Up the River Without A Paddle, Flooding, & Other Things In Life

We’re always have a lot going on – or sometimes nothing at all, but either way there’s a lot more to write about than what we can write about.  There’s LIFE, after all – wry smile.  Yes – I don’t spend all my time on the internet and computer . . .

I sometimes give a view of what’s happening in our outside life, and would be remiss if I didn’t fill you in a bit.

First we got a new dentist.  She is young and lousy; rough handed, ignorant.  When she filed some of the enamel off our molars (saying “this will make them fit better!” – when they ‘fitted’ just perfectly fine) – we knew she was too dumb for this kind of job.  Her name is Julie Wheeler and she ‘loves’ my dad.  She says he is her ‘best buddy’.  But a filling fell out where she had ground out one of my teeth – putting a large hole in it and putting in some amalgam in it.  So I did what I used to do: I got some marine epoxy, sterilized and refilled it myself.  Much better than going back to THAT dentist.  My other one died (heart attack) and now I gotta find a new one . . . he used to love the way I would repair my teeth in the field, saying “that’s smart!” – then laughing as he drilled the putty out.  It worked.

Last weekend we went down the river without a paddle with no idea of where we were going.  Just drifting along with my grandkids and their dad, and my daughter & her boyfriend.  No one knew where to get out or how long the trip would be.  It was piss poor planning from the get-go by my daughter, which was fine with me – since that is the stuff adventures are made of.  There’s no fun in perfect planning; not really.  It’s good not to know where you are going until you get there – sometimes.  That’s what makes life interesting, you see.

We could have drifted on down to Charleston some 130 miles away.  The river was shallow in most spots, with the occasional scattering of worn rock covered in algae and weed, and often a sandy bottom.  According to our information, the trip was only supposed to be two hours . . . but two hours along and we were still drifting, having not seen the “get out point” we were supposed to see . . .

When the barriers of rocks would come we would face in the direction of the current, dodging the boulders we could see.  Sometimes – when the going was leisurely, we would turn around and face the past – the direction we had come from.  Sometimes we’d just be drifting along and someone would get bumped in the butt by a rock -hard enough to hurt sometimes if you weren’t careful.  After all, we were ‘tubing’, you see – butts hanging out and down, a sort of ‘vulnerable position’ to be.  A lot like life sometimes if you ask me.  You never know when that ‘bump’ is going to be coming because there are simply some things you can not see.  Not YOUR fault . . . it just happens.

We spent a lot of time interacting with the kids and family – laughing, playing, my daughter cursing because “someone” had forgotten the keys to the truck in the parking lot at the pickup point – and there was no going back to get them.  I wistfully glanced upstream, with a grimace, then a grin and a laugh while our daughter ranted and raved at her boyfriend, telling him what an idiot he could be . . .

But I had helped him.  I had locked those keys in the glove box of my Mustang after he place them in there (along his wallet and some other possessions).  I remember seeing him put them in there and having uneasy feeling that of a mistake of some kind.  I just didn’t know what that meant.  After all, I had driven with him to the pickup point – the point where the pickup was parked, and our end destination.

It’s not an adventure if you know where you’re going, and you plan too perfectly.  I’ve learned that.  It gets boring that way.  Sometimes you gotta leave room for mistakes to happen . . . just to keep life interesting.  As long as it’s not a fatal mistake, or one that’s gonna cost you some money . . . tho’ this one did.  Twenty dollars for a phone call and a ‘rescue truck’ – divide by 7 and that makes $3 a head; quite a good deal considering the alternative was walking five or six miles with a 3, 9, and 10 year old kid – and one very wet and angry daughter.

That sounds a lot like life sometimes, doesn’t it?  You never know how long the trip will be.  We don’t always know where we’re going – there’s just a general direction – and your sense of control is just an illusion.  The currents of Fate and Time push you along – occasionally you catch a rock in the bottom; sometimes you see rapids ahead.  And all around you the people you’re with.  At best you can only face the rocks when they are coming, and when relaxing, glimpse towards the past around the last bend . . . look at the banks flowing by to judge your real speed and hope to control your general direction.  There is no escaping the River, you see . . . not really.  It’s a journey of life we’re on.  At the very best (or the very least) you can leap out and forage up the bank.  But that’s tough going – through bog and weed and all uphill; facing snakes and thicket and thorn, all well grown . . . not a place to be . . .

Better to go on drifting . . . looking eyes ahead, glancing behind, and generally enjoying the moment you’re in.  A humorous sense of adventure helps, including not worrying about the problems ahead you know you’ll find till you get there, knowing you’ll deal with them in good time: such as we did when we found ourselves facing a pickup truck with no key.

Life can be like that sometimes.  A door you want to open; a career you want to start, a future you want to hold – and no key.  That might be ‘no degree’ or ‘no one to love’.  And that’s the truth of it, too.  But you’re not going to get anywhere just standing there complaining – you’ve got to take action, get proactive – change that future by fashioning yourself a ‘new key’ – whether it be getting a degree (for that job you’ve been contemplating that’ll change your life around . . . if you’ll only get off your buns and DO it – despite it being the hardest thing you’ve ever done) – or getting out there and mingling with a crowd, looking for your soul mate – or a mate – in the general population around you.

A ticket outta this place – and a ‘key’ to a new future where you belong . . .

Just a symbology.

I got new tires for my Mustang Convertible (2000 model; kinda looks like the old ones from the 1960’s) yesterday.  GOOD tires, because I always demand the best for my ‘baby’ (she’s white, with a tan top and Marine stickers and a skull on the front).  Bridgestone Turunza Serenity Plus – special order.  I did my reading and my research and supposedly they are some of the best kind of tires you can buy for that care that aren’t high performance large rimmed – meaning low profile.  While recognizing the performance advantage, they look like rubber bands.  I prefer the ‘old style tire’ tire – the thick ones, showing plenty of sidewall and rubber.  They might not handle better but they ride better – and look better to me.


The cost?  Almost seven hundred dollars.  Including alignment and everything.  But well worth it.  When you drive like I do you want the best for your machine; when you have the budget that I do, you settle on less than perfection – but still get something better than the bottom line.  Especially when you are dealing with a moderate performance ‘sports car’ and you like to take high speed turns.

I never ‘spin’ my tires, though.  I’m a Master Mechanic with several degrees.  Burning rubber and wasting traction on the road just isn’t my style.  I prefer the cool kind of style – that understated one that from a deep throaty hum and quiet ride in style.  One that kicks your ass with performance, not deafening sound.

Me (the adult alter, M3), our Teen and the Marine are usually my drivers, with the Marine being the best of all.  He’s been trained in three schools; our teen took another one.  It makes for a lot of professional driving – any style.

Another thing on my menu this week is the 18th or so flood we had happen last night.  This is due to the city’s piss poor engineeering.  They flood my yard every once and awhile – clear up to the house’s foundation, covering 30% of my yard – wasting everything.


They say they are 100 year floods.  That makes me over 1800 years old in the past 10 years.  The city admits they may have caused the problem – but they aren’t going fix it.

The lawyers in Augusta GA are crooked snakes at best, known for taking their clients for a ride and being in cahoots with the judges to make more money off you – their client.  They will string you along forever, and won’t take a case they think they can’t win unless they can strip you of all your money first.  They’ll even tell you they can win one just to take your money.  It’s a well known fact here.  Augusta Georgia has a bunch of lousy lawyers – I have heard of worse, but not so many lousy and greedy and corrupt ones in one place as here.  And yes, Southern Corruption still runs these towns – with a lot of backroom deals being made (used to be over at Sconyer’s BBQ until old man Sconyer’s made mayor – and then the deals got that much more obvious, to the point the whole town knew: the back room meetings at Sconyers was where they powers that be met, traded, and brokered.  An old ‘friend’ and ex-employer of mine turned lawyer (David Fry) just got busted a few years ago for bribery and corruption . . . and he’s the one they caught, anyway.  Most of them get by with it.

They won’t take ‘my case’ of property damage because (they say) it’s against a city and I’ll lose.  No “pro-bono” there – despite all the evidence.  I didn’t have but one flood in the fifteen some-odd years prior to them scalping the land; then after 18 floods?

I looked at their plans (done by Bluewater Engineering) – and guess what?

They stopped right at the edge of my land.

As a result I’ve got a dam blown, a spillway out, and 100 plus feet of flower bed gone.  Again my koi pond has been silted up, the pump is ‘gone’, and all the fish ‘escaped’ or dead.  Again.  I have approached the city time after time.

Sometimes this raises the old ‘infrastructure demon’ in me.  That’s not a good thing.  Neither is the desire to go and “take them out” using my machine gun down at Town Hall.  Wouldn’t accomplish a thing.  Neither would it make ‘sense’ and neither would it make my yard any better.

Fifty percent of the world’s population is stupider than 50% of the others.  Something to remember some of the time – especially when it comes down to voting for someone.  Sometimes I think they oughta have IQ tests for the thing – both for voting and the politician – just to make sure they have some brains and are using them . . .

Anyway . . . life’s a’happenin’, if you’ve noticed – I just don’t complain about it much.  And the hundred foot long waterfall in my yard WAS kinda beautiful . . . even if it did make a flood.

’nuff said for now.  Except to note: I wouldn’t use real names if I didn’t have evidence or if there weren’t news articles written about it.  Just one of my things.  I’m not known for lying – or libel, either.

Just in case one of those lousy lawyers was thinking of suing me.


About jeffssong

JW is an adult childhood abuse survivor with DID*. He grew up in a violent family devoid of love and affection. He is a military brat and veteran. He no longer struggles with that past. In 1976 JW began writing "The Boy". It took 34 years to complete. It is currently on Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004T3IVKK ), or if you prefer hard copy, on Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/Boy-J-W/dp/1461022681). JW resides somewhere in the deep South. He is disabled and living with family. Note: Please feel free to take what you need; all is free to all. With that in mind, keep it that way to others. Thank you. We have 3 Blogs - One for our younger days, 0-10 (The Little Shop of Horrors); one for our Teen Alter and his 'friends' (also alters) with a lot of poetry; and finally "my" own, the Song of Life (current events and things)
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6 Responses to Up the River Without A Paddle, Flooding, & Other Things In Life

  1. Hobbles says:

    I love your rafting metaphors.


    • jeffssong says:

      LOL, Hobs – it’s weird. Really. I mean like that book “I” wrote. Took 34 years. But right before I started the publishing process I took a look and guess what? Over 300 (probably 500) symbologies, double, triple, and even quadruple meanings to some of the words.

      I never guessed when I wrote the thing; I never even tried to put some ‘meaning’ or lesson in. “It” just happened. I was writing purely for the “enjoyment” (tho’ that’s not quite the right word, it was hard as heck sometimes) – and to produce a fiction novel for entertainment.

      I ‘kept’ a copy on my computer, noting in the “notations” or “comments” (invisible text) these sort of things.

      I am not bragging – I found it somewhat sickening, almost troubling. To be able to ‘put together’ some things.

      Really weird – like “I” am. LOL’ing.
      Hope you are doing good.
      (my feet are sore; we just got done walking two miles on gravel & stone in our bare feet. And you know who takes the ‘punishment’ or pain for us. Little Mikie – he’s a tough nut. But it was for training our feet. Gotta make ’em a little bit tougher. Don’t know why that thing.)
      ’nuff said.
      Until later
      your friend
      Jeff & crew


  2. aynetal3 says:

    Trip down the river seemed fun – though also with a good sense of tension – maybe being released? Hope that and not gathered! Happy to hear one said wallet saved the day with rescue truck. I’m pretty sure the Marine would have hiked back for the others though … I think they are just made like that. Our son is now a Marine and there isn’t enough time for all the good things we think toward his direction. We can spread that symbol-logy around a bit!

    Top of the day to you 🙂


    • jeffssong says:

      Oh yes, we were quite ready to march on back – not a problem, though we weren’t looking forward to it. The rental tubes had to be back on time or else it would’ve cost and extra eighty dollars. Our Marine does a lot of our ‘walking’ (along with Little Mikie & Michael) – you can tell if you are on the outside when he’s taken over – it’s the marching gait, fingers curled, thumb slightly tucked, chest out chin up eyes front kinda stuff, LOL!

      Tell your son “OOO-RAH!” for us – we’re proud of ‘our Marines’ – as a Sargent we were built to serve our men as well as our superior officers, some who weren’t so ‘superior’ in my own opinion, LOL. They had to EARN my salute sometimes, which bothered some and infuriated others – yes, I was an ‘unusual Marine’ – in a LOT of respects – but VERY good at my job. I know you worry about him and PTSD type of stuff – and it may happen. The best you can do is lend an ear for that kind of ‘stuff’. Quiet time and no judgement, and letting him know (if he says it) that it was horrible and tough.

      The good thing is that DID doesn’t happen unless you are exposed to a lot of abuse early in your childhood. However, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t learned to bury those emotions – he’s had to sometime, especially if he’s seen active combat service and some of the horrors of war. You just *have* to seal up that kind of stuff sometimes. I know we did.

      Give him a hug (next time you see him) and tell him not ALL us old Marines look ‘down’ on this new generation of Marine. Personally I think they are a lot tougher, with a lot more education than we were ever given, and are involved in a lot more ‘teamwork’ as a unit. It should help him, long run.

      Top of the day (or evening or night) or whatever time it is there.
      Jeff & Crew


      • aynetal3 says:

        Morning Jeff 🙂

        Your comment reminded me of things that a lot of my “Marine Mom” friends go through. There is a group of 2-300 of us connected on FB. You feel and sense their pain and sorrow … and a few have lost children or close family/friends in the war effort. I have to admit that my son hasn’t seen the light of fire. He was a sniper “rank” in bootcamp, but he’s in intelligence. He did the first couple of years after being training in Iwakuni, Japan, and he’s still serving, but at the Pentagon. He repeats stories like you suggested though of people above him not always earning his respect. He’s a sergeant now too. I’d say if there was one complaint he would have of the military it would be of people acting ignorantly, especially those above him that he thought should be better at their positions. Thom has little tolerance. He’s really quick and sharp and sees irony well. Excellent sense of humor, but then again he can get very bullet-speed angry and make snap decisions – could be to his betterment or not. Because of our dissociation I was really afraid on him with PSTD. But, unless provoked I think the genetic tendency don’t take over. He’s like a Marine in his liveliness. AND, no his mother doesn’t see him enough! Keep writing – i look forward to your posts. You’ve got the writer’s eye for detail … THOUGH have to admit I couldn’t follow through on the one with the two boys throttling each other. I’ll get better at this, I WILL! Need to be tougher 🙂 But, still nice and frilly around the edges hehehe!

        Our best,


      • jeffssong says:

        LOL, don’t allow yourself to be triggered. I forget to put the warnings sometimes on those Little Shop of Horrors postings. That’s why I have one on the about page, LOL! Beware before you open the door. And one person’s trigger is another person’s “interesting” (like me, LOL.) Yeah, we laff a lot because we’re in a good mood. And nowadays with the children? Yeah, we got a few that get depressed and moody; some with serious problems that we can’t allow – some that can’t even see the light of day (though we provide that for them – with our love and self-help & inside therapy). It works (wry laugh). It was just something that had been ‘bothering’ me so we wrote it down. We usually let things brew first; then when it ‘gets enough’ we write our stuff in chronological order (sort of)… cuz it’s moving through our life. Healing, that is. Good deal. 😀 😀 😀


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