Opaque Lucidity

10 From Lone Star

This past week marked the tenth anniversary of my move from Texas back to Indiana. I was 25 when I went through that humbling experience, and had you told me that by 2006 I would be happily married for eight years, own a home and have a stable, well-paying job, I would've laughed at you.

I would not be the person I am today had a I never moved to the Dallas area. It was the place where I learned what is truly important life: family, loyalty, belief in causes larger than oneself. I also learned that I am capable of much more than the everyday me that everyone knows would hint at---and that's not always a good thing. But through it all, I think it's important to know what you'll be like when times are hard, the chips are down and the world is closing in. Under the right circumstances, we are all capable of greatness and badness. Which surfaces depends, I think, on both the person and the situation.

I think back upon those individuals who were part of my life then and I am sad to realize that most of them are no longer a part of my life. The old core of souls is still there and are a very important part of our lives. But everyone taught me something, even if it was only how NOT to live.

I have been thinking about Texas since 12:13AM this morning, when I woke up, sat up in bed, pivoted the wrong way and dislocated my shoulder...again. It hurt more than I remembered, but then I realized that my shoulder has not come out of place for nearly 10 years. I guess the ligaments (tendons?) that hold my arm to my shoulder have had a long time to tighten up, which makes a dislocation much more painful.

I sat down at my desk and tried to relax. This is not what Matt circa 1994 would've done, but in 1995 I learned that I can make my arm go back in place by doing absolutely nothing. This lesson was learned one night in the summer of 1995 when I dislocated my shoulder while standing at the main bar at Eden, the dance club that was our hangout/living room/boardroom. I went outside with Peter and Lauren, after which a small parade of people came out to see if they could help. One of them, a former football player whose nickname I don't recall told me that he had once "relocated" a guy's shoulder by hitting it up against a wall. THAT was pain in its purest form.

It was decided that I needed to go to the emergency room. As we drove, I realized that we were going to THE Parkland Hospital, which is where President Kennedy died after he was shot in Dallas in 1963. When we got there, I was immediately reminded that it was Saturday night in Texas: there were gunshot victims, people in handcuffs, etc. I was taken back into a little private area while Peter and Lauren waited out in the waiting room. After about 20 minutes, Peter talked his way back and the three of us (all pretty hammered) began talking. Soon, I was laughing and had forgotten all about my shoulder.

About five minutes later, my shoulder popped back into place like it had never left. I looked at my two companions and said, "I think we can go." We walked out just as the on-duty doctor was coming back. We told him what had happened and that I was pretty sure I was OK. They let us leave without a word, because I'm sure the Doc had bigger fish to fry. But the best part came as we were walking back to the lobby. Peter turned around and said, as if he did it every day:

"I'll send you guys a bill."