The Wacky Summer of 2010
Currently I’m on a temporary assignment in Maryland. I’m not sure when I return to the land of corn and soybeans, but it seems my wanderlust shifted eastward of the Red Rocks a great deal.
The “Frankredstien” Years
Albert Einstein, in a letter written on March 21, 1955, to the children of his friend, Michele Besso, who had just died, said: And now he has preceded me briefly in bidding farewell to this strange world. This signifies nothing. For us believing physicists, the distinction between past, present and future is only an illusion, even if a stubborn one.
Gothic characters live interesting lives, and my life has been interesting. Has my lifetime collage of friends and associations played a positive role in the development of who I am today? I suspect this is case, for I cannot look at myself now, without revisiting the kindred souls who nurtured me first as classic Midwestern teen, and much later, into manhood. Nor shall I soon forget the experience of what some psychologists term as “self-actualization.”
A friend, who I will call my spiritual guardian, emerged late in my teen years, following the collapse of my parent’s marriage. So precious few of us escaped the 70s with our families whole and intact. The Guardian was an important figure in my life before he became my foster dad. We were CB radio buffs. My unit was a 5/8ths wave ground plane coupled with a Sears 23 channel SSB unit. A chrome candlestick power mic and SWR bridge completed the ensemble. His outfit was far more elaborate, ground plane, bipolar beam, and a Washington base. He built an in-ground swimming pool and hired me to help pour the deck. He had a way of sitting in the water, on his ass-no floatation device needed-and paddle around like that. He took a lot of pride that even though he was a heavy smoker, he could hold his breath far longer than I could. After that project, he introduced me to a local farmer who employed me throughout that fateful summer. And he had a way, whenever I did something stupid, and I would say, “Jeez, that was stupid,” he’d laugh in a manner that was what you’d expect from a friend. I returned to that place after a stint in the Air Force. I hadn’t seen him since my senior year in high school. The pool was empty, save for a foot or so of green slimy water at the bottom. The lawn a bit tattered. No, actually, the place was a genuine mess. The people there told me that the Guardian and his family took leave long ago for someplace in Kentucky. I cannot adequately express how empty my soul felt at that hour. Each passing day only increases my desire to find him again, and to thank him for being the kind of man a kid needs in his life. For if I do anything that is good hearted and with a gentle voice, it is because of him.
Another friend, who I’ll call my spiritual counselor emerged my senior year in high school. A year younger than me, we shared an electronics class together. It was a three-hour-a-day vocational affair, where a lot of goofing-off took place and very little in the way of actual instruction. The Counselor’s greatest gift was his kind ear. I was whisked through three different high schools my junior year. I was still shell-shocked when I met him. The Counselor did exactly what one would expect of a spiritually advanced person. He became my friend and listened to me. I do not recall him offering advise or profound truths, but I cannot escape the sense that he somehow managed to keep me on track throughout that awful year. I haven’t seen him in years, but we spoke over the phone a couple of years ago and I penned a letter his way. If I’m kind and I listen to you, it’s because I learned the lessons well from the Counselor.
Many years passed before I met my spiritual advocate. The Advocate appeared at a time in my life when I’d lost all confidence in my value as a human being. Volumes could be written about that experience, but what stands out most was the Advocate’s uncanny ability to recognize my mission in that time-space. Equal parts spiritual historian and spiritual fortune-teller, he gently debunked even the most adroit of arguments I advanced for self-destruction. This life ended long ago, Clever Elf! As I prepare for the next, Godspeed to you, wizened soul!
Any reasonable person could safely argue that I’d hogged my share of spiritual tokens, having exchanged my meagerly horde three times over. I was already living on borrowed good fortune.
That was not to be the case, however. For recently, after many failed experiments in the spiritual realm, I have found a single synthesizing thread connecting my childhood love affair with the printed word to the present now. Years of fruitless searching have ended. Imagine, if you can, a child, who in his teen years, poured through the stacks at local libraries, reading the profound works of Barry Neil Kaufman, among many. Later, in college, I discovered Richard Bach. And after that, Art Bell. Finally (and more recently) a news story about scientifically-enduced OBEs emerged. From that story, and a Google search (of course-you know me) Robert Peterson’s FREE online copy of Out of Body Experiences~~How to have them and what to expect What an hour of wonder and discovery to learn that all of the many pieces fit together at last! To the many of you I count as friends, and to the countless others I will become friends with, “Peace be with you!”
Addendum 2003
The journey continues… 2003: I made two trips to The Monroe Institute where I attended Gateway Voyage and later Lifeline. It’s hard to put into simple words the impact those eventful weeks have played in my life since then. I’m truly a much different and more aware person for the experience. I also own a very extensive Hemi-Sync ® library that I share for a modest cost with others as I travel around the U.S. And certainly, Sedona, Arizona, is one of my favorite travel destinations.
So why “Frankredstien,” anyhow? Why not call this chapter of my life “Herb’s Amazing Developmental Years,” or anything else, for that matter? The subtle truth is evident within the syllabication of the word, and the analysis of its component parts.
frank – Webster’s 2nd College Edition defines it so, “open or honest in expressing what one thinks or feels; straightforward; free from reserve, disguise, or guile”
red – I have red hair. I could’ve just as easily said blue, as that is the color of my eyes, or perhaps light complexioned with evident freckling. FrankBLUEstien? FrankFRECKLEstien? I think you get the idea.
stien – I wanted a suffix that conjured up an image of a romantic, gothic character, that somehow summed my experience to the point.
