abridged from the

My Autobiographical Life Series Vol 2:

The Backside of Water

“In this crazy game we call checkers 

Trefologists are the kingmakers!”

GTR

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page two

“To know life one must have lived life & not yet be dead, because then you’re right back where you started from, yes?

I have always been right in the center of life with a capital l. And friend, you can take that right to my bank! Few people know life as well as I do. Especially in regard to things that are specific to me.

Yes, Mr. Bones, I can still recall a fateful trip to Disneyland. It was the Winter of 1974 & Anaheim was experiencing an unseasonably ginger snap with temperatures dropping into the mid ABCs. My father was in Los Angeles looking for extra work in radio dramas. Things were tough all over America. The dead littered the streets. So did the living. Everyone was littering.

My mom eventually found a job working day shift as a production head in charge of hiring at CBS. My father, tho, was never able to find work in radio. Desperate, he tried to take his own life by drinking a whole box of Sleepy-time tea, but only managed to make himself pee for 75 minutes straight. If only he had not done so in his sleep.

I’m fortunate. Due to some genetic thingy between my parents, I was gifted an eidetic memory. ¹ That is to say, I can recall every single moment in my life imperfectly with perfect Visiosight. ² The sky was purple. My windbreaker was sea-purple. Even my skin had a purple-ish tint. I recall the corners were a bit bent & the sun was hitting my memory just so that I can’t really make out anybody’s face. Such is my curse, I guess.

Now I was not a paranoid child, not professionally, but by about mid-afternoon I could tell something was awry. My parents kept looking at me in a suspicious manner. They often did this when they were about to attempt something ‘tricky’ but I could tell that day it was going to be something more. 

My fears were later confirmed when, as we were exiting Frontierland, my father suddenly became agitated. The same way he would when he suspected we kids had been reading his Archie digests.

Suddenly my dad pointed toward some shrubs & said, “Look, son, isn’t that Johnny Whittaker?”

When I turned to look my parents ran off. I never did see them again.

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page three

Not until about twenty minutes later, when I saw them entering the Adventure Thru Inner Space ride. They had a boy with them that looked a lot like me. Same smile and hair. Same pimpin’ clothes. Same tap shoes. I called out to them but in the din of the crowd they could not hear me. To this day I still ask myself, why did I have to be so close to the din?

Tragically, for the three of them, & for you the reader, the Adventure Thru Inner Space ride was shut down permanently mere moments later. My parents never had a chance to return to their normal size & exit the ride. As far as I can figure, they are out there to this very day floating around the ether, maybe staring up at a giant eye in a micro-scope. There is no way to tell that would not set me back a few dollars.

Eventually, ATIS was torn down and replaced by a county fair ride.

I never did get to see Johnny Whittaker.

I wandered Disneyland for years. Sometime, just before dawn, I would walk over to Main Street & sneak into the Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln show & watch him set up.

With little else to do, I would sit for hours watching Lincoln rehearse a new hand gesture or a new way of standing up from his chair. Then there was that one day when President Lincoln noticed me sitting alone in the theatre and gestured for me to come over.

When I got nearer he stood up from his chair, and gestured again to move in closer. He had a secret, or so I thought. I leaned in close. Lincoln peeked at his notes, gestured at them with a rigid finger, & read me the Gettysburg Address.

It was beautiful moment. One only for myself. I will always treasure the times I spent with Old Abe. His wife was sort of funny, in an odd way. But a wonderful kisser. But, that my friends, well, that is a whole other story. 

GTR

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page four

TREFOLOGY – JOIN US WHILE WE STILL WANT YOU

¹ Eidetic memory is to-day largely referred to as one who possesses a photographic memory. The earliest known example of someone displaying signs of a photographic memory was in 1840. His name was Matthew Nemerov. Matt, as they called him, knew almost nothing & was considered an idiot by many. But it was 1840 & photographic processing was still in its moronic stage.

With Trefology processing one can now reach the Eidetic-like state of TorK (Totality of regular Knowledge)