markie d: : Ten Trapped Rats:and a naked kid!

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Ten Trapped Rats:and a naked kid!

Speaking of studies done on the overcrowded condition of laboratory rats, the four days the 10 of us spent caged in the close quarters of our 1963 Econoline van proved the scientific hypothesis that postulated the outcome of: anger, hostility, and sever distress.

In trying to get us to our destination as quickly as possible and to avoid as much contact with the outside world, dad tried as hard as he could to minimize the potty stops along the way. Mom and the two girls had to crawl behind the back seat and pee in an old Folger's Coffee can; the boys just peed in bottles. Occasionally one of the older boys stuck their poo-poo out a window and peed indiscriminately along the Interstate. Mostly, that was to make mom and dad mad. It worked.

Mom would start screaming, "Pull that thing in from the window, this instant! Under pain of mortal sin." And one time, one of the older boys pretending to be obedient, did exactly what she said, intentionally forgetting to turn off the faucet and made sure to spray most of us inside the van. Everyone started fighting... Chewbacca made sure to slug me in the upper thigh as hard as he could to test out my theory that I didn't bruise.

Dad tried to yell over the din, "Silence is golden!" and as a warning gripped his hand on the back of the front passenger seat where mom was sitting. The unspoken warning meant something like this: The next person who makes a peep will be whacked with the full force of that white-knuckled hand that had a death grip on the passenger seat.

The only problem was, his hand only had a range of about a three foot circumference which included me and two other siblings who were sitting on the second row bench-seat. The older boys were smart, they sat in the very back (on the bench seat - just in front of where the Folger cans and bottles of warm, sloshing pee-pee were stored).

I had been strategically placed. The hand came out. The entire van got quiet. Then, it was back to the Lab-Rat experiments where Dooh-Dooh Pants was commissioned to "cut the cheese" to make me gag or barf so that dad would whack me. If Dooh-Dooh Pants failed to spontaneously produce one of his patented fat-greasy-farts, then it was "Plan B." He would pull off one of his shoes. The second he did that - everyone knew. He had gangrene or something like that - which made his feet smell like rotting flesh. My parents just claimed it was athlete's feet and was "nothing to worry about!" Gustav had told us secretly that it was leprosy and we were all waiting for his toes to fall off. ANYWAY, I smelled it and gagged, but didn't see what was coming next. With incredible precision, he wrapped his foot around from behind and stuck that fungal-crusted big toe...right in my mouth.

Dad didn't see him do his heinous act of terrorism and only heard me gag and scream. Well... that was all it took. WHAM...went his hand to the back of my head! The way everyone looked at it was - that it was my fault, I had been warned! The way I looked at it - that thumping on head was a gift to everyone else in the van, because it short-circuited my superpowers momentarily and stopped me from vomiting all over everybody in our tightly packed "sardine can" on wheels.

This is the way it was all the way across the "Fruited Plain."

On our diet of stale Triscuits and old cheese, we managed to survive on about a hundered calories a day for about the past four days and by the time we rolled into the inner-city Catholic school in Detroit where my Aunt Mary was presently serving, we were dehydrated, tired, malnourished, dirty, angry, smelled like pee/gangrene...and ready to fight junkyard dogs!

While the nuns in the "nunnery" (that's Catholic talk for a convent)... scrambled to feed the pillaging migrant infestation from Venice California we poured out of the van and kissed the ground like drunken sailors that had been out to sea for far too long.

This was where the fantastic discovery was made. Gustav found red ants. We don't have red ants in Venice and this was a new phenomenon for us to investigate. Gustav believed these biting fire ants had the potential for a practical joke of ginormous proportions. He just had to figure out how to bag about 300 of them and who his next victim would be. Gustav and Chewbacca had given Puke-Breath so many "wedgies" (where they had pulled Puke-Breath's underwear up his crack so many times) that Puke-Breath had begun to outsmart them by NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR.

"So There!" Puke Breath said the last time they tried to give him a wedgie! "In your face! I'm not wearing any underwear!" (I feel I need to say this, "that was probably not the best thing he could have said").

Since Puke-Breath seemed to have his hands in his pockets all time...checking in every five seconds with his boy parts and his latest stage of puberty....the two older boys figured they'd really give him something to check in on.

And boy did they ever! ONLY...

...ONLY the entire convent of Nuns got involved in his rescue.

“Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more.” Mark Twain

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No Other Family Like Ours - seriously

WHAT OTHER FAMILY IN THE WORLD let all of the monkeys out of the Zoo, been pranked by the sitting President of the United States in a rouge encounter, chased in cities, chased out of cities and chased down by the cops. Who in their right mind voluntarily electrocute themselves just for fun and dared to electrify the nuns around the corner—who neither volunteered nor had fun? WHAT OTHER FAMILY has had more broken bones, pulled more pranks, have had a plethora of runaway rattlesnakes and other large reptiles terrorize their neighborhood. WHAT OTHER FAMILY grew Mexican Tomato plants that never grew tomatoes and had leaky boats that refuse to float or Escaped death more times? Who had cars on blocks, trucks as trash barges and flowerbeds sprouting rusted bikes, mislaid sparkplugs and abandoned carburetors instead of flowers? Meet the DAHLINS

And to think we survived and came out normal—well, mostly.

The Truimph of Overcoming

I use the word dysfunction with deliberate intention and with great respect in serving the main point of this blog. In the wild ramblings of a kid I ruminate on the idea that my family was not just dysfunctional but was the “most dysfunctional family” on the planet—that’s the set up.

As I look to the other “normal” plain-wrap families next door and across the street that had tidy yards and flowerbeds believing that the grass is greener on the other side (well the grass was greener), it shouldn’t shock anyone to realize that there is dysfunction in all of us—often times masked by tidy lawns and clean exteriors. Along with joy, success and adventure, life is filled with disappointment, failure, pain, and betrayal from those who have let us down. This is what it means to be human. I admit that I faced some disappointment in trying to fit in and longed for acceptance as the youngest boy of our wolf pack, but in large part I can honestly say that I had more fun and more adventure, in what I would call a happy childhood—despite the numerous broken bones. Yet, I would be remiss if I did not brag a bit and say, “Yeah, but...Look at all the great stories.”

Though, I dig deep into the mind and explore the full range of emotions of this young kid who felt detached, wondered about his existence, about his place in the family and his connection to the universe—He came out okay.

The older Markie D loves his brothers and sisters and holds no grudges.

Markie D has found this elusive connection to the universe and is well adjusted—and yes, still a little bit crazy. He has been married for 34 years to an amazing artist, Kerry, and has four incredibly gifted and talented adult children.

Oh, BTW… He mows his lawn, parks a car in the garage and has flowers in the flowerbeds and desires boats that float and less adventure in every outing and more "plain-wrap."

May you find your connection to the universe that brings healing, wholeness, forgiveness and a sense of hope as you look to your future.

Not too long ago on a pale blue dot, third from the sun, people and events converged in the space/time continuum that would forever change the course of history. The setting is a huge Victorian home that slightly leaned on its crumbling foundation, groaning under the weight of unruly kids and hoards of junk. In the era of Ozzie and Harriet and Father’s Knows Best, I was born into a family dysfunction of epic proportions. This decrepit masterpiece in Venice would rival the Addams Family’s house, and the cast of characters would prove to be more incredible and wacky than The Munsters. The big problem was that I was the seventh born, the youngest boy and the runt of the litter.

To have 10 in a family in our catholic neighborhood was underachieving. To compete with the larger families, my mom gladly took in strays. The official-nonofficial count was more in the neighborhood of 14 ―mostly boys and all older than me.

All sibling rivalry and mischief flowed downhill and ended up on my platter, whether I had any say in the matter or not. For fun, we held on to the live wires that were left hanging out of a wall from a unfinished remodel. We were the only family I knew who voluntarily electrocuted themselves with 110 volt household current, and are the only family in the history of the world to single-handedly let all of the monkeys out of the LA zoo. We got chased out of cities; pursued by the Highway Patrol; and sought after by the entire Needles California Police force. Wherever we went, we made a spectacular splash which usually ended up on the front page of the local newspaper.

After being buried in pits, caged, hunted, left behind and electrocuted, I somehow managed to survive my childhood but felt numb, disconnected and alone although part of a big family. In college while searching for acceptance and connection, I experienced an event that would alter the course of my life. I graduated from Loyola Marymount University with a degree in Communications. I coached water polo and swimming at Saint Monica’s my High School Alma Mater and enjoyed major success in investment real estate. After a financial crisis, I committed myself to serving in ministry, working with Youth and Family, as an associate pastor of a large church in Southern California. I graduated with a Masters at the top of my class from Azusa Pacific Graduate School of Theology and was ordained a licensed Pastor.

I am married to an avid artist and have four children: three boys and a girl who takes after her mother’s creativity.

Currently, I am a senior Pastor of a church in Roseville, CA, and adjunct Professor of Biblical Studies at a Bible college, and live in Sacramento with my wife and daughter.