Men are from Mars

I get this e-mail from time to time which states, “You may be only one person in this world, but you may be the world to one person.” Generally, I forward it, thinking yes, that’s so true. Yeah right. Now if you’re a man, this may be true. Some stupid woman has fallen in love with you – sometimes rarely, a woman might feel what I call “unconditional love” for you. Besides what I have always felt for my children, there has been twice in my adult life I could honestly say that someone was my whole world. BIG MISTAKE!!! You see ladies, when we fall for a man; most of us place him as the “center” of our universe (there is of course, the multitude of women out there that feel they are the center of the entire universe – and for them, there is no room for someone else). In all facets of our life, before we make any decision, his thoughts, feelings, reactions, well-being, etc. are considered, and then we make our decision.

Guess what ladies, men are wired differently. When a man “falls” for a woman, she becomes a facet of his life. Yep that’s right ladies, just another facet – like in a diamond, the more facets, the brighter it shines. No, I’m not saying that he has all these other ladies in his life; it’s things like work, sports, hobbies, friends, and a wealth of other interests that make up his life. We’re just one piece – one facet, sometimes we’re one of the smaller facets around the top and sometimes we’re one of the larger facets which make up the “base” of his life, which help add more of the brilliance or “shine” to his life.

Women have other interests in their lives also, but when a man becomes the center of her universe, those other interests are like “moons” orbiting the planet, or the planets orbiting the sun. Those interest help us maintain a healthy, well-rounded life, but without the “planet” or “sun” there is nothing, the interests, like planets which no longer feel the gravitational pull of the sun, or the moons that depend on the planet for the path of their orbit, spins wildly into space and the universe collapses into itself.

So now, my dilemma; do I try to fashion my way of thinking, of feeling, or loving, more like that of a male and give up being able to give and feel that unconditional love? Oh, I’ve heard so many people say that they have given unconditional love, but it is so rare, most people have no concept of what it truly is. See humans have this built-in survival mechanism that prevents them from giving unconditional love. And considering that men don’t place women at the center of their universe, that means it would be the very rare man that would even have the possibility of experiencing unconditional love – giving it, not receiving it. When you give unconditional love you open yourself up to the possibility of total devastation, with no regard for self-preservation. You are willing to give up almost anything and everything for that person and their happiness. Pretty stupid, huh?

My first experience with unconditional love almost destroyed me. The end of that relationship was not a result of our feelings for each other. It was not anything I did wrong or anything he did wrong it was something beyond our control (or so I have constantly told myself, and I honestly believe it) so my self-esteem was still intact. Would I go back and do things differently – absolutely not, for it revealed to me what is possible. How two people can relate to each other and communicate with each other on many levels that surpass the physical and emotional, and even spiritual level. At times the two people do become one entity. To many that might sound crazy, but it is the most amazing feeling a human can experience – at least while earth-bound.

My second choice of whom to bestow my special gift of unconditional love was not so wise. He would think I was insane if I even tried to express these ideas or feelings to him. As the relationship started to dissolve, I tried every way I knew to try to mend things. I read research and read voraciously for solutions; what I needed to do; what we needed to do to “fix-things.” And I found some solutions, things that could be done to make a relationship, even one that seems shattered, whole again. But he was not interested, said he doesn’t think a solution can be found by reading a couple of chapters in a book. Tell that to a mathematician or a scientist. I felt like saying, well, if someone you loved was dying, wouldn’t you try whatever you thought might help to prevent their death? No, this wasn’t not a matter of life or death of a human being, it was just the collapse of my universe.

So unlike the first time, not only did my universe collapse, but my “self” was destroyed in the process. So back to my dilemma; do I learn to love like a male? Do I build these walls around my heart to make sure that no man again becomes the center of my universe, keep them relegated or consigned to being only another facet of my life?

The End or the Beginning?

Shakespeare so eloquently wrote,
"The sun for sorrow would not show its head"
It rained yesterday.... a steady downpour of raindrops outside;
inside a steady flow of tears.
The skies wept with me.
The thunder echoed the violent pain that tears me apart.
Your vicious goodbye was so abrupt and unfounded
I felt as though a part of me with died with your parting.
Your love seems to have disappeared
.....into the mists of the morning fog.
The tears make trails of dampness
as they slowly travel from my red, swollen eyes...
down my face to finally drop silently, but with such finality.
The fact is that I was never good enough
I always felt that I didn't deserve someone like you.
You treat me as if I'm of depraved character.
Yes, I am guilty of several wrongs,
but not the accusations with which you crucified me
...of those things, I am innocent.
I loved you with a pure heart.
I gave my love totally and unconditionally,
never considering the inevitable pain
we both knew I would eventually experience anyway.
I honestly thought that you returned my love,
you almost had me convinced.
I have always been true to myself, true to my ideas,
...and I have followed my heart.
Whereas, you on the other hand chose duty over truth
and blindness over enlightenment.
Though for a short time, I actually fooled myself into believing that...
maybe....just maybe....but alas,
my hopes have been dashed, our relationship torn apart.
My heart and my soul, forever scarred...
by pain and your condemnation.
Just remember, that regardless of how you feel for me
How you despise or curse me...
I gave you my heart, and my love...
First as a friend, then as my love...
though now I know these things are meaningless to you,
and the reality of that is difficult to face
I am not sure I can face it...
for you will forever have possession of my heart and my soul.
And I am now empty...
Without you, I have nothing
....I am nothing.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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Forever Yours

Forgive me,
but I want to cherish
each moment I have left with you
every look, each touch,
every caress, each breath, every moment.
I don’t want to dwell on the pain,
the inevitabilities.
I want what time I have left with you to be happy.
If that means being in denial –
then let me be in denial,
my subconscious knows --
at times breaking through
bringing the tears and t
he gut-wrenching pain to the surface.
Oh, just please, let me pretend,
if just for a little while
that everything is good –
everything is as it should be
chasing the knowledge that
I’ve lost you into hiding..
It won’t change anything,
of that I’m well aware
and it won’t make anything
easier at the true end,
it will but postpone the t
otal devastation for a while
--the devastation of my heart
and of my soul.
Never think my love for you
was a mistake –
I have no regrets,
will never have regrets, ah
but one – that regardless
of the depth and strength
of my love and devotion,
my love was not enough.
And I hope you never l
ook back with regret,
even though one day
I feel you’ll realize what’s lost,
the rare and precious
love I offered, unconditionally
I gave to you that part of me
I’d never offered to anyone
that part of me can’t be returned,
nor offered to another.
You see, with that part,
you actually have all of me,

you still have all of me – and will – forever.

©Copyright 2007
SLG
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Essential

Can you not understand
how essential you are to me,
to my life
The need is greater than
any I have ever experienced
The need for water or food
cannot even compare
The need for air,
that vital element for survival
That’s what you are to me,
vital, crucial, critical..
When I see you,
or think about you,
I feel as I did when I thought about
Christmas as a child,
Easter, birthdays, running through
a field of flowers in the spring, barefooted;
Wading in the edge of the lake,
with pants rolled up to my knees,
knowing it was forbidden
Running through the woods, full-speed.
As a child, there was no fear
But with these feelings,
sometimes fear does sneak in
Uninvited, unwanted, and
I try desperately to push it away
Sometimes I succeed, sometimes not
Just as one who feels
they will might suffocate
Without that vital element, air
You are that vital element in my life,
As one deprived of air,

I could not survive without you.

©Copyright 2006
SLG
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My Soul

MY SOUL

When you look into my eyes,
I know that you can’t help but see
my love for you reflected there.
But can you not see the pureness, the depth,
breadth, or intensity of my love for you?

Occasionally you look into my eyes,
you can see pain, that sears my soul,
pain so overwhelming so all-consuming.
Pain caused by your doubts and suspicions,
About my integrity, my honesty, my love for you.

If you could but see into my heart,
You would see that my heart is pure.
And if you looked closely, you would realize
It is so full of love for you,
There is no room for anyone but you.

If you could but see into my soul
You would see, without you, my soul is not whole.
Without you – it was but half - empty, incomplete.
You would find assurance, and truth, for you posses
the missing portion of my heart and my soul.

©Copyright 2006
SLG
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Deep WIthin

His plans and dreams are unfulfilled,
he says I’m not what he needs.
He feels the need to be on his way
and I vow I’ll not beg or plead.

He said he’ll give “us” one more try
and acts like things are fine
But I know down deep within my heart
he’s only marking time.

He has to know that I’m aware
he doesn’t plan to stay
Action speak louder than words
so he doesn’t have to say

I try not to let him see the tears,
the pain and the despair.
I try to stay upbeat and cheerful
and act like he still cares.

I show him love and affection,
and steal kisses when I can.
But sometimes his cool demeanor
is more than I can stand.

I listen to his comments closely
looking for any sign or clue
For I want to be prepared the day
he finally says we’re through

Until that day, I’ll try not to dwell
on all my pain and fears
I’ll show him all the love and support
and he’ll not see any tears.

I hope one day he’ll look back
with warm thoughts and a smile,
for the total and unconditional love
that I gave him for a while.

©Copyright 2007
SLG
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Your Eternally

I dreamt of you last night,
While deep in sweet repose
I felt the warmth of your embrace,
the sweetness of your lips upon mine,
the passion only you can ignite.
We made sweet, passionate love
the type of love that only those,
who have known total,
unconditional love can achieve.
Again, for a short time, we were one,
one spirit, one heart, one soul.
As you faded from my dream,
you whispered “One day.”
So I await that day, when once again,
we will be reunited as one.
Whether it be in this life time
Or the next, I will wait for you.
Yours eternally,
SLG

©Copyright 2001
SLG
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Your Eyes

Sitting here in the quiet
of the morning hours,
while the rest of the world sleeps,
I occasionally glance at your picture,
and think about time spent with you.
Feelings of warmth, and yes,
sometimes feelings of desire
accompany those thoughts.
I've always heard if you look deeply
into a person's eyes you can sometimes
see into the other's soul.
And sometimes you can read emotions.....
feelings in a person's eyes.
My eyes are that way.....
love, devotion, desire, hurt,
disappointment, and anger
are always evident in my eyes.
But not in yours.
The only glimpses I've gained
to your soul, thoughts, and emotions
are contained in your writings.
I've searched your eyes for clues
and weighed your words carefully.
Sometimes I can see gentleness.....
sometimes desire in your eyes....
but all else is closed to me.
I'm still in the dark.
Sometimes I long to ask,
"Please shed some light."
Yet at the same time,
I'm not sure I wish for everything to be illuminated....
so I will continue to search your beautiful eyes
and remain in the dark
with occasional flashes of light.
And maybe one day
you'll share your "inner self" with me.....
and maybe not.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

Your Spirit

You came to me last night,
I felt your touch.
I lay in my bed, alone,
but not alone.
Your spirit was with me.
You touched my heart,
I felt you in my soul.
The night was frigid,
yet warmth surrounded me.
Although a stranger,
You brought comfort
with your presence
Although foreign,
I felt fire in your touch.
You came to me last night
But not in my dreams;
I was awake.
Who are you?
Where are you?
What are you?
SLG
Copyright 2001
SLG
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print, electronic or otherwise, may be made without the express permission of the author

You Are Always With Me

YOU ARE ALWAYS WITH ME

I’ve watched the red fingers of dawn spread
across the lightening night sky with you.
I’ve felt your arms encircle me, protectively, lovingly,
encasing us in the isolation of our private reality,
oblivious to the existence of nothing but each other.
I’ve felt your lips on mine and tasted the nectar of your kisses.
I’ve covered your body with warm kisses,
while exchanging loving caresses with you.
I’ve lain beside you as the moonlight enveloped us,
protecting us from the shadows of the night.
I have made passionate love with you through the night.
But all of these have been done in my mind….
though sometimes even while awake I can feel
your touch across the miles….and know….
that though you are not physically here…
you are with me at all times.

©Copyright 1999
SLG
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The Kiss

He turned toward me,
the look in his eyes told me
....he was going to kiss me.
Before his lips ever touched mine,
I knew......I was lost.
Looking into his eyes,
a torrent of emotions assaulted my senses,
emotions that I could not control
or understand.
As his lips brushed mine
I felt this strange energy surge through me,
the kiss deepened .....
and his tongue invaded my mouth.
I felt myself spiraling through a vortex.
"Open your eyes," he whispered
his voice thick with passion,
I looked into his eyes......
he looked into my soul,
reality slammed into my consciousness.
I would need to guard my heart stringently,
.....or it would be forfeited.
Only twice in my lifetime
have I experienced such a
spectrum of emotions and feelings as those
evoked by the mere touch of his lips on mine.
The kiss ended.
He stepped back and gazed into my eyes
And my mind shrieked,
"How can fate be so cruel?"
You see, he is already taken....
someone has a prior claim on his heart, ....the lady that calls herself his wife.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

The Flame

When I close my eyes,
I can see your eyes, and your piercing glance
I feel as though you can see through to my soul.
I am frightened, not by what you might see,
But of the possibility that what I see
is just an illusion.
You say my words echo your thoughts
….can this be true? Are you real?
I shared my thoughts and feelings with you,
Something I now realize I do not share with others,
except through my writing.
For they came with tears and a broken voice,
My hopes, my dreams, so real, so vivid…..
but never realized.
So few understand these things…..
to find someone who does
reinforces my belief that it's possible.
But at the same time somehow frightens me.
I fight myself to keep from stepping back,
Like a child who has touched the fire,
but is still drawn to the fascination of the flame,
reaching out hesitantly with fear,
yet an overwhelming compulsion
to try and capture the beauty,
remembering that the wonder they seek
might scorch them.
Do I draw closer to the flame?
Or do I step back in fear of pain?

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

The Dark One

You look away from me, cannot meet my stare.
The truth lies in your eyes, in your demeanor,
Your heart is hardened; your soul is tortured and dark,
You have built an impenetrable wall around yourself.
You treat others with a calculated callousness.
I know the reason for your heart's protection,
But I wonder, what must you have endured,
What has clouded your soul?
I can see a faint light, but it dims a little each day,
soon I'm afraid it will be too tainted……totally dark.
What I see in your eyes frightens me,
yet I cannot help but to reach out to you.
Allow me to show you the light, help to ease your pain.
At the risk of my own soul, which is virtuous and serene,
my heart which is pure and gentle……I wish to help.I see there is still goodness in you, why must you hide it?

Spring

SPRING

Spring is finally here,
the change almost complete.
The earth has slowly awakened from
its slumber.
Trees reaching for the deep blue sky
with new sprouts on limbs,
previously bare.
The limbs laden with green leaves,
casting shadows and shade
on the ground beneath
granting cool protection for those
retreating from the glare of the sun.
Birds hide among the
leaves and new limbs,
building nests for
their expected offspring.
The grass looks as though it
has been spray painted
an emerald green
The scraggly shrubs,
which turned to mere
twigs in the gray of winter,
are now bursting with leaves;
bulbs opening into beautiful
fragrant palettes.
I sit and marvel at
this beautiful transformation
and realize that I too have experienced
my own metamorphosis.
My heart and soul were dormant
like the grasses and
the trees in the dead of winter.
Your love has awakened my heart and
it sings like the birds creating
a home for their precious brood.
My soul has taken on the colors
and light of spring.
Beauty and magnificence inhabit corners
where nothing but gray
and black shadows lived.
After a long hibernation from the drab,
cheerless, days of winter
......I have awakened.
And like the fawn,
newly born in spring,
.....on weak and wobbly legs,
I am learning to walk and run,
and explore this world
that is alien to me.
Your love has also given me strength,
a type of strength that
I've never possessed
and a confidence that I've never known.
Though I've made a trip
into the world of love,
this world is different.
This world of absolute,
unconditional, love
contains deeper hues and
more exotic fragrances.
Contrasts are more vivid and
euphoric sensations
surpass anything one could ever imagine.
What frightens me is the uncertainty
of what will happen in this alien world....
when the spring fades to summer
.....and then to fall.....and finally winter?

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

Reality Bites

Reality came crashing in on me today.
I needed someone, anyone to help.
My problem wasn't that serious or life altering.
But what if it had been?
To whom would I turn if a real need arose?
I decided to take inventory for future reference.
Alas, when I ran through my lists of family, friends, and loves,
for one close by to help in a time of crisis;
a cold realization slammed into my consciousness.
I have only myself upon which to depend.
Oh I have friends in far away places with families who need them.
Friends with lives of their own, little time for me.And suddenly I was scared! I am all alone.

©Copyright 1999
SLG
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Our Souls

Though our encounter was so brief,
that it passed like the blink of an eye,
I felt our minds and souls merge.
And although you have decided not to be part of my life,
I can feel your presence, in my mind,
my heart, and my soul.
I can still feel you inside my soul......
sometimes, so strongly it’s as if you are here beside me,
At night before I surrender to sleep,
I can feel your breath on my cheek,
your lips on mine, so gently,
and although you chose not to be here,
your essence is ever present.
You are now a part of me, and will always be,
regardless of circumstances.
And I know, that if it is meant to be,
as I feel with every fiber of my being that it is,
that we were meant for each other,
we will find our way back to each other.
Maybe not in this lifetime or the next,
but eventually for I know.... we share one soul, one heart, one dream.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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Our Goodbye

OUR GOODBYE
Although the words were unspoken,
we both knew we were saying goodbye.
You said it's better to end
our relationship with a loving act
rather than with anger.
You were right; it was better,
but so much more difficult.
Twice I quickly wiped away silent tears
which streaked my face
as we lay entwined and connected,
in the afterglow of love.
Did you sense my soundless tears
and their betrayal of the anguish
……tearing at my heart?
I tried so hard to hide the pain……
the longing……
…….the regret.
I try to take solace in the fact
that we will remain as friends.
That it is fate and timing that is the culprit.
But tell me please,
………was there any pain,
longing or regret in your heart?
©Copyright 2000
SLG
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Nightmares

Nightmares haunt me in my sleep.
I am in a courtroom accused of a crime.
I declare my innocence,
but the jury looks away in contempt,
the judge arrogantly sneers.
Tears streak my face as
again I try and proclaim my innocence.
I open my mouth but no sound comes forth.
My prosecutor, wearing a hood like
that of an executioner, laughs,
"There's no need for your words,
you tell naught but lies.
Do you think you'll be believed?"
The jury shouts guilty,
with the finality of the gavel,
the judge passes sentence –
"You are sentenced to death."
I beg to be believed,
The courtroom erupts in laughter.
I fall to my knees....distraught
As the prosecutor removes his hood
And turns to face me,
I raise my head to gaze into his eyes
Which are filled with contempt, hatred, and

I see your eyes -- for it is you.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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My Vows

Although circumstances prevent you from giving me your vow

That doesn't stop me from giving you mine.

As you ready yourself for the future that fate has in store for you,

my love, these things I vow:

I will cherish every second of every hour,

of every day that we spent together.

I have given you my heart, my soul and my love,

such as I have never given over to anyone before.

I vow that you will always possess these things

For my heart, soul and love are irretrievable.

You will always be able to look into my eyes

and see the eternal love I have for you.

I will never love another as I do you,

I will be there for you for whatever you need

Whether a kind word, encouragement,

sympathy, moral support, or anything…...

………all you need do is ask.

You have told me to move on…………

…..……to find someone worthy.

I had found the one I wanted,

the one I feel is my true mate in life

I want no other.

No one will ever fill that void

which now exists in my life, my heart, and my soul.

The beautiful spring wonders I enjoyed just weeks ago

have faded into a composite sketch of black, grey, and white.

My soul is empty, my heart heavy, and my life meaningless.

All I ever wanted was your happiness,

and to bring joy into your life

So, yes, I will take whatever scrapes of your time

you can give me, as a friend.

But I vow, you will have my eternal love,

Which regardless of our relationship will never change.



©Copyright 2000
SLG
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My Darkest Hour

Shakespeare so eloquently wrote,
"The sun for sorrow would not show its head"
It rained yesterday…. a steady downpour of raindrops outside;
inside a steady flow of tears.
The skies wept with me.
The thunder echoed the violent pain that tears me apart.
Your vicious goodbye was so abrupt and unfounded
I felt as though a part of me with died with your parting.
Our relationship disappeared
……….into the mists of the morning fog.
The tears make trails of dampness
as they slowly travel from my red, swollen eyes…
down my face to finally drop silently, but with such finality.
The fact is that I never deserved such despicable treatment
…but I always knew you believed I was unsuited.
You treat me as if I'm of depraved character
……of that, I am innocent.
You almost had me convinced, however;
I have always been true to myself, true to my ideas,
….and I have followed my heart.
Whereas, you on the other hand chose duty over truth,
deceit over honor and blindness over enlightenment.
Though for a short time, I actually fooled myself into believing that maybe….
just maybe…but alas,
my hopes have been dashed, our friendship torn apart.
My heart and my soul, forever scarred…
By your deception and condemnation.
Just remember, that regardless of how you feel for me
How you despise or curse me….
I gave you my heart, and my love….
First as a friend, then as a lover, then again as a friend…
though I know these things are meaningless to you,
and the reality of that is difficult to face
But face it I will….
with a clear understanding of the pain which can be caused
by someone's deception and intolerance.
You see this end in reality isn't an endBut actually a new beginning for me.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
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including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

My Inspiration

Was I was truly alive? I felt dead inside.
I was just surviving, going through the motions.
My view of life was black, white and gray.
One drab, obscure day faded into the next tedious day.
Excitement and joy were nothing but alien concepts;
abstract illusions, fairy tales poets disbursed in prose.


Then the dark clouds parted, replaced by warm light;
the grays turned to brilliant hues of color, and
my life became filled with awe and exhilaration.
I have discovered the joys of living and being alive.
My heart and soul, once desolate and despondent,
now radiate with contentedness and ecstasy.


Beauty is now woven into almost every aspect of my life.
The harmonious songs of birds lighten my steps.
My enhanced senses embrace the fragrances of the flowers.
The warm sunlight illuminates the splendor in the world.
My life is no longer merely a daily existence I must endure,
It is a celebration of the euphoria of my love for you.


You are my inspiration, my motivation; you are my life.
I awake each morning to warm thoughts of you.
Just knowing you exist, that you are in my life,
that I love you, and you love me in return;
brings joy to my heart, a warm smile to my lips, and
I can now see all the beauty and wonders of my world.


©Copyright 2000
SLG
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made without the express permission of the author

The Dance

Nightly we perform a ritual dance,
…..you step forward, I follow
….you retreat, I step forward.
Occasionally you step closer,
to narrow the distance between,
….but then you retreat again.
Sometimes I misstep or retreat;
It’s not that I wish to lead…
but maybe I am not certain to where you will lead
….or maybe I am scared.
Are you scared?
Is that why we sometimes dance in circles…
….me afraid to follow blindly…..
you uncertain of where you wish to lead?
Do we hear the same music
as we perform this ritual?
I don’t know….
…..I just hope you are there when the
music reaches its
final strands of harmony.
©Copyright 1999
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

I Love You

The words hang in the air, like the late

night fog which shrouds the lake.

I love you……

I said it, although the thought has been constant

in my mind lately,

I never intended the words to leave my lips,

to be spoken or heard by the world

….or by you.

I said it….and I cannot unsay it….

nor do I know if I wish to.

I only know that it scares me.

Thoughts of you fill my mind…

my entire being with

feelings of ecstasy, yet trepidation lingers…

for I have laid my heart and soul

open to you…..

…..for you to

accept

or reject.
©Copyright 1999
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may be
made without the express permission of the author

Memory Lane

The cloudless Sunday sends me down memory lane,
A path I walk quite frequently since you have gone away.
I recall the autumn afternoons we spent in the park,
Though always crowded, I could see no one but you.
The days at the lake we watched the breeze skim the water,
The gulls diving for food,
And the sun setting at the water's far edge.
Our love made the days perfect.
At night we'd sit under the stars and talk of
all of our tomorrows, when we could be together,
and only death would be our end.
But death wasn't our end, though I've died a thousand
times since that cold November evening when you
calmly and surely walked out of my life
into your own.
Your last words "I love you" reverberating through
the apartment as you closed the door,
Leaving me with shattered dreams and a longing for the
Love I shall never again obtain
but in my lonely walk
down memory lane.
©Copyright 1975
SLG
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reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

At Last You Found Me

As I ponder the verses of my favorite poem by Rod McKuen,
I ask myself -- Did I really know you would find me?
I raced through my teen years believing
there was someone special, someone unique
that would fulfill all my needs
.....but I did not find you.
Once I thought I had found you.....and yes.....
I did love and have been loved by others.....
but I always felt that something was missing
....that there was a void that others along my life's path could not fill
.....no matter how hard they tried
or how desperately I wished they would.
I had almost given up hope of finding you,
I feared my search for you was based on
fairy tale endings and a young girls
hopes and dreams for a love that came with
understanding, patience
....and the ability to fill that void
That forever made me feel incomplete.
In my disappointment....I told myself....
I must be unworthy
.....after all, I had searched for you,
tried to find substitutes for you
....and waited patiently for you to find me.
So I gave up, only
....you did find me and that void is now filled. I am complete.
The unconditional love I knew I could give
and the joy in giving that love fulfills me as nothing ever has.
I am content.....for I know,
if I do live to reach 90 years, as the fortune teller predicted,
when I am old and alone with only
my cats for companionship....
I can take out the memories of time spent with you
....and smile with the feelings of love and contentment,
....and know I once had what most search
a lifetime for and never find.
As Mr. McKuen said:
"It was for you I saved the best for last"
©Copyright 2000
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

First Love Remembered

Sometimes in the early hours
of morning.
When darkness hides me,
and it is quiet, but for my breathing.
My mind travels back in time.
Back to a carefree woman with a
schoolgirls' blush and the satisfied
look of love.
Happiness surround her,
I was that woman, six years ago,
before you left me.
I felt such love,
Then experienced such pain.
I'd always heard that time heals
all wounds.
Well, the pain's faded now.
But no one told me the
love would remain.
It's not a constant reminder
as it once was.
But in the quiet mornings,
before dawn's first light
when I take out those fragil memories
stored in the deep reserves of my mind,
I see those happy days,
And your face which held
Such bright promises.
And I remember your vows of
Everlasting love, and I realize --
I still love you.

©Copyright 1981
SLG
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reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author

The Kitchen Table

After the afternoon meal on Sundays and holidays, everyone would linger around the kitchen table. Conversation could range from current events in the world to problems, to what was going on in each other’s life. It evoked feelings of warmth, safety, belonging – usually with the exception of my aunt’s occasional commentaries on our appearance or our behavior (which may have contributed to my anorexia). Those times sharing stories, ideas, and opinions, all around my parents’ kitchen table made Sunday and holiday meals special. The sun shining through the kitchen window bathed those sitting around it in cheery warmth.

But on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, the kitchen table became something sinister. When I was younger, I didn’t understand, I just knew when Daddy was drinking from that funny smelling glass and he started talking funny, that when he said “come sit down, I want to talk to you” that the kitchen table looked so dark, so forbidding, so cold. I would always choose a chair at the other end of the table, only to be told, “Sit right here, I said I want to talk to you.” I would sit on the edge of the seat, hoping to be able to make a quick escape, if the opportunity arose. It never did.

“You don’t love me.” “You don’t appreciate anything I do for you, none of you do.” The “talk” always began with one of those two sentences. Until Daddy decided it was time for him to eat and go to bed, I would be held prisoner under that dark cloud over the kitchen table. I always knew what was coming next, although the order of his checking off my mistakes and faults were sometimes rearranged, I knew he was going to tell me what a bad girl I was by giving me examples of ways I was unappreciative and how I should act, though for the life of me, as a little girl, it never made sense to me. Explanations were demanded, "Why did I do this or that? Was it to embarrass or hurt him? Tell me how you show me you appreciate me." And I would have to justify every "fault" every "misdeed." All I knew was that no matter what I did, or how hard I tried, it was never enough, I was never good enough. Although I never got into trouble with the police, I didn’t experiment with drugs, I only got into trouble twice in school (once for skipping school, once for a fight with a boy that had said something bad about my brother). I learned I could take criticism, as long as I felt it was something constructive or anything other than what I felt was a total condemnation of me as a person.

I went through two years of therapy, which helped, but still didn’t clear away all the self-doubt I had about my worth, my goodness. So I found things in which I could excel – my job at the radio station. I was good, but the pay wasn’t. After that, in college, I found if I studied and tried very hard, I could not only make good grades, but I could usually blow the average and make ranking the grades impossible for the professor – which didn’t contribute to a lot of friends in my college classes, unless they needed a tutor. At 38, I graduated second in the College of Liberal Arts, my three children cheered as I walked across the stage with the yellow sash indicating I was an Honor Student, but no one else from my family was there.

For years, I felt I had excelled at being a good mother. I know I’ve made mistakes with my kids, all parents do. But, my two oldest sons turned out well and since I was instrumental in raising them, setting what I felt was a good example for them and instilling high morals, I thought I had been a good parent. Maybe I was deceiving myself, for that too, has come into question lately.

I spent years making sure that I abided by most of the teachings about morals and standards I had received in school and church (yes, back then they could teach morals in school). At every opportunity, I did my best to help anyone whom I felt needed help. And maybe in some way, I did it to try and help myself feel better about me, but I don’t think that has ever been my main motivation. I’ve always held myself to a higher standard than those around me, I’ve always strived for near perfection in anything I attempt. I guess thinking that maybe if I did the best I could at anything I attempted; was honest in my dealings with others; and did all I could to be the best person, physically, emotionally, and morally that I could be, that maybe one day……………I don’t know, maybe I would “measure up” to others’ expectations of me, maybe they wouldn’t see all those faults I have that had been painfully pointed out to me for years.

Daddy quit drinking twenty-something years ago. And now, his criticism is a little more bearable, though recently I’ve been told several times in a round about way, that I’m going to hell for living in sin. Thankfully, I have a really good friend, probably my best friend, who sees only the best in people. He’s known me for thirty-something years, and he knows all my deep, dark, secrets, and yes, all my faults. I don’t get to talk with him as often as I would like, because he travels with his job. But at times he’s been my salvation, at the least, I know he’s helped me maintain some grasp on my sanity at those times I feel like I’m back at the kitchen table. Last night I dreamt again and again that I was back at that kitchen table. It was dark outside, I don’t remember who was taking an inventory of my faults and shortcomings, but I was overcome with the same feelings of inadequacy, but this time it was more than that. I can’t put a name to it, but the only way I could describe it is swirling black, oppression, a feeling of total hopelessness.

I seldom eat at my kitchen table, although experts suggest that families sit down to eat at least one meal a day together at the kitchen table. I never understood why I had such an aversion to eating at the table; until last night, and my dream.

Land of the Free

Thirteen years ago I sat mesmerized before the television watching what I thought was a science fiction movie about as group of people in middle America who were so full of hate and prejudice that they felt all non-whites should be terminated. One scene in the movie portrayed the execution of a white female and her "half-breed" child. She was viewed as a traitor because she has married a Hispanic. The real eye-opener was after the conclusion of the movie; statistics were given of the numbers of chapters and the members of the various hate groups in the United States. A shiver of terror ran down my spine. I was pregnant at that time with my third child, whose father, my ex-husband, is Hispanic.

Raised in the Deep South, in a racist home, I was well aware of the bias, prejudice, and the outright hatred many whites harbored toward blacks. The magical sixties and the Civil Rights Movement coincided with my adolescent rebellion, and the ideas that I adapted during my defiant rebellion became a permanent part of my philosophy of life. I was aware of the existence of the Klan, but I felt it was no longer a dangerous organization. After all, aren't we a civilized nation with equal rights? I guess it is always easier to be oblivious to something hideous when it does not affect you personally. I was not prejudice or biased, and I guess I closed my eyes to the discriminatory acts of others.

While married to my daughter's father, I became enlightened considerable. I experienced first-hand what prejudice and hate can accomplish; and the feelings of sheer helplessness and injustice when you see someone you love being discriminated against. I swore to myself at that time that I would never sit idly by while someone was being discriminated against. And although it has gotten me into some "dangerous" situations at times, I never have. I have always spoken up and took action when I witnessed someone being treated unfairly. I also vowed that my children would be raised "colorblind." They would be taught that when someone was different, that was not a reason to fear them, it was an opportunity to expand their knowledge and understanding of the world.

While talking with a loved one last night, he related an event that had occurred to himself and a friend earlier yesterday. It seems they went to a local Denny's Restaurant in a city in Pennsylvania. The restaurant was not busy and the employees apparently had time to conduct personal conversations with other employees. My love and his friend stood there for an indeterminate time waiting to be seated, as is the policy in Denny's. My loved one is a very patient man, but after a long wait they decided to leave and find another place to eat. A customer from the restaurant followed them to their car and stated that he was angered over their treatment by the staff. Apparently the night shift at this particular Denny's Restaurant has a habit of discriminating against African Americans and foreigners, for this is not the first time this has happened at this particular location to either of them.

When I learned of this incident last night, I was outraged. I told my loved one that first he should contact the management of Denny's and complain, then he should take it a step further, though my sense of reasoning was a bit impaired by my anger and the pain I felt at having someone that I love so dearly treated in such a manner. He calmly said, I am not from here, I am a foreigner and what I can do is limited because of that fact. He continued by saying, "Sometimes it makes me think 'What the hell am I doing here?'" You see, he is from India. He is probably the most gentle, caring, understanding person that I have ever met. He does not judge others, and he always looks for the good in people, so he didn't want to believe that he and his friend had just been ignored by the staff because of his race, until it was confirmed by several other people.

Incidents such as this occur hundreds of times every hour in this "Great Nation" while people watch and do nothing to correct the situation. I cannot help but wonder why. Unless you are a Native American Indian, your ancestors were "foreigners" in this land at one time. But yet we sit by and allow others to be treated in this horrid manner because "they're black" or "they're foreigners and don't belong here." Unfortunately the United States is not the only country in which discrimination is blatantly allowed to blossom and grow. But, the United States is one of the few nations born from immigration of "foreigners." The United States proudly claims to be a "melting pot of different cultures and races." What makes this nation great is the diversity of the people who have brought their unique cultures and values together to form this country.

Ironically the incident that has me so enraged took place within the same state where Lincoln gave his famous "Gettysburg Address." An address which began with the words: "Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal."

The knowledge that this type of discrimination still occurs haunts me hourly. So what can I do about it? I can continue raising my children to believe everyone is equal, that people are people regardless of their race, culture, or religion, and that having a different culture or religion does not make a person inferior, but makes that person a potential source of information and understanding. I can continue to take an active stand against discrimination and take whatever steps I feel are necessary when I see acts of discrimination committed against someone. As a teacher I daily reminded my students of the horrors of discrimination and tried to enable them to develop understanding, tolerance, and finally acceptance of everyone regardless of race, religion, culture, or gender. My students were assigned projects in which they had to research and interview someone from another culture. The student was to have a clear understanding of the culture upon completion when they presented their "facts" to the class.

It is only when parents and teachers have changed their attitudes and taught our young people understanding, tolerance, patience, and acceptance of others that hate and discrimination will be eradicated in this nation. No, we have not had mass exterminations of people like in Hitler's Germany or in recent day Rwanda and other countries in the world. So tell me, what can YOU do about this problem?

©Copyright 2000
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may bemade without the express permission of the author.

Should I Fear Men?

I drove the forty miles home with the words “At some point in time you seem to have lost your fear of men” running through my mind. Those words had been spoken to me earlier in the day. I work as a paralegal/secretary for an individual attorney. My boss is an odd mix of compassion, sarcasm, honesty, and to quote a friend of mine, “a dick.” I never know what to expect of him. He’s in his fifties and admits to being a former hippie.

I was sitting at my desk trying to get subpoenas ready for a trial coming up the middle of the month. Knowing that we were already late in getting the subpoenas out, I was focusing on the task at hand. My boss walked up to my desk and asked me to fax some documents to another attorney. I took the documents and turned to go to the fax machine.

“You’re scaring me,” he stated. Puzzled, I asked him what he meant. “You have a cup of coffee sitting here and I’m afraid you’re going to knock it over.” He then went on to comment that I also had a Diet Pepsi on my desk. “This isn’t a bar room, you don’t need that many drinks on your desk.” I promptly picked up the coffee and moved it to a “safe” location on my desk, though it was in no danger of being knocked over.

My boss walked to the coffee pot and as he was fixing his coffee he said, “You just ignore me. Both drinks are still sitting on your desk, you just moved things around. At some point in time you seem to have lost your fear of men.” Thinking that I had misunderstood him, I said, “I beg your pardon.” He repeated his statement. Now I’m not usually at a loss for words, but there I sat, my mouth open, my mind racing, and my blood pressure rising.

Was he implying that only men were in positions of power and authority? Wait, why should I have a fear of men? I’ve never feared men. For that bit of wisdom I can thank my mother, for what she taught me by example. However, if any women on this earth have reason to fear men, I’m sure I’m one of them.

At the vulnerable age of five, my sixteen-year-old next-door neighbor molested me – with his mother looking on and laughing. From that experience I learned to be careful where you went and with whom you would be alone. When I was fifteen and just becoming a woman, I was raped by an acquaintance. When my father learned of the incident I was told it was because of my style of dressing (this was when mini-skirts and “hot pants” were in style). I must have been fairly smart at fifteen, for I knew it had nothing to do with the way I dressed and I knew it wasn’t my fault. This definitely reinforced my first lesson – with whom you choose to be alone, and taught me that if someone starts drinking, be more cautious.

While married, my husband, who had a problem with drinking, would frequently become enraged and hit me. I learned not to stay in an abusive relationship and to pay attention to how children and animals react to people. Sounds a bit strange, I’m sure. But you see, small children and animals can sense things about people, some type of instinct that adults seem to lose before they reach adolescence.

To quote a song, “I’m a survivor.” These things did not make me fear men. I just learned to use better judgment and be more vigilant. Now if a man is holding a weapon, hell yes, I’m afraid. But the same goes for a woman holding a weapon.

When I was training to become a deputy I had to work a certain number of hours in the jail before I could get on the road on criminal patrol. Several times I had to enter the different “dorms” in the jail at Covington. Most of the male prisoners treated me with respect, and it never bothered me going into the men’s dorm. On the other hand, I’ll never forget the first time I stepped into the women’s dorm. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. When I finished my assigned task, I went back to the “booking room.” I told the Sergeant on duty how I had felt when in the women’s dorm. He laughed and assured me that everyone felt that way when they had to cross the threshold of the women’s dorm. Which confirmed what I had learned in college, women tend to commit more violent and vicious crimes than men.

I wonder if my boss knows this? So I should be afraid of men? I think not, maybe they should be afraid of me.


Copyright 2002
SLG
All rights reserved. No further distribution in
any form, print, electronic or otherwise, may be made
without the express permission of the author

Moment in Time

Everyone has a "moment in time" which is so profound it is burned into his or her memory for eternity. This "moment" can be either a special moment shared with someone, an event, a series of events, or an act of kindness bestowed by a friend or stranger. It marks a time in one's life when they were truly happy, oblivious to the problems in their life or the problems in the world around them.

I have such a "moment;" a moment that was such a special time, shared with someone very dear to me. I sometimes wonder if it really happened or if it was a dream. I know if I died today, that I would die knowing that at that moment in time I was truly as happy as anyone could ever be, I was fulfilled, and I shared that special connection with someone whom I loved and who returned that love.

My love lives half a Continent away. Like many relationships today, our relationship started in cyber space. After several weeks the relationship progressed from "computer chat" to telephone conversations. Our first telephone conversation amazed both of us; it lasted through the night and we watched the gray fingers of dawn spread across the night sky. We shared many sunrises after that, half a continent apart, but so close emotionally.

Every moment I spent with him, whether online, on the phone, or in person was special. From our first meeting, we connected, just as my intuition had told me we would. But this connection was unlike any other either of us had ever experienced. With each phone call and meeting, that bond became stronger -- much stronger than I think either of us had realized was possible. My "moment in time" occurred during our last meeting. I have a quote listed in my collection of quotes: "A kiss on the beach while watching the sun set on the horizon is the closest you can get to heaven while still on earth" - SLG. It is from my "moment in time" that this quote originated.

We had three glorious days and nights to spend together. We spent as much time alone as we could; not leaving each other's side for more that a few moments. He did, however, have the opportunity to meet my impassive 4-year-old, who willingly climbed into my love's lap, comfortable in the safety, kindness, and warmth that he felt emanating from this special man. This interaction between my love and my child reinforced what I already knew --- my love was indeed extraordinary

We spent our time together doing special things we enjoyed, such as hiking along a nature trail, enjoying the quiet solitude provided by nature's setting. Our last day together, we decided to go to the beach. The weather was cool, almost cold. We arrived at the beach just as the sun was setting, our timing was perfect, for we both wanted to watch the sunset on the beach. As the sun made it's way towards the water's edge, we walked along the beach. The tide was out, and we walked and waded through puddles of water and cold, wet sand with our jeans rolled up to our knees and our feet bare. The water was as cold as that from a mountain stream high in the Andes. Walking along the beach, joking about swimming in the frigid water, watching the gulls diving for food, and stopping frequently to share kisses and caresses, the rest of the world slowly faded and we were alone but for the cool breeze, the sun, sand, water, and the sea gulls.

As the sun reached a point on the horizon that it began to disappear, we sat on the sand and watched. We were surrounded by the warm, golden-reddish glow from the setting sun as it slowly disappeared beyond the horizon, into the water. Mesmerized by the beauty of the sunset, the beach, and the emotions we felt for one another; it was almost as though we were no longer of this earth, but set apart in our own world. Long after the sun had disappeared we sat on the beach, holding each other, kissing, and staring deeply into each other's eyes -- seeing into each other's soul.

Later in the hotel room, we expressed our love for one another. I would say that we "made love," but that doesn't adequately describe what transpired between us. It went beyond anything physical and emotional. Even to say that it was a spiritual experience seems insufficient. We WERE one; one heart, one soul, one being. We sat on the bed and talked for hours; detached from the world. Nothing existed but us in that moment in time. We both prayed that time would stand still, for everything to stop so we could stay in this Utopian cocoon that had been spun around us.

We laughed; and we cried, for a future that could not exist -- would never exist for us. You see, cultural differences make that impossible. What many people fail to understand is that I respect his beliefs and his culture, and would never ask him to go against traditions and culture that are so ingrained in his being. I love him too much.

But I know that whatever the future holds for either of us, I will always have my "moment in time" lovingly stored in my memory. A place I can escape in my mind and relive those feelings and that special connection he and I shared; for I know, neither of us may ever have that connection or that "moment" again, with anyone else.
©Copyright 2000
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may be
made without the express permission of the author.

Full Moon Rising

Did my ancestors dance naked in the light of the full moon? Is it my Celtic heritage that's responsible for one of my fantasies that takes place under a full moon? My fascination with the full moon and its spellbinding lure must come from my Celtic heritage because I also enjoy watching the lunar eclipse. Some magical forces seem to surround you while watching the moon become slowly dimmed by the shadow passing across it's face, concealing the brightness and then finally taking on a red glow before the shadow gradually reveals the brightness illuminating from earth's only constant companion. Many times while gazing at the full moon in all it's splendor, I have wondered what it would be like to actually experience this fantasy of making love to someone special, while bathed in the incandescent light of the full moon.

After having lived out one of my fantasies, and allowing him to read my writing about the experience, my "partner in crime" asked me if I had any other fantasies I wished to fulfill. Jokingly I told him, yes, that it also has an outdoor setting, but that this fantasy takes place under a full moon. "After all," I told him, "my ancestors danced naked under the full moon, though I have no intention of dancing." I guess the joking manner helped me to be honest and open with him. I'm usually a very open person, but not ordinarily about sex, so this avenue of communication is alien to me.

Anyway, a couple of days later, I realized that it should be time for a full moon. So I searched the web, and found that the next full moon would be this week. I fired off a humorous e-mail telling him of my discovery about the day of the full moon. Knowing that he usually goes to bed fairly early because he has to awake early in the mornings, the e-mail wasn't really intended as an invitation, but just a continuation of the communication. I figured the more I exercised this new openness, the more comfortable I would become. A couple of days later I chatted with him online and nonchalantly asked if he had received my e-mail about the date of the next full moon. He stated yes, but what could we do about it. Not sure if I was serious or joking, I told him I could always try to find a baby-sitter and drive to Lafitte. He commented that would be nice. I immediately began looking for a baby-sitter.

Thursday evening as I drove across the bridge that separates the north shore from New Orleans; I watched the full moon rising, and the waves in the lake turning to silver cascades carrying the magical lunar light to the shore. The moon smiling down upon the lake, seeming so large, so close you could reach out and touch it. Then as it rose higher, it seemed to be floating away from the earth, knowing that most inhabitants cannot appreciate it's mystery and lure.

By the time I reached Lafitte, the moon had chosen a place in the night sky where it could edify any mortal willing to share in it's glory and its mystery. From its position it served as a lantern, lighting the way to the site which had been chosen for viewing the full moon and the lunar eclipse. The wind was brisk and full of fury at times; whipping around us as we made our way to the secluded area surrounded by marshes and woodland. Arriving with our "refreshments" I discovered he had planned well, for there at the end of the path was a tent and wood ready to be set ablaze to create a campfire for warmth. He playfully stated that someone must have planned on camping and that we would make use of their preparations as he lighted the fire.

How long we stood mesmerized by the flames caressing the firewood, I'm not sure. I've always loved watching a campfire, enchanted but at the same time respectful of its blaze, I chuckled as he told me that he was always fascinated by fire. I smiled and thought, "Another thing to add to the list of common interests." We talked about abstract ideas, things that I'm usually afraid to discuss because most people look at me like I've lost my mind. Since it was still some time before the beginning of the lunar eclipse, he suggested that we make ourselves comfortable in the warmth of the tent. I agreed. Entering the tent, I realized how much preparation had gone into this setting. There inside the tent was an air mattress, large enough for two, with covers to keep the night chill away.

Laughing, I removed my shoes and crawled under the covers. Shivering and holding each other until our combined body heat raised the temperature in the tent or at least under the covers. We removed our jackets, and once again sought the warmth of each other and the covers, but this time with caressing touches and kisses that made my body feel as though I were the firewood being caressed gently by the licking flames of the fire. The fire outside had died to burning embers, but the light of the full moon and the fire being stoked inside the tent set the perfect scene for the amorous but erotic pleasures that followed. We made love several times. We did dance naked under the full moon; the dance of passion and love. We missed viewing most of the lunar eclipse, but I felt as though we were a part of the magnificence and edification bestowed by the full moon and the eclipse.

Yes, we made love. I have always felt like the physical and sexual encounters with him can in no way be called just sex, it's more than that, at least for me. At one point that night, after we both reached that point that some would call nirvana, or heaven, still close, connected, he asked me if I was comfortable. My response was, "I'm always comfortable when I'm with you." He responded that he knew that, but he was referring to physical comfort. I laughed and told him that I was comfortable. And thought to myself, why can't his emotions and feelings be as transparent to me as mine are to him.

So did my ancestors dance naked under the full moon? Yes, I'm sure they did. Probably anyone who comes from a Celtic heritage can say that somewhere in their family history are stories of witches or pagans who participated in monthly celebrations of the full moon and elaborate celebrations of the occasional the lunar eclipse. Of course, those who celebrated either during ancient times were branded lunatics or witches. A lunar eclipse was viewed as a bad omen -- a sign of some impending disaster. To some degree people still hold to these superstitions. And I guess that's one reason that many people don't know this nocturnal side of me, like the moon during the total lunar eclipse, it remains in the shadows. I too have "danced naked under the full-moon," but my dance was not simply a dance in celebration of the full moon or the elaborate celebration of the lunar eclipse. It was more. It was a celebration of life, of love, and of hope.

Driving home later that night I noticed that the moon was hidden, whether it was because of the lights or because it had become so overcast, I wasn't sure. Or maybe it had just made an appearance that night for us. I'd like to think so. I know no one could have enjoyed the full moon or the eclipse that night more than I did. I guess it's his turn now. So do I ask him about his fantasies or wait and let him tell me?

©Copyright 2000
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may be
made without the express permission of the author.

Nature Calls

Anyone who knows me well, knows how much I enjoy nature and being outdoors. My idea of heaven is sitting under a large oak tree, listening to the melodious sound of the various local birds, noting the diversity of life forms co-existing, and breathing the fresh air. Except for the fact that I enjoy a hot shower on a very regular basis, at least once or twice a day, I think I could live happily in a primitive shelter in the woods or on the side of a mountain somewhere.

Well, this past weekend, I had the opportunity to live my "idea of heaven" for a short period of time. And I guess in a way, extend or expand my definition of heaven. For weeks I had wanted to see the little town of Lafitte during the daytime. It's a quaint little town, though like most small towns now days, it is suffering "growing" pains. The town has still managed to maintain the character that makes small towns so wonderful. I stayed overnight in Lafitte with a friend or boyfriend; I'm not really sure what to call him. I've given up trying to define the relationship and just accept whatever happens.

Sunday morning dawned gray and overcast, very humid with the temperature in the upper 60s, comfortable some would say, but a bit too warm for me. We showered and decided to visit Jean Lafitte National Park to continue the exploration and walk we had begun the afternoon before. We packed a few supplies and started out for the park. When we arrived, it was obvious we would pretty much have the trail to ourselves. We chose the longer trail, though I think he had his doubts as to whether I could make that long of a trek. I explained to him that I had spent hours upon hours roaming through the woods as a kid and even as a teenager. The woods became my refuge from pain, my sanctuary where I could take out my thoughts and examine them. In the woods I could weigh all the factors of a problem and make a decision without interference from the "real world" that I was usually trying to escape if only briefly.

We walked along slowly, usually quietly, trying to catch glimpses of the wild life and enjoy the magnificence of the surroundings. What most people fail to understand is that if you are there to enjoy the wild life, you can't make too much noise, or the wild life won't stay around to be enjoyed. The majestic cypress trees, most with the roots lying on top of the ground, sheltered the fields of palmettos and other species of plant life. It was a wonderful sight to behold. Occasionally the wind would blow through the palmetto leaves and it would sound like a light shower sweeping gently through the park. We walked almost halfway down the trail and decided to stop and take out the wine and snack we had brought. We drank the wine and snacked mostly in silence. There was little need for conversation, we both understood that. We were there to enjoy nature together. I don't know about him, but I have found it difficult to find anyone who understands my passion for nature and the need to sometimes just sit and be absorbed into it. It serves as a method of meditation for some, myself included.

We packed everything back up and continued our hike. As we walked along he suggested that we find a secluded spot for some erotic pleasure. I laughed but I don't remember assenting or dismissing the idea. We reached the end of trail where it looped around and started back to the entrance about the same time I started feeling this minor discomfort. Of course, being a female, and having drunk water from the canteen and wine from the bottle -- I was faced with a dilemma; either rush our return to the entrance and seek restroom facilities or use nature's natural "facilities." Well, rushing back wasn't really an option in my mind; I was enjoying the walk too much for a little inconvenience to get in the way. Little inconvenience, hell, it was a big inconvenience, which any woman who has had the misfortune of needing to use the bathroom in the wilderness can tell you. So we found a large cypress tree, big enough to screen my movements and I proceeded to remove my jeans and panties and use "nature's facilities." It was a combination of embarrassment and comedy. Had it been anyone else, I would have been rolling on the ground with laughter.

Once I was again fully clothed, we proceeded on the return loop. The silence was broken only by the numerous armadillos scrounging through the leaves looking for insects and occasional giggles from thinking about my earlier predicament. I began to think about what he had said earlier about finding a secluded spot. What he did not know, what no one knew, was that was one of my sexual fantasies -- making love in broad daylight, in a secluded area in the woods. I debated with myself, should I say something, was I adventurous enough to follow through? I had jokingly told him earlier that he was "corrupting" me. With him, I seem to have few inhibitions, I can't explain or understand it. I mulled over these questions for a few minutes, very few, I'm ashamed to admit, and I finally asked him if he was going to find a secluded spot. I didn't have to elaborate; he knew what I meant.

We had not progressed very far when he found a very large cypress with a small clearing on the side away from the trail. We had brought a large towel to sit upon (or so I had thought) when we stopped to drink the wine. The towel was spread out on a relatively level spot. What followed is almost like a dream in my memory, some moments being hazy and others being intensely vivid. I don't recall much foreplay; nature had provided that with the setting and the natural chemistry between us. And I won't describe the details of what transpired it was too special for me to share with anyone but him. But we did made love under that big cypress tree not too very far from the trail on which we had been walking. And the reality surpassed anything I could have possibly fantasized. Euphoric is the only word that even comes close to describing the act of making love with him under that cypress tree in all the wonder and glory of nature. Needless to say, I now have a second definition for heaven.

Driving home from Lafitte that afternoon, I was in a daze. I was still reeling from the experience and a bit shocked that I had actually acted out one of my fantasies. He does seem to have some "influence" over me. I tend to go with my feelings and desires and yes, lately I'm surprised quiet frequently at my action -- surprised and shocked, but with no regrets, none at all. As I pulled into the driveway at home, I remember thinking that I had read a story he had written about a fantasy he had that had something to do with a shower…and I just smiled to myself.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may be
made without the express permission of the author.

Dance with Me

His name was Sam. It was the early 70s, and the federal government had demanded that the schools in Mississippi integrate. Oak Grove was a small rural school in Lamar County in south Mississippi, small enough that the elementary, junior high and high school were all on the same campus. Under the federal mandate, the “black” school was closed and the students were divided between three schools in Lamar County. In the high school, we had six females and one male that were bused in to attend Oak Grove. Tension was very high; this was a new experience for all of us. I cannot even begin to image the fear and anxiety of those seven students. The first weeks of school it was like everyone was walking on eggs, nothing in our education had prepared us. Most of the white students had never even conversed with someone of another race, so we were at a loss.

Within the first 6 weeks of school, one of the new female students and one of the older male students got into a fight. No, not an argument, this male student actually struck the female. Now, I’m sorry, I don’t care what a female says to a male, physical violence is not to be tolerated. Both students were expelled and the black students threatened a “walk-out.” Parents pulled their kids out of school for the week. There was talk of canceling the homecoming activities scheduled the next week at the school. After much debate, cooler heads prevailed.

Homecoming week at school was filled with the usual excitement and activity. Girls worried about whether this boy or that would ask them to the homecoming dance, which was held in the gym after the football game. Boys apprehensively approached girls, praying they would not be rejected. Still, the racial tension was present, though not as prevalent. The homecoming court had been elected. The maids and homecoming queen selected, and their escorts chosen. I never knew who chose the escorts, but the escorts at that time were always football players, and Sam was a football player. He was a freshman. So he was selected to escort the freshman maid. Nothing was said, for Sam was a very quiet, well-respected young man. And he was a football player, which in some high schools is the equivalent of being a “god.”

After the football team lost the game (we always lost) students crowded around the entrance of the gym awaiting the dance. Girls in their finery, boys in their suits. I had a date, though for the life of me, I can’t remember who he was. The six new female students all brought dates. Sam went alone. The new students gathered on one side of the gym, in one corner, all but ignored by the rest of the student population. A live band had been hired to play at the dance. I silently watch the group in the corner, occasionally several couples would venture onto the gym floor, dancing in a corner close to their safe haven near their friends. Sam stood there, smiling and watching everyone else dance.

I have always loved to dance. My heart sank watching Sam stand there, alone while everyone else was having such a good time, dancing, laughing. I excused myself from my date. Shaking, I walked what seemed like a mile across that gym floor, to the secluded corner where Sam stood. I had become friends with several of the girls and we spoke and exchanged greetings and compliments as I approached the group. Turning, I spoke, “Sam, dance with me.” Sam smiled and replied “Girl, you don’t know what you’re asking. They’ll crucify your reputation.” I smiled, “I never cared much for what people thought, especially ignorant people. And just think of the story you’ll have to tell your grandchildren" I continued to persuade, he finally agreed.

We walked onto the dance floor, Sam stopping in the corner where the new students had been dancing. I turned, grabbed his hand and led him to the middle of the gym – in the center of all the white students. We began to dance to the fast beat of the music. Slowly, the dance floor emptied. Sam and I were alone on the dance floor. I glance around and Sarah and Shirley, two of the new female students grabbed their dates and ventured onto the floor. Not quite in the center where Sam and I were, but their presence on the floor was noted. The song ended, I looked at Sam and we both understood we would stay there until the other students returned to the dance floor. One by one, couples begrudgingly began to return. By the end of the second song, it was as if nothing had happened. Sam returned me back to my date and went back to his secluded corner.

The other girls in his group took turns dancing with him after that, but no other white girl approached him, and Sam was too smart to attempt to ask one to dance. I had to find a ride home from the dance that night. My date was furious, not because I had danced with another guy, but because I had danced with a black guy. He never asked me out again, which was good, because he would have gotten a piece of my mind and a refusal if he had.

Sam became my first male friend. We spent a lot of time talking about the state of the world and the things that should be changed. We also talked about interracial dating. Sam and I were never interested in each other in a romantic sense, and we both agreed, the citizens of state of Mississippi weren’t ready for that yet. Little did I know that I would later be married to someone who was “Hispanic” or that I would come to love an eastern Indian to the point that I would have gladly given my life for him. And yes, the world is still reluctant to accept what they consider interracial relationships.

My reputation, well, Sam’s nickname was “Sunshine” – and the rest of the year I was dubbed “Sunshine’s girl.” I would just laugh. See, I was a rebel, and though I didn’t realize it at the time, my reputation as being rebellious and standing up for a cause was enhanced. The racial tension that had surrounded the first months of school dissipated. The following three years progressed without any more racial incidents.

Sam and I lost touch after high school. But I sometimes wonder, one day will he tell his grandchildren about this insane white woman who was crazy enough back then to ask a black guy to dance during a time when that was forbidden?

©Copyright 2001
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may be
made without the express permission of the author.

Footnote:

My senior year in high school, the junior class put on a "skit" selecting 10 students from the senior class and portraying what they would be doing in ten years. I was one of the seniors they chose to portray. "I" was dressed in fatigues and carrying a machine gun. I was flattered, because you see, this "rebel" has always had a cause.

Tribute to my Uncle

The following story was written right after my Uncle died. Today my family got together for Easter - and my Uncle Eddie was on my mind a lot today, so I decided to post this (originally Titled "Funeral for an Uncle").


My uncle died unexpectedly this week. He was a good man, with a quick smile and teasing manner. In all my years, I never heard him say anything negative about anyone. He was a gentle man, soft-spoken, a hard worker, and he lived like God wishes us to live. He was always willing to help, to do whatever someone needed. He was special; and we all loved him.

The small funeral home in the small town of Sumrall, Mississippi is not elaborate like those in cities. It's simple. The employees are friendly and know just what to say to the immediate family members, because they usually know the family members personally.

I spent many weeks during the summer at my Uncle Eddie's home. I remember when he built his home. Yes, he built his home, using some materials collected from homes being restored or torn down in the "old" part of Hattiesburg. He labored on the house during his spare time, which Uncle Eddie never really had spare time. Besides a full time job, he had cows and usually a garden. Not your average "home" garden, this garden fed the whole extended family living close enough to come "pick" what needed to be picked and that Uncle Eddie couldn't use. My father and all my aunts and uncles living in the area filled their freezers every year from Uncle Eddie's garden.

When I was about seven, I remember "helping" him "shoo" the cows from one pasture to another. I was a "city" girl; raised in Hattiesburg, which really wasn't that big during that time. But I definitely didn't have much experience herding cows or spreading hay for them during the winter. The first time I ever rode a horse was at his house. I rode behind his oldest daughter, a year older than me in age and years wiser in the ways of the country. I was scared to death as the horse calmly walked around the cleared land around my uncle's house. As we rounded one corner the horse decided it was going under a big oak limb. My cousin ducked, I didn't. After he made sure nothing was broken my uncle gently carried me back over to that horse, me screaming that I didn't want to ride any more. Uncle Eddie told me "When you get throwed off a horse, you have to get right back on, or you never will." He put me back on the horse's back and told me that when I showed him I was really having fun I could get down. My butt was sore for days after that, whether from the fall or from riding for so long I don't know; but that day I learned that when you don't succeed at something, don't be afraid to try again. You will eventually be successful. The lesson I learned that day has helped many times in my life; times I was ready to give up and turn away. Then I would hear Uncle Eddie's voice saying, "When you get throwed off a horse, you have to get right back on, or you never will," and I would find the strength to get back up on whatever "horse" it was at the moment.

My cousins and I used to roam for hours through the woods on the land surrounding the house. I felt safe in "Uncle Eddie's woods." Every Sunday my family would "go to the country," which meant we were going to see my Uncle Eddie and his family. Every Easter was spent in that welcoming house. Everyone came; uncles, aunts, and cousins would come from as far away as Chicago and Miami. We would have the traditional "pot luck" lunch and eat until we could hardly move. Then the kids would be secluded inside the house while the adults, and later the older kids, would hide eggs for the small ones to find. I don't ever remember a year that all the eggs were found. I don't know if Easter will be at celebrated there this year; and it saddens me. The best memories of my childhood were spent at Uncle Eddie's and Aunt Margie's house; from hunting Easter eggs; "snipe hunting;" roaming the woods; basketball, football, and baseball games with my cousin's; eating sugar cane on the back porch (which had just been cut from the fields); sleep overs during the summer and sometimes weekends (when my grades were good) during the school year; and yes even picking peas and butterbeans out of Uncle Eddie's garden.

We buried him today. The funeral was nice, as funerals go. The weather was cold, wet, and gray; reflecting the feelings of those who were grieving the loss of this extraordinary man. The music was beautiful, the flower arrangements colorful and fragrant, and the sermon was nice. But I would have liked the preacher to have said more about how Uncle Eddie touched all of our lives. He spoke of how he was a good Christian and how the day before his death, my uncle was at the hospital visiting the sick.

I hate funerals. I know they are necessary for the living to say goodbye to the loved one and to provide "closure." I never know what to say to people, so usually I just hug them and let that do my talking. I was doing okay until I walked over to my Aunt Margie. As I hugged her, she told me "He was always worried about you. He said just the other day that he knowed something was wrong right now with you and that he was really worrying and wished he could do something." The floodgates opened and my tears started flowing. It had been several months since I'd seen my uncle, and in that time, yes several things had gone wrong, but not even my own parent knew of it, so how did he? He didn't say much, and he wasn't college educated, but he was the personification of wisdom. Yes, he was a good Christian as the preacher said, but he was so much more to those whose lives he touched. So even though he's no longer of this world, he still lives in those whose lives he touched. And he will continue to live as long as those lessons he taught us as children are taught to our children and their children, and their children….. I hope that one day my grand child will tell my great grandchild a story about his or her great grandmother being put back on a horse after being knocked off by a limb; if not, it's in my words on this page to forever immortalize that lesson Uncle Eddie taught me.

©Copyright 2000
SLG
All rights reserved. No further use,
reproduction, or distribution in any form,
including print, electronic or otherwise, may be
made without the express permission of the author.