American Storytellers: Last Days

" You may forget me, but I promise you'll always remember me." The famous last words of an ex biker, who found God and fell from grace, to chose to live the hardest life possible with no regrets.

Crazy smokes his cigarette holding it in-between two rugged fingers, telling me his story. "Rode hard hung wet" to the intro of his "crazy", life and the mistakes he made along the way. Drugs and Alcohol were more important than putting food in his son's mouth. The few things Crazy regretted. Taking a big chug of his tall boy of Keystone with a toothless grin, he reminisces back to the glory days of his youth. Crazy describes the freedom of his youth on a motorcycle , feeling the wind in his hair trying to hold on to yesterdays. Drowning in beer, synthetic weed, and alcohol to escape his reality. He has less than a year to live.

Doctors were puzzled why Crazy had holes in his lungs. He suffered years from COPD and in his last stages. Crazy said his COPD was hereditary, but was hard to tell by the cigarettes he inhaled, the bowls of synthetic weed he smoked, and the continuous stream of beer that ran through his veins. Not including mental illness Crazy seem to gravitate to, to justify his way of life. As Crazy took another hit of synthetic weed and spoke into oblivion about his checkered past.

Stoned in alcohol and illegal drugs, Crazy talks about his life as a biker in a 1% club, and how he ran meth labs for the criminal organization. I had my reservations on what was truth coming out of the mouth of a dependent con artist .Only by survival. Freewheelers MC's he spoke highly of, but no evidence stating he was ever in the Freewheeler MC's. Regardless what is true or a " Crazy" urban legend, these were last words of dying man. As many words he wanted to say ,composing his "White trash" requiem to leave behind to anyone who wanted to listen.

Crazy spoke when he found God. The trials and tribulations were more than he could handle , and ended up in a Church in East, Texas in Sillsbie. Crazy said God spoke to him while he stood in-between the pew. The preacher said something only him and god knew and no one else, and that night he gave himself to God. He cleaned his life up, and became a pastor with his own his evangelical church. Life was fell in place. He fell in love and got married. Several months later his wife became pregnant with a baby boy. Crazy's wife was a high risk pregnancy and had medical complications. The baby died inside the womb almost full term. His wife had a hard time losing the baby and blamed it Crazy for the death of their son. She left him for something he couldn't control. I can tell in his eyes a part of him died with his son. A little more of him died when his asked for a divorce. Crazy fell from grace from the alter and the cloth. He started drinking again going back to his old ways.

A pack of cigarettes on a old used breakfast table with dents and scratches, with warn condensation marks from cold beer cans, Crazy doses off in mid sentence in his chair he found on the side of the road somewhere. While he passed out in a drug induced blackout, I observed the tattoos on his body. His tattoos were related to White Supremacy. Later on I asked Crazy about his tattoos and what they represent. "Power" brotherhood amongst bikers. It was more than what was led on asking the question. Crazy believed races shouldn't mix and stay pure to your race. It's not right. Crazy got up and walked to the T.V. and stretched. He had a tattoo that covered his back that represented White Supremacy. That night I found out that every person who was in the same room while filming supported White Supremacy. The filmmaker (me) biracial hanging out with White racists, not knowing after a year hanging out.

I wrapped up the documentary and decided not to follow his life until his last breath. After I it was completed, I asked Crazy if he wanted to see the film. " No! That's for you and everyone else who don't have their shit together and end up like me". Crazy died in the Spring of 2014.