Eyes of Reflection, mirrored.

An original, free style poem: "The Mirror Watcher"

Written in 1989, during a 45 day stay at an inpatient rehabilitation program in Virginia; I was 18 years old. In the event you'd want to know the inspiration for the poem, the backstory is at the bottom of this page.

When I look in a mirror

I see a lot of things

The thing that stands out the most is me

When I look at me

I see sadness

I see joy

I see fear

I see courage

But when I look into my eyes

I see a lot more

I just don’t see these things

I feel them too

I see more than expressions

I see expectations of what I want in me

Not yesterday

Not tomorrow

But today

I look at the bad and good in me

I look at the sadness and joy

I look at what I am worth today

I think of what I want in me today

Sometimes looking at me is fun

It’s hard to do

But it is worth it to me

I can see me and my feelings

Not my frown or smile

Not my tears or laughter

But what it means to feel these things

That is what makes a mirror a spiritual device

For me and all of the world to see

Backstory:

Written when I was 18 years old (35 years ago), while in an inpatient rehabilitation program in Virginia; near where I grew up.

Sometimes, as an assignment; we were tasked with looking into a mirror when we were alone in our rooms — then describing what we saw in a group session with one of our counselors.

That session inspired me to write a poem about it, for my counselor. She seemed to appreciate my efforts at self-reflection.

Why was I in a rehab (omg, long story)?

The Short Version (ok, maybe; not so short):

After having been fired from my job at a local private airport, for "allegedly"; wrecking the company car into a large drainage ditch on the outskirts of the airport property. At the time, I was working for the local Cessna FBO (fixed base operator), as a aircraft fuel attendant.

This airport, once known as the: Hampton Roads Municipal Airport. Known today, as the: Hampton Roads Executive Airport ; in Chesapeake, VA.

I think what made them mad enough to fire me (the damage wasn't more than $500; in 1989 dollars), was me having left the scene of the accident — and not telling anyone about it. Of course, I did tell them about it; after two detectives came to my parents house — and woke us all up the next morning (at about 6:00am).

They wanted to hear the whole story; strangely, start to finish.

After, I was notified by the detectives; the FBO managers asked that I not return to the airport property (this FBO was also the property managers for the owner of the airport, at the time).

Anyway, months later; having a night out with friends — looking for a discreet place to party. After reviewing our options, we came up empty handed; for a safe location to go.

In my infinite wisdom, I suggested:

"Hey, lets go hangout at the airport I used to work at?"

So, off we went; the four of us to the airport.

Hanging out inside the on-site CAP (Civil Air Patrol, Auxiliary Air Force; Air Search and Rescue (SAR). organization), trailer; which was used as an office when the there were activities at the airport.

The CAP had a hanger next to the trailer, where they kept their Cessna 172; used largely for training missions -- but sometimes, for actual SAR missions.

Since it was after sundown, no one was occupying the trailer; of course I thought, that would be the perfect place — to party in.

After having settled down in the trailer with my friends for a spell, with a nice cold beer ("allegedly"), and a couple of marijuana joints ("allegedly"); a couple of my "former" co-workers happened to notice two cars parked in front of the trailer.

They were out checking the area, after having noticed a couple cars come onto the property; and it was well after retail hours.

Which is odd, what the heck were my "former" co-workers doing out there so late?

That question has never been answered. Sure, they still worked there; but it was much later after closing time.

After having seen another car approach, I knew party-party time was over.

After yelling: "oh ****, we got to get outa here", me and my friends returned to our cars.

One of my former co-workers tried blocking me in, so I wouldn't be able to leave; which didn't work. So, my friends and I left the airport property; after having ("allegedly"), left a portion of the beer and weed behind in the trailer.

Again, the next day; a couple detectives showed up, asking questions. Of course, I didn't mention any of my friends — but my "former" co-workers had recognized me.

Some peoples' kids; right?

After discussing the situation, I was given a citation for: ("allegedly"), trespassing onto private property. At the time, I was 17 years old.

A week or two my court date, I turned 18 years old. Thankfully, the judge in my case didn't need to hear the whole story.

I was sentenced to juvenile detention, as an adult; lol.

After four (4) days of being inside a juvenile detention facility, someone from the local prosecutors office came to visit me. They offered to get me out of juvenile detention, and transfer me to an inpatient rehabilitation program for 45 days. I agreed, it took about 3 seconds to decide.

In juvenile detention, I only had one person to talk to; who also had just turned 18. Strangely, his name was also Kevin; an African-American man — we were the only two men 18 or over, at the juvenile detention center. So they kept us together. He was really a cool guy; laid back, like me.

It was really nice having my brother Kevin to talk to, for the four days I was there. It was an odd occasion, for me to find someone my age named Kevin; both 18 — at a juvenile detention center. I wonder what he might be up to these days.

On the 5th day, I was transferred to the Rehab. I was there roughly 30 days out of the 45, when I wrote the poem at the top of this article.

After the 45 day inpatient program, I was clean for 3 years after. I traveled during that time to the Narcotics Anonymous (NA), World Convention in Orlando, Florida. The following year, I went to the NA World Convention in Portland, Oregon.

For a time, I was traveling all over the country; attending different meetings for NA or AA (Alcoholics Anonymous). I've even been to NA meetings in Grinage Village, New York City. Maryland state, Washington state, Florida, Oregon, and other places in between.

Those were the days.

What did I learn from all of that?

Self Reflection — the inspiration to write a poem, while inside an inpatient rehabilitation center; when I wasn't even an addict.

BTW: Don't bother 12 stepping me; I know me saying I'm not an addict, means I'm an addict... Don't start with me, that was 35 years ago. lol

Though, I have to say; the NA meetings in Grinage Village, in New York City were the most interesting.

Why tell my story now?

Why not?

A little self-reflection now and then is a good thing; and when we're self-reflecting about our mistakes in the past — we should laugh about it.

When we can...

Not all of our mistakes can be laughed about. When it's appropriate, we should laugh about our past.

My mistakes, lead me to meet interesting people; who had a big impact on my life. Including Kevin, in the juvenile detention center, and the people I met going to NA and AA meetings.

The people I met, and the places I went to; I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Self-reflection is sometimes sad, depressing, and sometimes for good reasons — like trauma we've experienced, or something like that.

Lets take advantage of our past mistakes that we CAN laugh about.

Living our truth, shouldn't make us regret it; even when it hurts.

Self-refection is about finding a way forward; even though, much of that self-reflection is looking back — it's supposed to help us more forward.

We should all make a point of sharing or stories, even the ones that make other people think we're crazy.

The good news: crazy people don't care about what you think! ;)

FYI: the Civil Air Patrol , is a great program for parents to encourage their kids to get involved with.

Learning about aviation, search and rescue, survival skills, using a compass, camping, safety, and many other things.

Even if you kids have no interest in the military; they will learn many critical skills, that will prove useful in adulthood.

Regrettably, I stopped going to CAP meetings; about the same time I was restricted from going onto the airport they operated out of.

I learned the phonetic alphabet when I was 14 years old, and never forgot it; to this day.

What's the phonetic alphabet?

(sometimes varies by country, and language)

The phonetic alphabet is largely used in civilian, commercial, and military radio communications, to help make sure messages are received; as intended.

Example: An airplane's tail number (registration number), is used when communicating with other persons on the radio (like a control tower).

If your airplane's tail number is: N7453C

You would identify your aircraft on the radio, by saying:

November 7453 Charlie

Pronunciation and radio signal quality has an impact on what people hear. So the phonetic alphabet was created (a long a** time ago), to help ships, planes, and other radio users; to communicate accurately — for safety.

The phonetic alphabet used in the USA:

Image Source: https://military-alphabet.net/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/nato-phonetic-alphabet-3.jpg

Edit (2024 - 0517): Title changed.