The Story of My Life: A Chapter Ends, Another Begins

I gazed out the window of that old maroon Chevy Lumina van and watched as that brown shotgun rancher became smaller and smaller. I intently stared at the layout of Abbottstown center as we went through the circle one last time. We passed my grandparent's house, traveled through New Oxford, and eventually reached historic Gettysburg. I absorbed every detail like a sponge, not knowing when I would see the places I loved, the streets I knew, or every little detail that made that part of Pennsylvania home for the past 10 years again. We motored along until we entered onto the Turnpike. I kept staring and watching as those Pidgeon hills rolled on by. I didn't appreciate them as much as I wished I did when I was a younger, but I would soon get hit with the harsh reality on how much I was going to miss them as my daily backdrop.

After a little over four long hours, the Ohio Welcomes You sign appeared and we once again entered the Buckeye State. The land became flat and the hills vanished. We soon entered Cleveland's city limits and shortly after, we were pulling into the driveway of the meeting hall. I was slightly confused as we did not end up at the house across from Impett Park. My parents probably mentioned it before, but it must've gone in one ear and out the other. Apparently, the family that was moving out of that house decided to stay a little longer, so we were moving in blind to the house at the entrance of the meeting hall driveway. Seems like chaos was unleashed from the word "go!"

The other mini surprise was that the night we arrived was also youth meeting night. And for the kids attending, instead of their standard meeting, they had the privalidge of helping us unloaded our U-Haul. It was really nice because with that many hands, that truck was unloaded quick. I remember not helping that much though. Instead, I grabbed my scooter and road it around like a maniac, trying to show off. I think other than Timothy telling me how cool my scooter was, I was mostly ignored. Well, except for Timothy's mom, Connie, who told me to stop racing it towards Warren Road, simply because she didn't want me ending up being a casualty of the heavy traffic.

Post unloading, there was still time for a short youth meeting. My parents and some of the other adults who helped stayed at the house to continue to set things up while Sarah, all the other local kids, and I went into the meeting hall. When everyone was inside, it then dawned on me how many kids there actually were. The number was somewhere north of 30. That was a big deal for me because coming from a small town in PA, it was rare that this many kids were in a local group. 

I was introduced to a lot of people that night, mostly by Timothy, but my name retention was not the greatest. As cool as it was to meet all those kids, I had a flaw that I chose to carry. With the mindset of living in Cleveland for a year with the hope of moving back to PA, I didn't want to build strong friendships for the fear of leaving them behind. and not seeing them again. I was already feeling the effects of that with my PA friendships, but I would come to learn not to long down the road that my efforts were stupid and would be futile.

The meeting eventually adjourned and even though the sun had long ago set, the kids returned to the cool August air for some more rambunctiousness while waiting for parents to arrive. When the last of us began to leave, I found out I wouldn't be sleeping in my new dwelling that night. Because we moved in late to a house we hadn't seen prior, nothing was set up. The Miller's once again graciously offered their abode for us to stay in. That was probably the most exciting thing for me as I would be staying in Timothy's house yet again. 

What was potentially one night turned into three as that's how long it took for the house to be livable for a family of seven. During that time I was already failing at my efforts to resist strong friendship. Timothy was more than happy to let me see some of world. He took me on a more in depth tour of the entire meeting hall property. Some of the highlights included a massive Dogwood tree right in front of the house we had just moved into. Beautiful pink blossoms in the spring and plenty of leafy green shade for the summer. Some of the branches had the names of the youth carved into them. We climbed that tree and hid among it's shade. While the Dogwood was grand, there was a smaller, yet meaningful tree way in the back of the property. A small Crab-apple tree. A little tree it may have been, but it was one of Timothy's favorite places to be. It was fun to climb and one could gorge themselves on the fruit it produced. That tree soon became a staple in my life. He also showed me some more of the cool spots in the meeting hall, but one location took the cake, even though we weren't technically supposed to access it. That location was the roof. There was no ladder nor opening that led up to it. One had to climb on smaller objects and scale walls and beams like a monkey to get up there. And the building was tall enough that when up there, you felt on top of the world. That roof would become a staple in my life, provide some interesting moments, and be a place of reprieve. More on that later.

At this point in the year, there were only 4 months left in 2003. Yet in those four months, I was going to go through many more life changes and experiences. Many of them will have get their own chapters because of their importance in my journey. I also have many more people to introduce you to, but I'm going to end this brief chapter with one introduction in particular. It occurred during Labor Day weekend of 2003. Like the church conference we attended every year in Virginia, they held one at the meeting hall in Cleveland as well. In order to accommodate the number of people that came and their children, the church would rent out a building off site where the kids would spend the day while the parents were in meetings. This year's location was a few miles away in a local high school known as Lakewood High School. It was a massive building with a huge gym at our disposal. I did not know it then, but this majestic building with the giant Johnny Appleseed figure mounted on the front would later play a key part in my life. 

During the day, us kids would do a bunch of activities which ranged from athletics to crafts and everything in between. There were snack breaks at well and it was during one of these times that I would meet a fellow who would eventually become one of my best friends. The snack was laid out on a table and we all lined up beside it. We were handed our snacks and then had to find a table to sit at. I found Timothy at a table and naturally gravitated towards him. He was talking a laughing with someone else. Timothy paused his conversation and introduced me to his good friend Jeremiah. Jeremiah was still laughing and he caught his breath long enough to say hi. Then he promptly did something I thought strange. He opened his package of M&M's and instead of eating them, he immediately began to color-code them. Then one by one, he popped them in his mouth in order of the rainbow. I gave Timothy a strange look and then both of them burst into laughter again. Even though Jeremiah's strangeness was exuberant, it didn't put me off, but rather peaked my curiosity as someone I'd like to know better. And boy would I.

The next few chapters will introduce you to a swath of characters that flood into my life as well as some more big life changes, events, and a close out of 2003. From this life change to the point my age reflected the number 13, it seemed like someone put a brick on the pedal and left the car in drive. Buckle up because it's going to be a bumpy, curvy, and crazy ride.

The Story of My Life: Ohio Visit & Moving Day

There was one specific moment of 2003 that happened during the farewell tour. We took a multi-day trip to Ohio to see where we would be living and to meet the people there. This small excursion had such an impact on me and would set the tone for the first major move I was about to experience.

On August 9th, 2003, we all piled into the car and made the 6 hour drive to Cleveland, OH. When we arrived it was pretty late and the sky was black. As we dragged our tired selves to this strange house, I was expecting the family that lived there to greet us. But instead, all that could be found was a note on the door. My parents were well aware that the note be there when we arrived, but this was not knowledge to me. Based on the instructions of the note, we were able to get inside. My first thought was, how crazy must they be to not only leave their house unlocked but to let 7 strangers enter their home and fall asleep before they arrive?? I personally would've lost my mind if my parents did that fearing that random children may be terrorizing my room, getting into all my Legos, or simply invading my sacred space. Eventually my tiredness overwhelmed me and I drifted off to the land of dreams.

I awoke the next morning to a lively house. Most of the host family was awake and breakfast was being prepared. I wanted to sleep a little longer, but with all the commotion, that wasn't going to happen. It was time to meet our hosts, the Miller family. The first ones I met were the parents, Tim and Connie as they were in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Their youngest, Timothy was also there as he was eager to meet us. Their oldest son, Mark, eventually traversed the stairs and made an appearance. Not long after that, he was tasked by his mom with telling his sister, Hannah, that it was time to wake up. Little did I know it then, but those five people were about to become a crucial part of my life.

The few days we were there blur together in my mind, but I do remember bits and pieces. I remember all three days being sunny. I remember touring Impett Park which was right across the street from where we were supposed to move and being stoked there was a public pool that close. I remember Timothy being excited to show me around the meeting hall, all the secret spots, and the crab-apple tree that was fun for climbing and eating from. 

One of the days was spent touring the house we were going to move into. From the outside, it didn't look that big, but it was big enough to hold a family of 7. I don't remember much how it looked because I was more focused on the big TV in the basement where a young man was playing video games. That young man's name was Jason. And he was the cousin of Grace and Isaac who we knew back in Pennsylvania. Him and his mom were going to move back overseas which is why the house would be available. What I really liked was that it was right across the street from Impett Park with the pool.

Now being 12 years old, I still had mischievous ways of my own. A few weeks prior to the visit, my friend Jordan had given me his only Gameboy, unbeknownst to my parents. It wasn't that we weren't allowed to play video games, but my parent's didn't want us owning any because they didn't want our lives to be consumed by them. I made the daring move of sneaking it out to Ohio. It really didn't get used during the day, but instead, when I was in bed each night, I spent about an hour playing it. It was hidden under my pillow and yes I left it there overnight because the pillow was so soft and padded that I couldn't feel it underneath. Each morning, I would then stuff it deep in my bag so it a slim chance of being discovered.

My craftiness was on par. My stealth was unmatched. I felt like a ninja. But I slipped. I made a crucial mistake. On the very last night, I played the Gameboy as I normally did, then instead of putting it into my bag so it was ready to go when we left, my brain was on autopilot and I put it under the pillow. The next morning I was so excited to be going back to PA, that I lapsed and left it under the pillow. It wasn't until later in the day when we were getting ready to leave that I remembered I had left it there. I ran all the way up to the third floor to find a bed with new sheets, no pillow, and the Gameboy was gone. My brother Tim told me Dad and Mom had found it. I thought I was a dead pigeon. Instead of waiting for them to confront me, I went to them. With a bit of fear, but a plan in mind, I asked them where it was. Dad had it and asked me where I got it from and why did I have it? Instead of saying it was given to me, I told him that I had borrowed it from Jordan for the long car trip. I was expecting him to scold me and hang onto it, but surprisingly, he did neither. He gave it back and said something along the lines of getting in back to him when we got home. I felt like I had dodged a bullet. While I was not proud of that moment, I did not take for granted one of the few times I felt like I had been given a free pass I did not deserve.

That handful of days blew by and before I knew it, we were ready to head back to PA for the last time as residents of the Keystone State. Meeting the Millers had eased my fears a bit more knowing we were going to be around some great people. Right before we hit the road, Timothy, in his goodbye, mentioned the Friday night young people's meeting they have every week and said it would be cool if we could be there. My dad told him being 6 hours away was a bit of a trek, but when we moved there, we'd be sure to check it out. We said our goodbyes and off we went.

On August 14th, 2003, shortly after we returned home, disaster struck the Northeastern US and parts of Canada. The Northeast Blackout. In short, a bug in an alarm system and a plant failure that began in Ohio triggered a chain reaction that wiped out power across 7 states and parts of Canada. It affected 55 million people and lasted anywhere from 2 hours to 4 days depending on where one was located. To make matters worse, there was a heat wave that August that made things scorching hot without A/C. The silver lining to all this was that where my family lived was in an unaffected area. We had power for the entire duration of the blackout. I was grateful it didn't happen while we were in Cleveland and that it didn't affect us, but it didn't do my anxiety any good as my mind put another negative mark on Cleveland for potential power disasters. It would be something the folks of northeast Ohio would talk about for a long time.

Before I get into moving day, I need to make mention of one more significant event that happened in 2003. After five long years, Elise and her family moved back from Germany to Pennsylvania. We both had definitely changed, but it was a good to have them back. But now it was our turn to depart.

The week leading up to moving day was essentially moving week. When one has a big family and lived in one place for almost 10 years, said large family accumulates a lot of stuff. Now we weren't pack rats by any means, aside from Sarah who kept every little doodle, bead, and scrap of paper under the sun, but it was easier to store stuff in the attic than find away to get rid of it. I remember the process being this whole ordeal. My parents were pulling items out of the attic I never knew existed. The task was an all hands on deck affair.

Many hands came and helped. Stuff my parent's considered no longer worth anything was put into black trash bags and set out on the curb. There were so many that you couldn't see any grass or plant life where they laid. Then, my parents called in the calvary. Al drove over in his Jeep Wagoneer with his two wheel trailer in tow. That trailer was loaded up for two reasons. The first was to take items we did not need to bring with us, but still wanted to keep back to his house to store for us. The second was to haul larger items off to the dump. We also loaded up our early 90s Chevrolet Lumina mini van multiple times with possessions in order to transport them all to Al and Sue's in a timely manner.

It wasn't long before that week came to an end. The house that had been full of Watkins's and their stuff was now empty. It was weird seeing it like that because the very first time I saw it for myself, everything was moved in and it was furnished. It had a slight, eerie, feeling to it. We weren't going to be able to take all three cars vehicles with us as there were only two people who could legally drive and one had to drive the U-haul. So we drove the behemoth Dodge van over to my grandparent's house and parked it there. The 83' Ford Tempo was tow-hitched onto the back of the U-haul and filled with stuff that wouldn't fit in the truck. The Lumina would be the only vehicle of the three that would have a driver for the whole journey. With all our goodbyes said and our entire life loaded up, it was time to say goodbye to Abbottstown, PA one last time.

While I recall the memories of that week, all the organized chaos, the moving parts and pieces, the only thing really on my mind then was that this chapter of my life was coming to a close. Even though I was well aware my parents were renting that brown shotgun ranch house all those years, I was ignorant to the fact that this was far from longevity as possible. This house was the first house I had lived in longer than two years. And for a kid that went from nearly four years old to 12 years old in one place, that was an eternity...until it wasn't. Life is a funny thing for a kid to navigate, but in doing so, it teaches how to grow, learn, and live. Sometimes it'll throw haymakers when least expected. It's not how they knock you down that matters. It's how you get back up. 

A Tribute To John Adams: A Cleveland Legend

Long before I became an Indians fan and long before I set foot in the 216, there was man who brought a large drum to a baseball game. His name was John Adams. Although he shared a name with the second president of the United States, his legacy was not in politics, but rather at the ball park.

In 1973, John Adams decided to bring a large drum to Municipal Stadium. Whenever the Indians came to bat, he pounded the drum. No matter where you were sitting in the stadium, you could hear it. John wasn't planning on bringing it every game he attended, but the Indians realized how valuable he could be and asked him to return. So he did. 

Game after game, John brought that drum. It's steady "thom thom thom" riveting through the ballpark, rallying the boys of summer to make some magic happen. John and his drum were there at many an amazing moment including Len Barker's perfect game in 1981. When the Indians moved to their new home at Jacob's Field in 1994, so did John and his drum. He was there at the heart of it all in the 1995 and 1997 World Series, adding to the already wild atmosphere. 

I first heard of John July 9th, 2004. I had lived in Cleveland for barely a year and was attending my first ever Major League Baseball game. I was there with a large summer camp of 1000 people. In the first inning when the Indians were at bat, I heard a "thom thom thom". I assumed it was coming over the PA system. But I was dearly mistaken. Someone pointed John out to me. As I was seated in the nosebleeds in right field, I squinted through the sun over to the bleachers. There at the top, just below the scoreboard was John, pounding his drum. I thought two things in that moment. The first was how cool it was that they let a guy bring in a large drum and the second was I realized what it sounded like. The heartbeat of the stadium. 

As time went on, I fell more in love with the game of baseball. As I attended more games, I grew to appreciate that piece of the atmosphere. And since John rarely missed a game, if he and his drum were absent, it felt like something important was missing. I've had so many memorable moments at that ballpark and John was part of nearly every one. One of my most cherished was a game from 2009. October baseball was less than a week away and every game counted. I was sitting in the bleachers, a few rows from where John and his drum held down the fort. The game was against the Baltimore Orioles and it was a slugfest. Late in the game, the Indians were down by one run, but they had something brewing. There some crowd pumpers in the lower section of the bleachers, rallying us to start The Wave. We tried three times and each time it would get a little further, but ultimately die out. As we did, John kept pounding his drum. Then the main pumper encouraged us to attempt The Wave one last time. He counted us down. When he hit zero, we went up, John banged the drum, and The Wave rolled. Right as it reached home plate, and with John's rhythm keeping pace, the Indians smashed the ball to center field, scoring two. The crowd exploded, the heartbeat pumped, and those two runs were enough to win the game. What I witnessed was a magical moment and the stuff of legend.

For nearly five decades, John played that drum. And the incredible thing is that in the 47 seasons he played the drum at the ballpark, he only missed about 45 games. That equates to slightly over 3,800 games that you could hear that wonderful drum at the game! That's truly an incredible feat.

Today, January 30, 2023, John Adams passed away as his health was in decline. Who knew that when one man decided to bring a massive drum to a game, that he would become a beloved Cleveland icon. A man who drum beat for sons and daughters, who became fathers and mothers and brought their sons and daughters, who became grandfathers and grandmothers, who brought their sons and daughters and their grandchildren. John and his drum brought joy and many wonderful memories to thousands of baseball fans who walked through the the gates of both Cleveland Municipal and Jacob's Field. A Clevelander would tell you that Cleveland baseball and John Adams went together like peanut butter and jelly. And while his drum no longer plays at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario, it beats on in the memories and hearts of all those who witnessed it in their lifetimes. John Adams, not only a Cleveland fan, but a Cleveland Legend. Rest in peace.

The Story of My Life: Pennsylvania, The Farewell Tour

 "We're moving." Those words shot through me like a stray bullet. My emotional dam crumbled and flowed like the Rio Grande. I was a blubbering mess. The life I had known and so dearly loved for the past 9 years was going to be torn away from me. Through my blurry eyes I could tell my parents struggled to break this news. This wasn't an easy decision for them either. They too would be leaving family and friends and all that they had known and built up over time. 

I wasn't thinking about that. I couldn't think. My world had exploded. I had been an emotional wreck before, but I saw no end to this chaos. That is until I was informed it would only be for a year. I slowly calmed down and the waterworks began to dry up. Even a year was devastating, but it was better than anything longer.

The next few days my focus had shifted. It was still going to be a few months before we moved, but all I could think about was how I was going to break the news to people and how my last few months were going to look drastically different. So began the farewell tour.

The soccer season had recently ended, but Craagen and I had become closer friends like Jordan before him. We were going over too each other's houses, sharing our passion for hot wheels cars, and attempting to talk in goofy British accents. Then one afternoon, my mom invited him and his mom over for the day. Craagen and I spent most of the day creating our own adventures outside. Eventually we were playing with hot wheels cars outside with my brother Nathaniel. I wasn't planning on telling Craagen the news then, because I hadn't figured out a way to do so. I was also hoping that his mom would tell him so I didn't have to. I don't know what prompted him to say it, but Nathaniel suddenly blurted out that we were moving. I froze and didn't speak. Craagen freaked out. It was a very brief freak out, but one I was not prepared for. Thankfully it left as quickly as it came and it wasn't long before we went back to doing other things, but the first hammer had been swung.

One night my grandparents were bringing me home from a day at their house. I thought it was odd my grandmother was coming because normally it was just grandpa and me when taking me home. At some point in the ride, Grandma mentioned my parents wanted to talk to them about something and asked me what it was. My confusion eroded quickly because now I knew why she was coming along. I didn't want to prematurely break the news so I shrugged it off. As soon as we got to the house, I let Mom and Dad know we were here and then immediately ran outside to play. I don't know how that conversation went, but I didn't want to be anywhere near the living room that night. I believe I did make an appearance to say goodbye for the evening, but that was it.

One of the much harder goodbyes was to the Bishop family. We made our annual spring trip down to Virginia and per the norm, stayed at their house. Even though we saw them twice a year, we spoke with them frequently over the phone and I still considered Wesley as one of my best friends. At some point, my dad broke the news. Going from 1.5 hours away to 7.5 was surely going to change things. The details of that trip are really foggy for me, but there is one thing I'll never forget. When we were leaving, Brian came out to send us off after we had already said our goodbyes. As we piled into the van, he said goodbye again and then he said "the Bishops love the Watkins." Then as we drove off, I turned and looked out the back window. That man did not leave his driveway and return to his house until we were fully out of view. That was also the last time I saw him for at least 10 years and I wouldn't see Wesley again for eleven.

Most of the remaining goodbyes to my friends were not as intense. It was a repeated pattern of me breaking the news and getting looks and moans of disappointment. The only ones I actually did not say goodbye to were Abby and Krista. They had actually beat us to the punch and moved first. As I write this, I am now realizing a left out a chunk of crucial story involving their move. 

Their dad was a pastor at the church up the street from our house and the house they lived in was part of church property. We had spent so many hours in all four seasons having adventures in their yard and the big field behind their house which had become such a huge part of my childhood. So when their dad got relocated to pastor another church, their move was a big bummer. It was like a piece of the neighborhood went missing. Another pastor and his wife had moved in and they were such a sweet, young couple. Their names were Mark and Amy. They did not have any kids, but they allowed us to play in the field behind their house whenever we desired. Plus Mark was a big Eagles fan so that was awesome.

After Abby and Krista moved we didn't see them again until one fateful day. The night before my mom hinted that we would be going to someone's house the next day, but wouldn't tell us. I tried my best and guessed every name I could think of, but was still wrong. Then, on that sunny and cool Autumn day, we piled into the van and eventually pulled into a driveway of this house that I could not recognize. As I was still wondering who could live here, the front door popped open and Abby stepped out. We exploded in pure joy. We spent the entire day at their new house doing kid things and catching up on the time lost. And while that was a wonderful surprise and an incredible day of fun and friends, when we left their house that day, that goodbye was the last as this was the era before social media, smart phones, and the internet as we know it today and when we moved, we simply lost touch.

As I've mentioned numerous times throughout this series, we were part of a church. That meant we were involved with a lot more people. The were all told one way or another, but there was one day that was turned into a "farewell" gathering. Nearly everyone who met in Al & Sue's house and the other group we were connected with in Lancaster, PA, met up in a huge park halfway between the two. We had a morning gathering and then ate together. Afterwards, while the adults chatted, us kids spent the rest of the day having a blast on the massive wooden playground found there. Remember that Kid's Kingdom park I mentioned in previous chapters? This one was built the same way but it was twice the size. The coolest feature was the giant Noah's Ark boat that you could climb inside and go on the upper deck. We pretended to herd it full of animals and navigate the flood waters for however long we though it took. We maybe also fended off vicious pirates. Maybe. 

The last memory I have of that day was where we were all gathered again under a pavilion. My Dad was addressing everyone explaining their reasoning for the decision and all that led up to it. I did not pay too much attention to reactions as I was hoping he would wrap it up so I could go back to playing with the little time I had left. But I waited as best as I could. It was still hard to listen as we were telling people who were basically family that we were leaving, but as far as I could tell, they understood. They knew what a life of following the Lord meant as they themselves lived it. 

I want to end this chapter on one final memory. One that was a simple moment at a simple time, but it left an impression on me forever. One warm, beautiful, and tranquil summer night, a bunch of people were invited over to Melinda's and Joanna's for dinner. Going over there in the evening was a rare treat as we would usually stay half the day and leave before dinner. It was a packed house that night. After dinner, all the kids rushed outside to enjoy the last few hours of daylight and let our minds run wild. 

We played hide-and-seek, multiple variations of Tag, and whatever else our juvenile minds could come up with. At one point during a game of intense Tag, something awful happened. I was wearing one of my favorite shirts. It was a Jeff Gordon shirt that was entirely rainbow colored like the paint scheme on his racecar. The shirt was practically new at this time. My previous hiding spot had been compromised and I decided to get a head start by creeping out of the woods and behind Mike's (the girls older brother) pickup truck. I waited for my pursuers to set their course and when the moment was right, I bolted. Then I heard a sound that made my heart drop. It was the sound of carefully twined threads being mercilessly ripped apart. Being a kid and not being spatially aware most of the time, I caught the corner of my oversized shirt on the corner of the tailgate (which was open) and it tore a nice sized hole in the shirt. I was devastated. 

I stopped playing the game and went to my mom in a state of wreck. Most anything in those days would set me off and this was one of those things that would do it. My mom was shocked, but after taking a look said she could mend it. Her words of hope helped dissipate my emotions and brought back my will to return outdoors. I walked out the front with a renewed drive to play again, but as I did, I took notice of the summer sun setting in the farmer's field in the distance. Something inside of me told me I should go sit on the nearby hill and watch it set. The crazy thing about that was is that in all the years I had spent at that house, never once did I pause, sit on that hill, and take in the view. But that night I did.

I could hear the laughs, shouts, and cries of my siblings and friends still playing all over the property. Yet, there I sat on that hill, watching the summer sun slip away. I was silent as the slight breeze swept over me. My thoughts could've been bleak, but they weren't. I was replaying moment from many great memories I had here. Letting the moment wash over me as the world seemed to come to a complete halt. I so badly did not want that sun to set as I was in awe of the scene and all it was doing for me in that moment. I think for the first time since I had gotten the news that split my world in two, I had an overwhelming sense of peace. And in that moment, I was grateful. Grateful for all that I had, for all the people in my life, for all the memories I made, and for that moment. It wasn't long before the fireflies began dancing and glowing in the evening sky. Leaving me with a wonderful memory and hope.

End of Year Reflections

 I decided to take a temporary pause from my life's story (sorry about the longer cliff hanger) to reflect upon the year known as 2022. This one is going to be a bit different from past years because I'm going to spitball it and not really have a straight flow. Basically a mind dump. Let's see where this goes.

After one of the worst Decembers of my life (2021) January 2022 didn't show much promise. I won't go into much detail about that December, but in short within the span of one week, my immediate family had a bout with Covid that had me on pins and needles, three of my close co-workers were laid off, and I lost a friend at the age of 24 to Covid. 

When January appeared, Covid restrictions were heavy again due to the rage of the omnicron variant. I really could not take another year of this mess. With my spirits crushed, there came forth things to lift them. The first was the return of the winter olympics. If you've known me for a bit, you know I love the olympics. For those two weeks, watching great feats of athleticism, thrilling moments, glorious victories, and cheering on Team USA, my state of being rose.

The auto show came back to the IX center and I attended for my first time since moving to Cleveland. March gave us a couple of warm days and I took my electric skateboard for a ride. That feeling of speed and freedom was a much welcomed rush. It was these little things that made the outlook seem brighter.

April. It was the turning point. I was getting on a plane for the first time in 2.5 years and I was headed to North Carolina to visit my sister. I spent 4 days there enjoying the warm weather, the parks, the ice cream, and the people. It was a much needed trip. The ultimate kicker was a little after 9PM, I was sitting on my connecting flight from Washington D.C. to Cleveland. Right before the plane took off, the pilot announced that masks were no longer required as the restriction had been lifted nation wide mere hours before. My hope surged as that was the last major obstacle of things headed in the right direction.

As the weather continued to warm, May opened the door to begin outdoor projects on my house. I began replacing sunken concrete, trimmed trees and installed string lights on my garage awning. Then memorial day weekend came. I was a buzz because for the first time in my life, I was going to Las Vegas. It wasn't just any trip either. We were celebrating a friend who was about to tie the knot. A group of 12 bros in total. It was a blast at an incredibly fancy airbnb 10 min from the strip, touring the strip, seeing the Vegas lights at night, and even a bonus trip to Red Rocks National Park. It was the most expensive trip I've taken since Australia, but the experience was well worth it.

In June I jumped on my third plane of the year to visit my brother and sister-in-law in Maryland. We took a day trip to D.C. and I finally got to explore our nation's capital. The Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the Smithsonian, etc. We also saw a ball game at National Park making that ballpark #10 on my MLB tour. We explored a bit more of Baltimore too and I met a bunch of cool people they know.

July put a pause on the travel because I had a number of local church events I was attending plus two of my good friends were saying "I do." Unfortunately they both scheduled their weddings on the same day so while I wanted so badly to be at both, I chose the one in Cleveland because I committed to it first. One thing I really love about weddings is reconnecting with people I haven't seen in forever. Being able to hang out on a rooftop in downtown Cleveland catching up and chatting the night away are moments I live for. The weather was perfect and the wedding was a blast. Thankfully my other friend had a reception/celebration at the end of the month that I was able to attend to celebrate with them there.

August brought back the travel bug as my family headed back to my hometown in Pennsylvania. Not only did we visit family and friends, but we went to Hershey Park, explored a bit of Philadelphia, and saw a Phillies game at Citizen's Bank Park for stadium #11. I also had a blast at an impromptu painting class from a dear childhood friend who is an artist by trade. My little work of art from that time now hangs in bathroom to brighten the atmosphere. 

I did host BBQs at my house all summer and September provided the last two. The weather was great, the food was delicious, and those who came ended up chatting until the sun went down. This month was also mostly a baseball watch as the Guardians were making a strong push into the playoffs.

October marked 1 year of being a homeowner and signaled just how quickly a year can fly. I ended up attending not one, but two post-season baseball games which was a career record for me. Although the Guardians didn't make it out of the second round, it was still a wild ride.

November was socialize month as I spent the majority of the month attending events with friends. That included two Friendsgiving dinners before our family Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving this year was a bit more sentimental than normal because there won't be another one like this one. I'll explain more on that down in a future post. 

And here we have arrived in December. A very chill month (literally) for me as we close out 2022. I can't forget to mention all the different adventures and events I participated in with this geocaching hobby I've been doing for 7 (now almost 8) years. It's a staple in my life that not only put my on new adventures, but allowed me to meet a bunch of fantastic people. And finally, a ten year project will come to completion as January appears. I wrote two letters to myself in January of 2013 and sealed them in an envelope to be unsealed and read January of 2023. Stay tuned.

On that note, I bid 2022 adieu and look forward to a fresh and new year. I wish you all well and here's hoping a best foot forward into 2023.

The Story Of My Life: 2003: The Backswing of the Wrecking Ball Part 1

There are years one anticipates. Years that are supposed to hold something special. Something planned or the hope of something magical. For me, 2003 was supposed to be one of those years. I would be turning 13 and I couldn't be more excited to be a teenager. My life was also looking up post 9/11. Soccer was doing wonders for my life, my friend group was expanding, NASCAR was taking over my world, and little by little I was beginning to find out who I was. 

Speaking of NASCAR, my love for the sport played a role in an amazing surprise. Everyone in our town received this free newspaper called the Merchandiser. It wasn't actually a newspaper, but a newspaper-like item loaded with nothing but ads, hence the name. Every year the Merchandiser held a contest to pick the winner of NASCAR's biggest race, the Daytona 500. There were only 43 drivers that qualified for this race so you had a 1-43 shot. But, since it was a contest, many people entered and picked similar drivers. To determine the tie-breaker, you had to pick the speed the driver would be going as they crossed the finish line. The prize a $150 gift certificate to one of the sponsor's stores (winner's choice). Being someone who both loved NASCAR and contests, I was definitely entering it. So which driver did I pick? The weeks leading up to the race contained a number of special race events. The Bud Shootout, The Gatorade 125s. The Busch series race at Daytona. Guess who won them all? Dale Earnhardt Jr. The driver who lost his legendary dad in a last lap wreck at Daytona two years prior. Common sense would say not to bet against him. But my 12-year old self didn't believe in the sweep. So I picked his teammate and 2001 Daytona 500 winner Michael Waltrip. I didn't have any knowledge on what was a good speed to pick and did not have internet to look up average finishing speeds. So I figured 168mph was a good number. In reality, that speed is a bit on the slow side as the cars go around 200mph at Daytona and can hit that speed across most of the track. 

Race day came and I was glued to the TV. Dale Jr ran well most of the race and even led 22 laps. Waltrip ran well too, but it seemed Dale Jr was going to take the checkers. I thought I had blown it. Then, in a moment, a large crash happened, collecting Dale Jr in the process. No one was significantly hurt, but Dale Jr's chances of winning were gone. Rain was threatening all day and eventually moved into the area. Just over a hundred laps in and now at the halfway point, Michael Waltrip was leading and had led the majority of the laps to this point. Then around lap 104, the heavens opened and rain came falling. NASCAR officials put the race under caution and ran a handful of laps before realizing the rain wasn't going anywhere. Since the race had passed the halfway point, it was official. They called the race under caution and declare Michael Waltrip the winner. I was ecstatic, but instantly realized the race had ended under caution so the drivers were going between 35mph and 45mph. I could only wonder how many people picked Waltrip to win and thought for sure someone possibly picked a better tie-breaker speed than I did. 

Days later I had forgotten about the competition. I was eating lunch in our kitchen between home school classes when the landline rang. My mom answered the phone. "Hello Watkins", she said. Pause. "Yes." She looked at me with a funny look. "One second", she said. "It's for you." I had no idea who it was because I rarely got calls. "Hello?" I said. The lady on the other end introduced herself as someone from the Merchandiser. "I'm calling to tell you that you've won our NASCAR Pick the Winner of the Daytona 500 contest." I was stunned. I had been entering contests for years and I finally won something. She told me that I'd be receiving my prize in the mail. The sponsor I had chosen what a local sports apparel store called Instant Sports Replay. I'd never been in there, but knowing they had NASCAR stuff as well as NFL, NBA, and MLB merchandise, I knew that's where I wanted to go. 

A few days later, my parents took me and my siblings to ISR. My eyes grew huge with all the things I saw. Shirts, blankets, helmets, popcorn bins, pillows, jackets, and so much more all plastered in professional sports teams colors. A lot of things were pricy, so I had to choose wisely. After checking out the entire store, I ended up getting a Philadelphia Eagles throw blanket, a Denver Broncos body pillow (I liked the logo), a Philadelphia Eagles ballcap, and a Jeff Gordon shirt. I also gave some of the money to each of my siblings for them to pick out something. When I brought all those items home, I couldn't stop staring at them or using them. I had never had that many new and slightly expensive things before at one time that I could call my own. I took pretty good care of them as best I could. The Jeff Gordon shirt eventually wore out an is long gone. I wore that Eagles cap for a solid 7 years before I outgrew it. Now it rides on the back head rest of my car. The body pillow and blanket reside of my bed to this day, although the body pillow is near it's end of life. The blanket is still in excellent shape. They've survived 20 years and I'm still amazed.

As Winter's dull gloom melted into Spring, soccer season had returned. Very few of my teammates remained from the previous season as many new faces joined the squad. Our shirts were red this year and at the first practice, we picked a team name. A bunch of kids thought it would be cool to be called the Red Devils. Coach saw no issue with that and so that what our team was called...until it wasn't. Some parents were not too pleased and kindly asked the coach to rename the team. Coach broke the news to us and although there were a few groans, we managed to come up with something less hell-bound. The new name was the Red Rockets. That name became very ironic to me and I'll explain a bit later. 

One of the kids who joined another squad (due to a different practice night) was Eddie. I wasn't happy he was on a different team, but it sure was fun to play against him. In a game against his team, we played each other hard. So much so, that at one point, our feet became tangled and he went down. I stopped to give him a hand and help him up. I apologized and he had the biggest grin I had witnessed in a long time. He said something along the lines of "It's okay my friend, no worries." If there were more people like Eddie in this world, it would be a much better place.

I also need to make mention of another young lad who did join our squad. His name was Craagen (kraw-ghen). He loved mainly two things. Cars and British accents. When conversing with him he'd switch between his normal American accent and the British one he'd been trying to perfect. He was a bit of a strange fellow and yet we became good friends. 

Back to the reason why Red Rockets was ironic. That Christmas, my Uncle Bob and Aunt Cecilia sent me a model rocket kit. I had never had one before but was immediately interested. Having never built one I enlisted the help of Uncle Randy since he had built a bunch in his day. After an hour or so, we had a completed red, white, and blue, patriotic, ready-to-fly model rocket. But in order for it to take off, we needed to purchase one use engines from the store. So we did and one fine Saturday after finishing our soccer game, My Dad, myself, Dave, Uncle Randy, and a few of my siblings went to an open field at the school to launch rockets. It was cool inserting the engine and connecting the rocket to the launch pad. We did count-downs and even shouted blast-off! Pushing the launch button and watching that little rocket shoot thousands of  feet into the air was the highlight of my weekend. Even the parachute deploying and returning the rocket safely to earth was awesome. 

As we burned though our engines, we decided to do one more launch for both mine and Dave's rockets. And that's where double disaster struck. Dave went first and launched his rocket. instead of going up and out at an angle, a large gust of wind blew it up and then backwards. Both my dad and uncle shouted "uh-oh" and ran towards its wayward path hoping to warn any unsuspecting civilians nearby. That danger never became a reality because the rocket ended up crash-landing on the school roof. They tried to see if it blew off but nope...it was gone. Thinking lighting couldn't strike the same place twice, we still launched mine. As we did, the rocket took off, but with a smaller smoke trail than normal. Then the trail suddenly stopped, then started, and for some reason, spiraled away from the rocket. When the rocket landed, I went to retrieve it. The engine was gone. As was the tail cap that held it in place. I searched the area but could not find it. I knew what had happened. After I put the engine in, I knew it wasn't in properly because the tail cap did not click into place. I didn't want to have to pull everything out and reset it so I figured it was fine. My uncle and dad were unaware because I didn't tell them. My stupidity caused me to lose a crucial piece of that rocket and because of that (and the cost of rocket engines) that rocket never flew again. It was an incredible experience and a memorable day, but the joy was short lived.

By late spring, my third soccer season came to a close. We had an awards picnic where everyone received a nice little trophy as we did in season's past. I went to Jordan's after where we celebrated another great season and the fact that summer was approaching and we would soon be free from the chains of the school year. I was anticipating an amazing summer...

...that is until one fateful night in late May. It was a warm evening. The sun was just beginning to set and I was outside racing around on my Huffy bike. Then my dad called all of kids in the house for a family meeting. I had grown accustom to these because in the past couple of years we had a few of them all of which were related to my dad's job. What I didn't mention in previous chapters was that job my dad held for a long time was closing due to the owner retiring. The next job he found after that was located in Maryland, which may have seemed far, but we were close enough to the state boarders that the drive wasn't super long. After about a year of working there, he got offered a position with a local mechanic who he frequently took the family cars to when they needed work. All of those were the basis of the previous family meetings. And as much as I wasn't a fan of them (as they usually took me away from whatever fun I was having), I was never worried when they were called. But for some strange reason I can't explain, as I made my way towards the house that night, I had a gut feeling that this one was going to be bad...really bad. 

We all assembled in the living room and my stomach was in knots. My dad began explaining about the trips they had made to Toledo, OH in the past for church conferences and how during one of those times he had been approached by an elder who was putting on 10-month bible training in Cleveland, OH in late 2003. The elder had asked my dad to be part of it. As my dad continued speaking, I knew what was coming. My body was shaking, waiting for him to say the words. Finally they came "We're moving." And then I completely lost it.

The Story of My Life: Summer School of Truth

There was one event from 2002 that I excluded from the last chapter because it needed a section all of its own. That event was known as the Summer School of Truth. Each year, the church we met with in Dunn Loring, VA would host a four day bible camp for kids all across the Washington DC area. I hadn't heard about it beforehand because I wasn't old enough to go, but this year I was of proper age and Wesley's family invited me to attend. Now this meant being in another state and away from my parents for longer than a day. Normally, my anxiety would throw a hissy fit and prevent me from going. But since I was going to be staying at Wesley's house the whole time, my anxiety backed off just enough to allow me to go. I'm so glad I was able to do that because missing out on that would've been easily one of my life's regrets.

Now if you recall, Wesley's house was a little over 1.5 hours from mine. So how was I going to get there? My dad drove me. We reached Wesley's house and he stayed just long enough to talk with Wesley's dad for a bit before saying goodbye and then driving straight back to Pennsylvania. As a kid I didn't realize what a big deal that was, but many years later I sure did. It was also a bigger deal because I would be away from home for more than a few days. And I had know way of knowing when and how my anxiety would strike, but I knew the Bishops and to be able to do something like this was a big deal for me. 

I wasn't the only one staying at Wesley's house that week. Aside from him, his parents, and three siblings, there was a gentleman who was going through a bit of a rough patch and was living with them for the time being. There were also 4-5 other people all slightly older than I. To say it was a full house was a bit of an understatement. 

The week had a daily routine with some variance to it. There would be a morning meeting with everyone together for some singing and a short message. Between then and lunch we would break into small groups. Lunch followed and then an afternoon activity (these were my favorite). After the activity another break-out group followed by a break. Then came dinner and to finish the day off, a final evening meeting. 

There is something I forgot to mention. The summer school of truth ran for two weeks. I was joining during the second week. That meant everyone had a chance to meet each other and gel a bit. I did have my cast of familiar DC area faces in Andrew, Rebecca, Asher, and Morgan, but there were a over 100 kids there. I did have the disconcerting thought that I was going to be a bit of an outsider while riding Wesley's coattails. That thought was crushed in less than 24 hours from when my brain gave birth to it.

My plan was to stick with Wesley as much as possible. In doing so I found Wesley bantering with a young man slightly older than us. He had curly blonde hair, had a big smile, and a big voice. His name was Michael. I joined in the conversation to find that the two of them loved to engage in random battles of wits, which was what they were doing when I interrupted. Michael's personality rubbed off on me pretty quick and I had made my first new friend. 

They planned the first day back to be fun and relaxing. We were all split into multiple groups with chaperones. One of our chaperones was someone I mentioned in the Camp Wabanna chapter, but I didn't really say enough about him then. This man was Solomon Reed. I was really happy to see his large smile and willingness to serve youth for two weeks. As a young child and into my teenage years, this man made an impression on me. He was always happy to see me. He listened intently to my babbling, would take interest in things I was interested in, and would playfully jest at me now and then. And he was part of the group that took us bowling.

If my memory serves me well, that was the first time I had been bowling ever. Wesley, Michael, Michael's brother, and I all had a lane. Non of us were very good and I don't know if I ever broke 100, but we sure went nuts when anyone of us hit a strike. After a couple rounds, we had some time left and the chaperones gave us each a little change to play an arcade game or two. I chose Crusin' USA because it was an N64 game I had known well. This one was a stand up version with a steering wheel and gas pedal, but no seat. Solomon and another chaperone came over to watch. They took turns taking jabs at my crazy driving. Then at one point, I mashed the gas pedal and the screen glitched out. "What happened?" the other guy asked. "He's driving through a snowstorm now," Solomon quipped. I kept hitting the gas pedal and turning the wheel hoping the game would un-glitch, but it never did. "Uh-oh we lost him", Solomon laughed. I chuckled, shook my head, and had to leave the game to its glitch.

That afternoon had more surprises involved as all the guys were invited over to Wesley's house for a cookout and pool party. I've spoken highly of the Bishop's hospitality before, but this was a moment that made me appreciate them all the more. Not only were they hosting a houseful of people, but they welcomed 40+ rowdy teenagers into their home. It didn't dawn on me then, but that is an insane thing to do. I recall crazy flips into the pool, big beach ball battles, chicken fights, and not getting yelled at once for any of it. If a boy did go to far, Brian would get everyone's attention and say something along the lines of "While we all thought what [boy's name] did was cool, if he would've landed the other way, we may have needed an ambulance. Try doing it this way next time." The way he handled situations like that was noteworthy. 

Day 1 wrapped up and it was back to business for day 2. My bouts of anxiety were nowhere to be found as I kept meeting people, enjoyed the large group meetings, and was having a blast. Meal times were great because they allowed us to unwind from the schedule. We told jokes, learned strange and interesting things about each other, and at times created playful mischief. One night during dinner, Wesley was being a bit of a butthead. To get back at him, one of the boys we were joking with stuck a small apple chunk in his slice of cheesecake. Wesley glared at him like he had committed a royal sin. Wesley decided to keep his nonsense up and so the boy stuck a pretzel piece in the cheesecake. Then another boy slide a carrot through the dead center. I decided to get in on the fun and when Wesley wasn't looking, I pressed a piece of fruit into it. He caught me last second and started erupting. He called a serving one over and started ranting. "Look what they did to my cheesecake! They murdered it! They should be punished for these crimes! My cheesecake is destroyed!" The serving one examined the fruity slice, looked at each one of us and then said "Mmm looks tasty!" Wesley went ballistic. The rest of us at the table were laughing so hard we couldn't breath. Realizing the situation was hopeless, Wesley threatened revenge while disposing of his ruined dessert. 

The singing times were some of my favorite moments. Because I came from a small town, I didn't often experience singing contemporary Christian songs with large groups my age. But when 100+ voices came together, I felt alive. One particular song stood out to me during that week and it was written by a man named Howard Higashi. The song was titled What Made You Lord To Die For Me. It tells the story of someone who was an enemy of Christ, but Christ's love overcame that and saved the man. Really enjoyable.

While the schedule stayed mostly the same the rest of the week, there were some variances here and there. Like a field day at a local park. I remember playing hard, getting sweaty, and getting a kick out of the serving ones playing as well. The rest of the week went pretty smoothly. My anxiety didn't attack once, I met more fun people, and being able to hang out with Wesley, Andrew, and the rest of the DC area crew for more than just a weekend was a treat. 

The last night came quicker than expected. I blinked and the week was over. As a closing for the week, we had the privilege of watching a brand new documentary that was not yet shown anywhere else. It was a documentary on Howard Higashi. As we were gathering to watch it, I had noticed the man who had driven us from the Bishop's house to the meeting hall had left. My brain scrambled wondering how I was going to get home. The anxiety that I had managed to keep at bay came creeping in. I wandered through the crowd of people and up to Wesley who was in the front row. I asked him for his dad's phone number and he gave it to me hastily. I tried to memorize it but missed a few numbers so I came back and bugged him again. He wasn't thrilled. He rattled off the numbers in a hasty tone again and this time I got them. I made my way into the service office where I knew a landline existed. I picked up the phone with my shaking hands and dialed the Bishop's house. Five rings. No answer. Hung up and tried again. No answer. The anxiety pounced. I broke down fearing I was going to be stranded or forgotten about. As I was a blubbering mess, Solomon suddenly appeared. He must've heard my sobs and came to see what the matter was. I explained the situation through slurred words and tears. That man, in the calmest tone, told me not to worry, I had been great all week, and they would make sure I got back to the Bishop's that night. If there was a golden standard for human beings, Solomon fit that bill. 

I left the service office and stopped into the restroom to clear my face. I then rejoined my friends and enjoyed the rest of my evening. Then as the night was ending and people were headed home, there through the door came Brian Bishop. But he wasn't alone. With him came both my mom and my dad. I had no idea they were driving up and staying the night. Seeing them made me feel dumb for letting my fears get the best of me, but also brought a sense of peace. I ran over and began to ramble about my week. As I did, I noticed a big smile from Solomon. Everything was alright. 

And so ended my week in the summer school of truth. I learned some things about myself, met many swell folks, and even had some growing experiences. As early as a year before, I would've never agreed to do something like this. I had come along way, but still had a long way to go. And in the year to come, my will would be tested. But for now, I had a week to remember for a lifetime.