One Year in Taiwan- The Good, The Bad, & The Why (Part 3 of 3)

Photo Credit: Ming Lala (Sophia)

Heads or Tails? Colorado or San Fran

I flipped a quarter

Heads- Colorado
Tails- San Francisco.

I hoped for Colorado. I knew the route to Colorado. I uncovered my my right hand.

The coin read Tails. SHIT

Best out of 3.

Two flips later, I continued north on Route 17 towards Flagstaff, AZ. 

The A/C blasted with all its might. The 120 degree outside heat ripped through the car

Eric Kelly (The Mad Pacer) Returns

My gray Nokia flip phone, with a red border, lit up. 

My green Sierra Nevada Pale ale shirt covered my chest hairs.

555-456-9876 read the Nokia flip phone.

ERIC KELLY!!! YES!!!!

My right hand reached for the volume on my CD player. My left hand rolled up the windows

The words of James Taylor, Sweet Baby James took a rest.

I didn't want to miss this phone call.

The timing for this phone call was EPIC. I never say the word EPIC either.

My blue '04 Corolla tires, with one missing hub cap,  passed dotted line after dotted line, at a steady speed of 65 m.p.h.

My best friend since 5, Eric Kelly (The Mad Pacer)  waited at the other end of the phone,  in PA.

The Nokia flip phone was ready to be flipped open.

As the flip phone popped open, my orange shorts with the broken draw string popped in my head. I could see Eric Kelly (The Mad Pacer) holding our yellow whiffle ball bat, with duct tape holding the bottom together, next to his neck. I saw him pacing around me as I told him I wanted to be an author.

He hadn't returned my phone calls in 5 years.  My mouth wanted to vomit so many stories.

I planned on recording all my adventures on this plan-less vacation through Colorado in a book. I planned on doing it in an e-book. He didn't have to know I shot my goals too low.

I always got the feeling that Eric Kelly loved my stories.  My stories ranged from waking up in my neighbor's grass, to waking up in a pile of rocks in the middle of the desert. 

I never know why we tell each other drunk stories. Who really cares if you weren't there?

He didn't go out often. When he did go out, he let loose. He wrestled at 103 lbs. He started a fight with the nose tackle of my college, Big Pete.

Boy, I Got A Story For You.... Oh...

I told Eric so many stories when we used to chat. He usually snorted from laughing. I think he changed from pacing to laughing as he aged. He made me feel like a champion storyteller.

I basically screamed through the phone, " ERRRRIC. YEAH MAN!! "

I couldn't wait any longer to tell him I was about to write the book we talked about so many years ago.

He still hadn't even said hello.

He tried to muster up our usual greeting, a loud and deep bellow, "DENNNNNT!"

He liked to imitate our HS History teacher, Mr. Kemeter bellowed out names during attendance to get a rise out of us.

Eric's bellow turned into more of a whisper.

Something happened.

He asked "How the hell are you?"  He couldn't fake it anymore.

I didn't want to believe that we were old enough that we only talk when somebody died.

I waited for my opening to talk about my book.

He beat me to the opening. His voice flattened. He still sounded a bit robotic. I knew I had slid down the list on who he was telling me died.

He asked if I talked to my Dad recently.  No..

Ok, well my dad lost his fight with cancer.

A Tale of Two Different Houses...

Our neighborhood jammed hundreds of houses into 4 streets (Clearfield Road, Blue Ridge Drive, Nolf Road, & Highland Road.) 

I estimate 275 out of 279 houses had the same floor plan. Each bi-level house had three small bedrooms upstairs, and one big bedroom for the oldest kid downstairs.

Sprinkle in a living room, tv room, and a kitchen. Outside, most of us had pools. Bamm! That was our neighborhood.

In this minefield of monotony, The Dent's and the Kelly's lived less than a football field apart.

We saw each other's every move.

I knew Mr. Kelly liked to whistle. He also loved to garden. He usually did both together.

He wore a giant painter's hat. He let loose with a pipe once a year.

I only knew this about him.

In 1996, I left the volleyball court & whiffle-ball games for Mansfield University to major in I Don't Know.

I seldom returned.

In 2000, I left Nazareth, PA with little to no intention of ever returning.

Decades later,  Mr. & Mrs. Kelly still asked my dad about me. My dad told me about this in our monthly rundowns..

As a kid, I never saw Mr. Kelly and Eric play a game of catch together. Mr. Kelly & Eric played golf once.  Mr. & Mrs. Kelly came to Eric's wrestling matches. They certainly never wrestled with him. Mr. Kelly never taught him any moves. Their family bonded strong. I just didn't know how. My house world revolved around  watching sports, and looking forward to the next SI Swimsuit edition. Theirs revolved around discipline, and faith.

In this minefield of boredom, one man stood out, my dad. His name was Larue. He coached baseball for  8 years. He lent half the town money when he worked at Nazareth First National Bank. He rocked a mustache. He loved cold Moosehead, and peanuts.

Most importantly, he was the father in the neighborhood that all the kids remembered.

Sometimes, it was because he grinded his teeth when he yelled obscenities. Sometimes, it was because he flipped out on our broken lawnmower every Saturday morning. Sometimes, it was because he gave a hell of a high-five.

Larue never cared how many kids were at the house. Larue was always up for any game. Larue played catch with me until the Steve Garvey autograph rubbed away on my baseball glove..

If the 4th man in our 2 on 2 volleyball games got picked up by his mom, he put down the pool skimmer, grabbed his Moosehead, and served a skyball to win the game. Larue didn't give a shit :)

Larue taunted the losers. Nobody hated him. Even as a sulking 14 yeard old, kids knew Larue was funny.

Larue also taught Eric Kelly his stand up move in wrestling.  Larue also helped Eric Kelly learn to be quick on his feet in wrestling. Larue helped Eric Kelly learn how to catch a baseball. Larue complimented Eric Kelly on his high school girlfriends.

In March of 1996, Eric wrestled in the PA state wrestling championships. High School wrestlers can reach no higher pinnacle.

The final buzzer rang in his 5th place consolation match. He won the match. He took 5th place in the the state at 103 lbs.

Larue and I were the first ones to stand and cheer.

Mr. & Mrs. Kelly also cheered, just from the opposite end of the stadium.

Keep Trucking...

My Colorado vacation continued.
My stories about Michael Franti concerts and mushroom festivals the rest of the week seem meager in comparison to cancer.

ZBlanco, Boston Mary, & her $50 magic pen also seem to lack importance. 

 I wrote every night. I wanted to capture the trip.

I turned to writing about whether or not to come to Taiwan.  I found more anger than I knew any one person could have. 

I kept writing, and writing, and finally made a decision to come to Taiwan.

Taiwan & America, The Dent's & The Kelly's

The Dent's and The Kelly's had two families with distinctly opposite core values. The Dent's values laid closer to enjoy life, and play sports. The Kelly's laid closer to stay disciplined, save your money, and raise a family.

Today, I have a mountain of debt, and a lot of good times.

Today, he has a house, and a family.

Neither decision is better than the other. They are just different in their own right.

I could plow through all the new experiences in Taiwan during my first year.

I had some trouble, and I had some fun.

To me, the biggest take away in year one was the difference in values. Taiwanese definitely pride themselves on the conservative side of life. I don't. Sometimes, that creates conflict.

Thanks for listening.

Tomorrow, I go to Viet Nam. I will tell you how it goes.