Sunday, June 12, 2011
First Patrol.
I fell tonight would be a good time to start patrolling different parts of the city and try and connect with fellow Seattle RLSH. Stay tuned for a following update.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Welcome to Jet City.
Growing up in the outskirts of San Antonio Texas i helped my father tend to our ranch. Tending to horses, cattle, swine, chickens, and even rabbits. I was up at the crack of dawn aspiring to be the great man my father was, always trying to please him. It was never good enough. I couldn't work fast enough for him, hard enough for him, I just couldn't meet his expectations. Though there was one time when we were equal, once a week he'd take me into the city and we'd buy one comic book, my choice. It was the one thing id look forward to, that time where we'd look at the pictures and read the stories and imagine a world super heroes were possible.
My father had a decent sized collection he had acquired from growing up, and i was always at peace going through and seeing the adventures of Spiderman, Captain America, Batman, Iron Man, and the like. One day though after finishing up with the animals i ran to our living room and to the book shelf where my father and i kept our comics, you could always tell ours apart. His where beat up, yellow paged, obviously well read. Mine were the white rimmed, glossy covered, more detailed pictures. His were the ones i wanted to read though, i didnt care how good the art or stories were i wanted to read what my dad grew up on.
This is when everything changed, i remember it like it was yesterday. I was laying on the living room floor enthralled in a Captain America comic. Cap and Bucky saving the day as usual, then my dad came in from outside. He called me into the dining room and over dinner he broke the news to our family. We couldn't keep the ranch, bills were piling up and he had to move to the city and he and my mother had to find new work. I was sad, who wouldn't be, but i pictured the city to be some metropolis with heroes and the like. I asked my father what he would do once we moved, he told me he had an interview with the county sheriffs office. I was ecstatic my father would be a hero! My own hero!
The city wasn't kind to my family and myself, once we moved we barely had enough to survive we settled into a small building in the not so kind area of San Antonio, gangs, drugs, and vagrants. My father wound up becoming an officer of the law but the neighborhood didn't like the fact they had a lawman so close. I was picked on, and my family harassed. Dad kept telling us we'd be okay and he'd protect us. The bills just kept piling up and my parents kept a smiling face, comforting us.
One day i came home from school wanting to read a comic and just escape, but the comics we'rent on the shelf i came accustomed too. I looked all day, no luck. I asked my dad once he came home and he had a sad look on his face. He told me he had to sell them to help get money. I was furious, angry, i yelled and told my dad i hated him for getting rid of the books. I didn't understand he only did it to help my family. My dad didnt respond he just fell silent and my mom tried to talk to me, i didn't want to hear it though. Our relationship was never the same my father always tried to mend the bonds with either new comics or trying to connect with me, i just pushed him away. This along with working all day and doing odd jobs for the community to make rent and bills took its toll on him eventually.
Through out my high school years i rarely saw my father, like usual he was working where he could, and when we has home he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and locked himself in his room. My mother always looked worried and kept to her self. My last day of senior year i was called from one of my classes to the principal's office, my mother was there in tears... my heart was pounding.... My father had been shot while responding to a burglary. They didn't know if he'd make it. That night we went to see him he was on a life support machine, i just stared... This was the most i had seen him in so long. I should have felt more. Why didn't i?
The next day an officer came to our door, he talked to my mother and left a box of items my father had in his patrol car. A bunch of notepads, sketch books, and other miscellaneous items. "What a slob" i said under my breath. The officer and my mother looked over in my direction. I stormed to my room and shut out the world with music and a comic i recently bought.
That night my father passed away, at his funeral i sat silent and decided i was going to be what in my eyes he wasn't I was going to provide for my family, make sure they lived well, and be there for them. I went to college, got a degree in computer programming and offered a job at Microsoft in Washington. It was a big change from where i started, a ranch in Texas (go figure). My mother wanted the best for me and urged me to take the job. I accepted later that week i was to leave. My last days at home were refreshing packing up all my childhood memories and packing my clothes. My mother called me to her room, there my father's old sketchbooks and Notepads were sitting in that same box the officer had bought to my house some time ago.
She told me that my father was always drawing away in these at night while laying in bed, and obviously during downtime's at work. She also told me she found a vanilla envelope with my name on it, and never opened it. Why give it to me now and not then, i thought. She was just silent. I took the folder and the box and went to my room. The books were filled with superhero doodles and crossover battles. My old man was a pretty good artist who would have though? i chuckled. There was always a re-occurring character that resembled the Lone Ranger. Who was he? My chest was pounding my dad was amazing... how could i have been so cold to him, and why? Over the years it just became second nature, he tried to hard to take care of us. I didn't even show emotion in his last days. This is what bonded us these superheroes. I started crying, "I miss you dad. i'm sorry... You're my superhero dad."
I got lost in the sketchbooks and forgot about the folder with my name on it. The next morning was my flight. The 5:12 to SEA. I made a snarky comment about the time of the flight to my mom as she dropped me off at the airport. "sounds like a movie ya'll watched a few years back huh?" i hugged her and she called me back as i walked away. "Dont forget this now!" How could i have forgotten, i hugged her again and headed to my flight, shoving the envelope in my bag.
On the flight i got uneasy should i check the envelope or not? Finally the nerves got the best of me and i ripped the seal. I was just recently learning so much about my dad through the sketches, what could this be? I pulled out the contents, it was a book? The cover had that re-occurring hero from the sketchbooks on the cover with the title "The Wrangler" strewn across the top. A note fell from the inside of the book.
"To my son,
Im sorry for not being everything you envisioned me to be. Sorry for not being your superhero. I know how close we were and how losing the ranch changed everything. I spend everyday remembering or nights laying on the old house floor reading our comics and pretending we're Spiderman and Captain America. I long to do that again some day, your to cool for that now though huh?
Again son im sorry, i know i wasn't your superhero. I dont know if i can ever be, so... I created this "The Wrangler" a superhero i created when i was your age, growing up on the ranch just like you. I hope he can be your Superhero now.
Love always
Dad"
I was silent the rest of the flight, holding back the urge to cry... Reading through my fathers hand drawn comic book.
Once settled in here in Seattle i spent the hours not at work or exploring the city reading my fathers comic, it became well worn. While on the bus one day i noticed a teenage girl being harassed by a vagrant. It reminded me of growing up in the city, no one said anything they just looked the other way or turned up their mp3 players. I looked down at my fathers comic and had a surge through my body. I had enough i stood up and walked to the back of the bus. "Knock it off partner" the vagrant looked at me. He reeked of grime and the city underbelly.
"What are you going to do about it stranger?" he reached into his dirty coat and pulled out a knife. Passengers yelled and the bus skidded to a halt. The driver yelling in broken English. The bus doors open and the vagrant rushes out.
"Thank you, sir."
"As long as your okay, man he smelled bad huh?" i tried to joke around to ease the tension.
That night i sat on my floor reading my fathers comic again and i reminisce about what happened on the bus. His words about The Wrangler being my superhero and how he never was. "Dad you were my superhero, wish i could have told you." tears fill my eyes "You will be remembered dad, and your hero will be others as well. Your memory will live on, I'll become The Wrangler!"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today I bring The Wrangler to life. Seattle, your new hero walks the streets. Where there's a rustle in the shadows and when there's distress that needs wrangling. I will be there. The Wrangler will be there.
My father had a decent sized collection he had acquired from growing up, and i was always at peace going through and seeing the adventures of Spiderman, Captain America, Batman, Iron Man, and the like. One day though after finishing up with the animals i ran to our living room and to the book shelf where my father and i kept our comics, you could always tell ours apart. His where beat up, yellow paged, obviously well read. Mine were the white rimmed, glossy covered, more detailed pictures. His were the ones i wanted to read though, i didnt care how good the art or stories were i wanted to read what my dad grew up on.
This is when everything changed, i remember it like it was yesterday. I was laying on the living room floor enthralled in a Captain America comic. Cap and Bucky saving the day as usual, then my dad came in from outside. He called me into the dining room and over dinner he broke the news to our family. We couldn't keep the ranch, bills were piling up and he had to move to the city and he and my mother had to find new work. I was sad, who wouldn't be, but i pictured the city to be some metropolis with heroes and the like. I asked my father what he would do once we moved, he told me he had an interview with the county sheriffs office. I was ecstatic my father would be a hero! My own hero!
The city wasn't kind to my family and myself, once we moved we barely had enough to survive we settled into a small building in the not so kind area of San Antonio, gangs, drugs, and vagrants. My father wound up becoming an officer of the law but the neighborhood didn't like the fact they had a lawman so close. I was picked on, and my family harassed. Dad kept telling us we'd be okay and he'd protect us. The bills just kept piling up and my parents kept a smiling face, comforting us.
One day i came home from school wanting to read a comic and just escape, but the comics we'rent on the shelf i came accustomed too. I looked all day, no luck. I asked my dad once he came home and he had a sad look on his face. He told me he had to sell them to help get money. I was furious, angry, i yelled and told my dad i hated him for getting rid of the books. I didn't understand he only did it to help my family. My dad didnt respond he just fell silent and my mom tried to talk to me, i didn't want to hear it though. Our relationship was never the same my father always tried to mend the bonds with either new comics or trying to connect with me, i just pushed him away. This along with working all day and doing odd jobs for the community to make rent and bills took its toll on him eventually.
Through out my high school years i rarely saw my father, like usual he was working where he could, and when we has home he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and locked himself in his room. My mother always looked worried and kept to her self. My last day of senior year i was called from one of my classes to the principal's office, my mother was there in tears... my heart was pounding.... My father had been shot while responding to a burglary. They didn't know if he'd make it. That night we went to see him he was on a life support machine, i just stared... This was the most i had seen him in so long. I should have felt more. Why didn't i?
The next day an officer came to our door, he talked to my mother and left a box of items my father had in his patrol car. A bunch of notepads, sketch books, and other miscellaneous items. "What a slob" i said under my breath. The officer and my mother looked over in my direction. I stormed to my room and shut out the world with music and a comic i recently bought.
That night my father passed away, at his funeral i sat silent and decided i was going to be what in my eyes he wasn't I was going to provide for my family, make sure they lived well, and be there for them. I went to college, got a degree in computer programming and offered a job at Microsoft in Washington. It was a big change from where i started, a ranch in Texas (go figure). My mother wanted the best for me and urged me to take the job. I accepted later that week i was to leave. My last days at home were refreshing packing up all my childhood memories and packing my clothes. My mother called me to her room, there my father's old sketchbooks and Notepads were sitting in that same box the officer had bought to my house some time ago.
She told me that my father was always drawing away in these at night while laying in bed, and obviously during downtime's at work. She also told me she found a vanilla envelope with my name on it, and never opened it. Why give it to me now and not then, i thought. She was just silent. I took the folder and the box and went to my room. The books were filled with superhero doodles and crossover battles. My old man was a pretty good artist who would have though? i chuckled. There was always a re-occurring character that resembled the Lone Ranger. Who was he? My chest was pounding my dad was amazing... how could i have been so cold to him, and why? Over the years it just became second nature, he tried to hard to take care of us. I didn't even show emotion in his last days. This is what bonded us these superheroes. I started crying, "I miss you dad. i'm sorry... You're my superhero dad."
I got lost in the sketchbooks and forgot about the folder with my name on it. The next morning was my flight. The 5:12 to SEA. I made a snarky comment about the time of the flight to my mom as she dropped me off at the airport. "sounds like a movie ya'll watched a few years back huh?" i hugged her and she called me back as i walked away. "Dont forget this now!" How could i have forgotten, i hugged her again and headed to my flight, shoving the envelope in my bag.
On the flight i got uneasy should i check the envelope or not? Finally the nerves got the best of me and i ripped the seal. I was just recently learning so much about my dad through the sketches, what could this be? I pulled out the contents, it was a book? The cover had that re-occurring hero from the sketchbooks on the cover with the title "The Wrangler" strewn across the top. A note fell from the inside of the book.
"To my son,
Im sorry for not being everything you envisioned me to be. Sorry for not being your superhero. I know how close we were and how losing the ranch changed everything. I spend everyday remembering or nights laying on the old house floor reading our comics and pretending we're Spiderman and Captain America. I long to do that again some day, your to cool for that now though huh?
Again son im sorry, i know i wasn't your superhero. I dont know if i can ever be, so... I created this "The Wrangler" a superhero i created when i was your age, growing up on the ranch just like you. I hope he can be your Superhero now.
Love always
Dad"
I was silent the rest of the flight, holding back the urge to cry... Reading through my fathers hand drawn comic book.
Once settled in here in Seattle i spent the hours not at work or exploring the city reading my fathers comic, it became well worn. While on the bus one day i noticed a teenage girl being harassed by a vagrant. It reminded me of growing up in the city, no one said anything they just looked the other way or turned up their mp3 players. I looked down at my fathers comic and had a surge through my body. I had enough i stood up and walked to the back of the bus. "Knock it off partner" the vagrant looked at me. He reeked of grime and the city underbelly.
"What are you going to do about it stranger?" he reached into his dirty coat and pulled out a knife. Passengers yelled and the bus skidded to a halt. The driver yelling in broken English. The bus doors open and the vagrant rushes out.
"Thank you, sir."
"As long as your okay, man he smelled bad huh?" i tried to joke around to ease the tension.
That night i sat on my floor reading my fathers comic again and i reminisce about what happened on the bus. His words about The Wrangler being my superhero and how he never was. "Dad you were my superhero, wish i could have told you." tears fill my eyes "You will be remembered dad, and your hero will be others as well. Your memory will live on, I'll become The Wrangler!"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today I bring The Wrangler to life. Seattle, your new hero walks the streets. Where there's a rustle in the shadows and when there's distress that needs wrangling. I will be there. The Wrangler will be there.
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