I'm 34 now, and the TransAm 2019 bike race feels like a different lifetime. In my late twenties, 28 and 29 to be exact, I was working in the service industry. I had transitioned from working in a large-scale nightclub in downtown Akron into working at more of a sports bar type of atmosphere. J-Dublin's was the name and it was pretty big place with a full dinner menu. Wings, burgers, salads, wraps, fried finger foods; The usual midwest type of stuff. I was washing dishes, doing bar-back work, and taking on my own bartending shifts. Hell, I was making pizzas, frying wings, making wraps and salads if I needed to. The bar was in the center of the place and was surrounded by waist-high tables and chairs all around. I think the place sat probably 30 or more, with sitting and standing room in the back, on the heated patio, and in and around the bar. We had 3 full size pool tables in the back, and the restrooms were back there through a hallway. On busy weekend nights, one of the toilets in the mens room had a tendency to overflow, so it wasn't uncommon to see drunk patrons waddling out from the bathroom hallway with the soles of their shoes soaked in water. Soon, it was either me, Vonny, or Sharon back there with a plunger, one of those toilet-snake things, or just using a squeegee to try and direct the overflow into the drain. We would be performing damage control amidst absolute chaos during one of the busiest regional service industry nights such as a Browns game, an OSU game, a Cavs game, etc. Hundreds of patrons, loud music and TVs, screaming, shouting, hooting, hollering, throw up, cigarettes, broken beer bottles. 11-12 hour shifts.. yeah. We all did our job extremely well and trust me when I say anyone who really did some serious time in the service industry probably developed some PTSD from their experience.
I tell you all of this now as to try and set some kind of backdrop for the weird limbo I was living my life in up until TransAm. I grew up in Akron mostly, while attending middle and high school in Tallmadge, a very small suburb just outside of the city with good schools. 3 miles one way you'd be in the city proper, 3 miles the other way you were in a corn field. I liked that. My parents had bought a house in the area when I was a young teenager, maybe 11 or 12. Right before my baby sister Lea was born. My parents had always had a shit relationship, eventually getting divorced right before I turned 17 or 18. That had a huge impact on my sister and I, and our family remains broken to this day. I was already on depression meds and not talking to a counselor as a teen, and I remember quitting the meds cold turkey one day. I was absolute batshit insane for one week but was able to function. After that, I seemed to be fine but.. what I really needed was care, love, attention, and most importantly guidance from a real mentor. I needed stability, and so did my sister. Financially our parents supported our family. We didn't go hungry or without clothes or xmas or bday presents. But there was never love. I don't have many fond memories of being a child, a teen, or a young adult. I don't have many fond memories of my family. When I look back at those times of me as a child, my sister as a toddler, and my extremely disjointed family, all I can do is feel sad about it.
There are a few good memories, however. Like bikes. My cousins and I would build ramps out of planks of wood and cinder blocks. My cousin Kyle had a silver GT bmx bike. I adored him and looked up to him. My cousin Sean, who I also greatly admired, had an even sweeter blue Schwinn bmx bike. Sean was smarter than Kyle. Hell, Sean was smarter than anyone in my entire family. But Kyle, at least to me, was cool. And that meant a lot to young me. He talked to girls, did bigger jumps, listened to Korn, collected Pogs, and was into Spawn action figures. Fuckin' badass shit, man. I wanted to be like him. I had some friends as a kid but not a ton. I was an only child until I was 12 or 13, my mother and I having fled from my biological dad sometime in my toddler years. He was a drug addict, and dealt with that and other untreated mental health issues his entire life. I didn't really know him until I was about 19, but that is something I will touch on later. My cousins were part of my stepdads family, and I found myself with them often. My mom was really close to my Aunt Vicky, my stepdads sister, and my Uncle Andy, her husband, were just cool-ass warm people. When I look back to any fond memories of growing up, I think the ages of 8-16 were probably the best. Our two families were very close and we lived with them in their house for some time. Camping, riding bikes, cooking out, summer park programs at the Lions Park down the street, watching Tornadoes, decorating for Halloween, and one of my most visceral memories - listening to the voracious crunching and mouth breathing of my cousins eating cereal in the mornings before school. Savages.
My sister was born in 2003, and when I say she was the cutest little nugget of a kid, I truly mean it. I remember her baby and toddler years also being quite beautiful in the best ways they could be. The dysfunction in our family remained, but she was this beacon of pure love and light and joy that permeated any marital or domestic issues, financial collapse, or any young tween issues I had. I don't recall having a lot of feelings of jealousy - I hope I am correct in remembering that I wanted to be a good big brother. I baby sat her a lot and here is a quick breakdown of some of the fine programming we enjoyed together - The Wiggles, Bear in the Big Blue House, Dora the Explorer, Spongebob Squarepants, Lazy Town, The Backyardigans, just to name a few. This kid watched so much TV that it makes me concerned, sad, and angry to look back on. Thankfully, she turned out smart as hell, responsible, and polite and lovely as can be. I got to see her grow up to the young woman she is today and I'm really glad I was at an age where I can remember all of that. I love my sister, and it makes me sad that our relationship isn't very good. Not that it is bad - she can call me anytime - but we're not very close. None of my family is close. That is our downfall. Kids need their family, whether they're eight, eighteen, or 48 - having that core fundamental sense of tribe, who you are, where you come from, I've come to learn is important in growing up to be a sensible, stable, confident person. It won't guarantee success or a good life, but if done right, from my experience, it can help you develop into a person that has a more whole and complete sense of self and purpose.
To be clear, I don't hate my parents. I don't hate my childhood. I just am still processing it all and trying to be there for my young self. This kind of thinking gets really heavy and cloudy for me so, with that I think we will close this as Chapter 1.