There were no pictures on this day. For such beautiful weather in such a wonderful place, my day was ruined. I spent my time debating with myself about how to handle what happened. My better nature told me to just let it go. It is the wise side of me. But, I have overruled it. This may or may not be the right thing to do. But, God knows, in the sea of mistakes I've made, this one - if it is one - is one worth making. Suffice it to say that I am not above being jaded and angry, even vengeful when I am attacked for no reason by people who waited for the most sensitive opportunity, with willful maliciousness and premeditated intent.
I have had many critics along my lengthy walk through the last few years. I do not get into other people's business. I assume that what they do with their lives is good, because they are choosing to do it. Anything you choose to do with your life is not there for me to scrutinize, judge and especially deride publicly in some kind of attempt to derail it. My life is not so pitiful and I am not so fickle and shallow as to sit around deciding who should be castigated by me for their approach to making money or prosecuting their own innocent plans.
But I am not Chuck Pierce nor Stephen Calhoun. For some reason they have decided that what I do with my life is so important to them that they must publicly oppose it. And, this isn't just disagreeing with my philosophy, it is twisting what I have done, lying about it, consciously misrepresenting it. Even this wouldn't be so bad if they truly were concerned about my methods. But, no, this has nothing to do with my work. It has to do with their own histories and sour grapes, and other things that have happened in their lives. And, what cowards do when they are envious and jealous of the success of someone else is project their own failure upon that person. In this case that person happens to be me.
Why is all of this drama and Jerry Springer-like attention be discussed on this usually sane and level-minded blog? There are two reasons. First, I want a post that I can link to if other people criticize me in the same way. Secondly, I want to make a general statement about how this can affect the creative process for anyone, how that isn't right, and why defending one's self is justified and does not require an excuse for that justification. And, very very frankly, these two guys have set the parameters with their behavior toward me. They have lifted the no-holds-barred sign and should fully expect that I, not being a pacifist and not being above hitting back, would likely...um...hit back.
Let me give you some background about these two...
Let's start with Chuck Pierce. Chuck was a boy who grew up in my neighborhood, on a street off of Bayview. We were around the same age and were in the same graduating class at Yarmouth High School.
Most people start out life by figuring out - sometimes the hard way - how to interact with others respectfully, while retaining their own dignity. I think Chuck (known as "Charles" back then, when I was known as "Chuck"), could appreciate that others deserved respect, but could not figure out how to keep his own dignity. I remember him being bullied (though not physically) by other people for the way he spoke and the clothes that he wore. Whenever I interacted with him I found him to be a good guy, if quiet and stewing, who was simply trying to find the way out of his shell. I felt sorry for him most of the time.
I don't think Chuck had many friends until he could locate other people who had also been marginalized by "the cool kids." But I don't know very much about what he did. He was a private person, but seemed to me to have that same kind of demeanor that folks speak of in hindsight, after someone goes berserk and climbs a bell tower to pick off people with a high powered rifle in the village square. I'm not saying he is that way. I am saying that that was the impression I got. He does like his guns and the fact that he has them though, and - whether related or not - is of a conservative bent.
His awkwardness and social retardation lasted up through most of the years in high school not resolving completely. I believe it is because the damage to his pride had occurred at such an early age, he still harbors deep resentment for anyone who does something that other people applaud.
There may also be some jealousy, because he probably didn't have a girlfriend all through school that I recall. That is not to put him down, a lot of people have a hard time just adjusting to social circumstances, never mind getting that first kiss. It must have been very frustrating for him to see guys who had that kind of relationship at such a young age. High school affairs are just practices for marriage someday. They are important and essential to forming a good method for dealing with the opposite sex. Admittedly, they sometimes have the opposite effect. But, either way, he did not get that chance.
This bitter indignation had never been focused on me until recently, with my projects not being done the way he thought they should, combined with my recent unfriending of his wife at Facebook, because she used the very first time she'd ever communicated with me to moralize about the way I was debating a subject with another friend of mine. I knew this other friend well and I knew what he could take. She mistook my cornering him in the debate as me bullying him. Such was not the case, and this other friend would agree. To Chuck's credit, he did seem to get settled into a loving marriage and has what I would consider to be a successful family life.
Chuck bided his time after this issue between me and his wife; watching and waiting, as his disgruntlement festered, with the understandable instinct that a man has for protecting his mate--even if she needed no protection. His pride was hurt and he was determined to do something about it. Thank God he never did turn into the sniper in the village square, or I might have ended up with a bullet in my head instead of just getting shit on with a Facebook comment.
Chuck had made a couple of donations when I first left Maine. Most people donate with no expectations or strings attached. Chuck, apparently quite proud of his gifts to me, it seems, did have expectations that I do things in a certain way and as with any immature contributor (like we will see with Stephen), perhaps believed that he was buying influence over me. However, I genuinely think he really didn't have any issue with my work until his wife was unfriended by me. Then he invented or took issues with my methodology for obtaining funds. Had he actually followed the blog, he would have seen why I asked for donations in the way I do.
Now, Stephen Calhoun. I know hardly anything about his past. He was pretty much a nobody in high school. Nice enough guy, but never outstanding in any particular way that I can recall. He is a much shallower opportunist in the context of this attack against me through the door that a more bold Chuck had opened for him.
Stephen contacted me at some point right before I left Maine two years ago. He offered to have me do the music for an app he was developing to get kids outside and exercising, called Big Cat Race. It sounded like a great thing to be involved with. So I did some work for him, submitting a couple minutes of music. He liked what I did, paid me for it, and we planned to expand upon it before I suddenly decided to leave Maine.
I'm not precisely sure what happened, but some investor was about to pour tens of thousands of dollars into Stephen's software development. Things were looking good for him. Then I'm not sure if it was a reviewer or just some Youtube comments, but people were openly wondering why kids would need a phone in their hands to just go outside and run around. Someone mockingly suggested they might have fun time if they didn't have their face buried in a phone, running into trees, etc. It was actually kind of a good point. But whatever. As I understand it people began to pull out of the project, and Stephen was left owing a lot of money. And, as with Chuck's jealousy defect, Stephen was probably smarting from this when I reached California (where he now lives).
Stephen also donated a few rather modest amounts. But as soon as I got to California, completing the first crossing, when everyone else was congratulating me, Stephen interjected in the comments on Facebook that he hadn't paid his ($20 or whatever) just to have me take trains occasionally instead of walking. And, he thought the journey should not have regular blogging attached to it. He also thought I stayed in too many motel rooms and didn't camp enough. Basically, he thought that with his small investment in my project, I should have slept in more ditches, walked the entire way, and not tried to raise money by writing about it all. Anything less than that extreme effort was not worth his investment. This ridiculous call for asceticism, suffering and poverty from me for his entertainment just made me chuckle. I replied at Facebook by saying, "I'm sorry you don't feel like you got you money's worth, Stephen. Do you want a refund?" This he never replied to and as far as I know he never followed what I was doing again.
For my part though, I designed the crossing back to Maine on the Living Magazine and Homecoming Journeys, very specifically stating that I would not walk the whole way and would only stay in motels when needed. I think my travel record, available to download and examine here, is pretty impressive and speaks for itself. In short in 366 days I slept outside 282 times and on the Homecoming phase walked about a thousand miles up the east coast with no transportation except for a train from Fredericksburg, Virginia to Washington DC, a bus from Washington DC to Elkton, MD, and train ride from Wilmington DE to Poughkeepsie, NY. All of these totaled only 300 miles. Had Stephen taken the chance to check in every now and then, I think even he would have been impressed.
I actually saw Stephen at a party in Yarmouth during the Clam Festival at a friend's house this summer, after I returned. He said hi, and made no other comments to me. If he had issues with what I'd done, he had the chance to tell me in person. But he is a coward and knew that he had no idea what I had done since California. Obviously, he was still stinging from my discounting his call for absolute asceticism.
It is with all of this in mind, that on this day in Yarmouth, now on my fifth journey and after having published a very well received post (Epilogue 3) at the Yarmouth Facebook Group page, called "Yes, I'm from Yarmouth, Maine! Here's what I remember..." Obviously these two guys were seeing that I'd succeeded with my second crossing, and was now proceeding upon another Journey up the Maine coast. They knew that I survive by donations alone. They also knew that I don't make very much money.
Chuck Pierce thinks of himself as a self made man. And to see me making donations from writing (while forgetting that I also live a rough life and still get all my work done, 24/7/365) and am now getting recognition for my hard work, combined with his acidic need to avenger his poor helpless wife from me, the cyberbully, was too much for him. The the time was ripe. He could now do to me, what had been done to him growing up (though I was never a party in that youthful discomfiture--and in fact was friendly and civil with him back then). So, he struck while the iron was hot.
Upon my second post about Yarmouth, an innocent and joyful walk around the town, and in front of our common friends and fellow Yarmouth lovers, he posted the only negative comment I'd ever seen in that group, until the coward, Stephen Calhoun also saw his chance to join in.
Charles basically said that all I ever do is beg for money. He said, "Get. A. Job." He also implied that I don't do anything for what people donate; something so far away from my experiences each day and what nearly two thousand readers - hundreds of them regular readers - see in my posts and have experienced along with me. He clearly had not a clue what he was talking about. But many of these Yarmouth group participants had not yet read the blog. They would be likely to think he might have a point. Then when Stephen Calhoun, with his own personal failing and jealousy toward me, seconded Chuck's post, I felt that there was a risk people might actually take them seriously.
I immediately pulled the post and blocked them. I sent them both a nasty PM. Unfortunately, when I briefly described the situation on my profile page, one of my earliest friends, who apparently had had a similar view about my work as Chuck and Stephen did, but similarly had not researched the situation and was taking it all at face value, stepped in and essentially saw her opportunity to express her dissatisfaction about my "approach" (whatever that meant).
When confronted, she backpedalled and tried to give a "nevertheless to each his own" caveat. After the resulting PM conversation, she and I are no longer friends. She is a bit of a conservative herself and probably doesn't see writing as real work. Or, she didn't agree with some of my social commentary. She certainly didn't try to find out more or ever discuss it with me. She only saw a chance to passive aggressively make a public comment too. She never communicated with me very much, and to have this be her only expression was too much for me. Sorry.
So there. That is the situation from my perspective. I do not mind if people disagree with what I do, what I say, nor how I choose to fund my projects. What I DO mind is surprise attacking me for no reason, teaming up on me, because any of said individuals was not brave enough to face me or express things in private.
The early and long time friend said publicly that she had kept her opinions about what I do to herself, because she had respect for me and loved my sister too much to say anything. With this attempt to ingratiate her own "generosity" by not saying anything, but in public...saying something, it showed neither respect nor love.
I will not be trolled. I will not be attacked without fighting back. Regardless of how the uniformed non-reading, non-researching person feels about what they see on the surface of my published blog posts each day, and how much they scrutinize and pass judgement upon these posts or me personally for what I do, this life I lead is far too dangerous for me to just let things go undefended.
I don't need to be distracted by worrying about whether people are trying to misrepresent me for their own sick benefit, nor for their misguided belief systems about what "real" jobs are, and then spend whole days fixing what they sought to destroy, along with trying to still earn the honest living I have established for myself.
I will not hesitate to summarily and permanently excommunicate anyone who puts my life in danger for their own vanity or ignorance. I have never even contemplated doing that kind of thing to anyone, especially my friends; not even one single time in my whole life. People sure are different from each other aren't they? There is a Golden Rule and I follow it.
So, on those light thoughts...
After dealing with the betrayal, treachery and deceit of people who pretended to be my friends while waiting to stab me in the back, for this whole day (cleaning up the mess they tried to make of my life)--July 27--the day before my birthday...I think it perfectly appropriate that the above essay stand in place of the work that I didn't get a chance to do on that day.
I paced the railroad tracks for many, many hours that night, before coming to terms with how to deal with these folks. And, I went to my tent and slept with a clear conscience.
