How I Met Cheryl B.

July 24th, 2011 § 5 Comments

Is it stealing? I don’t know. Cheryl and I found lots of ways to justify it.

The mid 1990s. I was working the overnight shift at a copy shop. Running these bad ass machine. I was told each one of them costing more than a Cadillac. The first copiers ever connected to a computer.

It was a big change from the simplistic days when I started my copy machine operator career. Back when the machines were powered with these beautiful cogs and wheels. Analog if you will. I used to roll in to work, drunk from the night before, with my shaved, tattooed head and Harley Davidson tank top. We were all punk and visually creative. But we turned out some good work and it was the workers who built that company. Much to our own demise and as the years progressed they eliminated our profit sharing. Dismantled our health insurance. Then started charging us for it. And the last straw, and I think the worst of it, was the fucking aprons and uniforms they started dressing us up in. It was humiliating.

And I did the math. On the average day, running two mammoth machines. I was turning out over $40,000 worth of work. After taxes, each day, I was taking home $70.

My anger as a disgruntled worker grew. My pockets began to fill with glue sticks and paper clips. As my largest act of revenge, I started my own informal arts grant program. Where, if some awesome artist came through the store, and I liked their work – I would give them a grant. Of free copies.

The hardest part for me was that I really didn’t like to pry into people’s business, but in order to run my grant program – it required me to be a bit inquisitive.

And that’s how I met Cheryl. She had dropped off her job during the earlier shift. Nothing fancy looking. Her originals were a stack of sheets with words. To be copied single sided, a staple in the upper left hand corner. She had printed them on a dot-matrix printer with hyper-pixilated images. I dropped them in the auto feeder and watched them whip through the machine. And as the sheets passed by I could not help but see glorious references to lewd sex acts, self loathing, self love, New Jersey heavy metal and teen age angst. I just had to know more.

The result was me sheepishly approaching Cheryl when she came into to pick up her job and asking her if I could help publish her stuff. I didn’t know if she would be pissed that I had read it. Or if she would see my approach as the compliment I had intended it to be?

I just wanted to see her words elevated in print. And in a way I felt they deserved. You see, I too was a young writer. And a friendship formed.

I taught her about self publishing and gave her “grants.” She in turn invited me to read on stage for my very first time. I was scared to death, but she was my rock. She taught me how to perform. We went on to share the stage often. And booked and performed our very first national tour together. (Finding so much fun along the way. I will not soil her reputation with details!) But most of all – and without a doubt – we totally changed the trajectory of each other’s lives. Truly a blessing.

And I know I’m not special or alone in this. Cheryl had a gift for creating community – and inspiring people. She was humble and beautiful. And her words resonate with so much love, lust, pain and rampant honestly. As if, with her words, she pulled her heart out to see if she could find a way love it. And in doing so – allowed us a chance to fall in love with it too.

Cheryl’s partner Kelli stayed at Cheryl’s bedside fulltime, helping with her care. She could really use our love and support as well as some time to not have to worry about basic survival. Many giving just a little can really make a BIG difference towards Kelli having time to do some healing of her heart break. Donate here.

Eco World Content From Across The Internet.