The Budget of Paradox

Sophia, here’s an oddball question. Do you know if you’ve gotten a vaccine called Gardasil? It’s meant for young girls. It was invented and approved in 2006, just a few years before Morey was eligible to have it. I wanted Morey to have it, but your mother refused. This was when I was working overseas, so it was impossible for me to enforce it, and I just dropped it after a while.

Your mother had a streak of anti-vaxxer in her that I always thought was strange. When Morey was very little and needed all the basic shots that kids need to attend school, your mom was very reluctant to allow it. Later, of course, she was certain that the shots cause autism. It’s a popular myth, but it’s been proven wrong over and over. But someone people will never listen.

Over the years, I’ve often worried that you and Morey are getting all the shots you need, like Gardasil. Of course, when COVID came along, wow, the anti-vaxx people went crazy.

Did you know that Virginia law allows me to see your medical records? Your school records, too. I tried to explain this to your mom once. The law is very clear, but she didn’t believe me. She even tried to get a lawyer to stop me from seeing Morey’s school records, but it didn’t work. I’ve seen your reports card from this year. I could pull your medical records, but I was hoping that you and I could just talk about it between us like two people. Believe it or not, I still care about your health and your welfare.

What puzzled me the most was your mom giving me the anti-vaxx talking points while smoking a cigarette. She tried hard to stop smoking when she was pregnant with you. But I know she sneaked-in a few puffs here and there. Cigarettes are fine but vaccines are harmful, I guess.

This is an unrelated tangent, but I hope you never smoke. It’s a disgusting habit. Everyone who smokes wishes they could quit, but none of them can. Don’t be an idiot who thinks, “I can quit anytime I want.” I can’t believe people are so stupid to think that.

Anyway, I was just wondering about your Gardasil vaccine. You should get it if you haven’t already. But why take medical advice from me? I’m just the guy who climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and easily passes Class One flight physicals every year. I’m not the cigarette-smoking alcoholic anti-vaxxer who treated her breast cancer with crystals and magnets and needs surgery to stay thin (YES this is all true; stories for another day).

Stay well, kid. Eat more green stuff. For six months in Iraq, my breakfast every day was a dark leafy green salad, raw veggies and a dressing made from fresh lemon juice, salt and pepper. I never felt better. I need to get back to that. Anyway…

Sophia: I miss you. I really do. I wonder what you’re doing right now.

Missing you is worse than Roanoke.

sophia becker lynchburg,sophia zander becker lynchburg if she still uses her middle name

Sophia:

I got the nooks, the crannies, the nitty-gritty forty doe
So all aboard, castaway, hey where’s my boogaloo?

I’ve mentioned this elsewhere: I bought you an iPod for your birthday last year. But I didn’t send it because I wasn’t sure that you would actually receive it. I was waiting to hear from you. I’ll send it whenever you want. By the way, I’m talking about a Fifth Generation iPod. They look like this. Yes, I know, you can listen to music on your phone. But the battery on an iPod lasts much longer, has a much larger library, and doesn’t require WiFi or cell service. They’re Old School, but I love ‘em.

I populated your iPod with many hours of music. Very often, there’s a story behind the songs. Some of them I discovered when I was your age. Some of the music was the soundtrack to my life as I grew up, some of it good and some of it bad. Breakups. Goodbyes. Triumphs. Inspirations. Memories of people and places. Long drives in the desert. Romantic campaigns. Music that got me through difficult times. Collectively, they tell a story. It’s not just copy/paste music from when I was a teenager. It’s music that means something to me, and says something about me. And I wanted to share it with you. Someday, it might be the only thing you have left of me.

I bought an iPod for Morey when she was your age. But she immediately lost it. What’s worse, she didn’t seem to care. I spent many hours preparing it for her. I don’t think she cared at all. I don’t think I’m asking for much; I’m asking that you care, just a little, or at least pretend to. Who knows? I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? You might discover some new music that you like.

Anyway, as it turns out, of all the thousands of songs on your iPod, the first one I copied into it was “They Want EFX” by Das EFX. Their style combined intricate rhymes, sometimes mixed with made up words (especially ending with “-iggedy”). I liked them immediately. This song brings me back to college, in 1992, driving on U.S. 101 in California (the Ventura Freeway) between Thousand Oaks and Encino. It was a wonderful time in my life. I’d love to share it with you someday.

In the meantime, here is the song, right here, right now.

Bum stiggedy bum stiggedy bum, hon, I got the old pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
But I can fe-fi or fo, diddly-bum, here I come
So Peter Piper, I’m hyper than Pinocchio’s nose
‘Cause I’m the supercalafragilistic tic-tac pro
I gave my oopsy, daisy, now you’ve got the Crazy
Drazy with the books, Googley-goo where’s the gravy
So one two, um, buckle my, um shoe
Yabba Doo, hippity-hoo, crack a brew
So trick or treat, smell my feet, yup I drippedy-dropped a hit
So books get on your mark and spark that old censorship
Drats and double drats, I smiggedy-smacked some whiz kids
The boogedy-woogedly Brooklyn boy’s about to get his, dig
My waist bone’s connected to my hip bone
My hip bone’s connected to my thigh-bone
My thigh-bone’s connected to my knee bone
My knee bone’s connected to my hardy-har-har-har
The jibbedy-jabber jaw ja-jabbing at your funny bone, um
Skip the Ovaltine, I’d rather have my honeycomb
Or preferably the sinsemilla, Let’s spiggedy-spark the blunts, um
Dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
Snap a neck for some live EFX
Well, I’ll be darned, shiver me timbers yo, head for the hills!
I picked a weeping willow, and a daffodil
So back up bucko, or I’ll pulverize McGruff
‘Cause, this little piggy gets, busy and stuff
Arrivederci, heavens to mercy, honky tonk I get swift
I caught a Snuffleupagus and smoked a boogaloo spliff
I got the nooks, the crannies, the nitty-gritty 40 doe
So all aboard, castaway, hey where’s my boogaloo?
Oh-h-h-h-h-h-hhh, I’m steamin, a-go-ny!
Why’s everybody always pickin on me?
They call me Puddin’ Tane, and rap’s my game
You ask me again, and I’ll t-tell you the same
Since I’m the vocal vegemintarian, stick ‘em up freeze
So no Parks sausages, mom, please
A-Blitz shoots the breeze, twiddly-dee shoots his lip
Crazy Drayzie shot the sheriff yup, and I shot the gift
And that’s pret-ty sneak-ky sis, oh yo
I got my socks off, my rocks off, my Nestle’s cup of cocoa
Holly Hobbie tried to slob me, tried to rob me silly stunt
Diggedy-dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun!
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
Snap a neck for some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
Snap a neck for some live EFX
Yahoo, hidee-ho, yup I’m coming around the stretch
So here Fido boy, fetch, boy, fetch
I got the rope-a-dope a slippery choker, look at me get raw
And I’m the hickory-dickory top of morning boogoloo big jaw
With the yippedy zippedy Winnie the Pooh bad boy blue
Yo crazy got the gusto, what up, I swing that too
So nincompoop give a hoot and stomp a troop without a strain
Like Rosco P. Coltrane
I spiggedy-spark a spiff and give a twist like Chubby Checker
I take my Froot Loops with two scoops, make it double-decker
Oh, Finster Baby come to Papa Duke
A babaloo, ooh, a babaloo boogedy boo
I went from Gucci to Stussy, to fliggedy-flam a groupie
To Zsa Zsa, to yibbedy-yabba dabba hoochie koochie
Tally ho, I-I’ll take my Stove Top instead of my Tater, so
Maybe I’ll shoot ‘em now, nope, maybe I’ll shoot ‘em later, yep
I used to have a dog and Bingo was his name oh, so uh
B-I-N-G-O-oh
You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around, hon, so uh
Dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
Snap a neck for some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
They want EFX, some live EFX
Snap a neck for some live EFX

sophia becker lynchburg, sophia zander becker, sophia zander becker lynchburg

Sophia, apologies for the grim and depressing post. But it’s been on my mind. The world treats everyone like shit. But you’re old enough now to know (or sorta know) that the world treats teenage girls extra shitty sometimes. I try not to think about you or Morey getting sexually harassed, but I’m sure it happens. If I can be selfish for a minute, it kills me that I can’t be there to protect my girls. Dads protect their girls. It’s right there in the job description. But all you have are some angry lesbians looking out for you. Actually, I don’t know who looks out for you.

I’m not an expert on teenage girls or the problems they face. And I have no idea what your day-to-day life is really like. But I’ve been “around the block” a few times (as the saying goes). I know how humans operate. Well, most of them. I know bullshit when I see it. I’m sure if I were involved in your life, I’d recognize trouble if I saw it.

I want to protect you. The world is a fucked-up place and, I hate to say so, but sooner or later, some shitty things will happen to you. All I can ever hope to do is prepare you, and make you strong, and teach you how to trust your instincts. As a general principle, I prefer my kids to be strong, not safe. Being safeguarded all the time won’t prepare you for anything.

I daydream about what your life must be like. I’m pretty sure you either 1) don’t care about having a father (not yet, anyway); or 2) believe I’m some stranger who’s goofy or dangerous or irrelevant or possibly all three. But, like I said, I’ve been around the block. I’ve literally been all around the world. I’ve accomplished a lot of difficult things and witnessed with my own eyes wonderful beauty as well as some horrible fucked-up shit. I’m hardly the smartest man you’ll ever meet. But surely, I’ve picked-up bits of wisdom along the way. I wish I could impart some of it to you before I die. It shouldn’t all be for nothing. You shouldn’t have to learn everything in life the hard way.

Sophia: I thought of something tonight, and I should have told you this sooner.

I am very sorry that all you know, and all you remember, about your mother and father collectively is that they were always fighting. Believe it or not, there were happy times in my marriage. I can’t speak for your mother, but I know that I got married because I loved your mom, and I wanted to have children with her. We made a home; we made a family. I enjoyed being a Family Man. I enjoyed being a father and having all the privileges and responsibilities that come with fatherhood. There was a time that your mother and I worked together as a team to raise a family. I know that’s difficult for you to believe.

I know you were very young, but do you remember back in the spring of 2013, when I finally came back from Afghanistan for the last time? I would visit Lynchburg and we would all (you, your sister, your mother and me) go to Market on Main for breakfast. All of us, together, like a family. I enjoyed that. I miss that. You were little, but I am sure you liked it, too.

I’m sure you’re sick of me blaming the lawyers for everything. But before they got involved, I was doing just fine. I was a father, and I provided for my children. I knew what was best for them. I didn’t need guidance from anyone. What is equally frustrating and amusing is that the lawyers operate according to what they think is in the “best interests of the children”. Think about that: a bunch of retarded STRANGERS, hustling to make money, with the audacity to think they know better than me what’s best for my own children.

Believe me, there were happy times. You should have been a part of it. I’m sorry, kid. I really am. During the divorce, your mother used to say that my “mask was slipping”. I still have no idea what that means. I always wanted to be a Family Man. I still do, but that ship has sailed for me. It’s too late to start over. I always wanted to be your dad.

Happier times in Lynchburg; here you are having breakfast with your mom and dad and sister.

Happier times.

Your mom and dad after Morey was born.

Happier times in Hawaii. Here I am with your mom on the floor of my new house. I hadn't even yet bought furniture so we sat on the floor.

Happier times in Lynchburg in 2001.

Happier times in Hawaii, in Waikoloa on the Big Island.

Happier times in Lynchburg in 2001.