If confession is good for the soul, mine will be orgasmic by the time I finish laying out my early rap sheet…

DOMESTIC TERRORISM: Age 7-8, in cahoots with accomplice Danny to collect earthworms for fishing, we use a shovel to expand a soggy pothole into a lethal pit in the middle of a public road that encircles Elizabeth Lake near Keego Harbor, MI. Hello, State Trooper.

FELONY THEFT WATERCRAFT: age 8-9, same accomplice, plus cousin code name Wampus (my alias is Treesqueak), we come upon a little green rowboat tucked up in swampy roots and drowning trees on same lake. No dock, no chain, no houses. Mistakenly thinking it abandoned, we circumnavigate our known world in a stolen boat. Technically, we are still at large.

FELONY THEFT REALLY BIG WATERCRAFT: age 14-15, while living in Bay City, Michigan, which is split by the Saginaw River, I graduate to stealing a Coast Guard cutter. Was a Sea Scout (damp version of the Boy Scouts) at that time, and we had been told our pack might become home to a decommissioned Coast Guard cutter if the Saginaw River stayed open mid-winter. Alerted by phone one bitter January night, I go down to the docks and claim the thing. Takes about a day for Saginaw Sea Scouts downriver to figure out that the Coast Guard cutter they had been promised has vanished, shanghaied on the high seas and pirated away by a scrawny teenage Capt. Jack Sparrow. Soon after, I strike my Jolly Roger and retire from Sea Scouts.

GRAND THEFT AUTO: late teens, Detroit, I shamelessly steal a bus – “minibus” – from a little old lady – mini-lady. Happens when Catholic Brother Francis of DeLaSalle brings his swim team down to Patton Pool where I work-out just a couple blocks from the Lawndale Hotel which I write about every Christmas. One day good Brother F says “take my old Chevy blue bus” and get us a couple of scud-burgers. He tosses me his keys and I quickly find old Chevy blue bus – “bus” being a casual term for old car. Key fits and I drive off. Bob “Moose” Moosekian, if you’re reading this, I think it was your brother Phil who hailed me from the sidewalk for a ride home. He gets in and a few blocks later asks me whose car it is, because there is a woman’s umbrella in the back seat. Interesting. Celibate Brother F…woman’s umbrella. A second suspicion dawns on me, and I ask Phil to check the glove compartment for registration. Yup. Woman’s car. Phil decides to walk rest of way home, leaving me in stolen vehicle wondering why Chevy keys are interchangeable. Easing back to pool and same parking spot, I note genuine blue Chevy minibus nearby. I am not Catholic, and I do not confess to Brother F….

POSSESSION OF CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE AND RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT: now married, father of two in Dearborn Heights, teaching junior high. Driving borrowed pickup truck of VW repair shop owner in order to transport a china cabinet (Wampus, I think this is your old china cabinet – still sitting restored now in my garage in Minnesota). Beside me is the City Manager of Plymouth, Michigan. After I accelerate onto the Southfield Expressway, the china cabinet splits in half, upper part landing in the passing lane causing a multi-car pile-up.

I could keep right on going, but of course I stop to make sure no one is hurt. Police quickly on scene with everyone pulled over to the side of the road and me leading parade. Harried cop in rearview mirror going car to car, so I tell the City Manager to look in the glove compartment for VW shop owner’s registration. He looks. And that’s when all the little cigarette papers begin flying around. Oh, yes. Owner of the pickup has a nice bag of grass in the glove compartment, and here comes the officer in the rearview mirror, looking grim as he strides toward me. This is not the age of pot that we are currently in. This is the age of hard time in Jackson Prison for possession. I have a headline premonition: JR HIGH TEACHER AND CITY MANAGER IN POT BUST ON FREEWAY. Whipping out of truck, I get in angry cop’s face, but he is so pissed he just barks, “Tell it to the judge!” and issues ticket. I show in “animal” court with weather report evidencing high wind. Judge dismisses.

Mucho more to my rap sheet, like the time the Miami Harbor Patrol took “the Hawk” and moi aboard as suspected Cuban refugees, but my point is simply that we tend to become judgmental over time and that reviewing our own histories may open our eyes to misinterpretations and how things get spun. If, like me, you find yourself growing more cynical and condemning in today’s polarized society, take a look in the mirror.

Ignore any wrinkles. Who do you see? A failure, a success, a secret person no one knows? A person who has gone downhill, aching to know the reasons and who or what to blame? A person who has achieved a measure of security and triumphs, maybe just a tad self-satisfied and wondering how is it that others can’t follow the rules and pay their dues like you did?

Look deeper. Look into your memories. Remember what your needs and wants were when you were someone else full of new hopes and old doubts and unanswered questions, when you thought the world would end if you didn’t marry that person who is so unimportant now, when you did dumb things with drugs or alcohol even though all you really wanted was to be accepted, when you lost your job or your savings in the stock market or gambled on a shortcut that didn’t pan out. Perhaps your children are ungrateful. Perhaps you hurt someone in a car accident because you were speeding. You always had good reasons for what you did – justifiable and correct reasons for that stage of life you were in. Nothing that went wrong was planned that way. You learned, you regretted, you grew…you CHANGED.

So there you are now in the mirror. A good person. A survivor despite all. You don’t have to reinvent your life, you don’t need a re-do. Changing who you are doesn’t mean you have to change your memories. You can revise, block or rationalize who you were all you want, but here you are right now. In the mirror. You are as valid as you were at any stage of your life – no more, no less – and your need now is simply to like yourself. Like yourself, and you will be able to like others.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

This month's photos for you in shades of blue: #2 my backyard; #7 friend Rick and Rita and some VERY fresh lobsters; #8 is a shot of buddy Pete Adams legendary compound on Roaring Beach, which thankfully escaped the fires (but not the smoke) currently raging in Tasmania's forests. The other photos are from my recent ski adventures at Elm Creek.

  

Thomas "Sully" Sullivan