ENCOUNTER WITH A MOUNTAIN LION

   

The title of this tale is slightly deceiving, because the mountain lion encounter doesn't happen until the very end.

I initially removed this post because I thought the beginning was too long and depressing, with the incident of my mother's abuse. The complications we endured because of my father's violence were extremely complex and unbearably exhausting - -almost impossible to describe.

Several people requested to see this, so I'm posting it again.         Jon

I've often written about my father's extreme violence and unbridled insane rages. It was a major part of my life.

He was never able to deal with any situation on a rational, adult level. Never. His inevitable instant reaction was to explode with maniacal fury - destroying anything or any one in his path.

This consistent and frequent pattern was one of the main reasons I remained abnormally close to my parents much of my life. My biggest fear was that he would eventually seriously injure or kill my mother. No exaggeration. On numerous past occasions he threatened to kill me, and I fully believed his threats (he nearly killed me when I was nineteen, when he choked me into unconsciousness - but that's another story for another time).

I'll fast forward to an incident that happened when I was about twenty-two. My parents went on a trip to Colorado. As always, I was apprehensive about what unpleasantness might occur.

A few days later I got a call from my mother. By the sound of her voice I immediately knew something was wrong - - and I also knew she couldn't really talk because my father was listening.

"How are things going?" I asked.

"Not good," she replied. With those two simple words I knew exactly what she meant. 
She said they were on their way home.

Even though I expected the worst, I was completely stunned when my parents arrived back in California. My Mom was severely beaten. Her left arm was completely swollen and one of her fingers was nearly broken. Her face was bruised and swollen. Her legs were black and blue.

I cringed when she finally told me what happened. My father got lost somewhere while he was driving in Colorado. His initial reaction was to panic. He immediately pulled over to the side of the road and began mercilessly pummeling my mother.

I won't reveal the grim details. Similar scenarios happened countless times before, but this was one of the worst.

She eventually got an attorney, who documented her bruises with photos and strongly advised her to get a divorce.

Instead of staying in California, Mom decided to go to Reno, Nevada. She got a long leave of absence from her job as an executive secretary and left for Nevada.

For the sake of brevity I have to eliminate an enormous amount of details. Mom got a furnished apartment in Reno and settled in for the summer. My father initially didn't know where she was.

Worried about her welfare, I left Hollywood and drove up to Reno around the end of August, and wound up staying there for over a month. It turned out to be a much-needed respite for both of us.
Mom had escaped from my father, and I escaped my wild, destructive life in Tinseltown.

In retrospect, that peaceful sojourn in Nevada was one of the best times of my life. Mom and I spent lots of time just absorbing the tranquility and healing emotionally. We frequently spent time at places such as Lake Tahoe and historic Virginia City.

Eventually - and perhaps inevitably - reality struck like lightning. With the aide of intense detective work, my father discovered where we were. He drove up to Reno one weekend around early October. In a rare moment of faux rationality, he begged her to come home and offered promises that, of course, would never be kept.

This isn't the place for me to delve into the fragile human psyche or Freudian psychology. Or the foolishness of believing bogus promises.
My mother reluctantly acquiesced.
My father left Reno on Sunday so he could be at work on Monday.

Be patient, my friends. I'm slowly  but surely getting to the mountain lion.

 

Mom and I left Reno for Southern California on a cold, early October evening. She drove her car and I followed in mine.

Somewhere along the way - in the middle of the night, in the middle of the black mountainous Nevada wilderness - I had to pee. I suppressed the urge for about an hour, but finally couldn't hold it any longer.

I repeatedly blinked my headlights, signaling that I was going to stop. We pulled over to the side of the road.

"I gotta pee!" I said, as I bounded out of the car and off into the nearby darkness.

As I was in the very midst of blissful release, I heard my Mom frantically yelling "Get in the car! Get in the car!"

I looked up and saw an alarmingly close pair of big glowing yellow eyes. They were staring right at me.

"Mountain lion!" Mom was shouting.

Without zipping my fly or tucking in my manhood, I dashed to my car and scrambled inside. I had left my headlights on and - without a doubt - a mountain lion darted by and disappeared into the darkness.

We didn't stop again for at least thirty miles. When we did stop, the first thing Mom said was "The mountain lion was right by you! I couldn't believe it!"

The roving nocturnal predator had indeed been only about three feet from me!

Why it didn't attack is beyond my comprehension. The possibility that I have a guardian angel is remote.

Perhaps the sight of me in the process of frantic urination was a sufficient deterrent.
All I know is, from that moment on, I've always been extremely cautious and meticulously alert when peeing in the wilderness.

The tragic situation with my parents was never alleviated, of course. Mom returned to her job. I resumed my music studies and my detrimental hedonistic lifestyle.

Another chaotic chapter in our lives would begin........

Thanks for taking time to read this.    Jon