I wish there were a way to selective eradicate one’s memory. If that were possible, I would gladly erase last night from my memory forever. It made me seriously question my worth as a living organism, much less a human being.
If I wonder why hundreds of people who’ve I met through the years have totally forgotten me, they would have been reminded if they had saw me in action last night. To say I was a complete and total asshole would be too kind. I acted so badly I probably deserved to be sent straight to the Missouri State Penetentiary in Bonne Terre. I was that bad.
It began before I got to Buffalo Wild Wings. I set up the computer in my room at the Overland Park Marriott–yes, it was a different room; I checked out of 1123 Wednesday morning after sleeping in that room for 18 of the previous 20 nights–and got on Facebook really quick.
What I saw sent me over the edge.
I saw Liz had posted pictures of her, Sean and Cori Gardner out the previous night.
It wasn’t they were out–yes, it kind of reminded me I’m lonely away from Kansas City, but I’m so old and I was in Russell the previous night–but it was seeing Cori which brought out my anger and sadness.
I met Cori before I met anyone else at Buffalo Wild Wings, Liz included. She waited on me at lunch quite a few times during the summer of 2013, and we really bonded. I asked her about a tattoo she had, and she told me she had type 1 diabetes. The bad kind.
I have type 2 diabetes, but at least I can keep my blood sugar under reasonable control with medication. I wish I could stay away from the sugar and exercise more, but I’m just so bone lazy.
Cori and Liz were two of the few I knew at Buffalo Wild Wings at that time. I would get to know Sean, Ronnie, Dana, Casey, Morgan Tomac and others over time, but my eyes lit up any time I saw Cori and/or Liz.
The last time I saw Cori working at Buffalo Wild Wings was September 15, 2013, which also happened to be the same day Alex served me for the very first time. I didn’t go back there until October, and by then, Cori was gone, and I did not see Liz at all for quite a few visits. I thought I would not see them again.
Until November 19, 2013. Cori came in a little after 4 that Tuesday to see some people there, and she was so excited to see me. About an hour later, Liz came on for her shift. She was surpirsed to see me, too.
This is where it diverges. I would see Liz regularly. Cori disappeared from my radar.
It seems like I lose ladies in my life at regular intervals.
- Stacie Dauterive Seube and everyone else at Arabi Park Middle basically wrote me off once I went to Brother Martin in the fall of 1989, and disappeared from view until I finally reconnected with them on Facebook.
- Not talking to Stacie for so long really hurt. Really did. When I found out her son, Colin, has autism, I really felt awful. I felt like I could have helped her had I gotten in touch earlier, considering I’ve been through the same thing.
- I met Tiffany Peperone, then a sophomore at Dominican and a Brother Martin cheerleader, in May 1990. Became really close to her. Once she graduated, I saw her only sporadically at LSU, and then after a couple of chance encounters at Ivar’s in 1997, nothing. That hurts a lot. Still.
- Two teachers at Brother Martin whom I became very close to, Janine Koening (8th grade science) and Rebecca Hale (junior English), have faded from view, as has another, Eileen Depreo (senior Civics), the lady who helped me so much during the St. Patrick’s Day folly at the Louisiana Supreme Court (see an earlier post).
- The ladies I worked with in LSU’s sports information office have wiped me from memory. Other than Laurie Cannon Moll, whom I reconnected with on Facebook, they’re all gone.
- Wendy Wall, whom I met in 1997 when she was in graduate school at LSU, hurt a lot to lose. I haven’t talked to her since she and her husband, Sid, went to dinner with my dad and I in Houston following LSU”s 2002 baseball super regional vs. Rice. I’ve tried time and again to get in touch, but to no avail.
- Rebecca Borne could be a chapter in a book, or maybe a book, period. The daughter of LSU football and men’s basketball public address announcer Dan Borne, Rebecca was a super smart young lady (34 ACT) whom I met through the LSU sports information office. We slowly drifted apart until her graduation in May 1998, and then it was she didn’t want to have anything to do with me again. I cried almost every day for years over it. It didn’t stop until I moved to Kansas.
- Rebecca McCann Campbell and I bonded when I first met her as an LSU Batgirl during the 1999 season. We stayed in touch for over a year, but once she graduated, she quickly got marreid to her high school sweetheart. I was so ecstatic to be watching an LSU-South Carolina baseball game in Columbia on the night of her wedding. She’s still married and has two lovely boys, so that’s worked out. At least she hasn’t totally forgotten me.
- Renetta Rogers. I’ll skip her for right now.
- Brenda LeBlanc, the winningiest high school volleyball coach in Louisiana history, occupied the perch Liz, Brittany and Lisa do now. I trusted her completely. I felt I could count on her whenever and wherever I needed her. And I would be there for her if she needed me.
- In Kansas, the list is endless. I could probably name 250-300 people.
- I thought Amanda Schelp wanted nothing to with me again for a time. Fortunately, that’s not hte case, but there are several at the hotel where she used to work who probably want me gone.
- Now I worry to death it’s going to happen with Crista, with Dr. Custer, with Dr. Jones. If that happens, my health will suffer greatly.
- I also worry about the crew at Buffalo Wild Wings. I know LIz is moving soon, Lisa will have a new job, and I’m sure Brittany will move on following her wedding in July. There still might be Alex, Tori, Raymie and a few others, but I don’t know.
Back to last night.
I came into Buffalo Wild Wings at 6:30 and sighted LIz. I yelled at hear about Cori. She took me outside and chewed me out. I deserved it. I was totally wrong.
First, I had NO RIGHT to go into her place of employement and make a scene. She should have slapped me, or kicked me in the nuts.
Second, it isn’t her fault. Things happen with people and their lives.
Third, she told me she hadn’t seen Cori much, either. So I wasn’t alone.
When I went back in, I broke down and cried hard, the first time I had cried in public in a very long time. I started playing some of my favorite sad songs, “Against All Odds” by Phil Collins, “Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word” by Elton John, and “All By Myself”, first the original by Eric Carmen, then the remake by Celine Dion. Chad McCart, the manager on duty, told me I had to stop playing those songs. I did.
I stayed until 9 and then left. I didn’t eat, and I hardly said goobdye to anyone. I did not say goodbye to Alex or Lisa.
I was feeling awful by time I pulled back in to the hotel. Jackie wondered what was wrong. She had never seen me that down.
At least something good happened last night.
I called Outback at Oak Park Mall to get a steak to eat in my room. I wanted prime rib at first, but I got a call five minutes later that there was no more prime rib. Therefore, I was offered the 22-ounce bone in ribeye at the same price as the prime rib. I jumped at the offer. That steak was so awesome.
I got ready early this morning. My car is being serviced at Morse-McCarthy Chevrolet right now. The oil life meter was down to ZERO.
It’s raining and cold this morning. Fits my mood.
Thursday was mostly a very bad day, especially the shouting match between myself and Jack Krier.
It wasn’t all bad. I had the wonderful conversation on Facebook messenger with Andree Dauterive Addison, one which jogged my memory and led to that post late last night. There also was another Facebook reconnection, one with a lady who was very special to me during my college days and shortly thereafter.
I first met Rebecca McCann during the 1999 LSU baseball season. She was selected as one of the Batgirls, the organization which not only retrieves bats and delivers balls to umpires during LSU baseball home games, but they also sell programs at the stadium and help out the program in many other ways behind the scenes, especially helping out around the office during the week. I knew a few of the Batgirls casually, but Becky was the first I really got to know well.
Becky was Baton Rouge born and bred. She grew up in the southeastern portion of East Baton Rouge Parish outside the Baton Rouge city limits, not too far where I lived following my graduation from LSU. She attended Bishop Sullivan, a Catholic co-educational high school in that part of EBR Parish. Sullivan opened in 1983 to serve the fast-growing population of that part of EBR and nearby Livingston Parish, as well as give students a co-educational alternative to Catholic High (boys) and St. Joseph’s Academy (girls), both of which were in Mid-City, not too far from LSU.
It was later discovered Bishop Joseph Sullivan, the school’s namesake, was part of a large sexual molestation scandal during his tenure as the Bishop of Kansas City-St. Joseph, Missouri, and in 2005, Baton Rouge Bishop Robert Muench ordered Sullivan’s name off the school. The school was renamed St. Michael the Archangel.
If you’re wondering, no Catholic diocese or archdiocese can cross state lines, so the Kansas Cities are under separate leadership. The Kansas portion of the Kansas City metro is anchor for the Archdiocese of Kansas City, Kansas,, which includes Topeka and the rest of northeast Kansas, stopping just before Manhattan.
Becky and I became good friends throughout the 1999 baseball season. She even teased me about an argument between myself and her best friend in an LSU political science class. It got so heated the distinguished professor of the class, Dr. James Bolner, had to stop it and move us to neutral corners so to speak.
Once I graduated from LSU in July 1999, Becky and I still kept in touch. I stayed in Baton Rouge and took a job with an dot-com company. Becky and I exchanged e-mails and communicated via AOL Instant Messenger, the first person I had serious chats with.
It got really serious the night of November 22, 1999.
I had a terrible day at work. After that it was just as bad, as I went to see Jimmy Ott doing his show at Pocorello’s, which was not too far from my workplace and apartment, but Jimmy was not very friendly that day. Little would I know Jimmy and I would be doing Monday shows together from Pocorello’s for three years in the not too distant future.
When I got home, I e-mailed Becky. I was desperate. I told her I wanted to end my life. She got back to me and told me she was extremely worried. She told me she called a hotline on my behalf.
Later that evening, two deputies from the East Baton Rouge Parish Sheriff’s Office showed up on my doorstep. They said they had a call that I was gong to take my life. I tried to tell them I wasn’t truly suicidal, but they took me in a squad car to Earl K. Long hospital clear across Baton Rouge on the wrong side of town–at least for a scared white man like myself.
As luck would have it, my dad was on working on a project for Air Products and Chemicals in Geismar, about 25 miles southeast of Baton Rouge, and he was able to drive to the hospital and pick me up. Had he not been there, I don’t know who the heck would have come to get me. Bill Franques would have been the first choice, but he was away that week on his honeymoon in San Francisco. I’m guessing the call might have gone to either Jim Schwanke or Dan Borne.
I told Becky what happened. I did not hold it against her. I’ll never forget we had a nice chat one morning at 1 a.m. after I spent a very late night at a Geismar gentleman’s club where Jimmy and I did a radio show that afternoon.
In late 2000, Becky told me she was engaged to her longtime boyfriend, Matthew Campbell. I was stunned. Looking back on it, I’m glad she found true love. She’s a very special lady.
She and Matt were married at St. Joseph’s Cathedral in Baton Rouge on April 19, 2002. Meanwhile,, I was in Columbia with the LSU baseball team as they opened a series at South Carolina.
I thought about Becky more than a few times through the years, but never dreamed we would reconnect, especially after I moved to Kansas. I am overjoyed we have.
Becky, thank you for coming back into my life. You were special to me then and are just as special now. I am elated you have enjoyed the success at Microsoft you have earned. I’m so glad you’re still married, because you deserve nothing but total bliss in your life. I will always hold you near and dear to my heart.