The First Thousand

 A few weeks ago, I read a book called “20,000 Days and Counting”. In a nutshell, the book is about measuring life in days rather than in years. The book, by a man named Robert D. Smith, has helped me add even more knowledge to a way of thinking that has improved my life over the past two plus years. This book also led me to a website that had a “life calculator”; which adds up the amount of days one has been alive. In curiosity I entered my birth date. After, I entered my second birthday; meaning my first day of sobriety. Thus, I learned that today is my 1,000^th day of sobriety.

1,000 days.

24,000 hours.

One second, one hour and one day at a time.

Defining moments throughout yet with one big difference; they are moments I remember clearly and more important, moments of truly living as opposed to merely existing.

Humility. While existing, I thought humility was a weakness. In living, I have learned that humility is one of the vital components of a decent life. Problem was, I never really bothered to learn the definition of the word humility. It sounded too much like the word humiliation, so I never gave it a second thought. Ironic, though; in how humiliation was what I felt the last few times I scraped up enough change from under the car seat to get a few tall cans. I always had the image of the drunk as the hobo in the back alley drinking out of the brown paper bag, and here I was drinking out of the brown paper bag, literally and figuratively mere steps away from that back alley.

Surrender. Another word I considered a weakness. To me surrender meant giving up. And in a way, it was giving up, yet giving up all the right things for all the right reasons. My way of living was doing no good for me or anyone close to me.

For too long, it always seemed that for every step forward I made, there would be two steps back. Every setback, every tragedy would result in my sinking even deeper into denial. The more life wore on, the more I sought escape from the reality of it all...

But enough about that.

Through my writings, our conversations and private correspondence, you have all heard the stories of what it was like and what happened.

Without your prayers, your encouragement and the occasional much-needed kick in the ass, I would not be here telling you all what it’s like now. 1,001 days ago, I was single, jobless, homeless and hopeless. Scratch that last one, as I had hope. I just needed to reassess the true definition of hope. As I write this, I am married to the love of my life and best friend, I have a job that pays the bills and we have a home that keeps us fairly close to the majority of our extended family.

One bit of my story that I have not shared in-depth was what I consider one of the most profound examples of rapidly answered prayer that I have ever experienced. My good friend Dusty Stewart, whose grandfather served with my grandfather in the Navy and later, worked together and served the Lord together; was (and still is) one of my vital friends in recovery. During one of our many conversations, he quoted one of our mutual childhood heroes, Hulk Hogan: “I changed my life for the better by changing the way I think”. I immediately went to work on figuring out how to do just that. I felt that acceptance was a major hurdle. This was with me from quite some time, until another friend said “Acceptance doesn’t mean approval”. Boom. Lifelong issue solved with just a few words.

As a prayed, I noticed little changes every day. Was my way of thinking truly changing, or was I just kidding myself into thinking it had changed? Reactions to certain things, upon reflection and taking a nightly personal inventory gave me the happy truth. I was changing. Things that used to irritate or even anger me in the past were now cast aside like so many empty cans. Little by little, I learned to appreciate what I did have. While not much, it was still plenty more than many. I began to wake with a smile and the only times I would go more than an hour or two without smiling, or at least smiling on the inside were the times when I would slip back towards my old ways of thinking. I would forget to be grateful. But not for long, as there were constant e-mails, comments, texts and phone calls that would lift me up and away from my old thinking. And when things were quiet, during the long nights when it was not uncommon to brew a pot of coffee after midnight, I need only re-read some of the uplifting things others would share with me.

During one of these nights, I delved into a book sent to me by a dear friend, a woman who was a former pastor as well as my school nurse from 1^st thru 6^th grade. The book is called “The Travelers Gift” by Andy Andrews and less than two chapters into it, I realized that this book, from this person, sent as a gift, was a direct answer to my prayers of asking for help in changing my thinking. Every word of it was helpful, but to me the biggest piece of wisdom I gained was “I have a choice to make”. It educated me on the FACT that, aside from loss of loved ones due to being called home to heaven, every instance in my adult life, good and bad, had been directly related to decisions I made. Sure, I may have been groomed to be someone who enjoyed a drink or two, but no one ever forced me to have another, and another after that.

It was a huge weight off my shoulders. I felt that if decisions made could lead me to where I was 1,001 days ago, good decisions could lead me to a better place.

Looking back on how the book was a direct answer to a prayer, I am reminded of the climactic scene in “Animal House”, where the young boy is on his bed reading a magazine he shouldn’t be reading and the Playboy Bunny comes flying through his bedroom window. He looks up excitedly and says “Thank You God!”

A silly comparison, but getting “The Travelers Gift” was just as true an answer to prayer as that boy thought!

The past 1,000 days were not without tragedy, as my cousin Ralphie passed away and less than two years later, his brother Joey passed; both under sudden circumstances. In June of last year my Grandfather Joseph Ress was called home after 82 years of service to God, Family and Country. During the last conversation I had with him, we talked of the pending arrival of my yet-unnamed and yet-gender unknown child due to be born later in the year. In a direct hello from Heaven not only to me but to my entire family, Anna gave birth to our daughter Layla Laurene Gonzales on December 12^th; which would have been Papa Joe’s 82^nd birthday. Welcoming a baby at any time is a glorious occasion. But on that date?! Pure blessing and gift from above.

I didn’t hear a voice booming from the heavens, I didn’t have a spiritual vision. But the man upstairs was telling me something. And  I got the message. I got it loud and clear.

The New Year dawned with excited planning of our wedding. In a way, we had been planning it for nearly a decade. There were just a few things that needed to be handled first before we could take that sacred step together.

I used to joke that for our wedding, I wanted to invite as many people as we could afford to invite. To be honest, there are only two venues in the area that could hold a wedding the size we would’ve desired. One seats about 40,000, the other seats over 60,000. Of course, our budget kept us from having to worry about trying to arrange a wedding at such a venue. Although we likely would’ve put in a much better performance at the larger venue than the current residents have lately…

Our Wedding Day brought together two families as one, as well as many members of our Padres family in person and in spirit. In an unlikely event, my “Bachelor Party” consisted of a Saturday night that was the polar opposite of my Saturday nights of days past; I was blessed with the opportunity to share my story with over 100 other recovering alcoholics. As I told some of my somewhat disappointed friends “Remember the ‘90’s? THAT was my bachelor party!” I spent the remainder of the evening alone, in quiet reflection of all the days, all the prayers, all the lonely night that had led up to the moment.

Come morning, I went straight to Greenwood Memorial Park where my Mom and Grandfather are both interred. I think most men would pray for a great day, for happiness and naturally, a good time for all. Yet I didn’t, as I felt those things were already in the bag. I spent the morning walking the quiet lawns, ever in prayer for guidance in being selfless, compassionate, patient and understanding in the days, weeks, months and years to come. In short, I prayed for every day, except for the day that had come. I still marvel at the calm that came over me that day; no jitters, no nervousness, no stress. I originally wanted to say that I was fully confident, but to say confidence would be to severely understate the way I felt that day.

I walked in faith. My heart, my soul, my entire being walked in faith. And as I am beginning to learn, there is no room for jitters, and nervousness and stress wither and die in the presence of absolute faith. As far as that goes, who else could get away with having the Stones and Led Zeppelin played in church?! A man of faith, that’s who. Also, maybe a kid who once assisted with the offering while wearing a Motley Crue t-shirt!

The ceremony was, just as life itself should be, a joyous occasion; preceded by the Native ritual of burning sage and smudging with the eagle feather, performed by my best man. This was very important to me, as my own personal spiritual life is, while Christian-based, also rooted in Native customs; something I was drawn to long before I really understood any of it.

Time stood still when I said “I do”. As I looked into my wife’s eyes, there was nothing and no one else in existence. There wasn’t even two, there was just one. Once that sank in, I noticed the smiles and the tears of shared joy among the congregation. At the same moment, I looked at our children and realized that while two may have become one, that one became five.

Moments after we signed our names, another gift from above was presented to me. A close member of my extended family presented me with my own eagle feather. For that moment, I was unable to speak, think or briefly, even see clearly due to the tears in my eyes. She could have handed me the keys to a brand-new truck and I wouldn’t have been more excited. This was different. This was, to me, the symbolic acceptance of the man I had become and the husband and father I desired to be. To be honest, I am having something of a difficulty in describing that moment, as I’m not sure I fully understand the depths of it. But just as I have not fully learned all there is to know, I do know that it is a sacred object that will assist me to be all that God wills for me to be.

While it is traditional to leave for the honeymoon immediately following the reception, we had to delay it for a few weeks. Then again, we have three amazing children as proof that we went about it all in a non-traditional way, honeymooning over and over again in the years before our wedding day!

Being that Layla was only a few months old, we didn’t even consider Honeymooning alone. Or maybe her young age was just an excuse for me, I spend enough time away from my family while at work and I wasn’t about to intentionally spend 2 or 3 nights away from the kids. We had considered a few Southern California destinations and I even nearly convinced the wife to choose the Grand Canyon. I nixed the idea after looking at the average weather reports for Northern Arizona for late February-early March.

So we (including the boys) all came to an agreement to spend a few days at Knott’s Berry Farm. Car trouble almost wrecked our Honeymoon plans, but on St. Patricks Day, we departed for Walter and Cordelia Knott’s living legacy. One of the reasons I wanted the Grand Canyon was that it would give us the opportunity to visit Jerome, Arizona, where my grandfather was born. At Knott’s the Ghost Town is built partly with original buildings from Prescott, which is 20 miles from Jerome. Don’t think that coincidence was lost on me!

The morning of, I clocked out at 4am and actually got into bed next to my wife sometime around 5:30. This was our first family vacation and I wanted to make the best of it, so I had no problem waking up after a few hours of sleep. Just like our wedding day, every moment of it was magical, from the stop at the In-n-Out Burger in Carlsbad for lunch (They got good burgers there, Dude), to the entrance of Orange County by the Dolly Parton Memorial and finally seeing the SkyTower from the freeway. I was beyond giddy.

Knott’s was the perfect choice for us; the first meal I had was one of those smoked turkey legs, something I love so much that it inspired a ballpark nickname for me and the wife’s equivalent, funnel cakes. Not to mention Camp Snoopy, which the kids just loved and truth be told, the most fun I had during the trip was watching them have fun.

The only real disappointment was knowing that the Timber Mountain Log Ride was closed for repairs. I actually came very close to suggesting another destination because of this. But the rest of the park was in full operation and definitely well worth every dime spent.

While there, I learned a little more of the Knott’s history that I hadn’t already learned during my research on the park. And it’s just as amazing and heartwarming as any other American Dream story out there. While the Knott’s name may not be as well-known as a certain talking mouse, Walter Knott’s berry stand is a true testament to hard work, faith and honesty. I could write a whole review on the place, but that’ll just have to wait until next year, after we celebrate our 1^st Wedding Anniversary there. I will share however, that when you factor in the experience, value and great-for-a-theme-park food quality and prices, a two days stay at Knott’s during the offseason is far beyond worth it. The experience will stay with you forever, I can guarantee it.

On our last day, we were saddened to have to leave the place, so many wonderful memories created in so little time. But during that time, Knott’s belonged to the Gonzales Tribe.

With a full day off and a drive back home to San Diego ahead of us, we decided to head a little north into Hollywood. Our first stop was 1500 Vine street or to be more specific, the location for the Three Stooges star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. There we were, the Three Gonzales “Stooges” mugging it up for Mommy’s camera, while Shemp, I mean Layla quietly nursed her bottle. (I had often joked with the boys that their baby sister would be named Shemp!)

Minutes later, we stopped at the Starbucks at the intersection of Sunset and Gower, home to the old Columbia Studios; where most of the soundstage filming for the Stooges shorts was done. The area is/was also known as “Gower Gulch”; where none other than John Wayne found his first acting jobs and legendary director John Ford also worked.

I wasn’t necessarily star struck by the area but being a fan of history, it was great to experience it with my family. We were able to find easy parking everywhere we went. During our initial walk after parking under Grauman’s Chinese Theater, we walked up the southern side of Hollywood Blvd. Through most of it, we were in the shadows of either tall buildings or the clouds, so the lack of sunlight made the weather a bit chilly. This continued until just before we crossed back over to the Grauman’s side. Call it coincidence or call it yet another sign from above, but when we came upon Carlos Santana’s star,  bright, radiant sunlight warmed us up real quick!

Come lunchtime, we had to decide whether to head home or stick it out, as we had no desire to jump right into LA traffic during rush hour. So it was either leave by 2 or stay until after 7.  We decided to stick it out and chose the notoriously famous Rainbow Bar & Grill for lunch. Again, we found great parking; a metered spot right in front of the Roxy. As we walked to the Rainbow we crossed the driveway between it and the Roxy, where Cheech, Chong and the famous “Yesca” van was parked during the final scene of Up In Smoke was filmed. That was kind of a bad part about Hollywood, so many movie stories I can’t share with the kids just yet!

I felt kind of bad, my wife seemed like she wasn’t too excited about the place but bless her heart, she went along with it. The boys were stoked to know that Lemmy frequented the place, along with decade’s worth of the baddest, realest rockers around. Our waiter, a young college kid and I talked a lot about the history of the restaurant and while he talked to us like average guests, he spoke a little different to me once we realized that I knew just as much, or maybe even more than him about the area.

There were pictures all over the walls containing a veritable who’s who of real rock and roll, and booths I’ve read about in countless biographies and autobiographies. As I’ve stated before, the baseball equivalent would be Yankee Stadium, Wrigley Field and Fenway Park combined. One poster stood out among the others; a live concert shot of Duff McKagen, former bassist for Guns-n-Roses. Just months before, I read his autobiography, in which he described the night he almost died from drinking and how he was told that he would die if he ever took a drink again. Even though I was just looking at a poster, it was a solemn moment for me. When they were the biggest band on the planet, I looked up to him musically and even more than that, I looked up to the way he partied. His nickname “The King of Beers” wasn’t just lip service, and it is strongly rumored that Duff Beer from The Simpsons is named after him in tribute. Nowadays, I look up to him more than ever, but for different reasons. He is a husband, he is a father and he is sober.

Like me.

After our meal (and a few too many cups of coffee) we took a drive through Beverly Hills and up to Mullholland Drive. I had studied the area and its history for years but the road we took up, Benedict Canyon drive, brought only one thing I could remember, the whole Charles Manson story. Dang, yet another thing I can’t talk about in front of the kids!

After getting to the top of the hill, those cups of coffee were taking their toll. Even worse, the commuter traffic in the area was terrible and there was nowhere to pull over. I’m not sure I would have anyways, I am certain the residents of Beverly Hills don’t take too kindly to tourists relieving themselves in their front yards. In other parts of LA, it might be accepted, or even expected! But not here. There were no businesses there, just private homes and rolling hills. I found it ironic that I, a man who prefers open land over buildings and dirt roads over freeways, was cursing the lack of sidewalks, stores and parking lots in the middle of LA!

Luckily, we came upon a fire station (Engine Co. 108) and they let me use the facilities. It was kind of embarrassing, but they seemed cool with it after I told them we were on our honeymoon. As I left, I handed him a five and asked him to put it in the boot. He thanked me for the donation and we were on our way again. I took note of the differences just a few miles brought; after driving down from the Hollywood Hills we drove east on Santa Monica Blvd and stately mansions gave way to boarded up, iron-barred homes and businesses.

LA is at the top of my “nice place but I’d never live there” towns.

Visit? Absolutely. As I mentioned, I love history and there is a lot of history all over LA, some of which is good! But by the time got to I-5, we were ready to be home.

And just as we had a lot of luck finding parking throughout the day, we did pretty good on the way home as well. Traffic got down to the 40’s through Downtown LA but once we got south of there, it was smooth sailing. I’ll admit I shed a tear or two when we passed Knott’s. Ok, I’m lying. I bawled like a baby. My eyes were pouring it out just like the Log Ride we have a date with next year. After just two days there, seeing the brightly lit rides from the interstate was like looking at a picture of an old friend. If they were still open, I would’ve turned around and went right back. No doubt about it.

During the drive south, I kept trying to think of places to go, instead of going straight home. We were all tired, happily exhausted. But going home meant the trip was over and I wanted to do anything possible to keep going. Hell, I even thought of going to the 24-hr Walmart in Lakeside as an excuse for staying out late. But common sense won over and we made one final stop. We were hungry, but didn’t want to cook. Also, we didn’t want to bother with the drive thru and we definitely didn’t want to drag the kids out of the car for a sit-down meal. So we stopped at 7-11 for sandwiches. We were so hungry, we could eat a sandwich from 7-11!

That night was as intense as any for me. I reflected much on our trip but like the night before our wedding, I reflected deeply on every moment that brought us to where we were in life. The laughs, the tears, the triumphs and the tragedies. Every moment shared, every note written, every word spoken. Every thought and action, every wish and every prayer.

As I attempted to sleep, a thought came across my mind and nestled in my heart. As a kid and as an adult, I have my heroes. Hulk Hogan and John Rambo. Tony Gwynn and Dan Fouts. Duff McKagen and Nikki Sixx. Steve “The Crocodile Hunter” Irwin and Teddy Roosevelt. All men who I have looked up to and at times said “I wanna be like him”. Household names all, and all who have inspired me in more than one way.

Am I like them? Not too sure about that one.

Are parts of my growth a positive offshoot of who they are? I’d like to think so.

Who wouldn’t want to be able to rally a crowd like the Hulkster? Or hit the 5.5 like Tony? Or have a successful career in music like Nikki?

But like them? No, unless you count love for this Country, love for music, love for sports.

I thought of these and more household names and was pleased with my conclusion.

I am most like me.

And after reflecting on our trip, our first family vacation I thought of all the famous names, fictional and otherwise; that most reflected who I am. I’ve become Clark Griswold. A man with an amazing wife and beautiful children. A man who works endlessly toward one goal; to show his family a good time. To load the car up and hit the road, taking in all the sights, the sounds and the smells of one amazingly beautiful piece of land.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way…
See you in the next 1,000.

Rudy