Red

About thirty years ago, I sat in a San Diego motel room, a hundred miles from home, with a loaded revolver, when it suddenly dawned on me that Red, the Marine vet who taught gun safety at the Firing Line in Burbank, was also a motorcycle safety instructor. I had wanted to ride a motorcycle since college. My friend Paul rode a gold and white BSA. He had black, curly hair, and braces. All the girls loved him. I wanted to be like him. So I packed up my gun and headed back to LA, and I learned how to ride a motorcycle.

Lots of people contemplate suicide. Doesn't mean they will or they won't. They're not crazy. Life sucks sometimes, and it takes us to our threshold. If we hang on past that moment, the feeling goes away for a while. Each of us can help each other get past that moment, even without training. Just make small talk. Put off that decision. You don't have to go right now. Call a friend, or 988.

I've had that suicidal noise inside my head for over 40 years. I could've pulled the plug but didn't. Maybe that makes me a phony. I never even tried. Still, the thoughts return. When I'm in it, I'm up to my eyeballs in feeling sorry for myself. And then it goes away till the next time.