lifetime and did so at an unthinkable young age. Today he's happy and it's only been two years. He's enrolled in multiple youth activities today being a kid with other kids. He's surrounded by love, he's protected and financially secure, plenty of food on the table, he's warm and clothed. All that shortly after the death of his father, the one man who would've killed for him, and Ash woke up to a buncha motherfuckers she probably doesn't even know questioning her parenting and informing her how it's ok to be gender confused and how she shouldn't interfere with her sons gender and how "it's not a choice" bullshit. This is about that.
Soft and intrusive, welcome to the 21st century. Individual personalities are less acceptable, categorization's the new craze, each day a new box pops up and, with it, an overzealous community. Today there's more concern about a placard outside the locker room door at a public facility than the sport played there.
It isn't the individual who's confused, they wake up each morning with the same conscious desire to figure this life thing out like anyone else. If anyone's confused, it's you. It's gymnastics for fuck sake, not Girl Scouts.
If Drivers sister wants to play Cornerback in the NFL she isn't gender confused, she's the toughest little girl he knows. Quickness, cover skills, speed, those are agility skills you're either born with or not, not gender specs.
We don't need much to div / ide us. very little actually We're human, the slightest excuse to direct attention toward someone else is more than enough. The day children have a U (undecided) option next to the sexual orientation box M / F / U in coed sports is closer than you think—congratulations! The birds and the bees won't be addressed until middle school but sexual orientation identification comes before the alphabet—F / U.
It's extreme, it's crossing the line. I doubt the majority of these digital parenting gurus have children because either they are children or no one will procreate with them but it's no excuse to confuse gymnastics for sex—not even close. Phone companies should require hands on training with annual prep courses or something before handing these devices out to just anyone. They make it too easy for just anyone to make a wrong turn on not their business.
