You were singing to me twice today--(Open Arms and Who's Cryin' Now)--they both came on the radio while out shopping with my mom...thank you!! It always lifts up my spirits to hear your voice. Every time I hear your voice, I say out loud, (no matter who I'm with), "Thank you Stephen. I love you." Just thought you'd like to know that. It's like my own private little prayer to God to give you an extra blessing, just for crooning to me and making my life more bearable.
Pete and I are taking Florence to New Jersey this next weekend to attend her friend Gladys' funeral. I asked Pete if I should find a sympathy card, and he said that would be a nice thing to do, so today I found this one. I'm a sucker for Hallmark stores, and greeting cards of all kinds, so when I read one that sends a "JOLT" into my heart, that's usually the one I get. I wanted to share the poem from this card that I thought really summed up Melva's feelings and beliefs about dying....maybe it'll give you some comfort for the loss of your own mother too...
A Better Place
There's a place I've never seen beyond this world we know,
A place I've only heard of but someday hope to go--
It's not on any map, there are no roads to take me there,
But it's a place of perfect peace where hearts are free from care.
And though I understand some may be saddened when I leave,
One day we all will meet again---that's what I believe.
When it's time to travel there, I think I'll wear a smile,
I'll say good-bye to those I love, but only for a while.
Knowing there are others who have traveled there alone,
Who cannot wait to greet me, and to whisper "Welcome Home."
The rest of the card says, "May you find peace in the thought that your loved one is in a better place."
SEE?! Didn't that send a tiny "JOLT" to your heart too?? If it didn't, maybe you're not open enough inside to feeling it, or something, because it really grabbed ahold of me the first time I read it. Of course, I read several others, just to find the "perfect" one...but I kept coming back to that one.
I am sure you've probably heard of this one, it's my most favorite poem about losing a loved one. It was written by Mary E. Frye, (1932), and I read it to everyone at my grandmother's funeral:
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
I wish I was more of a poet. I did have a poem published once in a book, but otherwise, mostly I just write short stories or mostly just a journal, (or blog). I've had two magazine articles published too, but that was many years ago. I guess I just am not the "entertaining" type of person (like you are), because I don't like pandering to the masses, even if it's a talent that I have or something, because none of them really deserve even that tiniest of shreds of me.
I know all too well from my own experience in playing music on my flute, whether it's in a symphony concert surrounded by lots of people, or a small gathering at Christmas, playing solo's for the family, that every time you play a song to people out there, a little tiny shard of who you are---your "essence"---is given away to them...and as YOU know all too well, a lot of those people out there hearing it, just don't appreciate it one bit, or they criticize it, condemn it, or tear it to pieces just for the sake of being mean.
I am too frail on the inside, I think, to deal with that sort of thing. It's too risky, and I'm too susceptible to letting it get to me personally...causing me to feel depressed. Maybe it's a female thing, I don't know, maybe it's a submissive female thing, even, to want to please everybody all the time...(that is, unfortunately, my biggest downfall in this world...it doesn't work). And yet, knowing that it doesn't work, I still keep trying. Kinda stupid, but that's just me. Being submissive is a curse AND a blessing.
I mean, I'm a tough chick, most of the time...I was called a "Nazi" nearly every day of the week when I worked at the Museum, just because we were trying to CLOSE the place at the end of the day. People didn't like being told to leave. And, whenever somebody called me a Nazi, I would say with a smile on my face, "Ya know, if I were really a Nazi, I wouldn't say a word to you at all....I'd just shoot you in the back in front of your family and claim that you were a Jew, or you weren't a real supporter of the "Fuhrer." Apparently you need to come back tomorrow to learn more, because you would have known that, had you been paying closer attention to what you've seen today. Here's a ticket for tomorrow. Now it's time for us to close. Move along." And that would shut the person up but GOOD.
But some days, when I'm feeling low, (and we all have those days), I just couldn't take having one person in my face giving me a hard time like that. Lately, that's how I've been feeling. Any little snarky comment would make me upset. I just don't always have it in me to be a fighter. When I lived in DC, however, you HAD to be a fighter, or you'd get chewed up and spit out...and when my guard was down on 9/11, that's exactly what happened.
I know exactly what it is like, to have the one thing in this world I loved the most, used against me. And I think that's what happened to you, too, with Journey. They used the one thing you were put on this planet to DO with your life, and used it against you, to try and hurt you. We have that in common. And it rips you apart inside, for a long, long time...at least, that's what happened to me.
Ten years ago, on 9/11, my life and career, ended abruptly because I was a rabble rouser...oh yes I was. I asked too many questions, silly me, I wasn't the mindless drone government worker that they wanted. I actually had a brain, and used it. How could I be so pompous?! Who the hell am I?? I'm not even Jewish!! (Yes, I've been told that a few times by people who work there). So, they were looking for any excuse to cause me a hard time, and on 9/11, I supplied them with the perfect excuse: a family emergency.
All government workers (federal workers like me), were told "business as usual" for the next day after 9/11, as "essential employees," but I wasn't there. I was in Michigan, planning a funeral for my mother, whom we couldn't find for nearly a week. She was flying to Florida that day, but her plane could not be located, she didn't have a cell phone, and all the telephone land lines were clogged. The airline didn't even know where their plane had been grounded. She was stranded in Kansas for five days.
So, the Museum told me to resign, and promised they would give me unemployment benefits if I did. Well, I actually had to fight for those unemployment benefits, later, but when the unemployment office received a copy of my resignation letter, which stated that I was FORCED into resigning, and that I did not WANT to, but they wouldn't allow me to deal with a family emergency on 9/11, well, that pretty much paved the way for me to live until I got another job. It could have been a huge "wrongful termination" lawsuit, if I had just fought them on it....but my fight ability was gone at that point. I was dealing with an overload of stress, and couldn't think straight, and compared to my mom, it didn't matter.
But the pain of that, of being hurt by the one thing you love most in this world, is the worst pain I've ever felt in my entire life, and the LONGEST pain I've ever had too. I mean, you've been out of Journey for a long time now, even though to most FANS it seems like a tiny, short blip on the radar screen. But I am willing to bet that the pain of leaving it, still lingers for you. If it didn't, I would be very surprised. Just putting together that Houston 1981 DVD caused you some heartache, from an interview I read.
Well my friend, I know that pain very well. I couldn't read another book about the Holocaust either, after 9/11...not for a long time. And for ME, that was highly unusual. I've devoured every book I could get my grubby little hands on since the age of 10...I even worked at Barnes and Noble for awhile, JUST to buy more Holocaust books. In fact, at one point, during a hysterical crying fit of anger, I threw every book I own (we're talking nearly 300), about this subject, into a pile, and I wanted to light it all on fire and just revel in the irony of it....(book burnings were very popular social gatherings in pre-war Nazi Germany).
Instead---figuring that lighting a fire while being indoors in my roommates house probably WASN'T a good idea---I just stomped on them, threw them across the room, picked them up and slammed them down on the ground again, and I screamed my head off at God for awhile, and how much I hated Him and the entire universe for taking that Museum away from me.
Did YOU have a fit of anger, on one or more occasions, after all the legal bullshit was over with Journey? If you didn't, first of all I'd say you're a liar, and if you're NOT lying, then I will admit to the gods above that you're a MUCH better man than me, my dear. I would think you'd demolish a hotel room just for the hell of it, or go to the dollar store, buy as many cheap ceramic figures as you could, and throw them all against the wall for a few hours...(Yeah, I've wanted to do that myself a few hundred times in my life, but never have. Couldn't afford it).
But, for me, that tantrum was a cathartic moment, in which I realized, (maybe God answered my tantrum, I dunno), that the Museum would always be there...and I could still GO THERE anytime I wanted to, and give as many tours to as many people as I wanted to, on my own time, in my own way, and I was FREE to do it IN THEIR FACES, as long as I was alive. I could walk in the door with a huge group of people, of all ages, and say hello to my former coworkers, and smile my way through the place, doing what I loved to do---and there wasn't a damned thing they could do to me anymore.
That thought empowered me.
Journey cannot hurt you anymore, Stephen. They did once, and it was a doozy, that's for sure. But, maybe (like I was), you were just tired of the whole lifestyle, tired of the guys around you, tired of the craziness that a performer's life entails...maybe it was a blessing in disguise for you. It sucks, most definitely, it cuts deeper than any knife blade ever could, and the internal bleeding doesn't ever really stop, it just dies down to a slight trickle inside...oh yes, I do know exactly how all that feels.
But........and I'm sure you don't need to hear this from ME.....you should now feel empowered. You've bled inside for 10 years (or more), like I have...it killed a huge part of your soul, like 9/11 did mine... however, you are now FREE, to do whatever the HELL you want to do in this life, you are free to sing as many solo albums as you want---or not---you are free to never sing another note of music, if you so desire...(though I would argue that it's a God-given talent, and you'd make Him very unhappy if you didn't use it)...but the point of the whole thing is, they cannot hurt you anymore.
Just like 9/11 cannot hurt ME anymore. They are already plugging the hell out of it, making it into almost a sick and twisted US "holiday" with all sorts of merchandise for sale, t-shirts, candles, magnets, ad nausea...it's in our newspaper on the front page nearly every day now, telling stories of people who were there, or who lost someone they loved, etc., and it surrounds me every year......for the past 9 years, I would crumble into a heap on my bed, in the fetal position, and just cry. I would slide back into that day, as easily as a blink of an eye, and I would lay there, re-living it, very vividly, moment by moment....Melva would tell me that it was a form of self-torture, stemming from guilt of making what I perceived to be, the "wrong" decision. She argued that it was the RIGHT decision, guided by God, and that I did what He believed was right, so I should FEEL no guilt at all about it. I should feel RELIEF that a huge burden was lifted from me, and now I was free to pursue my passion without their rules.
Melva helped me through the toughest, loneliest time in my life.
So, I just wanted to take a few minutes to pass that message on to you, too. Now, sometimes that "in your face" attitude doesn't always work out the way you'd hope---the first time I went back to the Museum and toured the exhibition was with Pete, last fall...and I was fine for the first few minutes, but suddenly I burst into hysterical tears and couldn't stop wailing the entire time we were there. The pain of that return to something I had loved so much, caused me to double over---it was a physical pain to me--- and it hurt like nothing I had ever felt before, the intensity of it just killed me again, another part of me was being ripped from my heart...but I made it through every part of that exhibition, I made it through with Pete holding on to me, hugging me, kissing me, holding my hand...if he hadn't been there, I would not have been able to do it. He suggested we leave, but we had only just started...they had hurt me so badly the first time they took it away from me, but THIS time, though the pain was still there, I was determined to get through it. I wanted to prove that I could. I knew I had to, in order to heal.
If you've never been to the Holocaust Museum in DC, you may not fully understand what I mean. It's a difficult place to visit. It's not fun. It's not pretty. It's reality. Man's inhumanity towards man. It's war, death, doom, destruction, it's very hard to see it face-to-face.......it will change you. Guaranteed. The person you think you are when you walk in the door, is NOT the person you are when you leave. It transforms you into a raw, aching wound, it rips open your heart---no matter how closed off it may be--- and the searing horror that permeates your soul as you walk through it all, never leaves you.
I'm in the process of writing a book about it. That is my healing. You are writing more music. You are still singing here and there. You are working on new projects. That is your healing. And I applaud it. Not because I applaud you as a performer, pandering to the masses again---I applaud the real you, the REAL Steve Perry on the INSIDE, not the guy on the stage dancing around wild with long hair. Your public stage persona is not who you really are, and I knew that when I met you the first time. I applaud that scared little boy within, who felt the loss of his father at a young age, then the heartbreak of losing his mother later in life, and being all alone---at least, in your soul---for a long time. I applaud the man who stood up to those who hurt you with the thing you loved most, and gave your soul to all those years, and I applaud the smart business savvy that allowed you to keep getting paid every time they sing your words without you there. I applaud the tenaciousness, the determination, and the fighting spirit within you. It's not easy to keep a hold of, during those rough times. You have to grab it hard and hold it close to you, guarding it at all times, or it will slip away in a split second.
THAT is the you I love most. Sure, the sexy butt in the tight jeans and the gorgeous flailing hair---my GAWD that hair----do you even KNOW how many wet dreams I have had, imagining your hair all around my THIGHS all these years?!----the absolute lust I've had for you makes me shiver to my core. BUT....that's not who I am talking about right now. Any fan can have those wet dreams, I know I'm not the only one. Any idiot can turn on a radio and hear your voice.
The YOU I am talking about, is the parallel and strange mirror-image of the ME that I nearly lost on 9/11. You and I both, Mr. Stephen Ray Perry, came through the hardest life-lesson God could ever give any human being. Don't let others steal your soul. They will, at any given moment, if you let them. Guard it. Fight for it. Hold it close to your heart, and never EVER let anybody chip away at it again.
Nobody can take that tenaciousness away from you. That determination. That chutzpah...you and I both have those things, we both endured the pain, we both hurt for a long time from it, and now it is time for us both to move on from it, and never allow the pain to hurt us again.
Sing me another song, my Tragic Tenacious Troubadour...sing it softly, whisper it to me, and smile.
I love you Stephen.
Bye for now.
Love, Rebecca
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