I Think There's a Moral In This...Somewhere.

I just got an email from a good friend who had visited my blog for the first time. I thought it was interesting partly because I remember when CB radios were all the rage. I also think there's a subtle hint in it, although he would never admit it. (I just copied and pasted. Any spelling errors are in the original.)

"This whole bloging (or blogging?) thing is interesting to me. It sort of reminds me of when I was into CB radios in about 1975. There people would have a semi-anonymous forum to speak their mind and create an identity for themselves. I found it intoxicating and I began to search out some of these Radio Stars I was talking to. They sounded so clever and witty and intelligent on the radio. They always seemed to be lurking by their radio ready to provide an amusing comment or story. So I was really interested in meeting some of these people that I had grown to admire in a certain sort of way.

One of the most interesting was a guy who called himself "Castaway". He was kind of a cult hero over the CB air-waves. He had what we called a "Linear" (short for linear amplifier) which boosted his signal so that you could always hear him all over the San Gabriel Valley of Southern California. He couldn't hear you unless you were close because your signal wasn't amplified but you could hear him. It made him large, important, mysterious. Here was someone I considered a celebrity. He was somewhere in the hills above Pasadena with a giant antenna and all the best equipment. He had style when he spoke. He had a certain air about him and because of the type of microphone he used, had this erie echoing sound to his voice. He sounded larger than life. My curiosity was aroused. Who was his CB knight? It was the same feeling that makes the bad guy want to peek under Batman's mask. I had formed a picture of what Castaway looked like. He was cool and popular. So, I don't remember how, but somehow I found out where Castaways secret hideout was. And to ventured into the hills to meet him.

I arrived at the modest home in Sierra Madre. I knocked on the door and was met by a lady who owned the house. I believe it was, indeed, his mother. She pointed me to a door on the side of the house that led to a tiny apartment attached to the house. It was Castaway's Island. I knocked on that door and when it opened the first thing I noticed was the smell. The smell of a room that had not been cleaned in years. It has been almost 30 years but I can still smell that smell. Castaway was a shock! He was something over 6 feet tall and very thin with shoulder length hair. He looked to be about 19 or 20 years old and obviously considered personal hygiene optional and even hazardous. He sat down at his microphone and I stood over him as he began to show me his setup. He seemed to be a loner. You imagine someone like the Unibomber having similar beginings. As I looked down over his shoulder, I was stunned to see in the middle of his hair was the biggest matte of hair I had ever seen. It was like a ball of twine stuck to his head. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I wondered if "No More Tangles" would solve that or if he would just have to shave his head. Did this guy ever leave this room?

It was then that I realized that the radio was all he had. It was his escape from who he was. It allowed him to create a new identity with no real effort. He could "be somebody" without the "becoming" part which involves effort, initiative, stuggle and self-discipline. The rest of his life was a train wreck. He knew he was a hero on the radio with a self-formed identity and status. His was an empty, lonely life based on illusion. It made me very sad that day.

Soon after this experience, I turned my radio off. I didn't want to become a Castaway.

When you come to a fork in the road, take it. That is some wise advise... if I only understood what it means.

As I look back at that time, I was at a fork in the road. I was just beginning my college career and I had taken every hard class I could. I was only at a Junior College and it was only my first semester but I was already over my head. I was in danger of distroying my entire college GPA and vaporizing any hopes of going to Medical School. I was behind in Calculus, behind in Biology, behind in Political Science, behind in English... all at the same time. I could just seen my grades....D D D D or even worse. I was supposed to be pre-med. I needed A's. Lots of them. The CB was a great escape. I could lose myself for hours, pretending to be somebody important. All the while I was ignoring my studies and fact that I was nearing a point of no return. The ship was taking on water 1000 miles from shore and I was afraid to bail.

My encounter with Castaway shocked me. I needed the jolt. In the nick of time, I picked up the bucket and started to bail. I ended up dropping every class I had on the very last day I could do so. Instead of F's, I had I's for incomplete. It would look odd on my transcript but it would not be F for Fatal! In the mean time, my brother in medical school at the time, sensing my desperation, flippantly had offered to have me move in with him and his wife to undergo a sort of Boot Camp for Students. With my near death experience so fresh in my mind, I jumped at the opportunity. I moved in with them, changed to a different school close to their house and began my chrysalis transformation. They monitored every aspect of my studies. They wouldn't allow me to take on too much at first, aiming for early success. Amazingly enough, I learned that I could change, that I could accomplish what I had worked so hard at avoiding the previous semester. I got nearly all A's that semester. I felt good about the direction I was headed. I was going in a new direction and I did not turn back. And I never turned that CB radio back on again.

I often wonder how God is involved in those kinds of situation. Did he guide me or just allow me to go through my Castaway experience. I am sure he knew that it was good for me to taste failure without being crushed in the process. He also knew that it would be good to teach me about the tendency to run away from problems instead of dealing with them. Those were good lessons. I know that how ever I got into the situations, God protected me along the way. And the lessens learned have stuck with me like the smell of Castaway's room."