1984 Chapter 1 Promises in the Dark

 1984

By Mike Jackson

As time goes by I am finding myself in fear that I will somehow forget the things that made me who I am. The experiences that came and went over the years are quite rich, but what could I do should I somehow no longer remember them? To prevent this perhaps, far-fetched idea, I write to make sure that my experience carries on. Writing is my child. My writing child carries my thoughts and experiences beyond my mortal existence. It is my mark, however insignificant, on the world.

Speaking of insignificant, there was a time in my life when I was sure that I would not be just a face in the crowd. I was eighteen years old. Eighteen is a magic age, and 1984 was a magic time. George Orwell had hyped 1984 as did Van Halen that year. 1984 was a year in which I was truly coming of age and it is because of those growing pains that I must reflect on it so fondly.

Chapter one

Promises in the dark

I awoke around ten o'clock on the morning of January 1st, 1984. My laser blue bedroom in the basement was dimly lit by a small amount of light coming through the narrow basement-style window by the ceiling. I drank quite a bit last night. It was a good time, lots of family and friends. Mom and my stepfather had a get-together in our basement rec. the room that was right next to my bedroom. Despite the good company, I could feel the anchor of doom in my stomach. This was a trademark sign that I had said something that I was probably not sincere about last night while under the influence. There was no mistaking this feeling, I am never wrong about it. Foggy memories of last night began to float in. Oh yes, now I remembered.

Brian was at the party last night. He was a very good friend of mine. He had been like a father figure to me for the 2 years that I dated Margie from 1979 to 1981. I finally broke up with Margie in October of 1981 when I realized that I was looking forward to hanging out with Brian. He reminded me of my father in many ways. I was not intentionally doing it and the moment I realized it, I was torn apart inside because I really cared for Margie and more importantly, I respected her far too much to not be honest and end our relationship.  In a very painful two-plus hour phone call, I ended it. 

 In the months and years to come, Brian and Louise, Margie's Mom, remained friends with my Mother and stepfather. It was at this New Year's Eve party that gave Brian and I a chance to talk like we had not in years. Brian and I went to his house to get some music to liven up the party. We had already had a few beers and I was feeling very good. Brian and I got onto the subject of Margie, who was now married. "He won't even buy her a decent coat," Brian said as we were driving to his house. I missed Brian. I missed these talks. I felt bad for Margie, we had some awesome times. "If I could go back in time," I told Brian, "I would have done things differently," I told Brian that had I married her I would certainly be more ambitious than the way Brian described this guy. I must admit, I was on a roll. I was not trying to deceive Brian, I really only felt bad for Margie whom I shared a good couple of years together. I felt she deserved better. I had no understanding of it yet, but I really wanted to rescue her from this, and with the influence of alcohol, I certainly thought that I could. I am sure that Brian thought it was touching that I was telling him this, but useless.

The Shaffer worked its way into these thoughts. It was time to introduce Joe Jackson to his son again. I sat at my table, gentle summer humidity blowing in with a strong hint of pine, and wrote my Dad an eighteen-page letter telling him how things had gone since he and Mom had divorced in 1976. I also told him about my views and prospects in life. I found that the influence of alcohol did wonders for the letter writing abilities. Seeds of a great plan were planted here, for in this letter I mentioned to Dad that next summer I might like to come down to Texas. I mailed the letter and continued on with my summer' end.

Sitting there on the edge of my bed in the morning thinking about the night before, I knew Brian would think no less of me today, yet guilt was all over me because I said these things, and if you were to call me out right then and there, now that would have been something. To this day I wonder if Brian ever told her any of what I said. That was really my biggest worry because I had done the tough task 3 years earlier to show honor to her, and here after a few beers honor gets thrown out the window?  It really bothered me. 

 I coached myself internally insisting that there was nothing I could do about my stupid mouth last night, especially when it happened before a man of quiet integrity as Brian was. It was time to move ahead, despite its beginning, 1984 was going to be a fantastic year.

Last September while I was up at Lone Oak Campgrounds, I decided that right after I graduated, I was going to Texas. I was really excited about it. Only six more months now! As time went by from 1979 in junior high school at Memorial Boulevard School in Bristol, teachers warned me that it was important to know what I was going to do for a career. I decided to ignore it completely, with the slight exception of considering possibly (but not seriously) writing or even working for radio broadcasting. I went through three years of high school aimlessly. I lived to return to Lone Oak Campgrounds where all of my friends would once again join me on some warm day. That was all that it was about. One afternoon at Lone Oak changed something though. I put back a few Shaffer long necks that sat in my small trailer refrigerator one day after a long day at work. My trailer was exceptionally quiet that day. It was late August and summer was winding down. As a matter of fact, the best summer of my life was winding down. I had just lived on my own in my travel trailer without the aid of my parents all summer. I came and went as I chose and did all necessary tasks as I should. I was pondering the fact that three years ago, Joe Jackson packed up his 1970 Ford van and headed for Texas and left behind a fourteen-year-old son. I was a completely different person now. Sadly, my Dad was practically imaginary now after so much time had passed. Aside from a few telephone calls, we had no relationship.

In October, I went to visit my Grandmother Jackson in Bristol after returning to reality for school. She had spoken to Dad on the phone and he said anytime I wanted, I was welcome. Years without a plan ended. For the first time ever, I had a plan! I was moving to Texas in 84. Had no idea what I would do for work or career once I got there but I was going for sure!