Toywagon
02-05-2002, 08:45 AM
Ive started this post so many times and then erased it, or gave up trying to post it. Im hoping this time to hit the submit button when Im done.
In 1997 my brother had a 4 wheel drive shop, and was very successful. It wasn't until 1999 that I noticed something wasn't quite right with him, and began noticing that he almost always had a bottle of beer in his hand. By the end of my racing season in 1999, his business had gotten such a bad reputation that I had to remove it from the side of my race car. Shortly after that, he was divorced, and his drinking got so bad, that virtually no one in the family could be around him. He ended up with a short stint in prison for fighting, and in the hospital 3 times with his system pumped full of charcoal from alcohol poisoning. They had to cut his scalp open, and remove parts of his scull to remove blood clots from some of the injuries to his head from fighting. He lost his business, his wife, and his beautiful home, and had been bouncing from different friends and family that would try to help him, and rehab centers.
On Jan. 22, I had just dropped off my front drive shaft at the drive shaft place, and was driving down commercial street. I was following a beautiful low rider half ton chevy show truck that was just camming away hard in front of me. I was remembering how much my brother loved these trucks, and remembered his lowrider before he started doing 4X4's and couldn't believe the driver of this truck was taking it down commercial street, which has a lot of rough man hole lids, etc., on the road. We get to a red light, and I notice the police have a guy hand cuffed and laying on his bank on the ground, and a huge group of guys watching, and know that im right in the middle of where the homeless people stay. The Missouri hotel, the victory mission, and the kitchen are all within a 3 block reach on commercial street. The light turns green, and the truck does a little blip on the throttle and chirps the tires, making the cops look up, and there on the other side of the street, is my brother in a long leather coat, walking down the side walk. Hes living with the homeless. He's watching the low rider truck, and smiling at it, and hes obviously drunk. Im in my van behind the truck, and I notice that he doesn't see me. I keep driving, and watch him turn around and walk into the Missouri hotel. I cant tell you how much anger I had inside me to see him in that place, and all that he has put his family thru, with his drinking. I was tempted to turn around and talk to him, but didn't want to deal with the alcohol, or excuses. I hadn't talked to him in a year, and probably hadn't spoken with him 3 times in the last 3 years.
I wont have to worry about that anymore. He died that night in his sleep of a seizure from one of his prior head injuries. We buried him the following sat. I didn't do a visitation, I really didn't think anyone would come anyway, and just did a small grave side service for him. Except for the immediate family, nobody to my knowledge really knew that he had died. That sat. over 200 friends and family came to say good bye. I saw his children that I hadn't seen since his divorce. His 5 year old son asked me if his daddy came home in the tube, and do they keep him in the garage, and his 9 year old cried the entire time we were their. His 14 year old daughter from his first marriage, had never seen Rob, as they divorced when she was 1. Her Mom had been waiting for Rob to get sober to even allow her to meet her father. She met him for the first time, and said good-bye for the final time, all on the same day. Rob was 32.
I will never know if I was meant to see Rob that Tuesday, as a last chance to see him, or a last chance to help him. I will struggle with that for the rest of my life. Except for my family, I haven't been able to tell anyone that I drove right past him that Tuesday, and watched him walk away. All I have done since then is wish I had that Tuesday back. If I would have done more than drive on. Spend more time listening, learning, and trying. We tried to take his guardianship away from him, but you have to prove him insane to do that, and from our rights as Americans, he wasn't doing anything illegal. I have a million ::If's:: and a million excuses why I didn't do more to try to help.
If you have loved ones that you are angry, or upset with, or just someone that needs help, don't put them off. Im always busy, with NO time for anything. Now I will never have the time to try to help him. Rob was the 1992 and 1993 Track Champion at the Airport Speedway. He was a very successful business owner, and the father of 3 children. He could literally drive the wheels off anything he got behind the wheel of. He just couldn't beat the alcohol. When they gave me his possessions, he had a zippo lighter, a casio watch, 3 dice, 1 dollar, an EBT card for food stamps, and keys to a truck he no longer owned, and 2 cheap plastic ink pens. The nice leather coat they gave me that Rob had when he died turned out to be one of his homeless friends that had let him borrow it, so I gave it back to them.
I did start back to work on my samurai this past Sunday. Ive got all the time in the world now to build it. I had lost interest in it, but got to thinking about the time I told Rob what I was building, and how it got him excited to see it done, and that he wanted to set it at his new shop he was going to open as soon as he got a few things in order. Im sure he would have loved the sami.
Im sorry for this letter if it offends anyone, but I really needed to say this, and im hoping this message finds the ear of someone that really needed to hear it.
Jim
In 1997 my brother had a 4 wheel drive shop, and was very successful. It wasn't until 1999 that I noticed something wasn't quite right with him, and began noticing that he almost always had a bottle of beer in his hand. By the end of my racing season in 1999, his business had gotten such a bad reputation that I had to remove it from the side of my race car. Shortly after that, he was divorced, and his drinking got so bad, that virtually no one in the family could be around him. He ended up with a short stint in prison for fighting, and in the hospital 3 times with his system pumped full of charcoal from alcohol poisoning. They had to cut his scalp open, and remove parts of his scull to remove blood clots from some of the injuries to his head from fighting. He lost his business, his wife, and his beautiful home, and had been bouncing from different friends and family that would try to help him, and rehab centers.
On Jan. 22, I had just dropped off my front drive shaft at the drive shaft place, and was driving down commercial street. I was following a beautiful low rider half ton chevy show truck that was just camming away hard in front of me. I was remembering how much my brother loved these trucks, and remembered his lowrider before he started doing 4X4's and couldn't believe the driver of this truck was taking it down commercial street, which has a lot of rough man hole lids, etc., on the road. We get to a red light, and I notice the police have a guy hand cuffed and laying on his bank on the ground, and a huge group of guys watching, and know that im right in the middle of where the homeless people stay. The Missouri hotel, the victory mission, and the kitchen are all within a 3 block reach on commercial street. The light turns green, and the truck does a little blip on the throttle and chirps the tires, making the cops look up, and there on the other side of the street, is my brother in a long leather coat, walking down the side walk. Hes living with the homeless. He's watching the low rider truck, and smiling at it, and hes obviously drunk. Im in my van behind the truck, and I notice that he doesn't see me. I keep driving, and watch him turn around and walk into the Missouri hotel. I cant tell you how much anger I had inside me to see him in that place, and all that he has put his family thru, with his drinking. I was tempted to turn around and talk to him, but didn't want to deal with the alcohol, or excuses. I hadn't talked to him in a year, and probably hadn't spoken with him 3 times in the last 3 years.
I wont have to worry about that anymore. He died that night in his sleep of a seizure from one of his prior head injuries. We buried him the following sat. I didn't do a visitation, I really didn't think anyone would come anyway, and just did a small grave side service for him. Except for the immediate family, nobody to my knowledge really knew that he had died. That sat. over 200 friends and family came to say good bye. I saw his children that I hadn't seen since his divorce. His 5 year old son asked me if his daddy came home in the tube, and do they keep him in the garage, and his 9 year old cried the entire time we were their. His 14 year old daughter from his first marriage, had never seen Rob, as they divorced when she was 1. Her Mom had been waiting for Rob to get sober to even allow her to meet her father. She met him for the first time, and said good-bye for the final time, all on the same day. Rob was 32.
I will never know if I was meant to see Rob that Tuesday, as a last chance to see him, or a last chance to help him. I will struggle with that for the rest of my life. Except for my family, I haven't been able to tell anyone that I drove right past him that Tuesday, and watched him walk away. All I have done since then is wish I had that Tuesday back. If I would have done more than drive on. Spend more time listening, learning, and trying. We tried to take his guardianship away from him, but you have to prove him insane to do that, and from our rights as Americans, he wasn't doing anything illegal. I have a million ::If's:: and a million excuses why I didn't do more to try to help.
If you have loved ones that you are angry, or upset with, or just someone that needs help, don't put them off. Im always busy, with NO time for anything. Now I will never have the time to try to help him. Rob was the 1992 and 1993 Track Champion at the Airport Speedway. He was a very successful business owner, and the father of 3 children. He could literally drive the wheels off anything he got behind the wheel of. He just couldn't beat the alcohol. When they gave me his possessions, he had a zippo lighter, a casio watch, 3 dice, 1 dollar, an EBT card for food stamps, and keys to a truck he no longer owned, and 2 cheap plastic ink pens. The nice leather coat they gave me that Rob had when he died turned out to be one of his homeless friends that had let him borrow it, so I gave it back to them.
I did start back to work on my samurai this past Sunday. Ive got all the time in the world now to build it. I had lost interest in it, but got to thinking about the time I told Rob what I was building, and how it got him excited to see it done, and that he wanted to set it at his new shop he was going to open as soon as he got a few things in order. Im sure he would have loved the sami.
Im sorry for this letter if it offends anyone, but I really needed to say this, and im hoping this message finds the ear of someone that really needed to hear it.
Jim