Lindsey Hanks – Part III

Later stages of Preston’s addiction manifested a manic man. Wild-eyed, always on the spectrum between haven taken too much or too little, he could threaten Lindsey’s mother and beg for her forgiveness in the same sentence. It wasn’t long before Kim forced him to leave; after multiple threats and a complete lack of emotional stability. None of this Lindsey saw, but she bore witness in that emotional osmosis way that kids do.

“The kids needed a more stable home life.” Kim told me about the situation. Still, this only replaced Preston’s manic with the instability that comes from being a single-parent family. 

Contrasting a parent’s knowledge with a child’s ignorance, Lindsey’s memories are often quite the opposite. Being the only child her father sired, she was his baby. She loved his silliness. “We used to make up songs and dances of our own” she told me, “I would stand on his feet and dance with him,” the difficulty in sharing still audible in her voice.

“He’d take her to TCBY after school and get ice cream” Kim disclosed. “They’d each buy the other’s favorite Altoids to gift one another. It was such a cute little exchange, letting the other know how much they cared and that they were always thinking of each other.”

‘Mookie’ was Preston’s nickname for Lindsey. At night, with his feet peeking out from the blanket he’d say ‘Mookie, hold my toes!’ and Lindsey would hop up and hold his toes. 

I loved hearing this pure silliness recounted. These stories portrayed the kinds of goofy that can only come from daddy-daughter relationships. It made me reflect on my own daughter and the kinds of silly we get into.

As she got older, Preston would play the guitar for her. He gave her a first-class Austinite’s education of local legends like Eric Johnson and Stevie Ray Vaughan; icons like Eric Clapton and Joe Satriani. 

Shortly after Lindsey turned 12, Kim and Preston separated. Soon, Lindsey’s perception of daddy would eventually come to change, in parallel to how Preston’s addiction changed him. 

Preston became an angry man- even around Lindsey; traveling from one high to the next, unable to enjoy the journey that is life. You could call it bare survival, but it’s no form of living and shouldn’t be given credit as such. Life for an addict at this point becomes black and white: black as soon as you feel the come-down begin, white only when the line hits your nostril or the needle exhales its contents into your veins. Loved ones fade into the gray matter betwixt these oscillations. 

We who grew up watching our loved ones turn gluttonous for instant gratification know this pattern well. It slowly possesses them, bringing to heel any second thoughts of the emotional toll taken on their kids or loved ones. There are always viable excuses which allow addicts to believe the lies of their egos: “They won’t know; I can hide it; it makes me better at my job; I can’t function without it; I can’t deal with them without it.” 

In the case of parenthood, these excuses just neglect the reality of raising children; that parents are not merely providers and protectors. There are parents who provide all the security and financial stability in the world whose kids still fall victim to a lack of emotional availability and familial bonding. 

It’s easy for a child to resent a parent. It’s even easier if said parent(s) break their unsworn vow(s): to be there for us, with unconditional love; physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. It’s an oath every human must strive to live up to when they become a parent.

Despite Lindsey’s rising resentment, Preston made efforts to hold dear this time with his only child; figuratively gasping and grasping in desperate attempts to tell her he loved her, to let her know he always cared- That despite his failures as a father and as a husband she still mattered, to him most of all. Gifts, trips, broken promises, and all other attempts would fail. There comes a time when children start to recognize the faults of their parents; often hating them for said faults. 

Oscar Wilde said “Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.” Lindsey would spend the majority of her life not being able to forgive her father. 

Having lost all control, Preston careened into a void of life, paralyzed, with the dark matter at the center of that black hole ever pursuing his soul, intent on feasting. Michael Myers could only dream to be as effective as addiction is when tracking down its victims.

He became incomprehensible: Threatening Kim with a knife; Calling Lindsey in tears, begging his only child to say she still loved him; promising that it would be the last chance she got. 

“WHAT THE FUCK PRESTON, SHE HAS SCHOOL TOMORROW!” Kim ripped the phone out of Lindsey’s hand one time. It didn’t stop Lindsey from waiting until her mother was sleeping to call him back. She’d beg him not to do anything rash. It wasn’t just fear of the unknown for Lindsey. Preston’s father had committed suicide; a foreboding story often told amongst her family. Dad following in grandfather’s footsteps was her greatest fear, at 12 years of age. 

It’s quite obvious that by now Lindsey had been exposed to using drugs as a coping mechanism from her father. But to make matters worse, after the volatile separation from her husband, Kim turned to alcoholism as a coping mechanism; an addiction that stalked her since her own youth. 

It deserves to be mentioned that what became a lack of parental oversight didn’t distinguish Lindsey from her peers. Many of us had the same issue, but that isn’t finally the point. 

Many responsible parents performed necessary due-diligence and met/confirmed plans with other parents, to be sure they knew where their kids were, who they’d be with and the expected activities. Then, once in the clear, the enabling parents would promptly leave or allow parties to be held without informing the former. 

In Jr. High, we’d all walk to our friend AC’s apartment called The Mansions, where his father ‘Frankie’ allowed us to smoke weed and drink. He’d buy us alcohol since none of us could pass for 21, even with a fake ID. 

“I’d rather you do it here where you’re safe, than somewhere else!” – was something ‘Frankie’ would say; a line oft-repeated from so many parents. For ‘Frankie’, it was an excuse to be the ‘cool parent’ by living vicariously through his kid. Contrasting the truth, whenever ‘Frankie’ met parents he was a devout Catholic; a working man that made an honest living and had no shortage of conversational ability; a paragon of morality. 

One time I remember coming out of the bathroom after having puked my guts up at a party AC was throwing just to see AC’s littlest sister, no more than 5, watching the Girls Gone Wild late night commercial with her hands pulling her shirt up to mimic the women flashing the camera. I didn’t have the best moral compass back then, but even I had to change the channel to PBS before rejoining the party. ‘Frankie’ was too busy nodding off upstairs to notice what was happening. I often wonder what that kid was exposed to later in life.

Sometimes, this laissez faire attitude towards drugs ends up with far more dire consequences. Joey Sheehy was 16 when he died from a methadone overdose thanks to his friend’s mother, Suzanne Allen. Suzanne had been hosting one of these ‘cool parent’ parties in her Leander, Texas home, where she gave out methadone to the kids. She was given Methadone to wean off of her own Oxycontin addiction. 

Suzanne is serving 30 years now, but she got off easy. 

Less than a week later, Joey’s friend Meagan Allen committed suicide by gunshot in the Leander High School bathroom at 15 years of age. She wasn’t able to cope with the pain of the situation and alleged bullying from her peers. Of course, the school system denied any wrongdoing. Meagan’s father was deployed at the time, an Army 2LT. 

Like Anthony Jeselnik said, this ‘laid-back’ Austinite’s mentality is just a thematic element that disarms and masks our community’s ugly. It negates the efforts of the most well-meaning parents and renders them incapable of controlling their kids’ interactions or exposure. And it’s not just poor, ghetto children affected, to the dismay of many who would like to remain complacent. The ripple effects spread from the upper classes to the middle, military families and rich ones were impacted all the same. 

What happened to Meagan’s friends who didn’t take her texts seriously? A good friend of Joey’s told me recently he had considered suicide almost a decade later due to self-loathing hatred for letting his friend fall asleep. Other friends Garrett Brown and Zach Gietl followed in Meagan’s footsteps and also took their own lives. 

Are we supposed to believe that all of these parents are just neglectful, bad, malicious? That society is innocent? That these kids were just born bad? I refuse to believe any of this bullshit propaganda spread by the mainstream narrative. One or two might have been exceptions, but this site’s full of kids whose lives were snuffed out and no one can give a single fucking credible answer as to why. Again, those are just the ones I had close contact with. I’m getting regular messages now asking if we would add others. So what happened Austin? America? What changes did you undergo that so well fucked my generation?

When I think of what single parenthood looked like in my parents’ generation, I think of ET or Karate Kid. It may very well be naïve, but I haven’t met many of the older generations that can claim knowledge of so many tragic ends to their peers. Even when the elder generation tells us how ‘good’ we supposedly have it, it is very difficult to take seriously. I mean, their struggle was depicted in Brat Pack movies. Their struggles seem generally confined to bad school administrators or simplistic bullies. Ferris Bueller, Dazed and Confused, etc. I’m not trying to dismiss what trauma specific individuals may have had, but as a whole, I’m envious of those times. 

Instead, my generation is singing ‘All my friends are dead’ (Lil Uzi), having lived through 2 ‘once in a lifetime’ recessions, the peak and ensuing downfall of American empire, the complete dissolution of our cultural fabric and social cohesion, the internet and all of its dangerous exposures, the deadliest terrorist attack in American history (9/11), Hurricane Katrina, regular school shootings, a never-ending ‘war on terror’ responsible for murdering our siblings, our parents and the impoverished across the world, increased police shootings we’re told to fear, a consistent barrage of other domestic terror attacks, the country’s most deadly pandemic, extreme failures of our infrastructure and basic services like water and sanitation, the most vitriolic and divided political discourse in living memory amongst a slew of propaganda on the media. 2 hours after Meagan’s body was found there was a bomb threat that required the evacuation of the entire school. They sell Kevlar linings now for backpacks. In the short period of time I attended McNeil High School, they had to shut down the entire school for a bomb threat where two students allegedly brought guns and propane tanks to school with a list of people they wanted to murder. The principal censored a school newspaper article whose anonymous survey results allegedly showed 1 in 6 senior high school students had tried Heroin. Several administrators had sexual relationships with kids that got swept under the rug once discovered. Is it any wonder that teenagers are turning into nihilists in droves?

How can parents compete with society, the internet, and all of this trauma for the future of their children? Should it just be expected that a modern child will be exposed to such trauma? Are we the type of society that allows suicide and homicide to become the second and third leading causes of death for teenagers? (Spoiler Alert: Yes, we are)

These catastrophes beget waves of generational trauma that turn into tsunamis. They flood forth and drown out the potential achievements of far too many children exposed to too much. How many children will fail to reach their full potentials, but are lucky enough to be living? Well, Lindsey is one of them. She’s the only living person on this site.

It was this level of traumatic disaster that arrived to the Hanks’ family doorstep and broke in. For on November 28^th, 2004, when Lindsey was 12 years old, Lindsey’s daddy died of a drug overdose. Preston Hanks rejoined the soil, free of the pains and anguish he felt during his life. Whether or not his death was due to a suicide or an accident is not known.