Guns, rage and the Fourth of July

I can look back on a lot of events that happened between Gary and me and laugh.

Keeping one's sanity forces that.

Time has a way of easing the pain and the fear and with that time comes a sense of humor.

Some things though are never funny, even after 30 years.

I had been married to Matt for a year at this point, and after a long day, I was trying to relax in the bathtub when Matt came in, newspaper in hand. He had the strangest look on his face. I thought someone had died.

It seems that Gary had made the news.

He then proceeded to tell me that Gary had been arrested for terrorist threats, weapons possession, and more in a very dramatic stand off on the beach Fourth of July weekend.

I knew that Gary had serious issues, but never in my wildest dreams did it occur to me that he could do anything like this. Looking back, we all should have realized it, especially me. With all the guns, knives, and violence that went on in my own home, why on earth would it stop there?

Maybe he never did it outside of the home because he got it out of his system with us. Who knows? I know I don’t, and since I am confident that our paths will never again cross, we will never know what was going through his head that day.

What could have possessed him to decide that that would be the day he would become Rambo?

What could have motivated him to load a .30 Saginaw US Carbine, put a dagger in his pocket and proceed up the block to the beach? Can you possibly imagine what must have gone through the minds of his neighbors when they glanced out their window as he marched down to the beach, armed and ready for war.

Could the backfiring of a car have caused him to turn and shoot, possibly a mother walking her child? What would have happened if a father, with his children playing in their yard, came out and confronted him?

Thank God that didn’t happen and no one was seriously hurt, but the stage was set for what could have been a very deadly day in the history of Point Pleasant Beach.
Things like this just don’t happen in our town. I don’t think there have ever been a murder here, let alone a standoff on the beach.

The scene must have been surreal for the dozen or so people that ran off the beach when they saw him approach that afternoon, gun in hand. I shudder to think of the panic and fear that they must have felt. Would today be the day that I am going to die, just because I wanted to go to the beach? Do you run, walk, freeze where you are standing?

What do you do in that situation?

These people ran, and for whatever reason, they were obviously not the intended target that day.

The police that responded to the scene were faced with a man, quite possibly under the influence of alcohol or drugs with either homicide or suicide on his mind. What other conclusion could you come up with when you are faced with an armed individual who had no intention of robbing anyone?

In his mind, I would assume, he wanted someone dead.

What kind of training is required to handle such a situation? I realize that crime happens in small towns, it is everywhere. But to think that you would be faced with a situation such as this in our little seashore town, might not have really occurred to any of the officers that responded.

When the first officer arrived on the beach and saw Gary sitting very calmly under the lifeguard stand, weapon in hand, I would imagine that a mixture of fear, tension and anxiety must have flowed through him all at the same time.

One policeman already on the beach, more coming from the other side with Gary in the middle, it must have looked like a scene from Hill Street Blues.

He was ordered to lay his weapon down; he refused, stood and faced the officers. Drawing his gun to waist height, he pointed it at the first officer who had arrived at the scene. Told again to drop his weapon, guns drawn by all and he still refused. He told the officers that he couldn’t and wouldn’t drop the gun.

With that he proceeded to walk towards the ocean, all the while walking in a slow circle to insure that he would have a clear shot at at least one of the officers at any given moment.

The tension at that moment must have been incredible.

It took a split second decision by one of the police officers when Gary’s back was turned to him to holster his weapon and charge him, tackle him into the surf in an attempt to disarm him. The gun flew out of Gary’s hands and landed under him as he and the officer wrestled, the other officers rushing to assist.

For the officers, it must have seemed like eternity, but in actuality, it was only a matter of minutes. When it was all over and done with, no one was hurt and Gary was in jail. Still as arrogant as ever, threatening the officers that he should have finished them off when he had the chance, and screaming that they should go into his cell one at a time so he could finish what he started.

That incident still haunts my mind from time to time.

What if he had come to our home instead of the beach? Would we be alive, would he have killed me and Matt and taken Shayne and Brittany? Thoughts like that need to put away and kept away.

That didn't happen so I can't dwell on it; although I did for some time after that.

I sometimes wonder if Gary really knew the magnitude of what he was doing. Not that he was incompetent, but he could take roll playing to the extreme. Was this just another act of role playing gone too far? Was it suicide by cop? Did he want to die in a very dramatic way? Maybe he really did want to harm those police officers. If that was the case, I think he was very lucky to walk off that beach, and not get carried off in a body bag.

It also have to selfishly wonder, if this had turned out with a fatal ending for anyone that was involved, what affect that would have had on my children in the years to come?

Thank God it didn’t.

A short time later, I was at the salon of my friend Lisa when her sister-in-law told me that she had heard that Gary had been screaming while being taken into custody that his wife had stolen his children from him and that’s why he was on a death wish.

I left the beauty parlor in tears, convinced it had been my fault.

That comment bothered me for years.

Was I responsible for this man’s rage against the world? Had I somehow unhinged him even more when I took my children away from him? Was this on my shoulders?

I finally realized that it was not my fault. Gary had made his choices and was responsible for them; all of them.

For his day at the beach that fourth of July, he served two years in our Ocean County Jail.

A rumor that I had heard, but can’t confirm is that he and a female guard fell in love during his time in confinement.

As the story was told to me, when Gary was released from jail, his lady-friend guard left her family and her job to travel to Florida with her new love.

Once there, I was told that she was killed after stepping off the sidewalk and being struck by a truck.

If this is true, it’s horrific for all involved. I find no pleasure in his misfortune or her tragic end.

It is moments like this that force me to ponder the existence of Karma; and if it does and that story is true, was the wrong person killed that day?

Another wedding

Planning for wedding number two was about to commence. Matt proposed to me about three and a half years after we started dating. It made sense. I had to finalize my divorce. I also had two children.

Matt loved my kids, and me, but it was big step for both of us. He had never been married and wanted to make sure if he did marry me, it was for keeps. There were two children involved, not just us. As for me, the thought of getting married again and having it end up in divorce was more than I could stand.

So, one night while Matt and I were at out to dinner at a restaurant that I had grown up going to, Matt proposed. Ring in hand he asked me to marry him just before dessert was served.

My parents were so happy for my children and me. It was a dream that they had had for a long time. That their daughter and her children would find someone who would love them and take care of them; and not be a psycho.

Well, maybe the psycho was the main criteria, but hell, who cares, I was getting married and we were all happy.

So, the decision was made, we would be married after a year and a half engagement.

Can you guess who wanted to walk me down the aisle? And it wasn’t my dad.

Yup, it was Gary. He thought that it would be great to show people how we overcame our differences.

Jesus Christ, can you imagine? If I had agreed to that, I don’t think that anyone from my family would have attended the wedding, let alone me.

Needless to say, Gary did not walk me down the aisle. My very proud father did. I am also happy to announce that when I got to the church with my dad, I did not cry, blubber or sob in any way, shape or form.

I was actually confident that this was the right decision.

When the Reverend came to welcome me into the church and to see how I was doing, I did ask him if Matt had gotten there yet. Deep down I was so afraid that he wasn’t going to show up.

It was a foolish fear; he had gotten to the church with his Best Man over an hour early and had a glass of wine with the Reverend in the waiting area. We were both very nervous, but confident in our decision to get married.

It was a beautiful ceremony, with Shayne and Brittany in the wedding party.

Matt and I were so nervous it was ridiculous. Standing at the altar; our knees were shaking so badly, I was not sure who was going to fall down first, Matt or I.

Leave it to Brittany to break the ice.

There we were, all standing so regal at the altar, solemn and reflecting on our love; you could have heard a pin drop.

Out of the silence you could hear an angelic voice saying, “Mom, what is that you have on the heel of your shoe?” It was Brittany, and on my beautiful new shoes was a piece of fuzz from the carpet protruding from my spiked heel.

It was priceless. You could not have scripted that. Everyone laughed, the ice was broken, and the ceremony continued.

Out of the mouths of babes.

The reception was perfect. Matt paid for the entire affair, as my dad had paid for my first marriage. Come to think of it, we all paid dearly for that first wedding.

With Matt paying and planning the entire wedding without any input from me is something that bothers me now, years later. This is something that I would look back on and realize now, that I was still living without a voice or mind of my own if you will.

It never occurred to me to ask to be part of the wedding planning or preparations. Matt was paying for it so he decided everything. I never once disagreed or thought that I should or could have a say in any part of the planning.

But the reception was perfect and a good time was had by all.

After the reception we stopped off at another function where Matt’s bowling banquet was being held. His team had placed, so we went to collect his winnings to take on our honeymoon with us. We made our appearance at his parent’s house for the after wedding party, and then at my parent’s; and to kiss my children goodbye. They would not be coming with us on our honeymoon.

Then it was off to St. Martin for five days. It was so relaxing, and if it weren’t for the near sun poisoning that I got the second day, it would have been perfect. I didn’t want to believe anyone when they told me the sun was hotter there than it was in New Jersey. I always seem to learn the hard way.

I got so burned that I sent Matt off to the casino the second night there, hopefully to win us our future fortune, because I simply could not walk. My ears literally burned and peeled. That had never happened to me before, and never since. I looked ridiculous, but by the third day I was better; my skin was growing back at an alarming rate and I could actually walk.

We had such a good time, but I missed the kids more than I had anticipated, so much so that the one night when we called to talk to them, I cried so hard that Matt had to take the phone from me, I just couldn’t get my breath long enough to speak.

Our honeymoon was dull though, compared to my first one that is. I didn’t get strip searched or anything on this trip. No horror museums or ice storms for us. Just intimate dinners, days lying on the sun drenched beaches and time alone.

I even had sex with my husband, often, so that’s a step in the right direction; isn’t it?

Now, that’s a novel idea, isn’t it?

The ice has finally melted

As if I didn’t’ have enough on my plate being a single parent and in a new relationship, the thought of being intimate with a man was beyond frightening to me. I was a young woman and figured I’d be celibate the rest of my life.


As you might remember, when I left my first husband I was as frigid as you can get, and my fear radiated from my body like a beacon.

It isn't the easiest thing to talk about with a new propective lover. "Hello, I want to be with you but, well, I'm as frigid as an polar bear's balls on an iceberg."

I don't think so.

Thankfully, Matt was the perfect gentlemen. He knew not to rush me into something that I really wasn’t ready for. The thought of having sex with someone, even Matt scared me to a point where even if I did consent to it, I was sure that he would be so disappointed with my performance that he would just get out of the bed, laugh and leave.

I am not saying that we didn’t get physical; we got pretty hot and heavy in his car. Jesus Lord, I was a grown woman with two children and I was making out in my boyfriend’s car. We were acting like a bunch of high school lovers. Oh wait, lovers go all the way, we did not. If Matt minded or felt unsatisfied in any way, he never let on, which I thought was pretty special.

It didn’t help the fact that I had never really enjoyed sex like I later found out that you should. My introduction to sex had been way too early and the sex after that was more out of fear or just going through the motions, without any of the passion or closeness that I believe I must have needed to have satisfying sex.

One evening after about three months of being together, we were in the car driving around and, for whatever reason, it hit us both at the same time. Call it pent up sexual frustrations if you like, but we looked at each other and decided without speaking that we needed to have sex and we needed it now. It was so comical. Matt pulled up to the beach and we started to get all touchy/feely and as great as it was, we were like animals. We were like sharks in a feeding frenzy. It was hysterical; like we were going to die if we didn’t “get it”.

Matt decided that the car was not the place for us to consummate our relationship so off we go, all sweaty, trying to find a hotel room. Alas, it was not in the cards to happen that night, no one had any rooms available. So we did the next best thing. We planned for the following Saturday night to be the night that we would bring our relationship to the next level.

Our plan was to go to the Barber Shop for some drinks, relax and unwind before our big evening. Although it was something that I really wanted, I was still scared to death that I was going to suck at it. Figuratively that is. .

It was that night that Matt gave me my first shot of Sambuca. The entire time we were there all that was on our minds was that we were going to finally be together. It’s funny, I make it sound like we had been together for years and never had the chance to be intimate. It seemed like forever to me. I had not had sex for quite a while, and before that the sex that I had was more like the House of Horrors.

Matt had been in a serious relationship with a girl after high school, but that didn’t work out, and that had been a very painful time for him. He dated, but Matt was not one to jump into bed with a woman on the first date. It was just not something that he thought was the thing to do. What a gentleman.

Anyway, I had not realized that Matt had already gotten us a room. It was a hotel right down the street from the bar; convenient location don’t you think? We said our good buys and left our friends and off we went to what I was hoping was not a huge mistake on my part.

I had tried to dress sexy for him. I had on my best pair of pants and silky blouse, and under that I had on a camisole. I was so afraid that he would be disappointed that I tried everything I could think of to make myself more attractive for him. I just didn’t think I had what it took to keep him if he saw me as less than what I thought he deserved; a great looking woman who was an animal in bed. God what have I gotten myself into. I had been an animal in bed alright, a dead fish.

A thought crossed my mind for a brief moment. Insist he bring me home right then and there, break it off with him and remain alone a celibate for the rest of my life. That might be easier.

Well, I decided that this is something that I not only wanted to do, but I needed to for my own sanity. I needed to know that I could be desirable to a man. We got to the hotel, Matt came and got me out of the car and together we walked, arms wrapped around each other to our room. There was a bottle of Champagne in the ice bucket and a six pack of beer in the sink filled with ice.

Does my man know me or what?

When you are in a hotel room, knowing that you are there for sex, and you aren’t a hooker, it’s a bit awkward as to what to do first. I wanted him so badly, but didn’t want to appear to over anxious or like a slut, and at the same time I thought I was going to throw up because I was so nervous. That would have been lovely; nice way to set the mood, don’t’ you think.

Matt was perfect. He knew how anxious I was so he was careful not to go too fast or to seem too pushy. Ladies, this is what the first time should be like for everyone. He took control of the evening and with great patience and passion showed me what it was like to be with a man who loved me and who actually cared about what I wanted. It was wonderful.

And guess what, I was not frigid any longer. Our roll in the sheets lasted for over three hours. Oh my God, what have I been missing out on for so many years? Having sex with a man that you wanted to be with was so much more than just having sex with someone that said you should or with a man that you were afraid of. Who knew? Just because it takes me ten times longer to figure things out doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t have much common sense, does it? Sure it does.

Well, as we were lying in bed, holding each other and both of us amazed at the passion that we just shared together, I had to go to the bathroom. Now, you have to understand, we had just spend three amazing hours romping around the sheets, being very uninhibited. So when I got up to use the facilities, Matt was a bit surprised when I pulled the comforter completely off the bed and wrapped it around myself before I would walk across the room to the bathroom. He propped himself up on the bed and with a look of amazement on his face, asked me what I was doing. I’m like; “I’m going to the bathroom.”

I had no idea what he meant. He said, “Nancy, we have just seen every inch of each other, why the comforter?” Was he kidding me? I was not about to walk across the room with no clothes on. That was just taking it too far. He had seen me naked lying down, but not standing up. That would take another few years before I graduated to that level of intimacy.

Shit, don’t rush me.

After an evening like that, considering what my sex life had been before that, it was hard not to walk around with the goofiest smile on my face. It is amazing what good sex can do for a woman’s self confidence. Matt was the first man who gave a shit about my needs.

Being in a healthy, intimate relationship was something new for me and I was loving every minute of it.

Matt and I would date for three years before he proposed.

Jealousy at its finest my friends

Living at home safe and sound with my parents, in a healthy relationship and graduating from business school; I was finally on my way.

I'm not saying that living with one's parents and children is without drama, but we managed it and handled it as best we could.

My mom and dad had a way of putting me quietly in my place when it was needed.

Shayne, being the oldest and the one that remembered things, felt as safe as could be expected. He knew that nothing could hurt him in that house. We all slept much sounder knowing that my dad was there to protect us.

Matt and I were doing well; we had issues like all couples do, but we were both so hungry for a partner to love us, we persevered and forged ahead.

Matt’s history with dating wasn’t anything like mine was with Gary, but he had his share of heartache. His high school sweetheart, who I believe he would have proposed to in the years after school, was a cheater.

As she was professing her love for Matt, she was sharing her wares with others.
So, we dealt with our problems as well as we could; both carrying more baggage than we were ready to admit that we had.

Our life down the road would have been so much smoother if we had had the courage or maturity to see it then.

Monday morning quarter backing at its finest.

Having graduated from Taylor Business Institute, I was very busy searching for my dream job that would take me out of my parent’s home and into one of my own. This job search would bring out a side of Matt that I had not seen before. The word to describe this side would be controlling.

You see, in Matt’s family he had little to no say in anything. He worked for his dad’s company which was run by his mother and father. They rode to work together, worked together, at lunch together and then drove home together. Oh, and they lived together.

It’s a funny thing; denial and immaturity have a way of shielding you from what is right in front of you.

In our case, I was beaten down and worn out with no self confidence and Matt was suppressed and strangled and needed an out; he also hid the fact that he had no self confidence either.

What a pair.

But, our relationship did seem to work for us. We were both very happy with each other and for the lack of a better description; starry eyed.

So, as I proceeded to look for a job. Matt suggested that I apply at Amerada Hess in Woodbridge. I was scared but excited all at the same time. This was a big company, and it was over THE BRIDGE.

Over the bridge was, for me, the city. It scared me to death, but Matt was persistent, so I applied for a position there.

Can you believe it; I got a job as a Staff Assistant, and at the salary I was looking for. The low end, but in the range none the less.

This job for me was a blessing a curse all wrapped up into one. I learned a lot there; meet great friends and it gave me the background to move on and upward in the secretarial field.

But, and there is always a but isn’t there; it was a hour away from home, and that was in the winter. Summer was a different story entirely. I had to leave early and I returned home late.

Late for a mother of two young children that is. Looking back, I had no business working so far from home. I could have found a job, equal in pay, closer to home. Hind sight.

Matt thought it was a good idea to work there so that’s what I did.
Unfortunately, because Matt was lacking in the self confidence department also, and I coming from a marriage that fed on draining me of mine, jealousy was sure to creep in somewhere.

Jealousy is never a good thing. When it comes on the heals of a marriage that reeked of infidelity it is almost inevitable that the spouse that didn’t cheat is going to have lasting results in the trust department when it came to dating and future relationships.

It’s funny, I trust the entire world and believe that they are telling the truth when they talk to me, but I didn’t trust Matt at all. Well, I thought I trusted Matt until my brain started to take twists and turns that I just couldn’t control.
It wasn’t that I thought he was a dog or anything, I was just so sure that he would see a woman, any woman really, who looked better than me and he would want her. And according to me, all women looked better than me. It was inevitable; he was going to cheat, sooner or later.

This is also where the confidence angle comes in. I just didn’t have any. So when Matt suggested that we go to Atlantic City for a day of gambling and then dinner, I was so excited. It didn’t take longer after we got there for me to realize, in my mind of course, that we were only there so he could ogle the cocktail waitresses, and possibly get lucky with one of them.

Where this little sex scenario with the voluptuous waitress would take place, I had no idea. All I know is that is what was on Matt’s mind.

It didn’t have anything to do with spending a fun day with me or playing blackjack, which he loved. It was all about the cocktail waitresses in skimpy outfits; nothing more and nothing less. He wanted those women and I was just there until he got one. Nothing that he could say to me would convince me otherwise. I sulked the entire day, with intermittent tears and periods of complete silence.

And it’s funny, when I met Gary, he absolutely worshipped me. I could do no wrong and there was not another woman on the planet that he wanted to be with. Wow, I can really charm, them can’t I? They go from worshipping me to almost killing me. I must be doing something wrong.

Poor Matt had to bear the brunt of this jealousy for many years; although Matt had his moments of jealous temper tantrums as well. When I got the job at Hess, that he wanted me to get, he was sure I would leave him for one of the gasoline salesmen that I worked with; like I said before, what a pair.

We had something that most people just dream of and we came damn close to ruining it many times over.

I still get jealous, but it is very rare, and it is the natural kind. You know, the twinge in your stomach, your face getting flushed, simple things like that. Not a crying jag that lasts for hours, or days for that matter because you are sure that your man wanted the good looking check –out girl at the grocery store who just happened to smile at him, or Natalie Wood. Yup, Matt mentioned to me once that he thought she was attractive and I didn’t let that go for about five years, even after the poor woman had died.

I was so possessed back then. I do not know how Matt put up with it. He was very understanding and he knew the history I had with Gary. That doesn’t change the fact that he had to endure very intense outbursts because of my insecurities.
Perfect example. Matt was the member of a volunteer organization at one time during our early years of marriage.

Every Christmas they would have a party for the all-male members. At this party, because no party is complete without them, were strippers who not only undressed down to nothing, but they would perform different acts on each other, and any member that felt the need to prove his manhood by fornicating with the entertainment.

What a gift to bring back to your wife. Merry Christmas dear, I just gave you the clap.

Now, I realize that Matt never touched these women. He was one of a handful of men who actually respected their wives and their marriage and chose to watch but not touch. While this small band of trusted husbands were being teased for being pussies, my beloved gave it right back by letting them know that there were some men who actually believed in the sanctity of marriage and if they didn’t like it too bad.

Well, the day after the first such Christmas party that Matt went to, he told me there were girls there but did not tell me that they got naked and had lots of sex with anyone that wanted it, in front of the other members no less.

This was to spare the both of us a very unpleasant day. So when our friend came over, a member also, and went on about how gross the girls were and the guys that partook in the orgy, I just lost it.

Matt’s face went from gray to white to blue all in about one minute. Our friend left and I went off. It didn’t matter that these girls were disgusting; I knew even though he didn’t touch them, that he wanted them. I told him that the next time we had sex I was sure he would be fantasizing about one of the dancers, and not thinking about me.

As I sit here writing this I had a thought for the first time. I can guarantee you that if that had been a party that I had been to with all women, and men had preformed for us with the option of us participating in sex with them, he would have been just as upset and outraged as I was.

The bottom line is that it would have been just as wrong for me as I thought it was for him. God it takes me along time to come to certain conclusions.

I could not shake that feeling. And to make matters worse, for me anyway, the party that these men had the following day for the children was in the same room as their party had been. How gross is that.

I guess some people have no conscience.

Then there was the time that Matt took me to see where he did a lot of his work at the Engineering Company. It was your typical warehouse/office building. I was very excited to see where my man worked on some of the large pieces of equipment that his company painted. I just love that he-man stuff.

Upon walking into the office, you are immediately hit with the smell of paint and oil. This was a very manly place. No frills here. The few offices were small, basic and functional. The back, where the actual work was preformed was large and impressive.

Leave it to me though to only notice that on most of the walls were pinups of women in various stages of un-dress. Now, what do you think I did? I cried. I was beyond upset. So, this is why he came here day after day. Surely not to work; nope it was to look at those pictures and fantasize about being with them and not me.
What finally caused me to stop being such an idiot you ask? I’ll tell you.

Matt finally had a sit down with me and asked me point blank, “Do you trust me?” Of course I did, how could he ask me such a foolish question. I kid you not. I thought I did trust him. It was the allure and sex appeal of every other woman on earth that I didn’t trust. It certainly wasn’t him. Or so I thought.

You know what, I did trust him, it was my insecurity in myself that I was not good enough for anyone that I didn’t trust. I had never looked at it that way before. I had been hurting him for so long with these fits of jealousy, and never realized that I was basically telling him he was a no-good womanizer.

I felt horrible. How could I not have seen? This is a question that I have asked myself far too many times during my life, don’t you think? The problem was, I didn’t think, not clearly anyway.

It just didn’t occur to me that I could keep a man happy; intellectually, sexually, or for that matter, any reason. So I put all this bullshit onto Matt’s shoulders, making him defend himself for years for things he hadn’t done just because I was afraid.

I was doing what I swore I would never do. I was taking all my fears that I got from my marriage from Gary and I was putting them on Matt.

I was so ashamed and embarrassed. It took hurting Matt for me to realize that it had to stop. I had to find a way to channel all that fear. It wasn’t easy because I wasn’t just afraid that he would cheat on me physically, I had a horrible fear of him mentally cheating on me as well.

Now, that is just insane. You can’t, and shouldn’t, dictate a person’s thoughts or what they fantasize about. Jesus, talk about Big Brother. It is just insane to assume you could even try. I had to somehow find my inner strength and confidence if this cycle was going to stop. Otherwise, my second marriage would be over and I would have only myself to blame.

It took a long while of biting my tongue and forcing myself not to cry, rant and rage, but eventually I started to have more confidence in myself and trust in Matt’s love for me; or better yet, his respect for me and the meaning of marriage.

I had been such a fool. I wonder sometimes where my brain goes. I think it just vacations for a while and doesn’t tell me it’s gone. Then it comes back and things seem clearer to me.

I'm telling you, damaged brain cells is the only answer.