Finally feeling better...

Hi Stephen,

After a week of being sick, I'm finally feeling better.  I'm also glad to see a Facebook message from Melva today, thanking all of her friends and family for all the prayers and well wishes.  She's feeling better but she's resigned to the fact that the cancer battle continues...but it may not continue much longer.  I really don't know which is worse, knowing someone you love is dying slowly, or learning of an unexpected sudden death of a friend.  I've gone through both, and neither one is easy.

Ya know, I drive every Tuesday and Friday to my chiropractor, in a nearby town of Perrysville.  In fact, he's located on Perrysville Road.  There's even a Perry Street nearby.  So, even if I'm listening to some other CD or radio, I still think of you as I drive there, when I see those signs.  I keep forgetting to mention it, not that it's a big deal or anything, but you're never far from my thoughts.  Whenever I get a Facebook message from "Journey," it's followed by about a million "comments" from various fans, some of whom still bicker about whether or not the lead singer sounds like you, or if he SHOULD sound like you, or "when is Perry coming back," etc. etc., and there's always the one fan who goes off on a tangent, "He's NEVER coming back, he doesn't WANT to come back, forget it, don't keep asking for it, just get over it!"

I am inclined to say the same type of thing, but I usually add, "If you love Steve Perry so much, then LET HIM HAVE A LIFE AND ENJOY RETIREMENT."  For cripes' sake, you'd think you murdered a million people when you left the band. They act like you're some kind of criminal, how DARE you go off and live a life of your OWN, you selfish bastard!  And ya know what's ironic, I got the same exact kind of treatment at age 27 when I first left Michigan from my own family.  I've always been the "caretaker" of everybody in my life, from helping clean the house for my mom, to babysitting for my nephew, to taking my grandma to get groceries and mow her lawn, etc.

So one day I got fed up.  Actually, my car took a major crap on my way to work, so I called 12 different people, and NOT ONE of them could help me out by giving me a ride to my job.  Not one.  My own family made up excuses, and nobody was there for ME when I needed it.  I was there for EVERYBODY all the time, but NOBODY was there when I needed help or a favor, or anything.  That was the day I decided to leave, and get a life of my own, and to hell with everybody else.

I was called every name in the book, from selfish, to self-righteous, to crazy for moving to the murder capital of the whole country, to stuck up snob, etc., and my own mother (who didn't want me to leave), said, "Well I guess you won't need your house key anymore, hand it over."  It felt to me like she was saying, "If you fail and fall on your face, you won't have a home to come home to."  So, even though I felt stung, I handed the key to her gladly.  I didn't speak to her for 6 months, until I actually got the job at the Museum.  And then I gloated, "I TOLD YOU I WOULD WORK AT THIS MUSEUM AND YOU DIDN'T BELIEVE IN ME."

That was a day I'll never forget.  I had a Halloween party the night before, which was kind of a "goodbye everybody" party, there was snow on the ground, and only about 5 people showed up.  None of my family was there.  I had stopped off in DC on my way to Virginia Beach, to find an apartment for me and my Navy boyfriend Jim to share.  Once I walked into the Museum just to see it, a bolt of lightening hit me right in the heart, and I knew I had to work there.  Three weeks passed, and during that time I quit both jobs and found a new person to take over my apartment lease as a roommate for the girl I was leaving.  I tied up all the loose ends I had in Michigan.  I had $500 bucks to my name, but I didn't care.  I was determined.

On November 1st, my car was packed with every item I could possibly cram into it, every corner of the car jam-packed to the point where I leaned on stuff next to me as I drove.  At that point, I drove a rust bucket Oldsmobile, and I wasn't even sure if I'd make it to Ohio, much less to Virginia.  But I didn't care.  I just knew if I didn't at least TRY for that job, I would regret it.  I made it to Baltimore Maryland, where my friend from my hometown lived, and she needed a roommate, so I got lucky and moved in with someone I knew since the age of 9.  I drove down the street to get a job at Fashion Bug, part-time, and then I drove to the nearest mall and got another part-time job at Walden Books.  I was the assistant manager at both places.  Eventually I quit Fashion Bug and worked full time at Walden Books.

While I worked two jobs, I also sent resumes in to the Museum every week, for any job that showed up on their web site.  I called them, and bugged them to death.  It took six months, but I finally got called for an interview, (which entailed taking 3 trains, 1.5 hours to get there, nervous wreck, and then the woman who interviewed me said that it must be "Divine Intervention" that I work there.  I took that as a good sign!  And on Valentines Day, 1996, they called me to say I got the job!

So from that point on, I cut my hours down at Walden Books to part-time, and started working at the Museum full-time, commuting 3 hours every day back and forth, spending $250 a month on train fares, $500 on rent, and barely enough left over to buy food and pay for car insurance.  But, I did it.

But I had to endure the criticism and condemnation of people around me, telling me I was a selfish brat who didn't care about anybody but ME, and how dare I leave everybody behind like that, who would be the one to help grandma get groceries and mow her lawn? Who would babysit my nephew? Who would help my mom clean the house?  Why was I so SELFISH?!

..........my answer to that question might be similar to YOUR answer, when YOU got the same accusation......BECAUSE I DESERVE TO HAVE A LIFE OF MY OWN AND TO BE HAPPY DOING SOMETHING I LOVE, AND HAVE WORKED HARD FOR A LONG TIME TO GET. I have been studying the Holocaust since I was 10 and first read the Diary of Anne Frank.  From that moment on, I had to know WHY a 16 year old girl had to die just because she was Jewish.  I devoured every book, watched every documentary, and tried to learn as much as I possibly could about the Holocaust from that moment on.  Having met Miep Gies, she encouraged me to volunteer with the Anne Frank Center in New York, so I did for five years, and from there, I started to give classroom presentations about her, and the Holocaust, and from there, I got the job at the Museum in DC.  It really WAS like divine intervention.  But I worked my butt off for many years to GET there.

A decade after 9/11, which was my unexpected and regrettable last day working at the Museum, I am no longer viewed as "selfish" by my family and friends.  They got over it eventually.  I think it helped that I sent them presents at Christmas and on birthdays, and holidays.  I think, when YOU give a little blurb to anybody about whatever you're doing, it feeds the masses what they need---fills a void for them I guess.

So, we're not very different really, you and me.  We were determined, we knew what we wanted, and we had the courage and chutzpah to go after it.  And, after many years of immersing ourselves in what we loved most and knew the most about in this world, we suddenly lost it---due to circumstances beyond  our control. Yours was lost due to your health, mine was lost due to 9/11.  Nothing we could do about it, and I'll even venture a guess that you regret the decision a bit, even now.  So do I.  But, it seemed to be the right and best decision at the time, and that's really all anybody can go with.

If I had done what 90% of my high school classmates had done, and stayed in Muskegon Michigan all my life, I would have died a slow and painful and spiritual death inside.  I really would have shriveled up and just died from boredom and depression.  So, I'm glad I chose to "get busy livin'."  But it was hard.

Anyway, I have to get ready for my night out with Pete.  I hope you are still busy livin', no matter what you're doing, and I hope more than anything else, that you're happy.  To hell with what anybody else thinks or says about it. You do what YOU NEED TO DO, and I'll support it.  No matter what it is.

Because I always have, and always will, believe in you.

Love, Rebecca