A Father and Son

The other day at work at shiny Granite grey Ram 2500 pickup drove up, parked. A full Crew cab model, when the doors opened a handsome, muscular Hispanic guy in his 30's hopped out, with him his pretty wife and two kids, a little dark eyed girl of 10 or so and a small shy boy around six. On the door was the name of his business, Hernandez and Son Masonry Contractors.

I walked over to him, introduced myself and he told me it was time to give himself a reward. He wanted to look at a Challenger SRT. His first question he needed answered was would he fit inside. I walked with the family up on the veranda of our store. We have a black SRT, with suede and leather Recaro style interior. I went in the store and got the keys, unlocked the car and started it up to turn the AC on full blast to cool it down.

The SRT has a 448 hp, 392 Hemi V8 and comes with a nasty set of pipes. When it started it barked. The wife and daughter jumped back. Hernandez and his little boy got huge grins on their faces. I got out and lowered the seat and put it back as far as it would go. Hernandez got in the car. He fit. I stood back and watched him. He hit the gas pedal, the SRT snarled. His wife rolled her eyes. His son climbed on his lap with a huge grin on his face.

They are coming back on Friday. I'm assuming they'll arrive after a long and difficult family discussion. If Hernandez prevails, he and his son will bond even more than they already have and the SRT will be the beginning of a new phase in their father-son relationship that will last a lifetime for the two of them.

I can imagine the black SRT, in perfect condition 40 years from now and Hernandez the son saying, "I remember being with my father the day he bought this car..."

I love being part of moments like this.

My Journey

Part 5 “Day of Insight”

I had a session with Erica today. I have gone from 2 a week, to one. Then she moved me to every other week and now once every three. “You’ve made remarkable progress.” She said.

I had just finished telling her about the Sunday morning after my birthday while driving to work I felt all my anger, anxiety and fear wash out of me. I had just pulled out of the garage, shut the door and drove only a few hundred feet, it felt like a drain had opened and it all ran out and evaporated-disappeared. Not a trace was left. I felt liberated, I felt free for the first time in months. I felt good, happy. I felt like myself again.

“What do you think happened?”

“I think I started my motor again.”

Erica looked puzzled, “What do you mean, Robert?”

“There’s a phrase used to describe some athletes, the sport doesn’t make any difference, it’s said they have a big motor, they keep going under all circumstances, win, lose, impossible odds. I’ve always had a big motor and suddenly mine stopped. Maybe I stopped maintaining it, maybe I just shut it off and got used to not hearing it run anymore. What ever happened, for a long time it wasn’t there anymore! The motor, my motor, always kept me going even in the worst of circumstances. I needed to turn it back on and let it do its work. Without it, I lost confidence in myself. I stopped looking for solutions, I saw only problems. Without its power inside of me, I rolled to a stop. I was dead alongside the road. I was watching the rest of the world roll by without me. My non-participation was what was making me crazy, making me lash out whenever someone came near. This, these sessions helped me get it running again, at least motivated me to try. The funny thing is, I’ve know this is what I needed to do and for the longest time I was afraid to push the button marked start. When I finally decided to risk pushing the button, my motor sounded fresh and new and better than ever, I eased forward and there it was, working for me like it always has. On that morning on the way to work I let it run hard and fast and that’s when it happened, I was away from the black hole after all that time.”

Erica smiled, “Whatever turns your crank. Have you felt any regression or that you’ve slipped backwards at all?”

“Off and on, but nothing like before. I feel so much better I can’t allow it.”

“I want you to keep this up, I’ll see you three weeks from today. Can you keep a journal of your feelings?”

“I do already, no great detail, but I keep track of what’s happening.”

“Good, if you’d like to share it next time, we can talk about it.”

“I’d like that.”

“Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“How much are you drinking?”

“About a third of what I was a month or two ago.”

“You feel better?”

“I do.”

“You’ve worked hard. I see you are better in your eyes.”

“Does this mean I’ll make your book?”

“What book?”

“The one you’ll write when you retire.”

There is a term in the car business, “the third baseman”. Defined as a person who is not involved directly in the transaction advising or commented on the process, usually in a negative or derogatory manner.

Yesterday I ran into a “third baseman”. The buyer, a motorhead, in his mid-40s  interested in a Challenger SRT. The car has a sticker price of just under $60,000 dollars. $59,945. The only add-on is the California Protection Package for $995. Less the CPP the car is $58950. The mark up on a Challenger is only 8.2%. We paid $54,611. for the SRT.

We drove the car, the buyer loved it. We sat down at my desk. Cash deal. Write a check for the car. I start the process. The “third baseman says “What is the bottom line price?” I looked up and said, “I don’t know I know yet, I have to check the numbers on the car, our invoice from Dodge. Let me get Kevin’s info down and I’ll do that, okay?” The buyer isn’t saying anything at the moment.

Checking the numbers on a car is a process; you run the stock number, pull the invoice and see the pricing. Put it in front of the sales manager. He checks it, and tells me sell it for $56,000. This means we will make less than a grand on the car  on the car until the end of the year, when we receive checks from Chrysler on all the units we sell. Those checks are based on the total sales volume of the store, brand and model volume and on our customer satisfaction index. (a 10 point scale where a 10 is an A and a 9 is a D) I go back to my client, thinking this is a very good deal for him.. I sit down and the third baseman says, “He’ll give you $50,000 plus tax and license for the car out the door.” I look at him and said “Impossible”. Then the  damned third baseman says, “They have 6 SRTs in Van Nuys and he can buy one there for 50k.” I looked at the buyer and asked, “I thought you were buying the car? I know what the mark up is on a Challenger and we are selling you this one for a few dollars over our cost.”

“Bullshit.” The third baseman said. I didn’t say anything. “We’re going to Van Nuys. You’ve got until we get to the car to make the same deal.” I let them walk.

After they left, I took a walk outside in the 97 degree heat. I wouldn’t have made any money on the deal, but I don’t like to lose and this was a win for my customer if not for me. I talked to the sales manager about it, Mack said, ”You did everything you could. Tough situation.”

Later in the day, Mack called the Van Nuys store. They didn’t sell him a Challenger SRT either. The GSM in Van Nuys said. “The crazy bastard offered us 50k, we can’t sell him a car for almost 5 grand less than we paid for it.”

I’m calling him this afternoon and telling him our deal is valid until 9 tonight.

My Journey
Part 4 “Thoughts”


I read an interesting line in a novel the other day…


“Finding a way to treat a need is not as satisfactory as finding the answer to the need.”


I remember going to “Family Week” with my mother when she was going through alcohol rehabilitation (it worked for her, magnificently) Mom had been covering up and stuffing her feelings over the death of my Dad. Dad died at 59. Mom was only 54 at the time. Dad suffered from heart problems for years, but for over a year he felt better than he’d felt for almost 20 years, he was walking every day. He lost weight and looked good. Then one night he dropped dead. Mom went into a tailspin. The madness stopped when she went to rehab.

Mom was covering her anguish by drowning the pain in alcohol…it was her way to “treat her need”. Because of the drinking, on her own she never found the answer. She’d drink half the night and when she woke up the need was still there. There was no “answer to the need” in a bottle of Absolute. She didn’t find her way back and her answer until she put the Absolute down.
(By the way, during Family Week my brother and my sisters and I found out Dad’s death wasn’t the only thing that bothered our Mother! But that is another story for another time.)
Without the anesthetic of alcohol to cover her real feelings Mom began to address the things that were bothering her, one by one, day by day and she began to find the answers she needed. It was a smashing success. She never drank again, never “fell off the wagon”. Not once. She had her old energy back, she took classes, she read again and she was a superstar in the dress business, she was our Mother again, smiling and happy. She found her answer and we got the gift of having her back in our lives. We had our “Mom” in our lives again. It was a beautiful thing.

As I moved through my treatment for depression I’ve often thought about my Mother’s Journey. I’ve been slowly but surely finding the reasons why I dropped into such a cold dark place for so long. I’m finding the answers to my needs. I believe that is why Erica has insisted I “stay on me” during our sessions. No one has a quick fix to my problems. The answers are inside me, inside my head. What I have done during this time is to modify my behavior. I may think something and want to react but I hold it in so I don’t say something hurtful. My job has given me confidence in myself again. My self-esteem is up. I feel valued again. I make my clients comfortable and make them happy. It feels good.
My journey is far from over. I know people care about me. My wife loves me and I love her. My sisters have been wonderful, my grandkids, my kids and my nieces and nephews. Thanks for moving to San Diego Suzie, nice to have you so close.

I’ve had personal e-mails saying thank you for writing your story. Several are going to get help because of what they’ve read. That’s satisfying to know.
I’ll keep you all posted, I have a session with Erica next week!

My Journey

Part 4 “Thoughts”

I read an interesting line in a novel the other day…

“Finding a way to treat a need is not as satisfactory as finding the answer to the need.”

I remember going to “Family Week”   with my mother when she was going through alcohol rehabilitation (it worked for her, magnificently) Mom had been covering up and stuffing her feelings over the death of my Dad. Dad died at 59. Mom was only 54 at the time. Dad suffered from heart problems for years, but for over a year he felt better than he’d felt for almost 20 years, he was walking every day. He lost weight and looked good. Then one night he dropped dead. Mom went into a tailspin. The madness stopped when she went to rehab.

Mom was covering her anguish by drowning the pain in alcohol…it was her way to “treat her need”. Because of the drinking, on her own she never found the answer. She’d drink half the night and when she woke up the need was still there. There was no “answer to the need” in a bottle of Absolute. She didn’t find her way back and her answer until she put the Absolute down.

(By the way, during Family Week my brother and my sisters and I found out Dad’s death wasn’t the only thing that bothered our Mother! But that is another story for another time.)

Without the anesthetic of alcohol to cover her real feelings Mom began to address the things that were bothering her, one by one day by day and she began to find the answers she needed to find. It was a smashing success. She never drank again, never “fell off the wagon”. Not once. She had her old energy back, she took classes, she read again and she was a superstar in the dress business, she was our Mother again, smiling and happy. She found her answer and we got the gift of having her back in our lives. We had our “Mom” in our lives again. It was a beautiful thing.

As I moved through my treatment for depression I’ve often thought about my Mother’s Journey. I’ve been slowly but surely finding the reasons why I dropped into such a cold dark place for so long. I’m finding the answers to my needs. I believe that is why Erica has insisted I “stay on me” during our sessions. No one has a quick fix to my problems. The answers are inside me, inside my head. What I have done during this time is to modify my behavior. I may think something and want to react but I hold it in so I don’t say something hurtful. My job has given me confidence in myself again. My self-esteem is up. I feel valued again. I make my clients comfortable and make them happy. It feels good.

My journey is far from over. I know people care about me, my wife loves me and I love her. My sisters have been wonderful, my grandkids, my kids and my nieces and nephews. Thanks for moving to San Diego Suzie, nice to have you so close.

I’ve had personal e-mails saying thank you for writing your story. Several are going to get help because of what they’ve read. That’s satisfying to know.

I’ll keep you all posted, I have a session with Erica next week!

My Journey

Part 4 “Thoughts”

I read an interesting line in a novel the other day…

“Finding a way to treat a need is not as satisfactory as finding the answer to the need.”

I remember going to “Family Week”   with my mother when she was going through alcohol rehabilitation (it worked for her, magnificently) Mom had been covering up and stuffing her feelings over the death of my Dad. Dad died at 59. Mom was only 54 at the time. Dad suffered from heart problems for years, but for over a year he felt better than he’d felt for almost 20 years, he was walking every day. He lost weight and looked good. Then one night he dropped dead. Mom went into a tailspin. The madness stopped when she went to rehab.

Mom was covering her anguish by drowning the pain in alcohol…it was her way to “treat her need”. Because of the drinking, on her own she never found the answer. She’d drink half the night and when she woke up the need was still there. There was no “answer to the need” in a bottle of Absolute. She didn’t find her way back and her answer until she put the Absolute down.

(By the way, during Family Week my brother and my sisters and I found out Dad’s death wasn’t the only thing that bothered our Mother! But that is an another story for another time.)

Without the anesthetic of alcohol to cover her real feelings Mom began to address the things that were bothering her, one by one day by day and she began to find the answers she needed to find. It was a smashing success, she never drank again, never “fell off the wagon”. Not once. She had her old energy back, she took classes, she read again and she was a superstar in the dress business, she was our Mother again, smiling and happy. She found her answer and we got the gift of having her back in our lives. We had our “Mom” in our lives again. It was a beautiful thing.

As I moved through my treatment for depression I’ve often thought about my Mother’s Journey. I’ve been slowly but surely finding the reasons why I dropped into such a cold dark place for so long. I’m finding the answers to my needs. I believe that is why Erica has insisted I “stay on me” during our sessions. No one has a quick fix to my problems. The answers are inside me, inside my head. What I have done during this time is to modify my behavior. I may think something and want to react but I hold it in so I don’t say something hurtful.

My job has given me confidence in myself again. My self-esteem is up. I feel valued again. I make my clients comfortable and make them happy. It feels good.

My journey is far from over. I know people care about me, my wife loves me and I love her. My sisters have been wonderful, my grandkids, my kids and my nieces and nephews. (Thanks for moving to San Diego Suzie, nice to have you so close to me.)

I’ve had personal e-mails saying thank you for writing you story. Several people are going to get help because of what they’ve read. Damn that’s satisfying to know.

All of that and I feel safe again. And like Mom I'm finding myself. Her Journey has giving me strength. Another gift from Mom.

I’ll keep you all posted, I have a session with Erica next week!

My Journey

Part 3 “Erica”

The Kaiser Behavioral Science building is a few blocks north of the Kaiser Hills hospital complex off Desoto Avenue in Woodland Hills. It’s a large one story, modern building. You check in at the front desk and then to the waiting room. Every time you attend a session, they give you an IPad and you take a 25 question assessment. The results are immediately sent to your therapist. The interior of the building is austere, institutional. It is very quiet. There is plenty of security.

On time at 3:25, a tall, thin woman opens the waiting room door and said  my name, I get up, introductions are made, we walk down a series of hallways. She unlocks the door to her office and motions to me to go inside. The room is small, decorated like a comfortable den. There is a computer, key board and screen at a home style desk in one corner, a sofa, a love seat and a comfortable chair, rugs on the floor. Erica has me sit on the love seat. She is across the room from me in the chair.

“So, Robert, what’s going on with you?” She said.

I begin…Erica stops me. “Let’s not talk about your wife for the moment. Stay with yourself. I know you feel guilty about what’s happened and how you feel you’ve treated her. I understand that. But we need to start with you. Okay?”

“Yes, yes.” So I began my story. Every time I’d try to shift the narrative, try to get the spotlight off myself, Erica would gently move me back on track. For the next 45 minutes, I talked to her about what has happened to me. Not the people around me, not Jan. Me. I told her my story. Erica would ask questions, soft sounding, but hard to answer. She was patient as I worked out my thoughts. It was painful to tell someone what had been going on in my head. About 15 minutes into the session, it became easier. I unburdened myself, for the first time in a long time. I told her the truth. If I didn’t she quietly called me on my bullshit.

She walked me out, shook my hand and said, “Next Tuesday, 8:30AM.”

I thanked her, shook her hand, I left. I walked to my car feeling lighter than I had in a long time.

My Journey

Part 2. “The Group”

A week after Dr. F gave me her gentle, but firm push. I had an appointment for the next Wednesday with my new therapist. It was suggested during the “intake” session there was a group meeting I could attend on Thursday at Kaiser’s Woodland Hills Behavioral Science Center. It wasn’t mandatory but I went.

There were six men in the group. All former business guys, all upper management types. They ranged in age from 66 to 73, I was in the middle. I was welcomed and I told my story. 47 years in the broadcast business, in management at 24. When my last stations were sold, I walked out the door with high hopes of getting into ownership. I spent time, money and effort trying to get it done. It didn’t happen. I did a consulting project and didn’t get paid, more time, money and effort wasted. I looked for jobs in radio. I shortened my resume and applied and applied and applied. Nothing, I was puzzled, then I got mad, then I got angry. They all nodded their heads, smiled and almost in unison said “Been there pal.”

The group leader, an older psychologist said. “It’s a bitch to go from an Alpha male to an Omega, isn’t it?” I hadn’t thought of it like that, but it was. It was hard, the rejection was harder. He said, “Nobody knew your name, right?”

“And nobody returned my calls either. All my mentors are dead or retired.” I said.

“Let me guess, you kept on trying didn’t you? How long did it take you to stop beating your head against the wall?’”

“A year. It took a year.”

“Then you stopped?”

“I didn’t stop. Not for a while and I did get a job offer in New Hampshire. I seriously thought about taking it, but at the time my wife just started a new job, she loved it and it wouldn’t have been fair of me to drag her all the way across the country. So no, I didn’t take it.”

“How do you feel about it now?”

“I’m glad I didn’t accept it, it was really a lousy job. We both would have been miserable.”

  The oldest guy in the room asked me, “How do you feel about your old business now?”

“I don’t give a shit anymore.”

They all laughed and agreed they felt the same way about their former careers.

“You can only get kicked in the nuts so many times.” One of the guys said. He’s absolutely right.

We BSed for a half hour after the session ended. I left Woodland Hills feeling better. For the first time in a long time I didn’t feel alone. I felt stronger. The piece of the blue was a little wider, not much, but I could see the difference.

I went home and cooked a great dinner, I still couldn’t eat, but what I did taste tasted good and my wife cleaned her plate. We went to bed at ten. I woke up at 3 and couldn’t go back to sleep. I guess momentarily feeling better and getting better are two completely different things.

“Male depression is a serious medical condition, but many men try to ignore it or refuse treatment.”- Mayo Clinic.

Next “Sitting down with Erica”

My Journey

Part 1 “The wise Doctor”

Doctor F sat on her stool directly in front of me. I was sitting on the examination table. The nurse had already taken my blood pressure, heart rate and temperature. Patrice noted them on her computer. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

She looked in my eyes and said, “How are you feeling Robert?”

“I’m okay, but…”

“You aren’t the same person that you were when we first met. What’s going on? Physically you’re fine, but you’re not okay are you?”

I said, “No, I don’t know what has happened to me. You’re right I have changed, I don’t like what I’ve become.” Then I told her, “I took the Kaiser Depression Index and..”

“What did it tell you?”

“That I was severely depressed.”

“Tell me how you think you’ve changed and why.” She asked.

“I don’t sleep anymore, I wake up after a few hours and can’t go back to sleep again, so I stay up, by the middle of the afternoon, I’m exhausted to the point I start to nod off, I usually nap for an hour or two.”

“Yes. What else is happening?”

“Some days I don’t shower or shave, in fact I’ve gone two or three days several times and haven’t gotten cleaned up. My wife will leave in the morning and when she comes home, there I am in an old t-shirt with bed head at 5 in the afternoon. I think she thinks I’m disgusting.”

‘Are you?”

“Yes and that’s not all.”

“What else is happening?”

“I’ve turned into a total dick with Jan, I argue, I cut her off. I yell. I’m angry even when I have nothing to be angry about. My daughter has noticed it and brought it up with Jan and with me.”

“Were you surprised at that?”

“No because it’s true. I know I’m an asshole with her. When I’m being harsh and angry, making mountains out of nothing, I know I’m doing it but I can’t stop it. It’s like I'm watching it happen, I want to stop but I can’t, part of it won’t let me stop.”

Are you mad at Jan about something?”

“No, I’m not mad at her.”

“They why do you verbally abuse her?”

“I think I’m mad at me, myself…she is my outlet.”

“You think that’s fair of you to do?”

“God no, it isn’t fair or right, it’s a terrible thing to do.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“A long, long time. It’s gotten really bad over the past year, year and a half. I’ve done some reading about depression and I’m a classic older male example.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

“I have.”

“Have gotten to the point of planning it?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, it’s not, but when things are hard it’s easy to think about-it seems to be a solution for a moment or two anyway.”

Doctor Patrice F rolled her stool back, looked me in the eyes and said very softly, “Let me help you. Will you do that for yourself?” she waited for my answer.

I took a long time to answer and finally said “Yes, I will.”

Patrice smiled, “Good. You have too much to live for Robert, a good wife, children, grandchildren and friends. You’ve gotten your health together over the past couple of years. You’ve been one of my few patients that seldom frustrates me. Remember when we talked about the people you see in the waiting room?”

“Sure I do.”

“You told me that you didn’t want to end up like that, you didn’t want to be another sick old man didn’t you?”

“Uh huh, I did.”

“I believe if you don’t get some help you are headed in a direction that doesn’t have a healthy ending, a good ending for you and you need to fix it now. It isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to take a lot of hard work and honesty on your part. I’ll get things set up for you. When I do the office will call you and give you a number to call to set up your intake interview.” Patrice smiled and said. “Do it Robert, I know you can.”

“I’ll do it because I hate what I’ve become.”

“When you go home tonight, apologize to your wife and tell her what we’ve talked about today, okay?”

“I will.”

Driving home I thought about what she said. When I got home I rubbed the dog’s ears and looked into his eyes. I made myself a Jack on the rocks with a splash. I sipped it on the porch. I thought I’d better put down my shovel and stop digging. I finally looked up and a long way off was a touch of blue sky. I hadn’t seen it for a long, long time.

Major depression. Type: Term. Definitions: 1. a mental disorder characterized by sustained depression of mood, anhedonia, sleep and appetite disturbances, and feelings of worthlessness, guilt, and hopelessness