“Hey Kyle, wanna know a secret?”
Tuesday, July 15th 2014
It’s been three days since I’ve seen any sort of civilization, and I’ll be lucky if I make it out of this desolate, middle-of-nowhere road I’ve broken down on, alive. I’ve become so desperate that I’ve started to eat my own.....
Just joking, I’m in San Francisco. Tiburon, Marin County, to be exact. It’s a lovely ‘Sunday kind of drive’ on the 101 North just over the Golden Gate Bridge. I’m sitting in a house that sits atop Sugarloaf Dr., overlooking the entire Bay Area. It has one of the most beautiful views of San Francisco, Oakland, Golden Gate, Bay Bridge, Angel Island, Alcatraz, and all surrounding areas. And I’ve somehow become fortunate to call it a home of sorts when I’m in the area. Which is pretty frequent these days. I’ve heard the drummer for Metallica (I can’t remember his name at the moment, and I’m too lazy to look it up) and Carlos Santana are both neighbors. Or maybe one or the other, I can’t remember. I’ve yet to see either, and to be honest, there’s really only one of the two I feel would be humble enough to sit down and have genuine conversation. I’ll let you guess on that one.
I was invited down to be the entertainment for an engagement party. First time for everything, I suppose. If you would’ve told a twenty-one year old me that I was going to be playing acoustic guitar at an engagement party, I’d either laugh at you, or spit whiskey in your face....... Okay, that’s a bit extreme, but you get the picture. I never really was too much of the “rough & tumble” type, but I had my moments, and I did carry a bit of a wild streak with me through my teen years. As we all have, I suppose. But mine was fueled by punk rock and an average friend range being 21-30. Kind of strange when you’re only 15. But kids my age were just that, kids. Hence, my ‘Kiddo’ tattoo (I was the baby of the bunch) I got in the back of a Puerto Rican hair salon on Ashland Ave. in Chicago on my 16th birthday. Sorry Mom, I guess if you read this that’s how you’ll find out that little secret. Anyways, I’m getting off topic. The party is being held for my biological sisters’ cousin. And a good amount of her Aunts, Uncles & cousins are flying in from New York, Chicago, Florida and Oregon for the event. I, however, carry no blood relation to anyone but her. No relations to me whatsoever. Confused? Let me break it down for you:
Years ago (1987 to be exact), my Mother & Father had a child. The third of the three they were to have together. I was two at the time. I don’t know the whole story, and I hope that my family doesn’t get too upset that I’m writing this. But, I’m an open book, and I feel that the world would be a
much better place and we’d have a much deeper, and more compassionate understanding of one another if we all were. That being said.... Sorry Mom. Sorry Pops. So for whatever reason, they adopted her out and I didn’t find out about her until I was twenty-one. It still trips me out, because now I feel as if I’ve known her all along.
I wasn’t sure how to take it at the time though. How would you react to that? If I remember, all in one week, I sat down with my mom and found out about her and then she was coming up to meet us almost immediately. Thanks for the mental preparation, Ma. In all honesty though, I took it completely normal. It was more or less just another “thing” happening in life. Life was a bit crazy for me at that time, so I guess I was a bit numb to everything around me. (After writing that last line, I realized, my life is always crazy. As opposed to normal, at least. I both long for and dread the day I find stability in life, as I’m not sure I’ll know how to handle it, haha. I pride myself in my adaptability, though....) Overall, I was completely ecstatic to meet this new, long-lost sister. I wondered what she was like. Would we have anything in common? Will she like us? Hate us? Do we shake hands? Or hug? Thoughts raced through my mind and I realized that this could go down any which way. I started finding things out about her. She was the only other musician in the family (she plays classical piano. By ear. Eat your heart out, Chopin.), she had music notes tattooed on her arm in the same place I did. I’ve been told we have the same walk. Same talk. There are countless similarities & mannerisms between us.
**On a side note, I was with a friend once and we were going to meet her at her house. I was telling him how similar we are, and she walked outside and we were both dressed in khakis and a V-neck. I Thought that was funny.** Obviously the list could go on and on. What’s that old joke about being separated at birth? Oh, wait........
So over the last eight years, we’ve grown extremely close. She’s since moved to Portland for school and I’m up there frequently for music, as well as the Bay Area. Where her adoptive family has taken me in, and treats me like a child of their own. Her brother, David, is now like a brother to me, as well. We spend our mornings drinking kale shakes and getting stoned while he talks my ear off about Joe Rogan. He’s a solid guy with a heart of gold. Love ya, Brotha.
I forgot what I was originally writing this particular piece about. I kind of trailed off in another direction. But for the better, I suppose. I was always troubled as a youth, always shy & quiet. Very despondent. Never really doing anything more than daydreaming all the time. I still do that. But for some odd reason, I feel that finally meeting her has really brought me out of the shell I was always locking myself in. Subconsciously, I always knew about her. But in the forefront, I didn’t. It’s as if that door was unlocked and I can now roam freely. I never put the pieces together about it until recently, but it just makes sense that the closer we got, the more I found myself. If we really are as similar as we seem, I can only hope that she feels the same way. Between meeting/finding out about her, my music, and having an amazing older sister that is always there for me and catches me every time I slip (I feel I’m past those days now. But for what it’s worth, thank you for everything, Amanda.), I am forever grateful for everything that I have in this life. There really is so much more I wish to write on this topic, but alas, this is only a brief weekly blog for The Rogue. So I promise, I will be keeping this blog going and somewhere down the road this will be finished. And there won’t be a dry eye in the house. Maybe when I find out about our next sibling......
Love ya sis, this one’s for you.
--Kyle
