My time in Germany ramps things into high gear

I want to start this one with some of the positive attributes I, and my siblings hold, as a result of the shit show of our childhood.  While much of what we experienced I would never wish upon another child, it is what we experienced and I know we each hold some key things in us all. One, we are highly resilient. We can view things in life in a way that make them manageable to go through. Having been through hell as kids, being very poor, and having the constant whirlwind of chaos in our lives...now, as adults, we get through shit. We can see how something in front of us, while painful to walk through, well, we can do it.  Humor!  OMG!!! Humor.  Some would look at the things we can laugh at and think we are crazy, but, I am going to tell you, being able to laugh in some cases, is better than crying and are getting mad.  In mom's last decade plus alive, when she had calmed down and settled, we had the best stories to tell, and, a whole lot of laughter to go with it. One last trait I see as a strong attribute all of us hold within us is empathy for others.  We each have our own story that includes trauma, loss, and suffering.  With that we can each have a level of empathy for people that I think is unique given what each of us has walked through. 

Back to landing in Germany......

I landed in Germany in December of 1984.  Fresh out of boot camp, and after taking a short leave to go back home, I got on a plane and headed overseas.  I was 17 1/2, had all the history you have read about from my time as a child through the shit show of my childhood, and the small time I had been on my own after moving out of mom and Uncle Tom's when I was 15. 

One of the very first experiences, showing up to get processed in to Europe at a base in Frankfurt was telling in some ways. I was officially legal age to drink.  Myself and many other young soldiers, instantly were able to go to a bar and ask for a beer. It was one of the first things I did. That one change would propel my drinking from an already bad state, to an astronomically atrocious scenario for the next 18 months. I say, for my time in Germany, I did three things......and I am sorry if this makes you uncomfortable with what I am about to say.....I know myself and many other young soldiers followed the same path.  The difference for me was my upbringing and already high level of drinking. While in Germany I played soldier spending about half my time in the field.  When not in the field I drank and hired prostitutes.  Prostitution was also very legal in Germany.  So, you can imagine how that was for me, being 17, having little healthy views on woman and relationships and having my background.  Nearly all my money went on those two things. Alcohol/drugs and prostitutes. I vividly remember hearing about other soldiers traveling all over Europe for dirt cheap.  I remember seeing the flyers for sight seeing tours to many amazing places in the region....and I never visited any of them. My time and money was spent on those very isolated things. That was it. If I wasn't in the field playing soldier, I was at a bar or nightclub, or, paying for sex.  

I know if Dawn reads this it may be tough for her to hear because I am not sure if we ever talked about this directly.  We have remained friends throughout the years and I am guessing, being she knows a lot my story, it won't be a shock hearing that while her and I were still together, and engaged, I was doing the things I was doing in Germany.  What makes it real interesting is she sent me a fateful letter a few months after I arrived in Germany. A "Dear John" letter.  Why?  Not because of what I just told you I was doing when I was in Germany, it was because I didn't call or write her for that entire time.  I am shaking my own head while typing this.  Wtf?  Dawn was, and is, an amazing person. Shoot, I was a high school drop out who was engaged to a cheerleader from Curtis High School.  But, my head stops shaking when I understand my life as a whole.

Given what I was taught (through mom's behavior) about relationships was not good; none of it.  Adding to that, I was in a completely different environment and lifestyle.  I am not, in any way making excuses for what I did, or should say didn't do with Dawn. That's just what it was in that time. I remember getting the letter.  I remember, vaguely, calling her.  That's all we had in '84.  No email or internet.  It was letters, and, some calling.  It was to late, and rightly so, she was needing to move on. 

Well, my already high level of drinking and other behavior simply ramped up. I was the soldier, on Monday mornings, in front of either my Company Commander or First Sergeant's desk....them just shaking their heads and saying in not so many words "Douglas, you need to control your drinking".  Little did they really know how out of control it was for me inside. The drinking was likely keeping me alive. 

I was drinking heavily, as much as I could and whenever I could. I was smoking hash and doing some acid. I remember my buddies always giving me crap because I was so young....even for my core group of other soldiers I think I was the youngest, and, I looked like it too.  I did meet, and still talk to from time to time other guys I spent time with in Germany.  I did have a few people who tried to help me.  My friend Michael Ibert (Bert) was one of my closest friends.  Matt Pickett was another...he turned me on to Phil Collin's music.  About the only thing memorable besides partying was going to a couple of concerts.  I went to see Phil Collins and another concert to see Elton John.

One of the other big issues I ran into was in the area of money. I had ZERO skills in this area.  I was always broke; always. I know was in debt to Bert and Matt regularly.  Payday would hit and that meant it was time to party, there was no budgeting or money management. This was a time when ATM's were first becoming a thing, and, I learned pretty fast, that the ATM would give me as much money as I wanted, regardless of how much I actually had in the bank. This didn't go well with the bank of course, and, because I was in the military and the bank was on base, the bank would happily call my First Sergeant and let them know.  Another trip in front of his desk. My squad leader, SSG Bedard tried.  He would have me over and tried showing me how to balance a checkbook.  He gave a shit about me.  I also remember 1SG Fludd gave a shit.  Short guy who was a badass, but he really cared. 

I met a girl over there, and we started dating.  A local german girl I met a nightclub in Kirchgoens.  We started getting serious right away (just like mom did, so did I).  I was staying at her house, nearly living there.  Her little brother used to give me a lot of crap.  I am pretty sure I was younger than her because he would tease me about my youth a lot. I lucked out, or maybe I should say, she lucked out. I had a buddy, a Sergeant, pull me aside one day in the barracks and say "you know what she want's don't you?"  I was clueless, I thought she loved me. He said no, she wants to marry you so she can get to the states.  Well, I must have heard it and I stopped dating her. 

To close this one, my next move was to start talking to my high school sweetheart back home. Cyndi Jones and I had dated off and on since 8th grade. After Jonny died in 1980, and cousins/step brothers Kenny and Terry moved in, Kenny and I started hanging out.  Their moms place was just off of 19th and Stevens in Tacoma. Cyndi lived a couple doors down from there.  We used to skip school and go to Kenny's moms to hang out because his mom was gone during the day and she had an Atari 2600.  Kenny and Cyndi were dating.  I swooped in on that and Cyndi and I started our years long, on again/off again, relationship/marriage.  Cyndi was really my first love.  First love for being 13, having just lost Jonny, and desperately needing someone to show me true concern. Cyndi was, and, always has been that person for me.  She is the mother of my only child Tyler.  While we divorced when Tyler was a baby, throughout his childhood we did our best to co-parent in a way that would be good for Tyler.  While we have each have had our own life struggles, we have always remained friends.  I have known her and her parents since I was 12.  Her dad, Bob Jones, while he had a whole bag of his own issues, was like a father to me in many ways.  Her mom, Lucille Jones, is probably one of THE kindest humans on earth.  Even through our many break-ups, the divorce, and parenting issues along the way, Bob and Lucille were good to me; always.  Cyndi and her parents are good ones. 

More tomorrow......