ERNIE

A couple of years ago, I quit my old job. I had been there since 2001 and was considered the architect of the program. In truth many folks had participated in building the program, I simply guided the program and put words to the program. Well, I also did supervision of clinical staff, did assessment, testified in court, did group therapy, did individual therapy, taught. But, for the most part my job was to create and implement a cohesive program. I poured my time, energy, life and soul into that program.



I quit my old job because speaking truth to power was no longer permitted. In fact, any speech other than parroting the propaganda of the party line was not permitted.



Shortly before I quit my job, I was at Wal-Mart and picked up a Bon Jovi CD among several others. It was a very long drive between home and work. I listened to music CDs and audio books during the drive on a daily basis. I had never paid much attention to Bon Jovi, but had recently seen an interview on TV with him where he was discussing some of his political views and his philanthropic contributions to Habitat for Humanity. I had no idea if the man could sing, but I liked his political views and his philanthropy. I decided to take a chance and try his music.



So on my last day at the old job, security walked me to my car after carefully searching what few personal possessions I had removed from my office. I was not being fired. I had quit. But, the reality of the place is that nothing goes into the facility or leaves the facility without passing inspection by security. I never knew if anyone searched security or the COO. It's a completely closed system where random impromptu searches and pat downs of stff (including the Chief of Clinical Services) were routine, standard operating procedure.



At any rate, I got into my little Spyder convertible and punched the automatic retraction of the rag top. Lost Highway was on the top of the stack of CDs and I popped it in and backed out. I listened to the first track throughly taking in the lyrics. I punched the back button and listened to it again. I punched the back button and listened to it again--singing at the top of my vocal cords as I drove down that long highway all the way home.



Never has anything precisely matched my feelings--excited exhilaration, ambivalence mixed with fear..... The lyrics follow:



"In my rearview mirror/ My life is getting clearer/ The sunset sighs and slowly disappears/ These trinkets once were treasure/ Life changes like the weather/ You grow up grow old or you hit the road round here/ So I drive/ Watching white lines passing by/With my plastic dashboard Jesus/Waiting there to greet us/I finally found my way/Say goodbye to yesterday/Hit the gas there ain't no brakes/On this lost highway/I busted loose I'm letting go/Out on this open road/It's independence day/On this lost highway/Don't know where I'm going/But I know where I've been/And I'm afraid of going back again/So I drive/Years and miles are flying by/And waiting there to greet us/Is my plastic dashboard Jesus/I finally found my way/Say goodbye to yesterday/Hit the gas there ain't no brakes/On this lost highway/I busted loose I'm letting go/Out on this open road/It's independence day/On this lost highway/Oh patron saint of lonely souls/Tell this boy which way to go/Guide the car you got the keys/Farewell to mediocrity/Kicking off the cruise control/And turning up the radio/Got just enough religion/And a half a tank of gas/Come on, let's go/I finally found my way/Say goodbye to yesterday/Hit the gas there ain't no brakes/On this lost highway/I busted loose I'm letting go/Well I'm out on this open road/It's independence day/On this lost highway. " Bon Jovi

I left my old state job on my terms, when I chose, for a better paying job that promised the opportunity of doing genuinely useful work that interested me and challenged my skills. At the same time my old state job was "safe". When you work for the state (if you survive it), you get really nice benefits (pension plan, liberal vacation, an additional 13 paid holidays a year, liberal sick leave, good health insurance, rarely a deadline). But, the opportunity to work at home on my own time, doing genuinely useful work that benefitted the community, and challenged my skills was an overwhelming draw. In truth, for three months before I quit I had been taking vacation days to do the new job--just to see if I liked it and could really do the work. Nevertheless, I felt as if I was jumping into what looked like a deep dark abyss of private practice and I had no idea if I would be able to succeed or even survive. In many way, the new job is a pressure cooker. I was excited and I was very scared.

Two or three times a week now, I drive down long highways to prisons and then I go home and write up the resuls of my evaluation. Or, I drive down long highways to courts and testify on cases I've evaluated. Still, when I'm driving down those highways, Lost Highway is usually the CD playing and I'm still singing at the top of my vocal cords. Sometimes, when Eric is at work, I pop it in the CD player at home and sing to my cats while they sit in rapt attention on the couch. Every now and again, I even get up and dance a little in my flannel PJs or Mom jeans and play a little air guitar. Without any doubt, Lost Highway is my own personal anthem.

Speaking truth to power is a value I treasure. When I was a child, I read everything I could find in the public library. My mother placed no limits on what I was allowed to read from the public library. Once my mother was called to school for a parent teacher conference and the teacher confronted her about my choice of reading material. Seems that I was somewhere between 12 and 14 and had just finished reading every single thing Ernest Hemingay had written at the time and was starting on Steinbeck. The teacher believed my reading material choices would have been rated "R" had such ratings existed back 50 odd years ago. She would have preferred I read Rudyard Kipling and the like. My mother was portrayed as a "bad mother", but she continued to allow me to read uncensored. My reading also caused some consternation from my father. I can remember him walking through the house and saying to my mother "Janie Mae, that girl has her nose stuck in a book again. One day the house will burn down around her and she won't notice because she has her nose stuck in a book. That girl would read labels on tomato juice cans". Mother continued to permit me to read uncensored.

I just finished reading "Fair Game". It's about the price one pays and one's family pays for speaking truth to power. In a much less tragic way than Valerie Plame Wilson and her husband, I know personally the cost of speaking truth to power. It's a dangerous value and the price is high. Do not read "Fair Game" unless you can tolerate being told the unvarnished truth and learning the price of speaking truth to power.

As I was driving home from a prison yesterday, I was listening to "Lost Highway" and thinking about "Fair Game". I remembered something Ernie said or wrote. He either said or wrote something to the effect (come on folks, it's been 50 years) that life breaks everyone, but some people heal stronger at the broken places. When I was 12 or 14, I thought I knew what that meant. I understand better now at nearly 62.

Yesterday, I realized that although there is still phantom pain, I'm healing stronger at the broken places. Ernie was right.

And, I will continue to speak truth to power.