Katydid

             She’s an angel in human form. I met Katy when I was 13. My family and I recently moved to Redding, leaving ranch life behind. The day after we arrived at our new home, I met Katy, Donna, and Susan, who were playing down the road outside Donna’s house. Instantly, a group of four friends was formed as they accepted me into their close-knit circle. It didn’t take long for us to name our group The Movie Stars.

            When she was four-years-old, Katy was in a tree fort being built by her father. The four sides were not yet up, however, Katy and her older brothers enjoyed playing in it. Knowing Katy was terrified of creepy-crawly bugs, her older brothers showed her a worm one day when she was quietly playing alone in the tree house. Terrified, Katy backed away from her brothers and the worm. She tumbled out from an unfinished side of the tree fort and landed flat on her back. She was knocked unconscious from the fall; her brothers ran into the house and alerted their mother.

            An ambulance arrived minutes later and Katy was raced to the hospital.  It appeared as though there was no damage to Katy's tiny body and she was released to her mother. Once they arrived home, Katy told her mother about her terribly hurting head. It was assumed this was only a minor side effect of the fall. It was then her mother gave Katy the nickname after Katydid, the insect.        

Katy and I enjoy sharing our thoughts on the world, trials, tribulations and life’s events. It’s nearly impossible to find someone with whom you can share your heart’s desires. She refrains from telling you why what you want is wrong. With Katy, I could be crying and she might say, “Yes, I hear everything you’re saying. You feel sad, hurt, betrayed and angry. What can you do to you feel better? I think a trip to Bath & Body Works is a good place to start.” Right away, I calm down; I’ve been heard and understood. She guides me to eventually finding my own answers.

            For her birthday a couple of years ago, I interviewed Katy. I wrote down what she said and titled it, “I Am Katy.” This is what she wants her loved ones to know.

            Before she is dust in the wind, Katy wants it known who she really is. She is actually not a movie star; she hopes this is not a requirement for capturing your attention. She, like you, came into this life with a mission. She is required by God to fulfill this mission as a moral, complicated, trusting, knowing, caring, understanding, positive, healthy, selfless, admirable, generous, spiritual, respectable, confident, funny, strong, perceptive, accomplished, graceful, grateful, creative, inspiring, courageous, honorable, empathetic, sympathetic, attentive and loving human being. Also, she is fashion conscious.

            When the vulnerable are at risk of danger or harassment, she is the first to take a stand on their behalf. Do not challenge her; she is an unexplainable force. Should you attempt to cloud her thinking with negativity, she will walk away. If you are in Katy’s company, she invited you. You are someone with whom she wishes to spend her time; someone she values and feels comfortable having around those she loves.

            She, too, works through the love of God, as Mother Theresa continues to do from above. Like Diana, Princess of Wales, she will show her sons the face of poverty in other children. You may think you know her; perhaps one day you will read her words.

            Listen closely, Katy’s family of friends, and honor her now before her funeral. She is not here for long; neither are you. Let it be known, she is Katy; my cherished friend.

Where did you come from, Katy, dear?

straight from heaven, blue and clear

Continuing another angelic task

for those in need you rarely ask

Questions of them; you already know

what one needs; you always glow

Your wings will be open wide

for those who need shelter inside

If we’re lucky, we’ll see you’re more

than anyone we’ve met before

We’ll treat you with tender loving care

for you are someone we would not dare

To have escape and leave our life

you’re a mother, daughter, sister, and wife

You’re my friend; you’re one of the best

I phone you when life puts me to test

You calm me down, my worries fade

I thank God you were made

You came straight from the crystal blue

paving the path for me to you.

Julie

                  Aunt Audrey’s and Uncle Ron’s prayers were answered when they adopted a two-year-old girl. Julie arrived on their doorstep, wearing a red one-piece swimsuit and clutching her beloved stuffed animal. They thought about changing her name. Eric, their six-year-old son, asked, “How would you like having your name changed? Don’t change a thing about her.”

            Julie grew up to have three children of her own with Tom, her husband. Frank, my stepfather, and Frannie, my mother, treated her as if she were their own child. Truly, she is like a sister to me. She had the biggest crush on Ross, my brother. She used to ask my mother, “Aunt Frannie, is it okay if I like Ross? We’re not blood related, so it’s fine, right?”

            When Julie was 15, she flew to the Hawaiian Islands to visit for a week. I was working toward my degree in fashion merchandising at the University of Hawaii. Shari, my roommate, and I had several gorgeous male Brazilian friends, whom Julie met. These fellows were at our high-rise apartment nearly every night, either making Brazilian spaghetti for all of us or enjoying a meal prepared by Shari, a fabulous chef.

            The week with Julie flew by like the wind. Desperate to have her stay longer, I placed a telephone call to Aunt Audrey, asking whether it was okay. She said yes and Julie’s trip was extended! The parties, concerts, dinners, beach time and fun went on another four weeks. All of us had the time of our lives; we wished it would never end.

            As Julie grew up, she learned there are times when life seems too hard. We might wonder if it’s all worth the struggle. I’ve learned it’s always worth it and when the chips are down, someone is just a phone call away. Julie and I call each other still when we need a sympathetic ear. In fact, we just hung up after a conversation. We will always find comfort in each other’s voices and wish each other the very best life has to offer. Here’s to Julie, my sisterly cousin, who was brought to us 40 years ago, just in the nick of time.

           

You came to us; you were nearly two

straight from heaven with eyes so blue

In your arms you held so tight

Mogey Bear, with all your might

Who knew you had a tiny, red

one-piece swimsuit and plans ahead?

Your name is Julie Karen indeed,

“Don’t change her name!” your brother did plead

It was late in the summer of ‘69

your foster parents said, “She’s yours, not mine”

We knew this all along, you see

you planted the wish, you knew you’d be

The one to come to Parker Avenue

to share the love, your heart anew

You grew into a loving mother

who wouldn’t trade your life for another

Your three children know of your past

united again, at long last

They’ve waited many lives, it seems

to fulfill so many unfilled dreams

To be held closely in your arms

cradled so safely from life’s harms

Audrey, your mother, is close at hand

to comfort you when life’s not grand

Ron, your father, waits by the TV

for you to watch football you see

You, his daughter, are the only one

who knows exactly what play’s been done

Together, you cheer for your mighty team

together, you share a common theme

Of one day sitting together again

on the sofa or bench chair; in the den

It doesn’t matter when, how, or where

as long as you touch first fingers and share

This road of life you’ve always known

with Eric, Mom and Daddyo you’ve shown

It’s all about love in the grand scheme of life

You’ve felt deep pain, you’ve seen such strife

You’re waiting for the day you rest

You’ve had far too many a test

Uncle Frank calls you Julie Poops

from up above, Aunt Frannie snoops

To check on you where angels tread

as the tapestry of your life is thread

Don’t give up, my sisterly cousin

we’ve had many lives, more than a dozen

You’ll be home soon enough

it’s not your time, although life’s rough

Pick up the phone when you need to hear

my voice for you, I am still near

This day of your birth, you will turn 40

I hope you believe you are still sporty

And funny and thoughtful and full of grace

you have the gentlest, kindest face

Look in the mirror, you’ll see I’m right

stop the running; please stop the fight

We’re all right here, waiting for you

to feel the wealth of warmth so true

Light a candle for your cake and blink

and in a moment you will think

You’ve been surrounded with our strong arms

it’s us, you see, your lucky charms

With those who watch you from the sky

including Ross, twinkling his eye

For he knows just what you’ve seen

felt, done and where you’ve been

He’s standing by, as he does for me

my cousin, Julie, you’ll always be.

Shari

      For an entire year, Shari and I were dust devils, causing an enjoyable stir of strong whirlwinds wherever we went. I was attending the University of Hawaii Manoa, obtaining my fashion merchandising degree. Shari was transferred to Oahu from Rochester, New York, by Rotelcom, a telecommunications company, for a one-year contract. Carol, a girlfriend’s sister, who also worked at Rotelcom, met Shari in the office the first day Shari reported to duty.

I was working in a clothing boutique in the evenings after class. Sue, Carol’s sister, worked at our second boutique. Sue and I were out several nights a week after our shifts, listening to music. It seemed as though the fun would never stop. Sue met Jeff, her eventual husband, and began staying home. I needed a new friend.

            When Carol met Shari, she said she knew of someone who was right up her alley. That night, Shari and I went to Moose McGillycuddy's, a local club, to hear a band. After consuming several Long Island iced teas, we began walking to Sue’s place to spend the night. On the way to her apartment, we encountered stumbling blocks.

At the time, I was living in my office at the University of Hawaii, to be closer to school. I was an assistant to the director of the recreation program. Although I wasn’t supposed to be living there, I left a difficult situation and had no where else to go. Sometimes, I slept at Sue’s.

Shari and I soon moved into a high rise near campus, so I could ride my bicycle back and forth to class. During our time together, we made friends with numerous awesome Brazilian men, scoured every inch of Oahu, welcomed several visitors from the mainland, danced at The Wave, (our chosen club), spent the weekend hours on our favorite beach and stopped by a friend’s place of employment to offer some mischief.

            One Friday night Keith, a friend of ours, called looking for sympathy and to let off steam about his roommate. He said his room-mate fell asleep while smoking and caught their apartment on fire. I burst into a fit of hysterical laughter and he slammed down the phone, leaving my ear ringing. The next morning on our way to the beach, after having a big breakfast at Moose’s, Shari and I stopped by Keith’s workplace to make amends.

The microphone, which was used to call employees in the back parking lot, was sitting right there on the counter. Grabbing it and pulling it toward me so Keith couldn’t reach, I blared into the mic the lyrics to the Talking Heads’ tune “Burning Down the House.” Keith’s eyes burned with rage as Shari and I made a run for the door.

One weekend, a friend of Shari’s asked to park his brand new Corvette at our place while he went to the mainland for a couple of weeks. The temptation was far too enticing to resist. We promised each other we would take it out for a spin just one night. We weren’t able to get the driver’s seat to move forward so Shari’s 5’4” frame could reach the pedals of the car. The 6’2” owner positioned the seat to accommodate his long legs. I put a pillow behind Shari’s back in an attempt to compensate for the difference. Prior to this, we had only the local bus for transportation. Now, we had the keys to a car!

Having a car was too good to believe. Despite our promise, we drove it everywhere we went. Coming home late one night after an outing at The Wave, we couldn’t be bothered with the pillow. It was after 2 in the morning and all we wanted was to get home. Shari pulled her friend’s car into our parking garage and instead of parking in our designated parking stall, Shari took the first one she saw near the elevator. Unable to reach the brakes (while driving way too fast), Shari wiped out an entire wall of aluminum mailboxes.

We had a group of musician friends who were crazy popular on Oahu at the time. Having them in our company meant wild times wherever we went. One night, we celebrated the drummer’s birthday at our place with dinner and a special cake in the shape of a breast. The band had a gig that night on the other side of the Island; however, we’d already invited a gang of other friends to our party. The musicians needed to head off to their gig while the party was in full bloom. Shari and I wanted to go with them so we left the raging party in the hands of our capable guests.

We stayed overnight on the other side of the Island. When we finally walked off the bus the next morning and near the front door of our apartment complex, we saw a couple of police cars out front. We wondered what in the heck was going on, although we didn’t care too much. The only thing on our minds was sleep.

We headed up to the 27^th floor on the elevator and then stumbled out to our apartment door. There stood four police officers with their arms folded across their chests. Accompanying them was Kathy, the manager, of the building. Shocked, we asked, “What’s going on?” Kathy yelled, with veins bulging in her neck, “The party you had last night nearly killed someone next door!” One of the officers told us we were really in the doghouse.

Kathy said someone had been throwing birthday cake, yes, the cake, champagne bottles, food and clothing off the lanai (deck) into the neighbor’s small pool while people were swimming. We told her we hadn’t been home at the time. We apologized profusely and promised it would never happen again.

She told us to look inside our apartment to see the mess for ourselves. I found the key (finally) and slowly opened the door. Within an instant, Hapa, our pet rabbit, ran into the hallway. I grabbed Hapa, saying we were just keeping him for a friend for the weekend. As I opened the door again, I stood frozen with my mouth gaping.

Our once-tidy, beautifully decorated apartment was trashed! We could not see a square inch of the plush, new cream-colored carpeting. There were dishes, bottles, clothes, food and bodies everywhere. Kathy said, “You’re evicted! Pack your belongings now!” and stormed off, with the officers in tow.

We woke everyone up and told them to leave. After that, we took a nap and then began cleaning. By the end of the night, we had our apartment back in tip-top shape. We went down to the manager’s apartment to apologize. Kathy’s husband answered the door, however, she refused to speak to us. We asked him to take a look at our efforts. We begged him to give us one more chance. He liked us for some reason and said he would talk with Kathy.

Shari’s one-year contract and our one-year lease ended. Shari returned to New York and I moved in with another girlfriend. Later, Shari married, became the mother to three children while continuing her full-time employment. It’s been more than 25 years since our escapades on Tusitala Avenue, however, I remember 1983 vividly. Everyone should have such a year; memories like these are made to last a lifetime.

We were united on Oahu in 1983

Carol knew best friends we would be

Out to Moose’s for Long Island iced tea

the dancing, the boys, the hilarity

At closing time, down the stairs we did stumble

into the bushes I did tumble

You kept blabbing into thin air

you didn’t even realize I wasn’t there!

You pulled me from the office where I lived at school

into a highrise, where the clouds did rule

It didn’t take long to make hundreds of friends

in my mind, to this day, the laughter never ends

The Brazilians we met turned our world on

the food, the parties from dusk ‘til dawn

We met real musicians; they came over to play

the police the next morning did have their say

You met a nice guy, who loaned you his car

plowing into our mailboxes; the brakes were too far

Keith managed Aloha Funway Rentals

singing to his clients; he thought we were mentals

Off to Moose’s again for eggs and rice

and breakfast Bloody Mary’s, which were quite nice

Walking to the beach to soak up the sun

the alcohol, too, oh, what fun!

We became so tan; our hair so blonde

dozens of boys thought you quite fond

Once, at The Wave, we danced to The Hat,

where Peter, the cutie, sang with Marty; oh, drat!

Chris, from England, won your heart that night

you left something behind; things didn’t feel right

When Leni truly swept you off your feet

it seemed no other man you’d meet

Riding the bus home from Ala Mo

we recounted how your boys come and go

Your work ended in a year

my life was over, this was my fear

24 years later, you’re still my sister

since knowing you, life’s been a twister

Perhaps when we’re old we’ll return

to our haunts with more than lessons to learn

Of how to stay young, carefree and wise

we’ll soak up the sun, stare at the skies

In Hawaiiana, the land of love,

aloha is spread from up above

Our lives have changed, our hearts still in place

one day, we’ll meet in the sacred space

Recounting the memories of those so rare

our treasured days with nary a care

Until we meet for our reunion trip

I’ll do my best to remain quite hip

We know each other’s secrets; GOD does, too

our souls are stronger; our hearts beat true

Who knows what lies ahead in our future years?

time will tell as we grind our gears

With this thing called life, our daily chore

would we change a thing; could we ask for more?

Than what we’ve seen, done or had

one thing’s for sure; I’m very glad

I met you, my friend, indeed

You’re with me in my hour of need

Saying the right things to soothe my heart

although it’s true, we’re miles apart,

You’re by my side every step of the way

I’m grateful to GOD, you’re here to stay.

The Love of My Life

When I was 13, my friend and I knew we’d celebrate our high school graduations spending a month on Waikiki Beach. I’d party my brains out in Hawaii as I’d been doing at home behind my parents’ backs. My mother divorced a second time that year and I took it upon myself to punish her by becoming an obstinate, fiercely head-strong, drinking, cigarette and marijuana-smoking, foul-mouthed bully. With the help of an even stronger friend down the street, at least all smoking stopped after a couple months.

 In June of 1978, I graduated high school with a straight-D grade point average and a bottle of booze buried in the dirt under my folding graduation chair. On the football field I passed the illegal beverage back and forth to my “cool friends” while the attending parents glowed with pride at our scholarly accomplishments. I was a full-fledged adult now, on my way to making a positive impact on the world. I had the world by the balls believing there was nothing I couldn’t do.

As planned the past five years, my Hawaiian Island vacation became a reality. A girlfriend and I met there for a month’s vacation. We partied as planned as the legal drinking is 18 ~ not that a State’s higher legal drinking age could stop me. We met plenty of boys, even some my mother would never allow in our home. Somehow, the photo of our unknown admirer’s best friend, and his missing teeth, is not in my photo album. I have a thing for great teeth, however, by the looks of this photo, my radar was obviously ignored.

Rhonda, Unknown Admirer, Me, 1978,

Fort DeRussy Beach, Waikiki

The following day, Rhonda and I went sight-seeing, flirted with more boys and headed back to our favorite spot at Fort DeRussy’s Army beach in Waikiki. It was there Rhonda met a man and they were talking. I left them alone so they could become acquainted with each other.

Grateful for a moment’s rest, I sat down on a low rock wall and gazed at the water’s edge. I noticed an effeminate man bothering a handsome young man who was walking out of the water with his surf board. The surfer noticed me sitting alone calmly, quietly and peacefully with my toes curled into the warm sand. He pointed at me and said to the gay man, “See that? She’s mine.” The surfer walked over, smiled with perfectly straight white teeth and said, “Hi, I’m John.” I instantly knew he was someone my mother would allow into our home and into our hearts.

Unbeknownst to John and me, at that moment our lives would forever be changed. All I needed to know about devotion, passion, security, tenderness, comfort, adoration and an indescribable longing, I would learn from him. I was 18, when we walked into each other’s arms to experience an unconditional love our hearts and souls will remember until we die.

Unfortunately, the following day Rhonda’s money was stolen and she returned to the Mainland. I spent the remaining three weeks bliss-filled with my new beau. He was a 20-year-old Army soldier who spent his days working and evenings with me. From the moment we met, only his military duties could pry us apart.

On our first date the next evening, the handsome soldier picked me up at the YWCA where I was staying. We walked around Waikiki taking in the sites, had a bite to eat and then he returned me to the YWCA. There on the hood of his car he kissed me and I said, “Finally!” We kissed into the wee morning hours until he left and reported to duty.

He arrived the next evening at the YWCA and again we kissed for half an hour while I sat on the hood of his car. We drove to the North Shore of the Island, kissing while he drove. We stopped at a store and purchased a bottle of wine, some crackers and an awful canned cheese.

We continued the drive to Lanikea, our destination, and set down a blanket at the ocean’s front. He remembers wearing Ocean Pacific shorts and a white table cloth cotton shirt. I wore powder blue jeans and a tube top. It was after all still the 70s.

We talked, laughed and drank wine with our cheese and crackers. It was a hot summer’s night therefore, he removed his Hawaiian-style shirt. The light-hearted laughter came to an end when I ran my index finger up and down the scar on his left shoulder. From there, we kissed and caressed for hours into the night.

Our innocent playfulness stopped abruptly when we looked into each other’s eyes and I asked what would become of us. My love used the title line from a Bob Seger tune, “We’ve Got Tonight.” It was then we expressed those amazing words, “I love you.” The sun came up and we drove back to town. The next couple of days we spent as much time together as possible, eating, kissing and treasuring each other. We were young virgins deeply in love by now. Sadly, however, my month-long summer vacation was over. With our hearts aching, I left my first love and returned to the Mainland.

We wrote and called each other frequently. He’d get tons of quarters for the pay phone and we’d talk for an hour. Our young love was in full bloom by this time. He made plans to visit at my parent’s home in Redding, California.

A Hughes Air West Banana Plane brought us back together on a Friday evening in September. I picked him up at the airport and we were so happy to see each other, we didn’t let go for half an hour. We drove to my parent’s home, where he met my mother, stepfather and Ross, my brother. My mother was completely at ease with him and they bonded immediately. I introduced him to several of my closest friends and together, we relived many of my childhood memories. He and Ross shared the guest house, however, my love and I joined each other after my family was asleep.

At the time, I was beginning a new job in Chico and we drove there for my training. My mother was understandably distressed about our sleeping arrangements therefore, I told her we’d stay in separate hotel rooms. Naturally, this wasn’t the case. We shared a bed and tender moments. We were awkward at first, however, maintained our innocence. We were embarrassed about being virgins, however, expressed our passion safely and tenderly. By this time, our trust reached full capacity. It was on a trip to Shasta Dam, we promised we’d wait for the perfect time to end our virginity.

Before we could blink, it was time for my love to return to Hawaii. He, Ross, my mother and stepfather were very close by the week’s end and they, too, were sad to see him leave. My knowing and trusting mother emptied the house so we could be alone. Taking my love by the hand, I led him to my bedroom where we hugged and kissed until we thought we’d burst into flames. We undressed each other and kissed and caressed for what seemed an eternity.

By now, our body’s wants, needs and desires were second nature to us. If my mother came home that afternoon unexpectedly, she would have been mortified by the noises coming from her daughter. Time, however, was out for us again. We dressed and I brought him to the airport. The Hughes Air West Banana plane took my love away from me. Watching the airplane fly away, I knew I’d never recover from his absence.

Although he was sad at our separation, he perked up when Oahu was once again in sight. We continued exchanging letters and phone calls, promising to maintain our ties. The next month, I told my family I was moving to Hawaii and left four days later. The wave of destruction this caused haunts me to this day, however, nothing in the world could keep me from my love a moment longer.

In late October after returning from surfing, a friend knocked on my soldier’s barracks door and said, "Some chick named Debbie is on the phone for you." My soldier rushed to the phone where we began talking and laughing. About 10 minutes into our conversation, I mentioned our rock wall in Waikiki where we met and his eyes lit up. I told him to meet me there.

He hopped into his car and sped down the highway finally pulling into the Fort Derussy parking lot.  He ran as fast as he could and found me sitting on our wall, a specific symbol of our great young love. He thought I looked beautiful wearing my lei. We hugged and kissed for an hour and then went for a bite to eat. We went to my hotel room and made love still with our virginity in tact. We spent hours devouring each other until the sun came up. I loved this more than words can express. Our intimate closeness was special and I instinctively knew I could trust him to protect me from harm.

Soon, I began a job and moved into an apartment with two friends. My love and I spent as much time as we could together laughing, loving and sleeping like angels. We visited our wall at every opportunity. Our romance was intense, however, it seemed we were doomed again for separation when he received word his military unit would deploy to Korea for four months. The sorrow we felt was indescribable, however, my soldier again reminded me, “We’ve Got Tonight.” I said I’d wait for his return, knowing we were bonded for life. This brought him great comfort.

On an early November morning in 1978, his first sergeant pointed at him and barked, "You, in my office now!" The sergeant looked angry and was abrupt. He threw a copy of new orders down on his desk and remarked, "If I had my way, this would not happen.”

My soldier knew then it was time for his deployment to Korea and with a sinking heart, looked at the paperwork. He glanced over the orders and then read them again. Surprisingly, instead they contained lifeguard orders for the remainder of his military time located at - our wall in Waikiki! The first sergeant sternly looked at him and said, "Soldier, pack your stuff and get out of here.” Then, his sergeant had a change of heart and said, "Go enjoy yourself, soldier!"

After thanking his sergeant, my soldier drove to my apartment still dressed in his olive drab battle uniform. He was now the Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge of the lifeguard squad. Non-commissioned officers usually obtain their position of authority by promotion through the enlisted ranks. He knocked on my door and surprised me. Picking me up, he relayed the news of his new orders at Fort DeRussy Beach Park. We hugged and kissed and I remarked how cute he looked in his Army uniform. Truly, someone was guiding our lives, making sure we remained together as hoped. We slept together every night as it was impossible being separated.

I was proud and showed him off to everyone I knew. This made him feel very special. He was my soldier and protector, who wouldn’t let harm come to me. One of the civilian lifeguards constantly remarked how we were the ultimate All-American boy and girl. 

We enjoyed each other’s company on our date nights. He was my loving guide and I willingly followed his lead. We cared for each other, shared intimacy at every opportunity and were very content. On our date nights, we’d go to a movie or dine at Mama’s, our favorite Mexican restaurant.

 Our great young love was surrounded by his guidance and my faith in his capabilities. Ours was a very positive relationship. It succeeded beautifully, as we easily understood each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Our trust in each other was high and our souls were in harmony. In intimacy we were natural with each other. He was my handsome, caring, leading man and I was his beautiful, sensitive, admiring woman. For us, it was heaven on earth.

 One evening, we went to see "The Deer Hunter.” This is a film about the impact of the Vietnam War and its effect on the brutally tortured soldiers. As we soon discovered, the main feature wasn’t as significant as the short film preceding. The short film was staged in New York City's Central Park, where a man sat on a bench, recalling a love affair he had as a young soldier while stationed in Europe. This relationship ended for reasons unknown to him. She was his true love and he never had the opportunity to tell her how grateful he was for this. The short film deeply saddened us.

That night our passion was extremely intense. I feared losing him to war and having him end up like one of the soldiers in Vietnam. We were deeply concerned about what happened to the young solider and his true love while he was stationed in Europe. We were so emotionally charged from these two films, we gave our hearts and souls to each other, vowing never to have them part - no matter what. We interrupted our sexual moments to discuss the two films in depth. We wondered how they could possibly affect our young lives. As I cried, my compassionate lover held me close and comforted me saying, “We’ve Got Tonight.”

Our young love is the greatest experience in our youth-filled years. With him as my trusted protector and me as his faithful naiveté, we were complete. Our intimate moments sealed this commitment. Although we were still virgins a year into our relationship, he vowed to prevent me from getting pregnant until the time was right. Openly and with love, we discussed having a family revolving around Spencer and Yancy, our two boys. This was the man I wanted to marry and spend the rest of my life with.

The day before my 19^th birthday, my love visited me at my apartment. When I opened the door he saw a young woman in love, no longer an adolescent girl. That afternoon he had no control over me. For the first time in our intimacy, I was in control. We undressed each other, kissed, caressed and pleasured each other. With our hands joined, I said it was time for him to take me. He was gentle, loving and tender as we gave up our virginity for one another. Our eyes maintained contact during this life-altering transformation. We were never the same for our hearts now beat as one.

Most soldiers look forward to their End Term of Service and have on-going visions of celebration. This wasn’t the case for my soldier, who soon realized he was confused and felt insecure. He knew the mandatory requirements were to meet his “ETS” day with a smile, however, the emotional aspect was a challenge. His leadership role in our relationship was strained, pulled and crushed. A year of our solid togetherness passed before we knew it. The time arrived for my soldier’s military duty to end. The moment he wished, longed, prayed and pleaded for eventually came true. After four years, his dream of freedom from the Army was finally a reality.

He sat in his lifeguard tower looking at our wall, wondering what was to become of us. I looked to him for guidance and asked about our future. He didn’t have an answer therefore, I told him there was no reason for me to stay. The direction, motivation, purpose, stability and healthy lifestyle he provided were gone. The girl who partied from 13 to 18 and then became centered from a divinely-guided relationship, lost her most precious, vital force. 

For the first time in John’s life, he felt he failed and failed miserably.  Attempting to regain his footing, he went to his first sergeant, only to learn his superior had been replaced. John asked the replacement sergeant for an extension, however, was told to grow up and be a man. He could no longer use our security phrase, "We’ve Got Tonight.”

John completed his final days at Fort DeRussy Beach Park with a fake smile and cheers from his buddies. The “ETS” parties and fine camaraderie couldn’t mask his overwhelming sense of failure to me, his true love. It was then he went to his barracks bunk and privately cried in agony.

The requirements for his military departure were drawing near. With his imminent release, I returned to my parent’s home in Redding. I’d looked to him for support, leadership and protectiveness in my young adult life, however, he didn’t know what was to become of us. This ended our relationship, devastating us both.

John called his father for advice and was told he needed to complete his obligation to me, which would serve him well. With his chin up and a smile, the civilian man with new-found freedom flew to my parent’s home in Redding.

My family welcomed him again with open arms. Ross, my younger brother, enlisted in the Air Force and looked to my former soldier for direction. My mother discussed how we could stay together through this transition in our young lives, however, I’d already enrolled in college 12 hours away. With my severe learning disabilities, it was imperative I prove I was capable and knowledgeable even without my protector. I no longer had the direction of my loving guide therefore, I’d created a back-up plan. Upon hearing this, he returned to his parents’ home in New Jersey July 4^th, 1979. John believed he’d flown out of my life forever. While there, however, he sent loving letters to me each week, always including messages to my family and our animals.

 While at his parent’s home, he gathered with his childhood buddies and enjoyed his freedom from the Army. He sent letters to me at my parent’s home indicating he no longer belonged in New Jersey and was searching for where he should begin his life as a civilian. He signed his letters, “I love you, Baby Doll.” Unbeknownst to John, I’d been seeing someone since arriving back at my parent’s home, however, hadn’t told him. After all, I thought our relationship ended.

In August, John let me know he’d begin deep-sea diving school close to my college in Southern California. He’d be there a month before I arrived and would be waiting for me. He’d begun creating a new path for us and our lives together. To punish John for ending our relationship, I refused his loving attempts at a new-found reconciliation. I’d returned to that obstinate, fiercely head-strong, partying, immature girl. John patiently waited for me to sow my wild oats while I ignorantly would reap what I was sowing.  We dated each other, however, not exclusively. I went to him when the other men left me feeling cold, empty and used. John flew to his parents’ home in New Jersey for Christmas and sent a letter letting me know his deepest, sincerest feelings, “I really miss you Babe, more and more each day. I love you more than anything. I want to marry you someday, so don’t meet anybody new, but if you do please let me know. I don’t want anyone else but you. I’m looking forward to March and seeing you, so don’t forget about me, OK? I love you, Deb. John.” Two years later, he proudly watched while I obtained my AA degree sitting with my mother, stepfather and my Grammy Lou.

After obtaining my AA degree in Southern California in 1981, I moved to the Bay Area telling John that’s now where I wanted to live and begin my fashion career. I left him to continue his deep-sea schooling. Once again, we began writing letters and in his, John expresses his deepest love and hopes we one day share a life together. He writes we’ve had so many reunions and separations, he can no longer count them all, however, says one day it will stop and we’ll finally be together again claiming, “That will be a very good day in the life of John Murray. All my love, John.” Meanwhile, I was seeing someone new ~ and again hadn’t told him.

John sent a letter saying our thoughts on the meaning of life are the same, however, the conflict is in our miles apart from each other. What I failed to communicate is I was running from him to teach punish him for ruining our future plans. What I failed to realize was the poison I’d made for John and also my mother was being poured into my mouth instead of theirs.

John let me know he’s finally leaving me for his vocation while I pursue mine. He writes, “I’m an adventurer, always looking for what pleases me and quenches my thirst for excitement, knowledge and total infatuation. I can move on the spur of the moment, some would call it flighty or instability – I call it freedom. The 9-5 jail sentence does not suit my life style or my needs. The only thing constant in my life is change. It is cruel to put a wild animal in a cage restricting his movements until he is insane. This is what so many people do to themselves. What a pity, for they do not know what they have missed. Happiness is the key to both physical and mental stability. Variety is truly the spice of life, everything in moderation. Do you know where I’m coming from? I have the world by the balls, to do what pleases me. You have so much to give. Find the right guy that will always be home, always be there, always-always. I love you very much. It hurts, but it is the truth. I’m just a rambling man, a rolling stone that gathers no moss. Good luck in your next job assignment. John.” It’s clear I’ve pushed him too far.

The following week John sent another letter responding to my question asking whether he has another woman. I know I still want him, however, not right now. I still want him to wait until I’m finished running around. He responds telling me he doesn’t want to get involved with anyone because the deep-sea diving work he does is very dangerous and time-consuming. He said it wouldn’t be fair to ask any woman to wait for him. He knows I have my work in Northern California and he wouldn’t ask me to give this up. Besides, he writes, “you wouldn’t anyway. I will always love you. John.”

He ended up moving to the Bay Area and lived near me again. For two years, we dated each other and others as well. In the spring of 1983, I left him again, this time returning to Oahu. I’d enrolled at the University of Hawaii to obtain my four-year degree. I flew to my parents’ home in Redding that Christmas where John and I reconnected there hoping a permanent reunion would take place. It appeared I’d calm down and a permanent reunion could finally take place.

After returning to Hawaii a week later, we maintained contact, however, I resumed my heavy partying and seeing other men. Truly, the cards were stacked against us because my obstinate and flighty behaviors were still firmly in tact.  I mistakenly believed John should wait until I was darn good and ready to settle down. He flew to Hawaii in early 1984 to have a heart-to-heart conversation about our future. He was finally ready to settle down to begin a family and wanted to do this with me. I told him I needed to complete my four-year education and obtain my degree. It was then he actually did fly out of my life forever.

He married a year later and began a family shortly thereafter. My learning disabilities caused me to fail several courses and my four-year degree took seven years to obtain. John married on Valentine’s Day in 1985 and I eventually graduated in May of 1987. From there, I experienced another long string of failed relationships, married in 1996, gave birth to Spencer, my son, in 1997, divorcing five years later.

John and I gave each other the time of our young lives. I gave up the security of my parent’s home and trusted him to lead us the duration of our lives, however, it lasted only a year. During that year, we bonded our hearts and souls. Our young love shaped him for the rigors of the challenges presented to him later in his married life.

When we were together he took the lead in our lives, providing his “Baby Doll” complete protection. I was calm and secure, running to him when I needed help. We communicated in a congenial manner about our life together. We laughed hysterically, loved each other deeply and grew together immeasurably. I’m a blessed woman to have had this heavenly experience.

He reconnected with me through Facebook at the end of 2012 and we soon learned I have no memory of us. With each reminisce from him, I’d say, “I don’t remember that.” I have no recollection of this era in my life. I have dissociative amnesia caused by extreme emotional trauma. The only part of us I recollect is calling him early in 1984 letting him know I wanted to see him. He said he couldn’t because he was getting married. We know learning of his impending marriage caused my dissociative amnesia. He’d waited five years for my heart to return to his and when it didn’t, he moved on.

Although I’ve re-read the letters he wrote back when, it’s as if I’m reading them for the first time. I have photos of us and he looks familiar. I remember all our friends and his family members. He’s called and I know I’ve heard this sweet and caring voice somewhere in time. I’m in contact with his mother and sister. It’s as if no time passed, especially three decades. We met at the Portland, Oregon airport during my stop-over to Spokane. Seeing him brought no memories, feelings or emotions from me. I could have either been on a blind date or meeting a friend of a friend and nothing more.

At the end of January, 2013,  I learned why I’ve lost so much in my life and understand the wave of destruction I’ve caused since John and I first parted in June of 1979. The words to me were either a message from the Universe or my mother: “Your obstinate behavior since you were 13 years old caused the damage you’ve experienced. Stop your unnecessary, selfish, hard-headed destruction before it’s too late.”  I know now the reason for my reconnection with John. He didn’t fail me when he didn’t know what would become of us. A month later he had our lives figured out and came after me when he was only 21-years-old! Instead, I tossed my hair over my shoulder, turned and walked away ~ with my new, short-lived boyfriend. The obstinate girl’s attitude in me was much stronger than John’s romantic love for me. When he’d finally had enough and walked away from me to marry another, I was devastated.

I understand why the short film we saw years ago deeply saddened us. It foretold the painful ending of our own relationship. The young soldier in the short film and his true love were torn apart and he never had the opportunity to thank her. She was his true love and he never had the opportunity to tell her how grateful he was for this. The reconnection with my former soldier love was two-fold: so he could thank me for teaching him how to love and I could acknowledge someone once loved me unconditionally.

It’s taken nearly 53 years for me to grow up and comprehend what I had. By piecing John’s past letters together and finally being ready to receive a message about my ill-mannered behavior, I’ve become whole-some. Life turned out the way it was supposed to. I’ve raised Spencer, an extra-ordinary son, who understands my special learning needs and lends a gentle helping hand. I’m preparing to unite with a man who has loving, caring, moral, ethical, capable, handsome, healthy, humorous, family-oriented, similar background, spiritual, and patient qualities.

 Truly, John and I experienced an exquisite, heart-warming, passionate, breath-taking, earth-shattering, tender and romantic life together ~ if only for a year.  Although my mind doesn’t remember him, my heart and soul feel his presence, confirming he truly was the love of my life.

John & Me, 1978, 

Honolulu, Hawaii

The Teacher of Love

      I’ve heard his name mentioned a thousand times throughout my life. He’s somewhat of an icon to many people I’ve known. How could someone, who lived just 33 years, leave such an indelible mark?

Posture straight and standing tall, he walked miles of dusty hot earth, finally reaching his destinations. Of Jewish decent, born in the spring time to a loving mother and father, he set off in his teen years to begin his calling; show others what he inherently knew in leading by example.

His steely-blue eyes, auburn-colored hair and trim stature represented hope, faith and prosperity of the heart for those who had the good fortune to embrace this man’s warmth. He needn’t meet one in person for them to envelope all he offered; one merely need open to their hearts, souls and awareness to receive the restorative benefits he spread like a ripple effect upon calm, clear, aquamarine waters.

His life, however, was short-lived as he was killed at age 33. Those outside his mind-set were deeply threatened by the fierce loyalty to his own beliefs. They were in far greater number than those who followed him. His powerfully intoxicating personality made those outside his group terrified of losing these individuals.

In the end, on a snowing winter’s night, he was put to death. As his loved ones, from far and near, gathered at the specified site on the mount, they cried in agony at what couldn’t be stopped. As his mother lay crying at his feet, his father comforted her and in his own agony, still felt the pride his heroic son embraced.

I’ve dreamed of him swimming nude in the warm waters, surrounded by tiny waterfalls. I watch as he pulls his lanky body out of the waters to lie next to his lady love and soak up the rays of the brilliant sun. I’ve dreamed of walking through a cave and discovering a drawing in the stone of him next to a similar etching of Ross, my deceased brother. In the dream, I can’t help but notice the physical resemblances of my brother to him.

As I ponder life and what he means to me, I take comfort having a friend known only to my heart, soul and consciousness. To this day, he means the world to me; the teacher of love. 

Show Me the Way

      Scrolling through Peter Frampton’s Facebook page, I noticed a posting put up by Patricia Arias Ferreira: “Peter Frampton is still alive and heading to San Francisco.” His tour was due to hit The City on Friday, revisiting his “Frampton Comes Alive” album from 35 years ago. “Friday?” I thought, “Oh, my God, that’s tomorrow!”
      Thinking back to 1976 when I was a fresh and sassy 16 year old, I remembered begging my mother to let me attend the “Frampton Comes Alive” tour four hours away. I was shocked when she gave me the look! The following summer, Peter and his band were playing in Chicago. I was visiting relatives and again pleaded to go, however, was told, “I don’t think your mother would approve, Debbie.”
      Bringing myself back to present day, I quickly sent an email to a friend and asked if he’d go with me. He replied, saying to get the best seats and he’d pay for them! Grabbing my telephone, I called Ticket Master only to learn the show was sold out. Sitting at my desk stunned, I stared out the window into a neighbor’s pasture. I thought, “I’m 51 now and Spencer is with his father and stepmother’s family for two weeks. Here I am with permission and time is on my side.”
      Just then, an email popped in from a childhood friend, asking what I was up to. I let her know I just tried getting two tickets to the Frampton show and they were sold out. She instantly responded with a notice from KFOG, San Francisco’s local radio station, about two choice seats posted. She said to call the number NOW.
      I dialed and when my call was answered, I boldly said, “My name is Debbie. I’ll take the two Frampton tickets off your hands.” The man with the tickets let me know someone called ahead and said they might want them. I said to tell that person the tickets are officially sold – to me! He cracked up and replied, “They’re yours, Debbie. I’ll meet you in front of the Warfield tomorrow night for the exchange.” A world of thanks filled my heart.
      The next evening, I drove like Mario Andretti to The City while my friend painted my fingernails. I wanted my rancher’s hands to look presentable, complete with light pink polish. Once in The City, I located a parking garage near the Warfield. Standing at my truck, my friend and I shoved the home-made veggie wraps into our mouths. Now, it was time to get the tickets!
      The owner of the tickets was in front of the Warfield, as promised. My friend gave him the money, I took the tickets and we raced in the front doors. My hand was stamped with bright blue letters, “Over 21”; I knew I’d finally made the grade and had permission to be at the Frampton concert. Soon, I would witness the live version of “Show Me the Way”, the signature track from the best-selling album of 1976, which sold over six million copies in the United States.
      Promptly at 8:00, the lights went out and the band walked on stage. My big, blue eyeballs took in all they could absorb, while my mind raced a thousand miles an hour in anticipation. I thought back to one of Peter’s Facebook postings in which he wrote, “Can't thank you all enough for all your impassioned comments about the recent shows. The last few years have been a new awakening for me. I'm having the time of my life doing what I love. It’s so great to share it with all of you.” Suddenly, I heard my late mother’s words, “Honey, make sure to continue doing what you love and remember, I’m always here for you.” At that moment, I felt a little sad.
      The present-day “FCA” tour captivated my attention while the movie of Peter’s life reeled behind the band. As a devoted animal lover, I was taken with the photo of a younger Peter sitting next to Rocky, his German Shepard. The photos of Peter as a little boy made me want to reach out and meet the child.
      The band played while my ears absorbed perfectly mixed sound. Each member had their own special abilities: the drummer’s technique was ever-present; he also allowed the kindness in his eyes to shine on. The bass player was cool and confident while the keyboard player displayed his multitude of musical talents. Peter glowed like a Christmas tree and mentioned the goose bumps running up his left arm. He was sharing with us a passion he deeply loves.
      I wondered how Peter acquired the opportunity to have the time of his life doing what he loves. Is the answer hidden in the stars? It is given to a select few? Is it about having the right product reach the right person’s hands at exactly the right time?
      All of a sudden, the audience was staring at a man from NASA in his spaceship and it was LIVE! Peter began talking to the man and an exchange ensued. I stared at my friend sitting next to me, in disbelief. He leaned over and told me it was really happening. You see, I live on a ranch in the country mountains without television, radio, newspaper or cell phone reception. My friend knew I wasn’t aware of such communication.
      The man from NASA floated back into outer space while Peter and his band went into another tune from 35 years gone past. In my mind’s eye I was 16 again, back in my childhood home. There, it was the middle of the night and while everyone slept, I was nestled in bed with my head phones on listening to “Frampton Comes Alive” full blast.
      Then, before I knew it, the FCA show was over. As my friend and I were walking out the front doors of the Warfield, my soul felt full-filled: a long-standing wish finally came true. The morning after the concert, I awoke to see the bright blue stamp still on the back of my right hand. The subtle reminder showed me what I wanted so much came to fruition, with a little help from my friends.
      I’m inspired, hopeful and encouraged by those doing what they love. Until this happens for me, I’ll continue talking to my barn cat and rescued farm animals, sharing with them the dream for a career of my own. Watching Peter come alive proved he will show me the way.