Dave Pelzer - Return to the River: Reflections on Life Choices During a Pandemic

Dave Pelzer

#1 Bestselling Author of A Child Called It

Return to the River

Reflections on Life Choices During a Pandemic

The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Jack London

Live a grand adventure, so to tell a great story!

North Sonoma Coast, California, Fire Captain, 4412

To my beautiful grandson, S. J.

Live long. And prosper. Become one with the Force, so the Force will always be with you. Be happy. Be happy now. Be good in all things. Reach out and step up to the great beyond. And when feeling down, look up in the sky up, up, and away.

Youve made me laugh, given me untold joy, and reconnected me in ways I can never express. As the saying goes from Hook, one of your fathers and my favorite movies when he was young: to live will be an awfully big adventure.

To my executive director, Kathryn Estey, Mrs. C, my longest relationship with a woman that hasnt ended in death or divorce. In our nearly twenty years together, weve attempted to do our duty for God, country, and the world-at-large. I miss our coffee times.

To my Privilege of Youth brother Paul Brazell, the smartest person Ive ever known.

Lastly, to B, I do hope you are most happy. A & F.

TO THE ENTIRE STAFF at Northwood Restaurant of Monte Rio, for allowing me to come in rain or shine before hours of operation and take up space at your tiny circular table longer than I should haveI am most appreciative.

To the following ladies who were extremely kind enough to take the time, chapter by chapter, to read, then take deep-felt energy to provide heart-filled feedback on the book and how it touched their own life journeys: Faviola Aguilar; Jennifer Branaman; Renee Combes, The Mother of Monte Rio; and Rebecca Jo Hodge. Thank you, ladies!

As always, a special nod to the books playlist that inspired me while I wrote. First and foremost, for over twenty-five years, Ive had the privilege to absorb and somehow tie-in the stirring music of Pat Metheny. In this case, the lead songs are Polskie Drogi and Spiritual. Other pieces include Enyas Drifting and, lastly, the instrumental string version of John Barrys We Have All the Time in the World.

A heartfelt thank-you to Nan Still for creating such a beautiful, breathtaking, nostalgic cover of the summer of 66, my most precious time with my family.

To the publishing company, Health Communications, it is nice to return. A respectful nod to the founder Mr. Peter Vegso. I wish to also acknowledge Christian Blonshine, executive vice president, for his kindness and professionalism. A shout-out to the lovable Lindsey March for her PR work. A thank-you to Bob Land for his meticulous line editing and to Christine Belleris for taking the baton most graciously and bringing this book over the finish line. Big hugs to Candace Johnson for her very extensive evaluation and suggestions that, as painful as they were for me, made the book far superior than I imagined. To my new friend for life, Allison Janse, project manager extraordinaire, for your genuine sincerity, extreme patience, and gentle guidance. I could have never completed this Everest-like task without you!

Lastly and most importantly, to the original cheerleader of A Child Called It, Lori Golden. You are the most unpretentious person Ive ever know known and are truly an angelic spirit that is a blessing to us all.

THIS PROJECT WAS TOTALLY UNPLANNED. It literally came out of the blue. It was my fastest yet deepest writing to date. Being a hopeless romantic, part of this book is a haunting love story on various levels, with many threads. It is a story of an unexpected, overwhelming chain of events that, for me, required deep introspection on how I came to a crossroads in my later years.

Within the book is a spiritual journey about how one can be damaged yet redeemable.

It is a self-help book of sorts with the message that no matter what is happening in the world around us, within the confines of our heart, where no one else can see, we are all human. That we falter. That we fall facedown, and that at times we may lack the will to get back up, afraid to endure yet another blow.

It is a story about the circle of life. That we have to rise. We must face ourselves and our challenges. That we can only do as best we can. That we learn. That we strive to become better. And above all things, that we are all worthy and deserve happiness until the end of our days.

I thank you for taking this journey.

I truly hope it makes an impact on your inner heart and leads to a more fulfilling life.

LATE DECEMBER 2020, MONTE RIORUSSIAN RIVER, CALIFORNIA

STANDING OUTSIDE, IM FREEZING. Even with thick gloves the tips of my fingers are numb. My upper body quit shaking minutes ago. As much as I pace to retain heat, I can feel my body beginning to tense up and shut down. Its only a matter of time. My lower back stiffens, and the deepened calluses on both feet are beyond excruciating.

Ive fought for years to bury so much in too many areas and at infinite levels. And now I feel exposed. I cant hide things as well as I used to. In the past two years, unexpected events have burst my hurt lockers wide open.

Im a master of masking in plain sight. I had to learn to do so before kindergarten. Ive buried so much for decades upon decadesinsecurity, unworthiness, chasing others approval, the fear of not being good enough, and above all, the dread of abandonment. As of late, I feel from deep within, in order to try to keep my hypersonic life from spinning out of orbit; in the middle of COVID World, my mask is overt. On the outside, my eyes smile, but behind the cloth, where no one can see, with every step my internal pain is beyond anything Ive ever experienced.

For me, its never about the physical pain; that I can take. That I can switch offor at least, used to. As I became older, I seemed to have little to no control over the psychological fallout from my past.

I havent felt this intense freezing-like sensation since I was a child, surviving in the basement that was used as a garage as Mothers secret, enslaved prisoner.

The only thing that keeps me from submitting is my private trigger. My very own deeply embedded molten resentment against myself.

And yet, today of all days, I crave positive human connection. Any connection. That no matter how bloody, disgusting, hard-charging, into-harms-way my lifestyle may be, today I need to believe that Ive accomplished something that mattered. Some minuscule thing that can relieve someone elses pain. It would go a long way to help me feel cleaner.