It’s
strange; I started to write and got through a paragraph as Jim, the All Is Well
Narrator. I paused and read over the thoughts coming out of my mind and
suddenly realized there were two people in that peanut sized shell of a head of mine.
There’s the man who dreams of days gone by and writes about the pain and angst
of trying to find better days to come. And there’s the man who writes for
entertainment, like he’s narrating a Discovery Channel show. I think that makes
sense but it’s cloudy because I just realized that at the very least I am both
men trying to find one voice.
I
think I also finally admitted to myself that I’m afraid of the change that must
occur if I’m to usher in this new chapter of my life...the one that finds me
searching for a way to heal the wounds that bind me. I guess I have believed
all this time that it would come easily once I simply admitted the truth. But I
find myself shirking the responsibility. I have been so tired this week and
have been using that as an excuse not to get started. That’s what I do though,
that’s my M.O. It’s a trait I was born with and is shared by everyone in my
family. We are avoiders, dodgers, procrastinators, and runners from the truth.
I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to hide from who I am and what made me this
way. I want to live and feel and love, like a normal man.
But
I want to keep my narrators voice too. I like sharing the everyday life I am
living with the people in my life who care to know. Life in Iraq should be
shared with all Americans, if for no other reason than they don’t forget we are
here. It’s so easy to get caught up in our own rat race that we forget there’s
a whole other world out here that lives and dies because of America. It’s
partly why I wanted to come here back in ’07; to see for myself what America
had gotten itself into and to be a part of what I believed then was my
generations defining event. So I will keep journaling like I always do and do
my best to convey the mundane and profound moments that I am lucky enough to be
witnessing.
The
question is how. How do I wrangle all these thoughts into one narrative voice?
How do I take all that I am seeing and share it with my world? How do I find
the man I want to be inside the man I am? And before any of that can happen,
how do I reconcile the unmistakable notion that it all starts 30 or 40 years
ago with the boy I once was? There’s been a common thread, a chain really,
pulling at my subconscious mind for quite some time now. On one end is the Jim
I am today. I’m a father, a brother, and a dear friend. I am a son-of-a-bitch
and a liar, a lover and a rolling stone. I’m a writer and a storyteller, a dreamer,
and a wanderer. On the other is the man who wants to be content with the
everyday life we all struggle to live. I want picket fences and home cooked
meals. I want to hold hands with the one I love and let the touch of her skin
carry me to the light. I want to work hard and play hard and plan for a future
I can be certain of. I want to see my child grow to be a happy and loving woman
who’s as content as I strive to be. I want to see my grandkids play in green
fields under blue skies and laugh as only children can. I have often spoke of
the demon that lives inside my mind and know now that I won’t ever defeat him.
I have been fighting a losing battle. Rather, I now know I have to make peace
with him and find a place where we can coexist because to live any other way
will ultimately be my undoing.
This
is my quest now. Along the way I hope to find some understanding of the world I
live in. These are epic times that we are passing through. I want to be keenly
aware of what’s going on, if not directly out in front of it. I imagine most
people want the same thing but know we all have different focal points because
of our vastly different situations. I don’t think I’m alone in these notions or
special for setting out to understand them. I just am lucky enough to
have had opportunity and time on my side. It wasn’t always that way so I’ll do
my best not to squander my good fortunes.
-Jim
Franks
