A Day in the Life of Chaos

The other day I looked at death.   Not my own thankfully but in the declining health of a dear friend.   Life constantly prepares us for death in many ways.   As we age the percentage of those we know who die increases proportionately with the years.   If you own a pet, death is a regular part of our life.   Animals unfortunately have lifespans far shorter than our own and we are always reminded of death when we lose a close four legged companion.   We all approach death differently.  Some of us turn away because it is simply too painful.  Some of us never let go.  We carry the weight of loss daily with us often perhaps hastening our own demise. Death is a heavy part of life and an unfortunate constant.  There is no life without death.   Last week I flew to Tampa to visit a man who has been a part of my life for 28 years.  He has been mentioned many times in the course of this blog.  He is one of those people who for one reason or another became a part of me.  A very odd man, he is

There is an agent in my office named Alex. He is young, approximately 29 or 30. He is about to have a child with his wife. A young little creature is expected to make his presence known in this world in a week or two. Alex is the same age I was when I went to Bolivia and had a child of my own. When I see him it reminds me of those days. Being young and trying to establish your place in the world. Becoming a father. At that time of life I had just met two close friends who I have stayed in touch with throughout my life. Both were significantly older than me. Alfredo was less, probably six years older than me. Ira was much more senior.   Our age difference was more like 24 years. By the time you hit your late 20’s and move into your 30’s you realize that age doesn’t mean so much anymore. When you are young it is everything and then its magnified. In your teens a friend more than a year or two from your age is almost inconceivable. A person more than 10 years older seems

In a previous blog I mentioned some people that have passed that helped to make me who I am as a person.  I hope this is mostly for the better and less than for the worse.  I thought I would take a moment to write a few recollections about some of the people I have known and continue to know and what they meant to me.  It is interesting I suppose that the majority of the people noted are father figures.  I think in the life of a young developing man male figures that pay them attention and give them a sense of worth are very important.  My father had a similar impact on the life of one of my friends.  With my father’s encouragement and guidance my friend made it through the university and found direction in his life.  I truly believe my father was critical in his progression.  Regretfully I am not sure I have ever held the same significance to a person in life aside from my son.  That said, often we never fully understand the role our actions play on the lives of others and few circl

La Paz, Bolivia Humans always seem to be going some where.  It can be in reality or simply in our minds.  One way or the other we all seem to be making a journey.  Many of my titles I use for my blogs are hyperbole.  This is most certainly not one of them.  The road has been profiled in numerous adventure shows symbolizing a level of obscene terror.  It is the kind of place that people in suburban America will look at, gasp and wonder why in the hell anyone would ever journey down it.  At some point during my tenure in Bolivia it was my pleasure or misfortune depending on your perspective to experience it with my father and my neurotic Jew friend Ira.  Bolivia is an odd place that often defies explanation.  Things that shouldn't be are and things that are shouldn't be.  When the Spanish first ventured into the area and encountered the remnants of the Incan and Aymara civilizations on the shores of Lake Titicaca they decided to build a city.  It would be a grand city and

Skip Garcia, JD, Ira In 1991 former president and nearly convicted criminal Richard Milhous Nixon, in response to "reefer madness," first coined the phrase "The War On Drugs." The name immediately conjures an image of a brutal land, sea and air assault against a tyrannical foe.   The battlefield was the world yet as time has progressed the often over used phrase seems to resemble the Hundred Years War as opposed to World War Two.  As part of the ongoing struggle against drugs in the late 1990's, the American Government dispatched an elite group of commandos to a remote corner of Bolivia.  Their mission was to identify and intercept elicit cargoes of chemicals essential to the clandestine production of cocaine. Two of the teams members are pictured to the right however since JD is still active I thought it best to conceal his face.  I like to think of him as the gravely voiced darkened image of an informant hidden on camera.  Unfortunately I was not pres

Patrick and Ira If ever I have had adventures in my life I must without a doubt include my friend Ira Wald as a partner in crime.  Ira and I spent four years together in Bolivia and during that time we used our investigative creativity to justify some ventures out into the far corners of the country.  There was almost no where Ira and I were not willing to go.  Both of us thirsted for new experiences and a chance to glimpse different parts of a wild land. Ira truly loved his job.  In the agency he is known as a Diversion Investigator.  Domestically this typically means they investigate corrupt doctors and pill mills yet in Bolivia his mission was different.  Ira was tasked at identifying companies that chose to use their manufacturing as a basis to buy chemicals that were later diverted into the production of cocaine.  Bolivia is a source country for cocaine production and thus obtaining needed chemicals for the conversion of coca leaves to the white powder was essential.  The i