You and your dad could get close.....ha!

It had to of been about 1988'ish.  We were back in the Tacoma area, making a go of our marriage and life. I had a few jobs after the military, well, more than a few.  Phone Solicitor, Long Haul Trucking, Do'r of things my father-in-law drummed up and with business ventures he would think up. I had a job detailing cars for BMW Northwest for a time, and for this writing, I was now a cook at KCJ's Restaurant in the North End.

I do want to talk about my love for cars for a minute because I think of it when I remember my time at BMW Northwest. As you can tell by now I was not in a place where I could afford much.  We never were when we were kids, and it bled right into my own adult years.  Well, at this point in my life, being barely 21 now (ha, kinda an adult), I did not have money management skills and would always look in awe at those that did have nice cars. I used to read car magazines and drool over cars that I could only dream of having.  Our neighbor in the apts we lived in off of 84th & Pacific had a brand new 1987 IROC Z-28. I will never forget it.  Me, I had the parking spot next to him and owned a 1978 Datsun 710 Wagon that my father-in-law found for us after the '80 Datsun died. Oh man, did I ever look at the IROC and dream.  It only ever stayed a dream.

My love for cars comes from my brother who has had some super cool rides along the way.  Bob was into VW Bugs for a while and I bought one from him in the early 90's. He also had a super sweet Scirocco!  He had a super cool Pontiac Lemans Sport for awhile that I am sure would be worth a bunch by now. Many more, and, he always took excellent care of them. My love for cars and how to take care of them comes from him.

It's about 1989-89, I am working at BMW Northwest; kinda a pretty cool gig. I was detailing any cars that came through for service, and of course, taking care of all of the new cars on the lot. One beautiful sunny day I got to drive, with the top down, a BMW 320 Convertible from Tacoma to Bellevue for a dealer swap. I was the coolest dude on the road that day.  

Now, keeping in mind what I owned at the time; a 1978 Datsun Wagon. Not in the best of shape either.  The paint on it was screwed really.  But, because of what I learned from my brother, I took care of it. I asked my manager one day if I could pull it into a bay and detail it.  He said why not. So, there she was, a 1978 Datsun on the rack in with all the other cool cars. I, even though I had a shit car, took car of it. It had to be the nicest looking shit wagon in Tacoma at the time.  The job at BMW Northwest lasted, I think, less than six months.  The service manager wasn't to fond of me. I ended of quitting the day he told me to scrub out a dumpster.  Please keep in mind, that cleaning was for sure part of my job, I cleaned the mechanics bays everyday. When I was done they were spotless. Yet, when he told me I had to scrub our nasty dumpster that's where I drew the line.  Like I said, for whatever reason he did not like me. I remember my detail manager and the parts manager well and we got along. I also remember one of the owners.  They had a long German name that I don't remember, but, I remember them being good people. This entire environment was really pretty foreign to me.  I would term some of them, my boss included, "special people".  Not kind to those around them simply because they thought those that didn't have a lot of money weren't worthy.

I had been seeking work and my Grandma Turco, who was working at KCJ's, said they needed a cook.  Gerry Emmerson, who at that point in the game I thought to be my real father, he was also a cook there. Grandma thought it would be nice for us to work together.  You know, we could become close and build a nice father/son relationship. If you didn't read yesterday's post, my entire childhood my family had told me he was my real father.  While I had Danny Douglas on my birth certificate everyone said that was not my real father, it was Gerry.  I didn't know any different, had never met Danny Douglas, and had never seen any pictures of him.  Thus, Gerry was my real father in my mind. 

I was, by this point though, using the Douglas name; I had too. It was what was on my birth certificate and when I went in the military that is what I started using and it was the name on my Social Security Card now. It carried on from there. Other than that though, because I had not started peeling the onion of my life and history of it all, I still believed the family story to be true.  Thus, I took the job and he and I started working together. 

The guy was a good cook. He, like most in our family, knew the kitchen well. I hadn't, to that point that, cooked.  I had the dishwasher job pre-military where my brother was a cook and remember aspiring to be a cook, but only got the chance to a couple of times when Mr. Munchies was super busy on Sunday's.  I will never forget one Sunday my brother and I thought it would be a great idea to get high before the massive breakfast rush......not a good idea.  We screwed that one up.  

At any rate, I started working at KCJ's, and, I would say to get things going, Gerry did teach me a lot. From how to open in the morning, how to transition from breakfast to lunch/dinner all the way to closing.  All of that and everything in between.  He knew it like he knew the back of his hand and I was enjoying getting to know him and him teaching me skills that really, have helped me a lot along my journey.  Cooking turned into a job I knew, and a job that would always be there, and, was something I was learning to also be really good at. 

I am not sure when it happened, but, as KCJ's became known, and got busier, we had a need for more waitresses, so, Cyndi was hired.  So, here we are, one big happy family, working at the same Restaurant.  Really, repeating what happened in our family many times along the way. I was working as the night shift cook, Gerry, was the opening cook, Grandma Turco would come in a few times a week and bake and do other prep stuff, and Cyndi was working as a waitress.  There were other employees that filled in all the other shifts/roles that a typical restaurant bar.  The owners, three partners, I remember them spending a lot of time in the bar.  Every day after Gerry was done working he would usually head over to the bar himself. I don't remember doing that myself during this time. I would close and head home. I might not have been 21 yet now that I think about it. Regardless,  I did most of my drinking at home during this time, or, with friends.  The bar at KCJ's wasn't my environment. 

So, as you might expect with Gerry, well, things didn't stay all nice and fun between father and son.  Grandma Turco called me one fateful morning and said "David, your day must be running late, can you come in and fill his shift until he gets here?".  Of course I would, certain he would show up to relieve me.  That never happened.  He disappeared for three plus weeks. Turned out this was actually normal behavior for him.  Just up and leaving with no notice.  No notice to his family, his job, not a soul.  I DO remember the day he finally called me to explain himself.  I was pissed.  I had been working open to close for the entire time he was gone and hadn't had a day off in weeks. His reasoning for up and disappearing....he just needed to get away.  The owners certainly didn't want him back and I was glad for it. That was my taste of what I am certain had been normal for him throughout his adult life.  Thus, Grandma's idea of us getting close didn't work out so well.

This job didn't go well in the end for Cyndi either.  One, the restaurant industry isn't for everyone, and, for her, having her husband as her trainer probably wasn't the best. I know we had some fun, but, I also know me cheating on her with one of the other waitresses, well, that was garbage.  KCJ's didn't last to long itself due to the owners drinking nearly everyday in their own bar. 

Cyndi and I stayed together. God knows how. Really, I think we just kept trying, she, just kept wanting to believe I would change. Her and I have been chatting during this blog and I still, to this day, especially when I write about that time period, apologize for my shitty behavior.  She helps me to realize it wasn't all bad, and, there were two of us with our individual behaviors that were in the marriage. I will say again though, I know my shit far outweighed any of hers.  Sure, she had stuff that contributed to the chaos, but, mine up'd the ante every time.  

Tomorrow I will go into the year 1990.  The year our baby boy is brought into the world.  

 I share with you and album cover that has always been part of my life journey and has helped me through a lot of the dark days.  I thank my brother Bob for giving me the gift of amazing music. Without it I am not sure I could have made it through the really dark periods of my life. Elton John's song Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me is one of my all time favorite songs.