(no subject)
Things to remember (ongoing):
How you saved my life. Literally. Between the hell of junior high and the terror of even more of the same of impending high school. All on a random night - an enforced, 'movie night', showing, The Creeping Flesh, with the lovely Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. How, at first, I assumed that you were making fun of me by talking to me, and even moreso, by asking for my phone number - as you were not only One of the Popular Kids, but pretty much THE Popular Kid, at the time, and I couldn't conceive of you jeopardizing your position by slummin' with such a pariah. How I rushed to get away from you - from that brilliant, flashing smile, from that wiry little body, bursting with energy and good will - and the shock, when you actually called me. I'd fully expected a barrage of prank phone calls, but it was you.
How NO ONE could make me laugh, like you. How NO ONE spoke my language, like you. How NO ONE saw what you saw, in me. To you, I was the cutest, the wittiest, the smartest, and the coolest..and the best artist in the history of art. I'm still agog over your encouragement and warmth, and how you believed in me.
How you taught me to drink coffee. I was amazed that a young person was allowed to drink it, as we were not, in our family. How you put ice in it, and mixed it so carefully - I *still* drink it that way, to this day.
Spaghetti-I-O-E; at last, I know the secret ingredient. Lebanon bologna, for, 'a little sweet in your sandwich' - and how you piled on the lunchmeat, like it was just normal, when, at home, we were allotted one slice per sandwich. I'd never seen such a thing, or a person - or family - so generous.
Lugging that gigantic painting of mine home from school - with people honking their horns at it and waving. How you walked on your hands ALL THE WAY up that endless bloody hill TO MY HOUSE, to make me laugh.
Walkin', walkin' - our network of meeting places in the bygone alleyways of Coatesville..'Only don't burn the garage', The Barbeque, The Walls - there were two..How you encouraged me to draw new-wave/punk chicks all over EVERYWHERE in da'Ville; some weird artsy vandalism, only in graphite, but still..and how nobody ever knew that it was me...That time, tick-tackin' with acorns, when you made me knock on that window and hit my hand to make it harder - and how it went STRAIGHT THROUGH...AND HOW WE RAN..'Love that bush!'
The Exorcist on the Band Bus. The Green Station Wagon. The network in the ceiling of our high school, that went UP through the ceiling tiles - walking bow-legged on the shadowy cinderblock walls inbetween - that went from the band practice rooms to the other side of the school - how many cigarettes we sneaked up there, our escape route. The endless cups of coffee at The Crestmont diner before school - and how 'Mousewoman' hated us, with our free refills, and our meager tipping.
Todi. Larry. The Fairview Cemetary, our home.
That time we sneaked two bottles of booze from The LGM Lodge, after a Meistersingers program - they fit handily in my knee-high 70s boots..then, tried to play, 'Quarters' with them, in the cemetery...Oh. Man..My clog, on the railroad tracks. Walking all the way to Downingtown, along them, to meet our third, Denise, at the Ramada Inn, as she was the only one of us that had a car - nearly every night, we did this - and never thought twice. What a different world, it is, today.
The Bee Gees, in a snowdrift.
Your gigantic rabbit. Saturday Night Live, first-run - always, always, at your house; a given. That time we went to that party - and left early, walking home - and the line of cop cars, with their lights, flashin', that passed us - and how we scrambled unquestioningly into the back of that guy's van - still don't know his name, to this day - - and ended up in Philly. He was on acid, and wanted a cheese steak..Oh, and The Parkin' Lot Squatter.
When Annette stuck that lollipop to the side of your face. Smash-assed drunk, at a school basketball game, and how we whisked her out of there, before she could get busted - what a night. We ended up putting your mother's vinyl raincoat on her and putting her in the tub..never knew a person could vomit so much..on the sidewalk, out the car window of poor David DiSimone, who gave us a ride to your house..It's a wonder we all survived.
Smitties' store, and Teti's Lunch and Sodas, and hand-setting the bowling pins for seven dollars, each, at your parents' Moose Lodge.
Nickels, dimes, and Patrick's house. A whole chapter, in itself.
Enough for now; I'm sure there will be more. Just know that I'm with you and still holding your hand..up on that cemetery wall.
How you saved my life. Literally. Between the hell of junior high and the terror of even more of the same of impending high school. All on a random night - an enforced, 'movie night', showing, The Creeping Flesh, with the lovely Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. How, at first, I assumed that you were making fun of me by talking to me, and even moreso, by asking for my phone number - as you were not only One of the Popular Kids, but pretty much THE Popular Kid, at the time, and I couldn't conceive of you jeopardizing your position by slummin' with such a pariah. How I rushed to get away from you - from that brilliant, flashing smile, from that wiry little body, bursting with energy and good will - and the shock, when you actually called me. I'd fully expected a barrage of prank phone calls, but it was you.
How NO ONE could make me laugh, like you. How NO ONE spoke my language, like you. How NO ONE saw what you saw, in me. To you, I was the cutest, the wittiest, the smartest, and the coolest..and the best artist in the history of art. I'm still agog over your encouragement and warmth, and how you believed in me.
How you taught me to drink coffee. I was amazed that a young person was allowed to drink it, as we were not, in our family. How you put ice in it, and mixed it so carefully - I *still* drink it that way, to this day.
Spaghetti-I-O-E; at last, I know the secret ingredient. Lebanon bologna, for, 'a little sweet in your sandwich' - and how you piled on the lunchmeat, like it was just normal, when, at home, we were allotted one slice per sandwich. I'd never seen such a thing, or a person - or family - so generous.
Lugging that gigantic painting of mine home from school - with people honking their horns at it and waving. How you walked on your hands ALL THE WAY up that endless bloody hill TO MY HOUSE, to make me laugh.
Walkin', walkin' - our network of meeting places in the bygone alleyways of Coatesville..'Only don't burn the garage', The Barbeque, The Walls - there were two..How you encouraged me to draw new-wave/punk chicks all over EVERYWHERE in da'Ville; some weird artsy vandalism, only in graphite, but still..and how nobody ever knew that it was me...That time, tick-tackin' with acorns, when you made me knock on that window and hit my hand to make it harder - and how it went STRAIGHT THROUGH...AND HOW WE RAN..'Love that bush!'
The Exorcist on the Band Bus. The Green Station Wagon. The network in the ceiling of our high school, that went UP through the ceiling tiles - walking bow-legged on the shadowy cinderblock walls inbetween - that went from the band practice rooms to the other side of the school - how many cigarettes we sneaked up there, our escape route. The endless cups of coffee at The Crestmont diner before school - and how 'Mousewoman' hated us, with our free refills, and our meager tipping.
Todi. Larry. The Fairview Cemetary, our home.
That time we sneaked two bottles of booze from The LGM Lodge, after a Meistersingers program - they fit handily in my knee-high 70s boots..then, tried to play, 'Quarters' with them, in the cemetery...Oh. Man..My clog, on the railroad tracks. Walking all the way to Downingtown, along them, to meet our third, Denise, at the Ramada Inn, as she was the only one of us that had a car - nearly every night, we did this - and never thought twice. What a different world, it is, today.
The Bee Gees, in a snowdrift.
Your gigantic rabbit. Saturday Night Live, first-run - always, always, at your house; a given. That time we went to that party - and left early, walking home - and the line of cop cars, with their lights, flashin', that passed us - and how we scrambled unquestioningly into the back of that guy's van - still don't know his name, to this day - - and ended up in Philly. He was on acid, and wanted a cheese steak..Oh, and The Parkin' Lot Squatter.
When Annette stuck that lollipop to the side of your face. Smash-assed drunk, at a school basketball game, and how we whisked her out of there, before she could get busted - what a night. We ended up putting your mother's vinyl raincoat on her and putting her in the tub..never knew a person could vomit so much..on the sidewalk, out the car window of poor David DiSimone, who gave us a ride to your house..It's a wonder we all survived.
Smitties' store, and Teti's Lunch and Sodas, and hand-setting the bowling pins for seven dollars, each, at your parents' Moose Lodge.
Nickels, dimes, and Patrick's house. A whole chapter, in itself.
Enough for now; I'm sure there will be more. Just know that I'm with you and still holding your hand..up on that cemetery wall.