This is the end.... my only friend, the end.... -- The Doors

Been wrestling with, among so many other things of late...... Death.

I know.... I know.... "don't we all?"

BUT... this blog is about running The UB.... and the "behind the scenes" part of running such a place...

I started this blog because of a "UB kid" who's mother died unexpectedly and how I was sucked into this family tragedy...

This one is a bit different... kind of a "survivors remorse" I suppose.

I found out yesterday that a friend chose to eat a bullet rather than see her sons ever again...

When the UB was still in Polk County, I saw her fairly often. Her youngest son would come in and amaze everyone at his Guitar Hero skills as well as his real guitar abilities. He LOVED the attention he got from teen girls (he was 8) as well as the attention and free lessons offered by the touring bands etc.

Her oldest son eventually became a volunteer  helping me run the UB when I was unable to be there etc. If he made a mistake or did anything appearing less than honest... she would jump on it and handle it without me ever saying a word.

There was never any doubt she loved her boys immensely.

She was one of the FEW who actually came out and HELPED me clean up and close up the old UB.

She would come to me to talk about home life, problems, etc.

The UB gave her freedom... a place to go when able and healthy enough. She loved motorcycles and I had given her a few rides on mine. You could tell how much she had missed it.

It is with all this in mind that makes me wonder if she would still be alive if The Ultimate Basement had never left Polk County.

It was her sanctuary from an unfair life that never stopped beating her down. She felt the shackles of the world temporarily fall off when she was there and the old young rebel/rocker stir in her blood once again.

Mind you, home life was a mess. Husband clearly had anger issues, oldest son seemed hell bent on making bad decisions without much forethought, youngest son... well his road was already paved....

This is not pointing blame etc.... she had her own demons as well..... and we all know there are at least 3 sides to every story... (his side, her side and the truth)

She was an alcoholic.... in other words, The UB was not her only means of escape from a world she no longer liked.

We even made a deal once.... every week she remained "dry".... Id give her a ride on my Harley. Im not sure her jealous angry husband approved which I was told was often why she could not come to the UB more often than she did.

Up to this point, it sounds like Im passing judgement on the husband... I am not. I merely state facts... at least the ones I care to share.

She was self admittedly an old biker bitch back in the day... could probably all you ever wanted in a woman, plus a lot more you often regretted LOL. Some rumors I had heard, etc.... I cant blame the man for feeling possessive, angry, etc.

You might as well as a campfire to hold onto your box of firecrackers for you..... Some explosions are bound to happen.

Where am I going with all this????

She often talked of leaving her husband, but never would.... the opportunities were there... she wasn't trapped. But she craved alcohol, and he provided it.

So... Im wondering if she would still be alive today if the UB had never left Polk County.... and how unfair it is that there just might be some truth in it. THAT pressure I do not need... do not want....

Whats more... it aint my job damnit!

The next thing you know, boy, Oh! You´re prison bound --- Creedence Clearwater Revival

I seriously debated telling this one or not....

But, as always, my need for total transparency in all operations here prevailed.

So here it is....

I love the kids, I really do.....but, as I always tell my staff...

"Never trust the little bastards"

Today's tale is about one of the times I broke my own rule.....

We had a show with multiple bands (as we often do).... the point Im trying to make here is that the show lasted until a good 1am-2am.

At the end of the night, a young skinny little wisp of a girl came up and asked if I could give her and her friend a ride home.... I get this a lot....

I told her that I prefer not to without written authorization from a parent saying I can transport their minor before doing such a thing.

(See? I STARTED this using my head...)

She then added that if I couldn't do it, they were going to end up sleeping on the curb outside overnight....

Now, before everyone starts judging here.... if you know me, know just how skinny I am.... you will know what I'm saying when I tell you that both of them put together wouldn't make one of me.

I just couldn't imagine them fending for themselves alone in Spindale overnight.

Plus, these two were pretty much regulars here, never cause any trouble at all. Yes, they were boy and girl, but I also knew they were not dating anymore, have long been good friends and have stayed at each others house before.

Plus.... her Mom had already asked that we look out for her. She told us that while she wasnt always coming home, she was more worried about her safety.

So..... I am merely fulfilling a promise and her Mom's wishes.... right?

So... I finally caved and said "Ok.... JUST this time, but don't come here again if you don't have a ride again unless your Mom's come in and give me written permission first"

I actually had quite the carload that night but the rest were teens old enough to make their own decisions plus my youngest daughter and myself.

So, as we start piling everyone into my car... another car turns into the parking lot...its headlights pointing momentarily upon us.

I'm not sure I can adequately convey to you the look of fear and shock that came across my two youngest passengers faces. It was enough for me to wonder if child abuse was an issue......

I asked them what the look meant (as the car instead drove to the ATM, not towards us.)

Forgive me here, but I do not recall exactly what excuse they gave me at the time.... but I do remember knowing in my gut it was complete bullshit.

But, I was already on my ill-fated path....

We drove and dropped off teens as we came upon their homes.

At one teens trailer park, I pulled off the road to let them out when another car raced up behind us, their headlights blinding my vision trying to look in my rear view to determine "friend or foe".

While I may not always make the wisest decisions, never doubt my willingness to protect your children....

I told all car occupants to stay inside and I got out ready to take on the 4+ shadowed people in the car behind me.....

Turns out, it was a car load of basement teens having a laugh, wanting to say hey to me! (What a relief!)

I say hello, wish them a good night, let out the teen and my two youngest charges, my daughter and myself head on towards the final drop off before heading home.

Having the two youngsters (14 yr olds?) alone in the car now, I tell them that while I may not know what all is going on, I wasn't buying their BS story regarding their reaction to the headlights....

We get to the young mans house and it was pitch black.... not really surprising at 2:30 in the morning.....

BUT.... as the kids are getting out, that same car load of teens I saw earlier pulls up behind us.

THAT was when I fully realized I had been had.... tricked.... hood-winked....

I was fucked.

"Never trust the little bastards"

They were already out of the car and I knew I couldnt man-handle them back in....so I looked at my daughter and told her "lets get the hell outta here..... I foresee nothing but trouble here...."

We left not knowing it was even worse than I had imagined....

I hear through the teen grapevine... the boys parents were out of town that weekend.... he was SUPPOSED to be staying at his grandparents.

Which is why he apparently didn't have a house key either.... after I left...he (or they) broke into the house.

They then proceeded to have one hell of a party....drugs, alcohol (some was brought, some was found at the home) and who knows what else....

They destroyed the place....

The parents came home a couple days later and had no illusions what had happened while they were gone. There was apparently no hiding the carnage.

They were (understandably) so upset they pressed charges against all involved (their son included).

After hearing about all this, I waited and waited.... each day expecting Rutherford's finest to come get me (and who could blame them???) at LEAST for questioning....

I called his Mother and explained, best I could, my part in all of it.... my thinking, my reasoning in it.

Bless her heart, she told me she completely understood that I was simply looking out for the kids and had no clue the parents were out of town... that the kids were playing me for a fool....

"Never trust the little bastards"

She understood and did not blame me for what I had done....

DAD, however.... was a different story..... he never contacted me, faced me, talked to me.....

He simply went around telling all who would listen how The Ultimate Basement took his kid to a drug party...

And.... to be fair.... you can't say he was wrong.

The police never came for me.... I even offered my story to any I could find....  if they wanted me, lets get it over with..... but it never happened.

I got lucky I suppose..... but I never forgot what they did to me, the position they put me in.... playing on my bleeding heart....

"Never trust the little bastards"

......All we are is dust in the wind -- Kansas

The world became a little darker last weekend.

Another bright light was snuffed out way too early.

On Facebook, the tragedy is quickly being dwarfed by all the people who knew him jockeying for the position of  "best friend who knew him most and is the most traumatized by his death".

It sickens me.

A damn fine young man has died from a senseless accident. The driver of the car will have to forever live with the knowledge of what happened..... the mans family will live the rest of their lives asking "why"....

In a time where comfort, calm and support is needed most.... we only offer up threats, hate, anger, blame and ego. The ones who carry the heaviest burden from the event are lost amid the laments of those who barely knew him.

And because of this, the most important message is lost. a critical life lesson gets buried under the woes of the pity seeking masses....

We all know already what that lesson is... I don't have to say it. If asked, everyone can recite it like the Pledge Of Allegiance.

But, just like the Pledge Of Allegiance, we mumble the words in monotone tempo.... never really understanding what we are saying... what it really means.

I did not not come here today to talk about Jaharri Miller, a truly fine young man who was raised right...

I came here instead to tell you about Debra Elam.

Ever have one of those people in school that, year after year, you saw passing by in the hallways but never shared a class with? A familiar face without a name? A person who could just disappear one day and you would never notice was missing but was still familiar to you every day?

That was Debra Elam in high school.... 1984?

And so it was one day, changing classes.... navigating the throng of people within the hallowed halls of Green Run High School in Va. Beach, VA..... minding my own business.... when suddenly the masses tossed a person out of the faceless mob and she landed right in front of me!

With a jubilant mirth and a smile that could kick start a star, she said "Hello! I figure if we are going to see each other all the time, we might as well know each other!"

Now mind you, Debra wasn't bleach blonde, cheerleader, barbie beautiful.... some might even call her "pretty" or "average". You could look around a coffee shop with her in it and not ever notice her in the corner reading a book. But that smile changed everything. It was a pure smile... a radiant, honest smile that cannot be faked or imitated. One of those smiles that makes you rethink everything you had previously assumed about this person.

One of those smiles that warms you up from the inside and guarantees that you will not forget that face ever again.

But in truth, she looked like a "Gail" to me......not a "Debra".

Weeks went on and every once in awhile Debra would leap from the crowd to land in front of me and ask "What's my name?" all while beaming that glorious smile.

Sometimes I would get it right and stutter "Debra"...... sometimes I would get it wrong and stammer out a "Gail".....

Sometimes..... I would even say "Gail" on purpose.... I liked this game and did not want it to end.

I liked Debra..... and in hindsight...... I think she liked me.

So I kept up the name game.

One morning, while sitting in homeroom getting ready to further waste a good education.... they blared the usual morning announcements that were never worth paying attention to. At least I didn't.

Let's just say Harvard wasn't beating down my door with a cool Trans Am in my driveway.....

Like cold water on a drunk, I was snatched back from my daydreams when I had heard the name "Debra Elam" on the loudspeaker... she must have won a super award... she seemed like the type who would.

But, as I looked around, people were crying..... no one was talking.

I bolted from my seat, into the hallway and run full tilt to the office.... tears pouring down my cheeks already knowing what I was about to confirm.

My friend....

My friend that I liked....

My friend that I liked had died the night before....

OHH GOD!!!

My friend that I liked had died the night before THINKING I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HER NAME!!!!!

I never asked her out..... I never told her I liked her..... I never even offered to walk her to whatever class it was that kept her crossing my path...... I never did anything but pretend I didn't know her name so I could keep this silly game going because I was scared that the game was all I had to keep her interested in me.

To this very day this haunts me still.... the fear that Debra liked me and died thinking I couldn't bother to remember her name.

So...... whenever you see me go up to a total stranger and tell them how nice they look because it is obvious that they made an extra attempt at it that day.... it is because of Debra. When I take an extra minute or more from my day to help you or listen to what is bothering you.... it is because of Debra.

It isn't because *WE* are not promised another day and need to live it up now. It is because the ones we really care about, but never tell.... are not promised another day.

It is *US* that has to live with the reality of how we last treated them.... how we last talked to that person... friend or stranger.....

If YOU...my reader.... died tomorrow and I learned of it.... I would feel so much better knowing you died knowing I appreciated you, loved you, or helped you.

It is my hope that Jaharri Miller.... a senseless tragedy.... a great promise taken way too soon..... can be this area's generational Debra Elam....

Treat people better, always...... you may not get the chance to say "Im Sorry" later.....

Unbreakable -- Michael Jackson

Ok.... Im by no means a fan of Michael Jackson... but he said this and said it so well....

"No matter how good your intentions are, there´s alway some jerk, some mean spirited person who tries to bring you down. And all you wanted to do was to bring some love and some joy. And they´re so quick to hate and to judge and be cruel and mean. I just shows that man-kind can be very ugly and cruel, it really does. It brings out the ugly side. "

Michael Jackson in Martin Bashir outtakes  

Probably the most asked question I get from people....especially after they find out how much money I put out of pocket to do this all while being blamed for every bad thing any teen does anywhere in this county is...

"Why do you do it?"

A damn good question I have been asking myself at least weekly for about 6 years now....

Most of the time, I really dont have a great answer.... this blog post is to show you folks the few good answers I do get from time to time (usually I get one JUST as I am about to give it all up.... so I keep going.)

So... let me show you WHY I do this... why I refuse to quit because of petty lies, stereotypes and mistrust.

Chris was standing at the door of the original Ultimate Basement the day we finally opened our doors to the public. He, his younger brother and a young family friend were our very first customers ever.

Since moving the UB to Spindale NC two years ago.... we did not see much of each other anymore.

Except for the last two years, I pretty much watched him grow up. This year, he graduated high school and I am proud to say I was there to watch him do "the walk". I was also very honored when he saw me there and told me how much it meant to him that I was there to see him graduate.

It was not long after that when I was sitting at work, loathing my life, my situation, the knowledge that if I would just "kill" the UB, my money issues would not be as heavy on me as they are (by a decent bit). All I have to do is stop doing what I LOVE doing, so I can afford to keep my home... my poor lifestyle. My boss had just pissed me off beyond measure and I was ready to just chuck it all...hell....I deserve better than this crap.

I swear to you, my bored friend reading my rantings.... that it was that very second, as soon as my boss had left my office after writing me up for not answering an email that was never sent to me.... that I glanced at Facebook and saw I was tagged in a post from Chris...

It read:

"Why its on my mind I want to say a few words about someone who really did help make me, me. Someone that helped get me through rough times. Someone that always helped me stay focused on my dream and never once told me I couldn't make it. He is actually the reason i am who i am, the one that got me started on the the things I love and will never give up on. This person is David Weisgerber. I was overjoyed to see you at my graduation David. You watched me grow up and then watched us walk the stage. You have been such a huge influence in my life and one of my hero's because you always had the intention of helping people. I could never repay you for everything you did for Jesse and I. If not for you I probably wouldn't play guitar, I wouldn't be in a band and my life would be entirely different because I wouldn't of made the friends I have made and believe me my friends are my family and they mean the world to me and I wouldn't have any of that If I didn't have the basement. I don't know if you see it or not but you have made a huge impact in my life and I hope you do the same for many others. I could never thank you enough but I will always try. your an amazing person man thank you for coming to my graduation and making me who I am today. You deserve more recognition for all the great things you do."

He then added:

"You really are amazing man. you may not see it but if you never opened the basement 6 or 7 years ago a mile away from me i would be an entirely different person and my life would suck and i wouldnt have any goals and I probably would be depressed all the time because I would be bored and I wouldnt have any friends and Id never do anything with my life lol but you gave me an ambition that ill never stop striving for and I could never repay you for that."

Now.... how the hell do you quit on that????

It's murder by numbers, one, two, three It's as easy to learn as your ABC -- The Police

I got a good one for you all today....

I will do my best to paint the canvas in such a way where you really get the emotions with this one.

We had not been open and running bands but maybe a month or two when this happened.

The BBQ place next door was not there yet, their building was still vacant.

So it was that, as usual, I drove to Spindale after work.

It was a pretty day out, I was in a good mood etc when I pulled into the parking lot.

As I got out of my car I notice an older man, grandfather age, sitting on a motorcycle in the parking lot in front of the now BBQ restaurant.

Thinking it is yet another adult wondering what kind of place we are yet thinking they could'nt come in (yes, you would be amazed at how many adults think they are not allowed inside here...) I walked over to him and introduced myself.

I asked him if he was waiting on a child or wanted a tour of the place.

Way to calmly, without any hesitation, he stated "No sir, I'm here to kill Timmy Johnson (No, I will never use real names in my stories folks...).

I did a double take "Excuse me?!"

Clearly, I must have heard wrong.

The gentleman proceeded to tell me that young Timmy was dating his granddaughter and was ruining her life. That she was a straight A student but he was leading her down bad roads...

Knowing Timmy....this was very likely true....

The man went on to tell me that he had given this a lot of thought and, at his age, he wouldn't be long in prison and was quite prepared to live out the remainder of his days that way.

Now folks, let me tell you something. In my years on this earth I have had the unpleasant experience of having someone put a gun to my head on more than a couple times. (We are not even counting the times I have been shot at.)

I have had calm/cool people put a pistol to my head and I have had very scared people put a rifle to my head.

Of the two options, Id rather have a scared man do it than a calm one. Why? Because a scared man is a desperate man. He has no plan, no clue where this is going.... he is looking for a better option than the one he is currently staring at. If he pulls that trigger, its more likely (in my opinion) to be by accident, a reflex from being startled etc.

A calm man, by contrast.... has thought this through and through. He already has a plan of where this scenario is going... the outcome is already planned and decided and therefore.... he is harder to change his mind. He has weighed the consequences and is comfortable with it. If he pulls the trigger...it was his plan all along.

So... when this man calmly explains his intentions, I believed him. There was no anger, no excitement... it was as if we were talking about the weather for the next week.

He explained to me that he had no intention of doing the deed on my property, he just was trying to find out if he was here or not and get a better idea of what he looked like etc.....

So, I calmly explained that he was a fool if he thought I was going to help him in any way. I was not going to even tell him if the boy was here or not.

Like gentlemen, we both had stated our intentions and drew our lines in the sand. We both respected each others opinions on the subject and I went inside to warn all my adult volunteers of the situation and to look outside and know what this man looked like.

Not surprising, he rode off.

The next week, he was back while I was still at my day job in Polk County. My adult volunteer called me to say he had returned (this time in a car) and Timmy was indeed inside the building. She then asked me what she should do.

Do??? Call the friggin police! Make sure ALL kids stay inside and lock the doors if he makes any attempt at coming off the parking lot.

The police were called and they came to talk to Grandpa.

From what I was told by the police officers, he told them, just as calmly as he had told me, of his intentions.

The police searched his car and found a VERY large knife, not quite a machete from my understanding.

So... the cops had a confession of intent to murder a teen AND had a weapon to boot!

So you know what THEY did right?

They gave him back the knife and told him to go home.

They THEN came back to my adult staff and made sure to tell her that this man indeed was to be considered dangerous and should be taken seriously.

........... wat?

About a month later.... when the police chief explained to me how he was putting immense pressure on the landlord to get us booted out of "Small town Friendly".... he used this event as a reaon of why we needed to go!

It wasnt like I told the old dude to come here! That this is where he could find him! I didnt invite the guy in nor did I throw out the teen to him!

HOW the hell was this MY FAULT? I protected the kid!

Shakin my head.... we roll on....

(For the record, we have been here over two years now and to my knowledge, the police chief and I are no longer at odds...and if we are, it is nowhere as apparent as it was. This story is NOT a mark against him in any way. He was getting TONS of calls against us through a coordinated attack by a business using their clients as patsies... I completely understand his point of view in regards to feeling like he had to contain what then seemed an imminent problem within his jurisdiction. This is NOT to say I agree with all that went down back then and how things were handled.... But, to my knowledge, we have proved ourselves by now.)

You better give'em up and quick Or you'll be pushing up daisies -- Lonnie Mack

The Oreo Incident of 2013

You would be amazed at how many people fail, horrendously, at "getting it" here.... the big picture, the concept.... the true reason their IS an Ultimate Basement.

I believe it was the year 2009 when the Christian Rock band P.R.O.O.F. was performing here and they had an artist come paint a huge painting of what the artist felt as the concert was happening. They later presented me with the painting in thanks for what I was doing.

During the show, they announced that they were dedicating a song to me and The Ultimate Basement. It was called "shelter".

They got it. They understood The UB. 

They realized that we were NOT a music venue. We were NOT a game center. We were NOT a "business" worried about nickels and dimes.

We had kids walking to be here while "Mom and Dad were fighting again"......We are a place where you can come and be YOU without judgement or prejudice as long as you didn't hurt anyone else and were respectful.

We are a place where you can get away from the bad things out there.

One problem with being a "shelter" that people can run to when in need....

                                               ...sometimes the bad things that are chasing you will follow you here.

Before I go on... I want to remind you how proud I am that we have never, ever in over 6 years, had so much as a fistfight within the Ultimate Basement. Ever. *Knocks on wood*

That does NOT mean violence has never come TO our doorstep or been in our parking lot.... on more than a few occasions.

So it was last year... a summer evening, no bands scheduled that night. Pretty much no one was there so we were getting ready to shut the place down and leave for the night.

When out in the doorway there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bathroom to see what was the matter.

Away to the dance floor I flew like a flash,

Buckled my trousers and zipped up my sash.

The fluorescent lighting blinked their dull glow

Giving the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes had appeared,

But a miniature person, and five others he feared.

A young man had run for his life half across town to the only place he knew was open that late that would offer help to a kid (he wasn't even a older-teen).

Chasing him was another boy about his age wielding a knife. 

Behind HIM was a sister, parents and several others. ALL of whom were trying to get through my doors into the main room. We stopped them at the doorway while they tried to explain to me (all yelling at once) the situation.

I simply yelled back at them that I frankly did not give a damn what the situation was... THIS WAS NOT HAPPENING HERE!

Police were called and Spindale's finest responded rapidly and in large force with support from surrounding areas.

It was while the police were questioning one of the boys that I heard the reason behind the assault and ensuing chase across town....

The boy with the knife had woken up from his sleep only to find that someone had eaten all his Oreo cookies.... 

I have nothing left to say......

WAR.... what is it good for? -- Edwin Starr

Most of you know by now... but I am a combat veteran of Desert Storm.

I consider myself EXTREMELY fortunate in the fact that I was never injured, never had to watch a fellow soldier get killed. In fact, I don't recall ever firing a shot...

I do, however, remember vividly LOTS of shots being fired AT me....

In fact, I once had three different countries shoot at me all at once from all different directions.

As lucky as I indeed was, that luck did NOT keep me from seeing, first hand, the horrors of war. Nor did it keep me from learning definitively whether I could take another life or not....

So much death and destruction.... bodies horribly burned, mangled or simply in pieces. Dogs eating the bodies strewn around like a buffet. The oil fires looking like an artists perception of Hell.... the sky forever blocked from sunlight by the smoke. The children scrounging for food or even a simple kindness.

If you know anything about me yet, then you know there is a reason I bring all this up.....

I started The Ultimate Basement as a means to give back.... to try to make a horrible world just a little bit better in some way.

Ask my kids, I was very much ANTI-video games and all who knew me was amazed I had started a game center.

So it was that I decorated a part of a wall with my war mementos.... since Call Of Duty was so popular.

One of my most regular/best customers was a young man roughly 12 yrs old.

He came all the time to battle it out with the enemy on Call Of Duty. This guy was serious about the game.

He had been coming there pretty steadily for a few years when one day he comes up to my counter and FINALLY notices my plaque on the wall.

He looks up at me with big eyes and says "Were you really in a real war?"

I looked back at him and said "Well yes sir, I was indeed."

He gets this excited look on his face and almost yells "Was it COOL???"

This young man had rocked me to my heels and I could barely speak out a response.... but I did.

"Hell no son! It isn't "cool" at all..... real war is nothing like Call Of Duty..... you dont get to "start over" if you get killed or hurt..... In the game, you hate when its boring and love when its exciting. But in real war, you yearn for the boring and fear the exciting. (regardless of the bravado we must keep pumping ourselves up with).

I will never forget that day, that look..... that huge, gaping flaw in society that I suddenly realized I had become a part of by having video games here......

I was helping propagate a lie... a monstrous horrendous fib.