The Bull Speaks!
Omar, 'The Bull': a wee autobiography
Ever wonder who the sap is that owns and operates "The Bull Speaks!"?
Well, now you will know more than you wanted. Just goes to show you should be careful of what you ask for...
This is going to be tougher than I thought, this writing about myself. And it's going to be up to you, the reader to decide what you can believe and what you can't. I'm human, mostly, so I'm bound to gloss over some things and lift others up to be seen. I guess most autobiographies are like that. But perhaps mine will be a bit different since I'm warning you up front.
By the way, do you like the tartan? 'Tis my Clan's -
MacLennan!!! 
(Geez... Does that ever need explanation - later. For now, see this page.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...
To say I was born a poor white child would be a lie. Our family was one of the first to open the then Washington District of South Carolina before the last of the Cherokee Indians were even formally displaced. Generally speaking, the Family has done rather well for themselves. Most became well "landed", all of the males served in some form of service - including one who was an aide to Robert E. Lee until 'The End' at a wee village called Appomattox Court House, VA. (His sword and canteen are on display at the Citadel Military Institute, in South Carolina.) We've even had politicians and law enforcement including one great, great uncle who was killed in the line of duty. His killer was the last man hanged in South Carolina. The ghoulish photographs of the event are still in the family somewhere.
I was born the fourth child and second son to Roy Clarence Jones, a factory maintenance & design guy who was doing fairly well. Dad was himself the first-born son of Roy Feltz Jones of Pickens, SC. Grandpa Jones was a mean, cold-hearted, bastard. (The old man refused to speak in my presence and I have no memory of his voice at all. He didn't approve of my mother as a wife for his son.) Still, the Family was a very well respected one in the town and county of Pickens, SC.
Dad was a small-town quasi-war hero type having served in WWII aboard the carrier USS Wasp (CV-7). The USS Wasp (CV-7) was immediately sent to the Pacific after 7 Dec 1941. Wasp was torpedoed by the Japanese submarine I-19 on Tuesday, 16 September 1942, during flight operations 150 miles southeast of San Cristobal Island. Gasoline fires became rapidly uncontrollable and she had to be abandoned. Scuttled by USS Lansdowne (DD-486). Destroyers Laffey (DD-459) and Lansdowne, and cruisers Helena (CL-50) and Salt Lake City (CA-25) rescued 1,946 men. One hundred and ninety-three of her crew were lost with the ship and remain on active duty. Dad spent the rest of the war onboard the USS Lansdowne (DD-486) visiting such vacation spots as the Aleutians, Rabaul, Torokina, Bougainvllle, Guam and Tinian. (Sorry. I can't resist a little history!)
After the war he married, had three kids, divorced, and moved back home to SC. He took a job with Sangamo Electric and built a home on Fox Squirrel Ridge north of town. A bit later he met Mom, (and hence - me). As a couple they also had a little girl, my sister Taffney Ann. Then when I was nine years old they divorced and my story really started.
I don't think that growing up without a dad made any huge difference in my life. Actually I was around Dad enough for the work ethic to wear off on me. That is unless it is genetic. Unlike my siblings I never made a huge show of what I do. I worked hard, I played hard, then I rested. Simple. Somehow though this translated to the family that I was the 'lazy' one. Perhaps it was because I was the first one to see that there might be more money to be made in non-physical labor - technology & business. (I was right, of course, but that didn't save me from several years of intense labor *while* I was managing apartments in Greenville, SC in the 1990's.) I played hard as a youth too. Not at football and baseball like most kids in my neck of the woods, but at hunting, fishing, and plain ol' mountain running. I paid a price for it. I collected most of my 28 fractured or broken bones during this period.
After High School I reported directly to Great Lakes, IL for Navy Boot Camp, then it was off to Groton, CT for Submarine School. After a short time in the Navy I was back in SC working odd jobs while I worked on further electronics and quality control training. Soon I married my first wife, mostly out of boredom on both our parts. She was Baptist, I was Pagan, yet we made it work somehow for 15 years. I have three wonderful children from those years that I am very proud of and love very much. Divorce was inevitable though and in Aug. 2000 it happened.
What also happened about that time was the deterioration of my health. It started with my skin becoming numb on my legs. In Oct. 2001 I had a great toe amputated due to an infection that had taken hold in the bone. Not having any leave time I could fall back on, this cost me my job as a Team Leader at a group home for teenage sex offenders. I moved back to Virginia to live with my mother while my foot healed. Sadly, it did not heal. It grew infected due to suture material left in the foot. Fortunately, I qualified for VA benefits due to my Navy service. It took four months to heal that foot. As soon as it was healed though my doctor noticed something odd about my spine. A couple of MRIs later and I was under the knife having my spine repaired. It was only the first of three, (so far), major spinal surgeries. Turns out that all of the joint pain, numbness, and mobility issues over the years were due to my spine and major body joints falling apart or ligament turning to bone,(look up: "O.P.L.L.").
So ended my productive period.
On March 1st, 2005 I received a letter from the Social Security Administration notifying me that my 3 1/2 year battle with the Government to recognize my disability was over. The decision of the Administrative Law Judge was "fully favorable" toward my claim. Perhaps soon I will be able to settle the last of the myriad of financial and legal issues that over three years of no income whatsoever does to a person
There has been one great shining light. Lady Beth. During my bed-ridden period after my third surgery I was introduced to Beth LaFrenier by friends over the internet. Soon it was phone conversations, then a trip. There was no doubt. At the age of 42 I was in love, totally, completely, deeply, hopelessly, and for the first time ever as a man should love his wife. We were married on my birthday, April 22nd 2004. And while I may be broken, both physically and financially, I am loved and in love at last.
At last, for the first time, I am happy.
As for the things I like to do, or "liked" to do, there are several. Hunting, fishing, and good ol' target shooting ate up a lot of weekends back in the day. And of course, reading, (Voracious Reader here!). Craftwork has always been near the top of my thing-to-do list. Everything from leathercraft to scrimshaw, from macreme to cross stitch. All of that came in handy when my love of History led me into Living History. Man, talk about having it all! Crafts, history - requiring much reading, and shooting. Even better, the "trekking" side of Living History means days and weeks of living by your wits. So if there was water nearby, fishing! No doubt about it, I was "home".
Since the surgeries I've had to live without the physical aspects of my pass-time, but have read everything around. I suppose I'm done with the "trekking" portion, but with any luck I'll soon get back into the lighter crafts. Perhaps I'll be able to help supply my brothers-in-arms with items they need one day soon.
To be continued...
The Bull Speaks!
Disclaimer: Everything here is a result of me ranting. Read at your own risk! The opinions expressed on this site are solely the author's and not representative of Verve Hosting, WordPress, nor any individual, organization, corporation, government, head of state, deity (Greater or Lesser), pantheon, or anyone or anything else I may have missed. Don't try this at home. Contents packed by weight, not volume. Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear. Don't feed the animals. If anything offends you, quit reading that entry - but *do* come back so I may offend you further. ( Yes, I stole bits of this disclaimer from many sources because I refuse to hire lawyers to write one for me.)
All contents © copyright 2004-2007 by Rev. Mark T. Jones, H.P.. All rights reserved.
