Monthly Archives: January 2018

Early teens.  My heart’s desire was to have this pair of “genuine” Beatle boots I saw in a display window.  I worked part time in a sweatshop, making bagels, for weeks.  Salted away the money, all $100.  Never said anything.  Parents thought I was gonna be an upstanding guy, banking his money for a rainy day.  Hopped on a bus one day to the city, came back with my prize.  Rolled up my Carhaart jeans so everyone could get a load of the twelve inch boots.  Disappointed parents, and peculiar looks from the populace.  Two friends thought it was cool.  They asked their folks, and were cuffed upside of the head, I think.

Mid teens.  Developed a keen interest in astronomy, abetted by older brother who worked for an aircraft company.  Heard about an observatory located far away in the countryside.  Decided I had to go there. (We were left to our own devices quite a bit).  Got a back pack all ready.  Food & water….check.  Map…..check.  Suntan lotion….check.
Wicked hunting knife….check.  Got the address from the good old white pages, and penciled an approximate location on the map.  Off I went, oblivious to the distance or how I was going to find the place if I ever got there.  Probably biked bicycled fifteen miles in the sun before I realized I still had to get back home, and also that I was a bit lost.  Never made it.  Eventually got a ride most of the way back in a pickup truck.  To this date, have never been to an observatory.

Got an itch for Jane Fonda.  Thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.  When her movie Barbarella came out, I could not believe my good fortune.  It turned out that it took a total of six buses for me to make the round trip, alone, and also required walking through about 500 yards of snowdrifts to get to the theatre.  I did it twice.  Boy, you are nuts, buddy.

Late teens.  Went to see 2001:  A Space Odyssey thirteen times, sometimes with two other people in the whole theatre.  Fewer buses, though.  Reference my interest in astronomy.

Wanted to look like a Beatle, I think, and so I paid twenty bucks to have my naturally curly shoulder length hair straightened.

Early twenties.  Got my first new car.  A 1973 Buick Century.  Ordered specially with burgundy paint and a white (yes, white) interior.  Kept phoning the dealer to see if it had been shipped yet.  Actually biked up to the shipping yard to see if I could spot it.
Finally, the day came, and I had nowhere to go.  I was so goddamned excited, but I had nowhere to go.  Woke up at 3am one morning, drove it 200 miles out the highway, bought a coke, and came back.

Got an invite to a friend’s cottage out on Rice Lake.  In the middle of the night, I decided to go.  It was about a hundred mile trip, in the winter, with the promise of an all night party.   I had driven three quarters of the way, when I stopped for a pee.  Left the motor running because it was freezing cold.  Locked myself out.  I was nearly on the point of smashing a window with a rock, when a Police cruiser pulled up behind me.  They had a laugh when they found out my predicament. Took me to their station, and we came back with a lock picker.  Finally got to the town, called Gore’s Landing.  Again, a little uncertain as to the road signs.  Came to a stop sign at the top of a hill.  It was snowing and blowing.  I proceeded to drive down the hill, then got stuck in a deep snowdrift on the flat.  I got out to fetch my shovel when I began to hear cracking noises.  I had driven onto the lake.  Ever see someone shoveling like a mad sonofabitch?  I did get some help from a gas station guy, eventually got back onto the road, and drove to the area where the cottage was supposed to be.  Either they had given me the wrong number, or I had written it down wrong.  It was about 2 am by this time, everything was covered with snow,  and I was not about to go banging on doors to find out which was the correct one.

After all of these escapades, I believe I finally started to buckle down and become serious about life.  Serious must be a drag, because I’m sitting here tapping away at 67, and looking back on these times as the halcyon days of my life.

if I were to start anew
as a young innocent
placed in primordial forest

what would I think of the stars?

something that appeared when the darkness came
something constant
deserving of worship

would I imagine that their beauteous brightness
held sway
by collecting the day
to store it away
in a panoply of points perfect?

this artless array
in its collection countless
with effusive emission
each morn would bring back to us
the light heavenly
alchemized with subtle change

or, would I simply think
that each black night
was a shroud enormous
cloaking the sky
but pockmarked with a billion tiny holes
through which I could see the day peeping
awaiting its dissolution?

It’s said
the road to Hell
is paved with good intentions.
I have wondered
about the path to madness.
Do they converge?

I sense, before sleep, in moments extended,
and just after waking, as well,
discreet conversations, both daft and demented,
disturbingly clear as a bell.

Inside the pink eyelids, the movies are playing,
just after the chatting is done.
The cunning creations are sometimes dismaying.
These slideshow dissolves, one by one.

Perhaps the withdrawal from drugs of my shame,
or the onset of early senility,
or a devious malady could be to blame
for the loss of a keen sensibility.

So I pray, as I battle, and inside I hide,
as I make a deep tunnel through snow,
digging for daylight and dearness denied.
(May I see, once again, ‘fore I go)

Before you call me an old lecher, this particular dream had no sexual content or feeling. It was more spiritual in nature.

It took place at a factory with which I was very familiar, having worked there for thirteen years. I ran the store room for engineering parts. It was a secured room, connected directly to the maintenance shop by a split doorway. Part of my job was to deliver parts to them, so I was a frequent visitor.

I noticed a young woman there, who was sweeping the floor and chatting with some of the mechanics. It was unusual because I had never seen a woman in there before. She gave me a sidelong glance as I was setting out parts and picking up broken ones etc. I just smiled, and continued what I was doing. I asked one of the mechanics who she was, and he said “That’s Jeannie. She just started yesterday”. (I kid you not).

While she was talking and sweeping, she kept looking in my direction. I became a little uncomfortable, and began finishing up my stuff so as to go back into the store room. I will say here that when women appear in my dreams, they are frequently composites of many that I have known, and Jeannie certainly was this.

I had gone in and closed my door, leaving the top half open, when I heard the buzzer go for the maintenance guys’ coffee break. They all left. Jeannie remained, and walked towards my doorway. I felt, in this dream state, that she moved with almost inhuman grace, if I may describe it thusly. She did not smile, but kept eye contact with me as she got to the door. She then placed her hands on the ledge, standing upright and not leaning. We were two feet apart. I decided it would be best to be businesslike, and so I asked what I could do for her. She said nothing, but gave her head an inquiring tilt to the side, keeping her eyes on me. I had the thought that it was as if Galadriel were silently questioning Boromir. I was completely tongue tied. At last, she leaned slightly forward, kissed me on the cheek, and walked away.

It was at this point that I woke up, went to the bathroom, and visited the kitchen for a drink. I am not one who falls back asleep very quickly after awakening, and so it must have been ten minutes at least before this happened.

For the first time in my memory, the same dream resumed. I was somehow informed by the dream that Jeannie had been promoted to a managerial position, and now had her own office. I had to go there to turn in some paperwork, when I noticed that she was talking to two or three men, with the door closed. She saw me waiting outside, and seemed to dismiss them, beckoning me to come in and sit.

The last thing that happened, before I lost the dream to transition, was that she came and sat down beside me. She picked up my hand with both of hers, and smiled with her eyes.

Thanks for a good opportunity for extra blogging exposure!