In a different lifetime, one of Dad’s closest friends, Marvin, followed a routine with his daughter: black coffee, train ride, kisses and then each walked to work, in Downtown Chicago.
On this day, the day I’m writing about, in a different lifetime, Marvin got to work, poured another cup of coffee, black, opened the window and ended his journey. Is there a Moral to the story? Probably not. But it could be as simple as this: Depression & Booze Don’t Mix.
The next day, since I was still a college kid, caught up in myself, I left for a trip to Colorado. But I was filled with guilt. My heart ached. The Rocky Mountains seemed cruel. How could I leave? It was the first time I’d seen Dad cry.
Marvin was epic. To the kids, in so many ways, he was bigger than life: always funny, always with a drink in his hand, the biggest laugh in the room.
To honor Marvin, since I was still a college kid, I sprinkled Magic Mushrooms on a Pizza Pie. I had a flash back…
There was Marvin, on vacation, in Arizona, falling off a horse, landing on a cactus, Jumping Cactus, a harmless looking plant with needles that wedged under the skin, Marvin’s skin, the skin of his ass, like fishing needles. Talk about a bad trip!
There’s no way to remove the needles without tearing chunks of skin. So Marvin took the pain, had the needles yanked from his ass and went drinking, the same fucking night.
Hmmm, maybe this is the Moral of the story: He wasn’t afraid to jump because he wasn’t afraid of pain. Life, on the other hand, terrified Marvin. Trust me, I understand.
The Brickhouse, like Marvin, went splat. It ended in a half second. I can’t believe how fast it ended: terrifying. Dad always said, “When change comes, it comes fast and without warning.” To be Brutal, to be Frank, it’s true.
Greg and I closed The Brickhouse. But we didn’t open a window. Even if we did, even if we jumped, it was one story. At best, we’d have broken an ankle and pissed off Babs. So instead, we jumped off Chicago. We left for Brazil. Es Bon!
We landed in Rio de Janeiro. The food in Brazil is healing. For breakfast, I have a smoothie with Carrot & Orange Juice. Then I jog the path along Copacabana Beach. For lunch, I drink water from Coconuts. Then I read. For dinner, it’s Raw Veggies tossed with Oil & Vinegar.
My diet is Fruit & Veggie: no meats, no carbs, no kidding!!!
This time, for the first time in my family’s history, which is riddled with addiction, the one I’m actually worried about is Greg. He’s on bender: all day, all night, every day, every night, even this morning, at sunrise in Arraial do Cabo, he’s writing, Writing, WRITING.
It could be a problem. But really, this is what I think: Es Bon.
In Portuguese, “Es Bon” means “It’s All Good.” Yeah, that’s it, I think I finally found it, the Moral of the story.
Receta (feeds 4)
Black Bean Soup with Steamed Cauliflower Salad…
3 C raw black bean
1 teaspoon chipotle
1 gallon water
1 carrot, onion, garlic
1 bunch cilantro
3 heads cauliflower
5 roma tomatoes
1/2 red onion