The night Eggie's house burned to the ground.

I lived on the main street of my little town - even though it was called a city.  There were two houses in my block and during one summer night, the other burned down.  This was before air conditioners - so the window in my bedroom was open and the fan was running.  Probably the reason I can fall asleep to white noise.  I told my mom not to leave the window open because there was going to be a fire on this night.  Now you see, I also lived diagonally away from the fire house.  When the siren went off, it would jolt you to consciousness and not in a good way!  My mother told me I was silly (I believe this was the beginning of the nickname “Silly Billy” which was later changed to “Spilly Billy.”  but I digress.  

I am languishing in my hot room with the fan blowing lukewarm humid air on me.  My only cover was a thin sheet, and I was wearing my “summer weight” pajamas.  I would have never thought of sleeping in the nude or my undershorts.  I always got a new set of pajamas for Christmas or my Birthday.  Suddenly, as if by design, the fire siren began to honk.  It used to honk in a code and we had the code breaker so if it were four honks, then it might be on Hall Street.  I think back then fires were the only thing that happened in the twin - boroughs that made life exciting.  

Even with all my complaining about being awakened by the fire siren; I was not.  My mother came into my room and shook me into consciousness and asked me if I had not heard the fire siren?  Then she tolod me to, “Look out your window.”  I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and all I could see were the colors of red, orange, and yellow - the colors of fire.  I got out of bed, and we moved the fan so I could get a better look.  Now this house belonged to one of the only friends I had on my block - Craig Stoudt.  His father worked at the foundry and he lived in a house on the foundry’s land.  I was really sad for my friend and frightened that someday this could happen to me.  I am not sure how long I stayed up; I know it was long enough to get a glass of water.

The next day I met up with Craig, whom we called “Eggie.” I have no idea why we called him that - we just did.  He was obviously sad; his house had burned to the ground.  When I talked to him about what he and his family were going to do, he said he was not sure, but they would probably move away.  As Craig and I frequently road our bikes together to go to Pennypacker’s to get Penny Candy - and as he was a bit bigger than me - I had some built in protection from the rough tough kids that lived near the store.  It was also called the Cigar Store because they sold cigarettes and cigars.  I recall a small soda fountain in the back where you could get really good food and milk shakes.  

It appeared that those journeys were going to be more solo soon and made me very sad and a bit scared.  The price you pay for being 4’ tall is that you are the very easy target of any and all bullies - though we did not call them that then.   Oddly enough my father told me that if I would stop twirling “that damn baton” in front of the house maybe people wouldn’t beat up on me.  It was a sad situation.  You seen in just a few short days my friend Craig had lost his home and everything in it, and I had lost a friend.

The top picture is really pretty close to what Craig's house looked like when I first saw it

This picture looks like a bit later

And this is what happened before it collapsed on itself.

These are not actually pictures of Craig's house - I am not even sure we had color cameras at that point.  But these are the images as I recall them or pretty close  - as you see they were "burned" into my memory!   RRRRR  Sorry I went for the cheap laugh -

The Pain of aging

It's been a number of days since I last wrote.  Mostly this has to do with the depression I am experiencing.  It is true - it does render you rather useless.  I was thinking yesterday how much I love sleeping because I dream and in my dreams - everything is happy and I am healthy.  For almost 3 years now I have dealt with chronic pain in my knee.  I saw a patient today leaving my doctor's office who was 2 weeks out from a partial replacement - she was walking normally - no pain - I don't even know what that is like.  The doctor told me today that she was the norm and for some reason I have not been normal during all of this.  Now I know that I am anything but normal - I have known that from the time I started to twirl a baton.  It was made clear to me that what I was doing was not normal - at least for me - in my town - and even my high school.  I was basically an only child with very few children around that were my age for me to play with.  So I twirled because it was something I could do by myself.  And really that was the main reason I did - that and it allowed me to forget all the stuff that was going on in my life. I would pretend that there was an audience watching me.  I had music - first with my brother's big reel to reel tape recorder and then later with my own small one.  Sometimes I would just hum the music in my head.  Back in the day - football games always showed the half-time shows, so I would sit in front of the TV to record the bands.  That was my music.  So when I would go out and start to practice, I could really lose myself in my twirling.  It was great exercise - at least the way I would do it and when I was done I always felt better.

This was something that I continued to do through out most of my life.  When I needed a break from everything - I would get my stuff out and practice.  Later, when I switched from batons to rifles, flags, and sabers I would get a boat load of that stuff out too.  When I went to college I had an entire soccer field to play on - or I would practice in front of the student education center because it had huge windows.  It would not be uncommon to walk out of night class and there I would be with my music practicing my butt off.  One year I was asked to perform for homecoming.  I had taught another one of my friends, Dan, to twirl too.  He was quite good all things considered.  He was a great soccer player and today is happily married with several children and has his own medical practice in York.  We did a duet to Billy Joel's "The Ballad of Billy the Kid."  We were both huge Billy Joel fans. Later that day, during the halftime of the soccer game, I performed for everyone at the soccer game.  I also performed at a basketball game.   Dan and I also performed in a talent show that was sponsored by my dorm.  We did a reprise of our Billy Joel show, but for the end, I had my twirling squad from Phoenixville come out and provide the back drop for the ending.  It was pretty hilarious.  The Phoenixville girls performed a number and then I was transformed into a cat.  Yep CATS was popular and so I was a cat.  I performed music from the show. It was a lot of fun for sure.

My roommate, Dave, always told everyone he was my manager and wanted 10% of the cut.  Dave was great guy.  We lived together for about two and three quarter years.  I'll have to tell you about the roommate I had while Dave was studying in Japan.  He was from Manhiem Township, the place I live now and knew the girlfriend I had when I started working at Ephrata.  But I digress .........  Every year the seniors create a convocation as their farewell to the school.  This was the one convocation everybody on campus went to because it was so good.  Upon my graduation I was asked to perform at this event.  I was very nervous but received an amazing standing O - when I went into class later that day, my Lit Prof, who was also my advisor, spent over half the class questioning me about my talent and skill.  She also called it an art.

You know even after I won all those awards between my junior and senior year, it never, to me anyway, seemed to make a difference to those in my community.  I was a world champion, but at home I was Billy Harker the baton twirler.  Now I don't want this to seem like I am looking for a pity party for me or that I am seeking adulation - I'm not really - it's just that nobody knew what was going on with me.  At college, for the first time in my life I actually felt appreciated and supported by most students.  The entire time I was on campus I never heard the word faggot thrown in my face.  I don't doubt some were thinking it, but I never heard it.  I never felt like someone was waiting around the corner so he could beat me up.  This would be a fear I struggled with beginning in Jr. High up until I graduated.  We actually had to get a restraining order put on this one guy my sophomore year because he threatened to kill me.

After college, I still continued to "play band".  That was what I called it.  I would do this for hours, just as I had when I was at home.  It still provided me the outlet I needed to get my brain cleaned out.  Some of my peers used drugs and alcohol to do that, I used performing - performing was my drug.  Every place I landed after graduation, I would find a place I could go and set up shop with the car stereo and a trunk full of color guard equipment and would just play band.

I have been in my current house seven years this October 1st.  The first five years I was here I would practice at Manheim Twp high school, sometimes a deserted parking lot near my house, or any area I could find.  It was still my drug and still made me feel ok.  If I was working with a group and they were not doing too well, I could go out and spin for myself and feel better about myself and the group, knowing that I was doing all I could do for the group I was teaching.  There lack of commitment to color guard was on them not on me.  However, no matter how this would play out - it was still frustrating.  For the past three years maybe a bit less, I have not really been able to go out side and "play band".  I had the surgeries on my knee in the hopes that I could get back to doing something I loved as much as people love to go skiing.  To think, at this point, after my meeting today, I may never be able to do that again is devastating!  Marching band, drum corps, and winter guard have been the whole of my life.  To know that age is finally taking its' toll on me is just something I was not prepared for at all.

I am fortunate to have, in my lifetime, to have been able to have written award winning drill for Phoenixville and several other bands, to teach well over 100 color guards up and down the east coast, and to work with such a large variety of people.

Man that felt good.  A little sad too, but it was good for me to get some of this out.  Again, I am not looking for anything in response to this post.  I wrote this more for me than anyone else.  Losing yourself bit by bit as you grow older is so difficult - something I am really struggling with more than I would have thought.