Skip to main content

Scared Straight

Some may remember when they aired the show, Scared Straight, on prime-time national television in the late 1970’s. I remember my parents having my brother and I watch it in our living room. At first Dave and I were horrified because of the build up to it and the fact our parents were so insistent that we watch it. Eventually, though, the horror turned to macabre fascination.

My parents were good people, they talked to us about what we were seeing, and I am certain they had the most sincere intentions, but the social experiment that was being conducted didn’t accomplish what it had intended. I feel there was a whole generation of us who had been forced to watch Scared Straight and saw through the farce of hype that the media and that society was throwing at us. Many of us were, a few years later, equally fascinated as we watched the 1984 movie Suburbia. But this time it was our story, it was our message that was being told. That movie scared the adults and parents who watched it. Right back in their face. Punk was good for a lot of things. It gave many of us a feeling that we belonged to something we controlled. Punk scared parents straight.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Life Changing

It is hard to explain how I feel, now that I have found my calling. I remember when I was a little boy and my dad used to say how much he loved his work, how he was always excited about it, and how it didn’t feel like work to him. As I grew older I envied him, and anyone else who had that experience, because I didn’t share the sentiment for most of my adult life. Let me be clear, I never hated my job. I just didn’t feel like it was what I was supposed to be doing. I felt that there was something much more important that I should be doing with my life than working for someone else. And now, having finished my first book and being well on my way with writing my second, I am loving every moment of it. The most amazing thing about writing, for me, is that I can spin off on tangents and follow rabbit holes and when I am done, as long as I come back to somewhere near the surface where I started, no one knows that it wasn’t a perfectly orchestrated writing technique that I had plan...

The Truth

My childhood was not normal. I had many unusual opportunities and life experiences; I grew up on a pseudo-ranch with a cow named hamburger and we lived in a caboose for part of the year. I was fortunate to have a loving family and I was given opportunities for which I am forever grateful. I was curious and sensitive to my own feelings and the feelings of others, a trait that is not common in all young boys. I may not have been the most well-behaved kid but I was careful to try and not hurt anyone, and when I did I felt awful about it and I made amends as best as I could. I was never afraid to tell the truth. This book is a testament to that. I can’t say it was easy - telling the truth never is - but I grew more confident each time I told a story that hurt me in the first telling. Each subsequent story, no matter how painful, became more and more important for me to tell. I didn’t write under an alias, a pen name, to hide my identity. I originally decided to do it because I d...

Daily Routine

My routine is to write on the bus. I work in Seattle and live in Tacoma and so my writing salon is the Sound Transit bus, the 590. Both the north-bound (in the morning) and the south-bound (in the evening) is my literary capsule, driving through time and space while I am cocooned in my thoughts. I often write about people I see on the bus. If any of my characters seem familiar, and you take the 590, I may be writing about you. My inspiration often comes from seemingly inconsequential occurrences. As an example, seeing the rivulets of water tracing the glass on a rainy day, or overhearing a conversation between two people where one person says, in exasperation, “They can’t keep us in suspense like this!” From these small happenings I spin great tales in my head, with ideas cascading off of one another and building momentum until I spill over with excitement about the images that I conjure up with my vivid imagination. And then I get to my destination and I get off the bu...