Ancestry, Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Music

Closed Head Injury

Letter to a Friend

I graduated to a larger keyboard in procrastination.

I went back to do the dishes and thought to myself, ‘this isn’t the life I want’. Did I tell you? I had even tried to convince myself that I just had to get things all in order so that everything in life would be ‘ready’. See how that worked out? Needless to say these hands have yet to hit dishwater. So much for Southern.

But is there really anything wrong with that?

If someone would give me just one cup, plate, bowl, spoon, fork, mug and what else do I need?

I’ll tell you what, just a really cool place to put them!

I need to figure out how to be happy, or this is going to suddenly feel like a very long life, I get the feeling, from here on out…

Today is the day that my daddy died, 30 years ago today, or some time within 12 hours or so either way, because I can never quite remember if the accident happened the night before, or if it was already considered the next day, and when it was that he died, or rather, how long it took him to die. And since I move so damn often, the paper which answers this question every year when I inevitably go searching for it to determine once again, for another year, just it was ‘when’ that ‘what’ happened, is buried in boxes which are worn and disheveled from the packing, repacking, and moving again, again, and again.

Any way, I’m listening to Yo-Yo Ma do Johan Sebastian Bach while considering doing my dishes, or just throwing out all my clothes, …or just moving to a life I’d prefer to be living?

It wouldn’t take a psychiatrist to be able to tell you that if I could have anyone with me here tonight to have a glass of single girl microwaved a few seconds to knock the chill off red refrigerated wine it would be my dad. No, not the one who called yesterday to make sure that I was okay, I think because he knows even if only from the signs from my mother’s odder than usual behavior triggered by it nearing that day again… No, I mean my father, the one who gave me life. He was an artist and a lover, a singer and a movie maker, although I have to tell you his song in the band is pretty much dreadful.

Here’s Dog Sweat, by Matthew Raymond Morris Michael Niblick. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, you’ll want to cover your ears. But to me, it’s music. That’s my daddy’s voice. When I heard this ‘song’ this past year, it was the first I’d heard my daddy’s voice, since he died thirty years ago. Still, Dad! What were you thinking?!

My Daddy, the artist Matthew Raymond Morris Michael Niblick (movie footage 1979-1983) from Angela Baxley on Vimeo.

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Ancestry, Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget, Religion

We fly away…

I am emotional. I feel betrayed. I was raised in faith that the Watchtower was God’s organization. I believed that my mom and dad knew the answers that one day I’d come to learn. I just felt slow and stupid and that eventually I’d get it. I trusted. I had faith. I believed. I knew my parents were smarter than me. I had read it in the poem that hang on his bedroom wall.

I now learn that while they can’t answer me from the scriptures when will my father live again they will deny the scriptures as they are written as truth.

“And the rest of the dead do not come to life until the end of the thousand years.” — Revelation 20:5

Despite that verse, and the one which precedes it which clearly defines who will partake in the first resurrection (which is immediately followed by this verse—”And the rest of the dead do not come to life until the end of the thousand years.”) she’d say that “apparently” my father, and all other loved ones, such as my uncles and my best friend, will come to life again during the thousand year reign.

“But who will they rule over?”, she asked. Continue reading

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Ancestry, Are You There God? It's Me, Gidget

Send in the Clowns. Roger Dale Niblick, 1928-2011

Listen to He Walks With Me (In The Garden) “Song for Grandpa” by Tina and Herbie Niblick

My grandpa, Roger Dale Niblick, was Roscoe the Clown in the style of Emmett Kelly, and had also stepped into Ronald McDonald’s clown shoes.

Niblick Family of Hessen Cassel, Fort Wayne, IndianaHe and my grandma Madonna conjured up fifteen kids to fill up an old large white house on Hessen Cassel in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to go to school with the Niblick kids. My momma has a clue, rumor has it that it was not just one, but at least two of the Niblick boys that she’d dated.

You’ll note that there are just three girls, and twelve strapping handsome boys—my daddy is the long haired one, cross-legged, front and center, Matthew Raymund Morris Michael Niblick.

Roger Dale Niblick (1928-2011), as Roscoe the ClownIn 1983 when my daddy died, I remember my momma “getting sad” from a song on the television. It was Judy Collins on the Muppet Show, Send in the Clowns (video below).

Until now, it had never occurred to me whether or not any of her sadness came from the fact that his daddy was a clown,… and how it must feel for a parent to lose their child. Isn’t enough that she was just 21, widowed with two children, and pregnant with her third?

Sometimes life just isn’t fair.

I had wanted to talk to my Grandpa Niblick about his time in Nicaragua. A little bit after my grandma died a few years ago he up and moved to Nicaragua.

It wasn’t entirely shocking as my Aunt Tina had been in Barbados for what seems like forever. She, known in her work as Sister La’el, tells me, “he clowned for MANY years, even while in Nicaragua. During the service years he was also in Africa and Greenland.”

I think it’s only appropriate, twenty eight years later, to play Send in the Clowns.

This time, it’s for my grandpa, who was always the only clown that mattered in my life.

 

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