318

What today?  Today is the beginning of the past, a recollection of events that took place at the aptly dubbed  The Magical Mystery Trailer.  This was a mobile home in Bristol, TN that is connected to so many memories, both joyous and painful, that took place over the course of five years.  The bits and pieces of so many lives passed within the walls of that unassuming metal box with the address "318" in  large black vinyl letters on the end facing the street.
The year 1991  marked the beginning of The Magical Mystery Trailer days.  This was the fourth and last year of my marriage to a woman with whom I was ultimately incompatible.  By December of that year we had finally decided to divorce, this after a year of doubt and uncertainty, but in the end divorce was the right decision.  She moved out after New Year's 1992, and the final papers came through around March or April.   So just as the spring season signifies a rebirth of the earth, so was I  reborn along with it as a single man.  I lived alone for length of time, and then my brother moved in and split expenses with me.  At some point even further down the road we acquired another roommate, a friend of my brother's who became a good friend of mine, and all three bedrooms were occupied.  We were at full capacity.  Once all the players were in place, things started to happen.
I have trouble remembering the dates by the calendar, so I have to think in terms of events.  There were all the annual Christmas Eve parties that seemed to get bigger and better every year.  The countless trips out to the Blue Hole, a beautiful natural waterfall falling into a deep, blue swimming hole.  All the friends that came and went, some moving out of town, others simply disappearing from our little circle.  The long weekend after my brother's breakup with his girlfriend when we sat up all night playing poker and listening to Dwight Yoakum's "This Time" over and over again as we waited to greet the sun.   All those all night poker games, too many to count.  The week that the twins stayed with us and all the drama that ensued.  My long trip to coastal South Carolina on the trail of love, only to find that my heart had led my astray once again.  The layers of insulation that formed around my heart as the seed of mistrust grew within a haze of disgust.  The regular weekend trips to comic shops, flea markets, Toys R Us, and Pizza Hut.  The weekend of the big snow when we built the igloo and all the nights I spent just laying in it that week.   The nights spent out on the back deck under the stars bearing our souls and bonding in a way that only brothers and very  close friends can understand.  All those nights sitting for hours in the Bonfire sipping tea and drinking coffee with no real purpose.  We were just looking for understanding and enjoyed the comfort of each other's company, fulfilling the need to be a part of something and belong somewhere.
We seemed to attract the unstable and outsiders to our fold.  Every person that entered into the circle had some sort of hurt or problem, was in one way or another an aberration from normal polite society.  Perhaps we just knew our own kind, recognizing a familiar scent or sensing it on a subconscious level.  However it happened, we became each other's support system, and "318" became the focal point of it all, a home base, a refuge from the rest of the world where everyone was free to be themselves.  Speech was free and uncensored with no standard to live up to.  There was no pressure to be anything, just a neutral space to sit and sort things out and all the time in which to do it.  The place was usually full and felt alive with conversation and laughter.  We were all a part of one big extended family.
I dated a fair amount of women during that time, too.  My desire for a woman that I could not have, at least not then anyway, that drove me to date her friend; my futile attempt to make a passionless relationship work; my brief involvement with a soon to be divorced woman that eventually ended because I cared too much.  That one hurt.  My one night stand with a deluded, and messy, woman; my unfulfilled longing for a friend that would not return my feelings; my involvement with an old girlfriend that turned too intense; my brief involvement with a mentally unstable, stalker type; my miserable evening with a woman who was all looks and no brains; my short tryst with a woman who liked to play mind games; and the long affair with an engaged woman that I truly loved, but in the end was not meant to be.  I never completely recovered from that one; the wounds have healed, but the scars still ache from time to time.
We all learned from each other over those five years, and in the end we all moved on to other things.  Hopefully better things and more successful lives.  I think we are all richer for the experience.  Maybe someday soon, I can begin to write some of those tales down, so that they will not become lost forever.  There are so many I don't know where to start, but I will.  Soon.

2002