12,303. RUDIMENTS, pt. 874

RUDIMENTS, pt. 874

(race tracks and drag strips; parties and grudges)

For old age, Erik Erikson

said, 'as we move into our

later years we can choose

to either embrace all that

was positive in our lives,

or, conversely, wallow in

the feelings of failure for all

that we did not accomplish.

He called these two polarities

of a continuum, 'Integrity vs.

Despair.' I don't really know

who would have sat around

and thought about stuff like

that other than me, but they

were old man thoughts not

young. You can't be looking

back when everything's ahead

of you. In any case, now I

think back to those years

and realize the primitive

qualities that existed and

I see easily how little of

any of it today's newcomers

would have withstood. They'd

be down for the count in a

week. As a for instance, let's

go back to Sullivan's March

and let's go to Mt. Pisgah

again too. Here's what so

doubly odd about it all. In

1972, as an example, none of

it was celebrated like it is today.

If you get to either place now,

Sullivan's Monument, and/or

Pisgah, there are placards and

story boards and signs everywhere.

The are guide-bars that let you

know, as you look out across the

expanses, what you're looking at,

how the battles went, the movements

and the killings and fights. Any

of it, right there while you're

viewing, can probably be looked

up on phones or handhelds or

whatever people traipse around

with now. Checked for veracity.

Other opinions sought out, and

easily found. Diagrams and

legends. Locations and facts.

In 1972, there was nothing.

An obelisk in the high grass

marked Sullivan's Monument,

and mostly even that wasn't

mowed. I remember being up

there and lost in a sea of grass

and wonder. What was all this?

Where can I find more? It was

all book-reference or nothing;

you had to work and seek, at

other locations; and nothing

then was heralded. I daresay

that was a better world. A

person had sweat-equity then,

in whatever he or she learned.

Now it's all there, and ordered,

and accessible, and half crap

anyway, but you know you're

only getting someone else's

version of the events related.

I'd often wondered what the

placards would say if the

'losers' got to write them.

What's the difference and

where does one gain? Most

all I ever remember up there,

from those old visits, was the

cold. We went mostly in the

Winter. Nice weather too, but

not near as much, and because

of a nearby playground and

parkfield, etc., there'd be

people around and kids

frolicking, halfway up

anyway. Seems like Mom

and Dad never took the kids

up to see the real decimation.

Life is sweet (la dolce vita!)

when you only get half the

story, and it's told to you

wrongly.

-

In the Winter visits, I'd stand

there just trying to understand

how in the world either side

back them was able to withstand

the cold, with such meager cover

and protections. Tents and teepees

and  fire, I guess, were about it;

but even with that fire doesn't

come cheaply  -  wood has to

be lugged, cut, hewn, and

seasoned too. Food has to be

somehow cooked over a fire,

in an orderly fashion too, for

distribution. Holes in the

ground for privies and

latrines, man, those guys

had it all on a hard tray

of work and toil. I wondered

too about sickness and fever.

What did they do for any of

that, whether from exposure,

or fatigue, any of those things

that break down the body's

resistance. All that, besides,

and you're on the lookout at

all times for the bullet or the

arrow (either side) that's going

to punctuate your forehead

or neck or chest or back, and

put it all out of reach anyhow.

Good night, sweet prince.

-

What I'm saying, I guess, is

in hindsight, those now very

simple years of some 30 years

ago were sweet and innocent,

though only in hindsight.There

was always sex and violence,

but it was kept hidden, relegated

to the secret closets and back

stairways  -  now everyone

just goes on, overdoing it, 

and blabbing about it all, 

and most of the jerks just 

lap it up looking for more.

Survival is a game now, and

there's really no intelligent

reasoning behind anything. 

There were pathways to glory,

always, but they were way

different.

-

Nothing's ever been more

boring to me than a racetrack.

Back in those Biker days,

which were essentially the

days when any excuse would

do to get somewhere and drink

beer, those guys always liked

fast, furious, hot-rodded cars

and bikes. There were, at the

time, still a number of local 

tracks around, to which we'd 

always eventually get : Wall

Township Speedway, or the

Englishtown Drag Strip, or

Atco, or Flemington Oval.

This was all NJ stuff, having

nothing to do with killing

Indians or with Sullivan's

March or any of that, but I'd

often sit there, half-blitzed,

and wonder  -  for this? This

is what all that travail and

murder was for? These Biker

guys eventually just got on

my nerves, but it took some

time. The thing to me was

their gung-ho approach to

everything, about nothing.

After a while it reached the 

point where all that energy

just seemed to go for being 

on the move, but even the 

move ended up useless -  just 

another in a succession of 

crabby bars, or  -  in these 

cases  -  race tracks and 

drag strips, parties, and

grudges. One day it finally

hit me, 'what the hell was I

doing here?' I slapped myself

in the head, and that was it.

There were other concerns,

and reasons, behind things, 

and these guys just weren't 

getting it. I moved out.

Racing games, drag strips,

motorcycle heroics, seeing

without understanding, agreeing

without knowing, only 'hearing'

about things and acting on that;

each of those was a resounding

death-knell to good sense. One

more Pledge of Allegiance, before

a meeting or talk, and I would

have puked. It was all so false

and miserable. 'Embrace all that

was positive,' or 'wallow in the

feelings of failure?' I was stuck;

mired, but I refused to be 
deadened. My intentions were 
to have a lot more out ahead 
of me, yet to come.