Stuart Masten

X
>>>>How would you like to have had a father that, in the name of poetry and art, hung his dirty laundry out for all to see? "Grist for the mill" was my standard excuse. All through Stuart's younger years that's what he and his siblings had to contend with. Tell it all - Everything is fair game. And I should have known better having had a very funny talented mother who held court every afternoon in the local watering holes telling side splitting tales about me and my sister and brothers. It took me a long while to forgive her for that.
>>>>When Stuart was growing up I was also an absentee father constantly chasing my folk-singing career around the country and down the road. Never there when Stuart might have

wanted or needed me. Of course he found another father figure - one of our fast and loose Big Sur neighbors who was not exactly the best role model in the world. Looking back I believe the drug problem really began here.
>>>>Genesis House, this week's WORDS & ONE-LINER was written a number of years ago during the first of many hopeful junctures that constantly surface in an addict's battle with his demon. And I'm told that "crack." is the mother of all addictive demons. Since GH there have been other rehab programs and an on going flirtation with Addicts Anonymous but so far nothing has really taken root.
>>>>Over time, Stuart has become a master builder, even stoned his work is always first rate. And in my estimation he has always displayed a real flair for writing. As a teenager, enamored with the Conan series he was constantly writing "Sword & Sorcery" sagas. Once during this period Vince, April's husband, who was taking some journalism courses at Cal, Berkeley, decided to give Stuart a special Christmas gift. It seemed that one of the assignments was to write something in a different genre, in a totally different writing style. So Vince edited and handed in one of Stuart's stories. The paper received an A. The teacher scribbling in the margin that Vince would do well to display more of the same energy and vigor in his serious and more academic writing.
>>>>A couple of weeks ago when I decided to introduce my four kids with poems written about each of them I knew Stuart was going to be a problem. In the first place, after years of being worked and manipulated by this hustling conman, we decided not to give him any more handouts. In other words the money pool completely dried up and when it did Stuart evaporated as well. We love our son but I guess you can tell it's been hell.
>>>>Nevertheless, I called Stuart on his cell phone, and told him what I was doing and that I would love it if he would write something I could post when I got to the WORDS & ONE-LINER about him. Silence. "I'll pay you $50 bucks if you write me something." "Okay, I'll try," he said and at the crack of dawn the following morning he drove the sixteen miles down the coast to where we live and gave me the piece posted below. I thanked him, took his picture, wrote him a check and he was out the door and gone. The whole transaction taking less than five minutes - tops.

.............................GH
.............................(Genesis House, a seven month
.............................drug rehabilitation program)

.............................It is cold
.............................And it is dark inside of me.
.............................But the room is light and warm

.............................I’m having trouble with the women
.............................In the GH family today
.............................Pushing — shoving me
.............................Taking me back till I feel cornered
.............................Till I feel lost

.............................Joan, a counselor
.............................Sat down directly in front of me

.............................“Simply a guide.” as she liked to say
.............................“Picture your father. What do you see?”

.............................An image took Joan's place
.............................in the chair before me
.............................my father faint and hollow

.............................“He’s empty.” I said

.............................Joan said “He didn’t protect you
.............................From your relatives, did he?”

.............................“No.” I said.

............................."Time to heal! Time to let go of the past!"

.............................At that moment I felt a physical snap inside
.............................A sudden release at her words

.............................My dad growing solid before my eyes
.............................Sitting there large as life in my mind
.............................And I think he smiled

.............................What do you feel?”
.............................
............................."My father is whole again
.............................And I feel I can love him again."

.............................Silently I whisper, “I love you Dad.”
.............................+++

.............................THE OTHER UNIVERSE
.............................”Where have you been?”
.............................An ex-Unitarian minister inquired
.............................Last Sunday at Dad’s reading.
.............................“I’ve been in another universe.”
.............................“You have?” he asked, “What do you mean?”
.............................I smiled, because only a Unitarian
.............................Would be curious about such things.
.............................“I have been among the living dead.”
.............................He sighed knowingly “I had a sister once,”
.............................He said thoughtfully,
.............................The pure light of unconditional love
.............................Occupied his eye.

.............................I chuckled, “It is hard to put closure
.............................On an association one has had
.............................with the living dead….
.............................a girlfriend, family member, friend or wife
.............................Caught up in a relationship gone bad
.............................Just count your losses and walk away
.............................Shed a tear and get on with your life.

.............................But how do we morn the living dead
.............................There is no finality.
.............................And I know, having recently returned
.............................From the land beyond reality,
.............................A place where love, money and family
.............................Have no meaning
.............................Save the opportunity for enablement.”
.............................The man nodded sadly.

.............................“Love is an enduring thing.” I said
.............................Morn her loss
.............................And let there be closer as you await
.............................Her resurrection through recovery
.............................Or until she is actually dead.
.............................But keep a wary eye, my friend, it is better
.............................To let go and wail than die slowly with her
.............................Before your time.

.............................We shook hands
.............................No more was needed to be said.
.............................+++

		x
	STUART MASTEN
X >>>>How would you like to have had a father that, in the name of poetry and art, hung his dirty laundry out for all to see? "Grist for the mill" was my standard excuse. All through Stuart's younger years that's what he and his siblings had to contend with. Tell it all - Everything is fair game. And I should have known better having had a very funny talented mother who held court every afternoon in the local watering holes telling side splitting tales about me and my sister and brothers. It took me a long while to forgive her for that. >>>>When Stuart was growing up I was also an absentee father constantly chasing my folk-singing career around the country and down the road. Never there when Stuart might have wanted or needed me. Of course he found another father figure - one of our fast and loose Big Sur neighbors who was not exactly the best role model in the world. Looking back I believe the drug problem really began here. >>>>Genesis House, this week's WORDS & ONE-LINER was written a number of years ago during the first of many hopeful junctures that constantly surface in an addict's battle with his demon. And I'm told that "crack." is the mother of all addictive demons. Since GH there have been other rehab programs and an on going flirtation with Addicts Anonymous but so far nothing has really taken root. >>>>Over time, Stuart has become a master builder, even stoned his work is always first rate. And in my estimation he has always displayed a real flair for writing. As a teenager, enamored with the Conan series he was constantly writing "Sword & Sorcery" sagas. Once during this period Vince, April's husband, who was taking some journalism courses at Cal, Berkeley, decided to give Stuart a special Christmas gift. It seemed that one of the assignments was to write something in a different genre, in a totally different writing style. So Vince edited and handed in one of Stuart's stories. The paper received an A. The teacher scribbling in the margin that Vince would do well to display more of the same energy and vigor in his serious and more academic writing. >>>>A couple of weeks ago when I decided to introduce my four kids with poems written about each of them I knew Stuart was going to be a problem. In the first place, after years of being worked and manipulated by this hustling conman, we decided not to give him any more handouts. In other words the money pool completely dried up and when it did Stuart evaporated as well. We love our son but I guess you can tell it's been hell. >>>>Nevertheless, I called Stuart on his cell phone, and told him what I was doing and that I would love it if he would write something I could post when I got to the WORDS & ONE-LINER about him. Silence. "I'll pay you $50 bucks if you write me something." "Okay, I'll try," he said and at the crack of dawn the following morning he drove the sixteen miles down the coast to where we live and gave me the piece posted below. I thanked him, took his picture, wrote him a check and he was out the door and gone. The whole transaction taking less than five minutes - tops. .............................GH .............................(Genesis House, a seven month .............................drug rehabilitation program) .............................It is cold .............................And it is dark inside of me. .............................But the room is light and warm .............................I’m having trouble with the women .............................In the GH family today .............................Pushing — shoving me .............................Taking me back till I feel cornered .............................Till I feel lost .............................Joan, a counselor .............................Sat down directly in front of me .............................“Simply a guide.” as she liked to say .............................“Picture your father. What do you see?” .............................An image took Joan's place .............................in the chair before me .............................my father faint and hollow .............................“He’s empty.” I said .............................Joan said “He didn’t protect you .............................From your relatives, did he?” .............................“No.” I said. ............................."Time to heal! Time to let go of the past!" .............................At that moment I felt a physical snap inside .............................A sudden release at her words .............................My dad growing solid before my eyes .............................Sitting there large as life in my mind .............................And I think he smiled .............................What do you feel?” ............................. ............................."My father is whole again .............................And I feel I can love him again." .............................Silently I whisper, “I love you Dad.” .............................+++ .............................THE OTHER UNIVERSE .............................”Where have you been?” .............................An ex-Unitarian minister inquired .............................Last Sunday at Dad’s reading. .............................“I’ve been in another universe.” .............................“You have?” he asked, “What do you mean?” .............................I smiled, because only a Unitarian .............................Would be curious about such things. .............................“I have been among the living dead.” .............................He sighed knowingly “I had a sister once,” .............................He said thoughtfully, .............................The pure light of unconditional love .............................Occupied his eye. .............................I chuckled, “It is hard to put closure .............................On an association one has had .............................with the living dead…. .............................a girlfriend, family member, friend or wife .............................Caught up in a relationship gone bad .............................Just count your losses and walk away .............................Shed a tear and get on with your life. .............................But how do we morn the living dead .............................There is no finality. .............................And I know, having recently returned .............................From the land beyond reality, .............................A place where love, money and family .............................Have no meaning .............................Save the opportunity for enablement.” .............................The man nodded sadly. .............................“Love is an enduring thing.” I said .............................Morn her loss .............................And let there be closer as you await .............................Her resurrection through recovery .............................Or until she is actually dead. .............................But keep a wary eye, my friend, it is better .............................To let go and wail than die slowly with her .............................Before your time. .............................We shook hands .............................No more was needed to be said. .............................+++