I love this place. No doubt about it. But sometimes I get so frustrated with things. I don’t even know what I’m saying. As I write this i’m flip-flopping which way to take this…


I mean, I miss people that still live in Nampa and Boise everyday. And there’s probably about 5 minutes a week that I think, “You know what? I could really be a lot more comfortable back in Nampa working at the flying M again…” And then I’m brought back.


So I live in this house that’s a ‘re-entry’ house for guys who’ve been addicted to drugs and alcohol–but more than that, we really just want to focus on the communal living aspect. Which is awesome. I mean, I’d way rather be a brother to these guys than a drug counselor. But it’s easy to get frustrated when you feel totally insulted by a guy who you find out has been lying to you for weeks. That’s usually when I want to move back.


 And then, like on days like today when I’m sitting in the living room with Ron who is single, 55, and spent half of his life living on and off the streets–all the while addicted to heroine and alcohol. He’s older than my dad. We were both reading our respective book or magazine, and he just looks up at me and asks, “C-Bones, would you be offended if I called you ‘Son’?” This question kind of caught me off guard. I looked up and he continued, “It’s almost slipped out of my mouth a couple of times–but then I think about it, You are really the closest thing I’ve ever had to a son. And I don’t mean that like I’m here giving you instruction on how to live properly–because obviously I’ve blown that opportunity. But more like, I think of you when I make a decision. And I know that I should check in with you when my plans change. And I really want you to think highly of me and all the choices that I make.”

 I’m nearly in tears at this point.

I said to him, “Ron, in one respect, I’d like to think of us more as brothers than one of us being above or below the other–but on this journey together…but Ron, in the respect you speak of, I can’t think of anything that would honor me more than you calling me your ‘son’.” 


Then he says, “Alright. I just didn’t want you to be weirded out when I call you ‘son’.” And went back to his magazine.

 So that’s what I’m doing here…