Fortress of Solitude

When I was a young man and things troubled me, I would head to the comfort and security of my bedroom. Growing up as the son of an alcoholic left a number of scars. 

One of them was the feeling of abandonment.

My mother was a special person. She was kind, sweet, very giving and very funny. The McNew side of the family has always tried to "outfunny" each other. My uncles had great senses of humor and by DNA or whatever that trait was passed on to my mom.

She was also an alcoholic. I remember being in Kansas City, calling home and when she picked up the phone, I knew she was hammered. I threatened to never come home until she quit drinking. She hung up on me. It got worse as life went on. She started with Miller High Life and graduated to whiskey. She would drive like that. This was the time when an officer caught you drinking, you were given a ride home. She would be embarrassed but it would not stop her. More than a few time, the police would knock on the door and one of us had to ride with the cop and bring the car home.

I adored her. I still do and admire her knowing what kind of life she was exposed to as a child. I know she was physically abused and probably sexually abused, too. She had demons from her youth she just couldn't overcome. Smoking and drinking killed her at 62. I'm surprised she lasted that long. A very flawed but wonderful woman.

Growing up, she was there as much as possible, but coming home from school and trying to discuss my day, she would look at me and she just wasn't there. It just got to the point where I could tell whether I should talk to her that day or not right away. If not, I'd swallow whatever I had to say and head to my bedroom. It was at that time, my fortress of solitude. A place where I could go and find solace in music. I'd close the door and play DJ on my little cassette recorder or just listen to the radio while doing my homework, reading comic books or just listening to music. I'd burn some incense. At first, mom thought it was pot :)

It was comfortable and reassuring. I know then I would dream my bedroom was my house and no one could get me there. I was safe from the outside world. Sometimes, the outside world was cold and mean and unforgiving to a lonely high school kid.

Not in my bedroom. It was safe.

I have the same set up now. The house is the Fortress of Solitude, but in my room now, I'm safe and secure. No one can hurt me here. I have the same brand of incense and I'm even listening to the same music. It's comforting and soothing.

So, here I am, with Poutchuli and Musk incense, listening to Elton John and knowing for now, I'm alright. I can't say how 'll be when I leave here, but for right now, I'm safe.