The old school.

Long,  long ago,  I had a breath-taking affair,  that went quite unrequited.  This affair was my secret dalliance,  her name was Sarah,I pined for Sarah and occasionally,  she would sweetly,  smile or hugged me.  That was tantamount to, an intimate moment.   Accordingly I often fantasized about her.  She was friendly,  as I said,  and I lost my faux virginity, in a blaze of glory.

Then,  Eureka, we had a date.    I was so passive-aggressive, so shy,   but she,   in  her days of in a one-sided relationship, constantly hurt, waiting for him to call.   I had a song to always remind me,  of her.   “Day after day.”  I was, lonely  but hopeful.  So it was not only me  but her as well.   I was the better guy,  at least, to me.

I know that sounds,  crazy, but that is the way it was.  So, I started seeing others surrogates for a time.  These nice girls were surrogate lovers.   I finally found another a girl,  in fact,  she was more than that,   she became my first hard copy girlfriend. She was beautiful with long black hair, cascading down to her lower back.   She was an heir to my affections.  We cuddled,  held hands and went to the Senior Prom.   She and I remained constant, but my going into the service,  was just too much.   It was hard, but life goes on.

My virginity was willfully taken by a young woman,  about my age.  One evening,  I am going home,  and I had an epiphany,   She wants more than someone to watch  T.V. with.  I was happy and nervous, at the same time.   I was 24,  going on 25.  She was sitting in my lap,  those,  ministrations,  wooed me.  Her eyes holding me prisoner and that was it.   My aut0-erotica partly banished.    Like Steve Martin,  I had my purpose!!!   lol,

She upset me,  as we were driving back towards the base. She was complaining about something and I yelled at her. She felt guilty and so did I, eventually.   When I went back to weather school,  she was constantly calling ME and it felt rather good.  I was going through,  a delayed puberty,  with hormones holding  me at bay,  and it felt like ‘The Stockholm Syndrome.’  Who was I to complain?   I remember that she  and I, were bowling.   I sucked,  and she had games of 240 and 260.   I bowled a 140 game.   Some guy was watching us, and said,  “she should go pro”.  I said, “she already is.”

I did see Sarah again.  She and I went to breakfast and I said to her,  “let’s take a trip to Fayetteville, Arkansas”.    This was spontaneous and it was cool!  We had a great time!  Though short-lived,  because she had to have surgery.  I was on a roll.  She told me,  “What you need,  you have already found.”  Meaning her,  but my shyness,  cost me, something very special.   Life goes on.

Up and down, like a pregnant pause, that having more than one context. and for another time.  Now, as certain as death and Texas!  lol.  You feel me?   Anyhow, this subtext is beautiful. Back on Earth!

I always wanted to visit my old church,  but not at about 11:00 PM…  Needless, to say I did!!   Of course, the Minister had since passed away.   There are  a lot of memories in that real estate and more are to come.      As I scan across the street,  I see the old high school and I start walking slowly.   The cool air penetrates my armor as I continue on.

About half-way to the school,   I stop!   I notice a place where we used to ice skate. Unfortunately for me, I on my back with realizing,  any kind of skating is not my bailiwick.   Memories of first love was imprinted on my emotions.  The Gazebo and the ice rink still there.

Curiously,  I notice,  that the front entrance is slightly ajar.  As I approach,  there is a kind of de-Ja Vu.   My heart races, as I step inside, a war room of hormones,  full of peace and the irrevocable heat of days now irretrievably gone.     Now my life gets weirder.  A warm breeze now replaces the coldness outside.  I notice a locker,  with a lock and it is secure.    The combination lock has to be least, sixty years old!

As I notice, a combination lock and  as I twirl the dial, I hit the jackpot. The lock opens with a click and the locker door comes open.  I look below and then above.  On the upper shelves are a few books,  neatly arranged and I reach for the highest, of them.   As I open that book, the card with the names of past owners are faded but the dates still discernable.  On the back of the card are a few more names and below,  is a kind of message,  that I assume is addressed to someone.

I return the book  to it’s original place,  shut the locker and fasten the lock.   As I turn around, the door across the hall is cracked.  The old classroom door squeaks open.  A few of the original desks are decorated with love notes, etched into the wood.  As I look around,  I see an empty bed.  It is meticulously made,  with a white comforter, with tiny red Wolverines.

A paradox now happens.  Where it was hot, it is suddenly  very hot, with a light cooler breeze that meets my face.  I follow the draft to the bed,  where I repose and laying there,  I fall into a dream,  where a smiling face, greets me.  All of a sudden,  I feel a warm pair of lips on my own.  Not sure if this were a dream or the real thing,  I see a face.   It is much older but has a face I do not recall,  but as the light becomes lighter,  I recognize an angel, putting a hand over my mouth and whispering.  “Where have you been?   All of a sudden,   the face appears clearer and I mention her name out loud.

Many years had passed,  but it was like yesterday.  Of faces familiar and in a school I never attended,  but it all comes back.   A sea of words,  replaced by our awestruck faces;  we together and say,  “how have you been?”  She just smiles!

 

Museums or Monstaries – You got it all.. and your slipping away.

You pass an old race car lying in a ditch.   Lonely and restless it’s soulful headlights looking back at you.   You notice the grill,  and remember that face from an old Chilton’s Repair Book circa, the 1960s.

Like a mugshot in a police lineup,  eyes from Pontiacs  Oldsmobiles.   Chevys and Fords look back at you.   Like a class picture maybe or a Racer’s Reunion.  with tailpipes eager to sound without mufflers.

Recollections of pre-racing days,  girls with nice tail-fins and built for speed but never really loose.  You sit at a Drive-thru sipping Root-beer with your first love.   And when you leave,  your curtain call is a couple of quick throaty revs.  Kisses to the past as the roar of a big V-8 leaves no doubt.  Killroy was really here.

Past the old filling station where you hung out and your car dined on old leaded-gas and the cost of the brew made cruising a snap. You saw old friends with new names and the pumps now self-service.   No more Mr Clean with a squeegee and the question,  regular or unleaded?

Self-service had arrived.   What was once a fairly limited choice of refreshments usually dispensed by a rounded soda machine pouring out Pop in a cup or a can with a detachable lid.   But those glass bottles were the best.   Free of Poisonous PVCs and the fresh taste of chilled Coke bit at your throat.   Now only plastic bottles and Big Gulps full of air.  Some servicer!

A time when Kleenex were tissues and Scott came along to break up the dance.    But back to the old race.   You see,  the old couple was sizing you up too.   It was not a matter of was the car good enough but were the passenger or grateful driver allowed to enter.  That was the issue!

That old car had reckonings as well,  victory laps with a checkered flag and a proud chariot rider.  You were pretty much in constant contact with your wheels and the term sled was more like Low-Riders and we do not allow that kind of talk around here.

You were proud to have Tom or Rick,  Mike or James painted on the driver’s side,  a kind of spiritual thing like a 2 carat engagement ring.   You were in love and were lovingly paraded  You rode piggy back on either a flat bed of some kind or had a luxury suite called Featherlite or the equivalent.

Needless to say,  that you were picked that sunny day when that racing legend once again roared to life.   A moving Museum of combustible angst paraded around the fairgrounds and an old friend or two came over to see if it were really you.

Then like a Prince and his charioteer you took another lap in this thing called life and remembrance.    Cinderella’s Shoe was found in the back seat where it belonged.