Reminiscing on people past.

It must be my advancing age, because now and then I get to thinking about people I have known and loved, liked or disliked during the years, many of them whom I would consider remarkable and unique in the world.

I happened to recall a girl named Gayle, whom I met in my 20s and who was one of these people who rationalized or over theorized nearly everything, but she was beautiful and young and caring and we spent some time together. She was the type who if you got angry at her for denting your car fender when she borrowed it, she would muse out loud that your anger must be actually from some deep hidden psychological desire to consider the car as a person, and that taking it out on her was displaced aggression because if one really cared for her, one would understand and be more compassionate, taking into consideration her own angst over damaging the vehicle in the first place and the subsequent emotional trauma she had suffered knowing that she would have to face one concerning the incident to the precious machine. (Yeah, kinda gets one doesn’t it?)

She could read a book as simple as Tom Sawyer and then present a massive dissertation about how it ACTUALLY spoke of the past repression of the poor, the social climate of the times and the economic pressures influencing the creativity of mankind, toss in the undue influence of slavery upon the masses, suggest that the writer had a repressed desire to return to the simpler times of childhood and theorize that it encompassed somehow a smattering of communism and the desire of the rich to lord it over the poor. Me? I just thought it was a real swell book depicting a bygone era.

Still, I recall how she showed up one day with her hair dyed bright green, wearing green eye liner, green nails and green clothing. (Yeah. She was green DOWN THERE also, I found out in person later.) Sometimes I might drop in and find her with multicolored spiked hair, dressed like a punk rocker with wild eye make-up claiming that she just wanted to shake up the people where we were going dancing. (She did.) Another time she might be dressed in those Earth blouses of the 60s – white, square collar, mid sleeved, decorated with a row of embroidered flowers and falling loosely to just below the navel (I miss those.) accompanied by flower embroidered flared jeans, bare foot with bright red painted toenails, bright red lipstick and long, flowing shiny hair. (She was getting in touch with the Earth and I got stuck working cowshit into her garden but she made it worth my time.) She was always happy, always able to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere at any time and I loved it. One time, feeling particularly risque, she popped in at my place wearing a raincoat and panties and nothing else – an idea she got from a movie – and the raincoat was clear. I was impressed. Sometimes she made green tea and we sipped it listening to Neal Diamond on her stereo while she burned incense and lit the place with a few scented candles. Other times we sipped coffee, listened to rock and roll while she hung around in jeans, sneakers and T-shirt trying to convince me that I needed to go to college and get a degree. (I never did.)

Today, with everyone so formal, so into themselves and their stocks, their SUVs, Skeedo’s, their home computing and various opinions on child care, law, freedom of speech, and having good lawyers, I find that I miss her. I don’t know where she is because we parted company decades ago. I decided to see the world and she was going to try to save it. She was never boring, always gentle, somewhat confusing, probably too intelligent for the times, somewhat naive, and always smelled good.

I find that I think about her at times in the quiet of the night, as I sit in my home, surrounded by artifacts of my wanderings, wondering where she is, what she is doing, hoping that she has not changed much and hoping that she is well and happy.

Who do you remember when the day is quiet, the lights are low and you’re sitting alone, relaxing, with a cool drink and thinking about years and people past?

I don’t have one to add of my own but I just want to say what a sweet reminiscence! I read it and now I miss her too!


“pluto … a seriously demented but oddly addictive presence here.” – TVeblen

dan, the attorney i worked for when i was 20. he was 40, married to an older woman, no kids. life was getting boring for him. his wife was boring all the time, but was a sweet person who adored him, her only love.

he started an affair w/ me, a kid, for kicks; but he fell madly in love w/ me–& i guess i w/ him. he wanted to divorce mariam, marry me. we would run off to sunny florida & he would start a storefront practice where he could help people who really need an advocate.

i was nuts about him but refused to allow him to divorce mariam because it would have killed her. she was quite shy, had no friends outside the circle of people who were really his friends.

he was devastated & we both cried a lot for a while; but i eventually got together w/ my high school sweetheart, married, moved out of state.

about 8 yrs later mariam got very ill w/ something they couldn’t identify, was hospitalized for a few months, & died. dan started dating an admin person he had met in the hospital (who looked remarkably like mariam!) & remarried about a yr later.

a couple yrs later again my marriage had fallen apart completely. i was on my own & looking for a job. i called him out of the blue to see if he would write me a letter of recommendation and, of course, he told me the whole story of what had happened in the interim. the first words out of my mouth were, “why didn’t you call me when you were finally free?” the catch in his voice, the palpable regret made us both cry.

he had thought i was happy & didn’t want to shake up my marriage. in reality, it was as much on the rocks & i wanted out as much as he had 15 yrs in the past.

i went back to chicago a few yrs ago & stopped at the office to see him. we didn’t talk about the past–too tender a subject still–but he did tell me his current wife was quite jealous of me even tho we had never met & i was long ago & far away.

i still think of him. timing is everything. maybe we’ll connect in another life.

Sentinel that was the most beautiful thing I have ever read.

Have you thought about putting your time with her into a book?

sniff I need a tissue.

Her name was Aleta Gail Noyes and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and the ONLY one, who, when she walked, she glided across the floor in a motion that has to be seen to fully appreciate the grace and loveliness of it. She was only about 5 feet 4 inches tall, small breasted, with a gentle curve to her hips, wonderful legs, small feet and she always wore skirts that came just below her knees. She had dark, blackish hair that was always cut in a short, cute bob and it shone when light struck it while she had perceptive, intelligent and gentle brown eyes and a beautiful pixie face. Her voice was soft and could be wondrously husky when she was sleepy or just answering the phone. (I have NEVER since found a woman who could send tingles through me by just saying hello on a phone in such a way.) She had a laugh that was beautiful to hear, both clear and genuine and when she laughed, her entire face became radiant in a way that I suppose an angel might look.

I even recall the very womanly way she held her cigarette as she smoked. She was the ONLY woman I have EVER hugged who ‘fit,’ in that she snuggled against me in all of the right places. She had the softest cheeks in the world and even when she got mad she was lovely. She could be so petite and quiet that one would get the impression that she would not say shit if she had a mouthful but away from work and among friends she could be delightfully outgoing and wild, displaying a wonderful zest for life.

She had a quiet way about her that bespoke of deep thoughts going on in her mind from time to time and there could be glimpses of a quiet pain behind her eyes from past things only hinted at. She was smart, confident and kind, and any man she fell in love with would receive ALL of her love which should guarantee that he would NEVER stray. Even being her friend filled one with a gentle inner warmth that lingered long and was never forgotten.

She did not hold grudges, nor did she gossip meanly about people. She smelled of scented soap and light perfume and I still can feel the touch of her hair on my cheek from many years ago.

I was one who pursued her and failed, but I have never forgotten this beautiful, gentle woman who seemed to glide when she walked. I know where she lives now, with her husband and her children, but I don’t go by there anymore. The old feelings return, my stomach gets those old butterflies and I know she is happy and I am jealous of her husband.

So, I stay away, but, from time to time, I think about her and how she ‘fit’ when I hugged her, how her laugh was music to my ears, how her eyes sparkled in the light and how her husky phone voice sent a tingle through me like none ever experienced before. Sometimes, though, I wonder if things would have been different if I was as mature THEN as I am NOW, perhaps I would not have lost.

But, dreams are a soap bubbles on a windy day, and after over 20 years, I still have not forgotten Aleta. At least I hope that she is happy. I caught a glimpse of her in passing several years ago. She did not see me but she looks just as she did when I was chasing after her and the butterflies returned briefly, my mouth went dry, my hands shook and I continued on my way.

She is about the only truely beautiful woman, inside and out, that I have ever met. Her husband is SO lucky.


What? Me worry?’

What a couple of SWEETHEARTS! Gee, I’m touched. I don’t think anyone has ever impressed me THAT much, though I’ll have to think about it. If some men are THAT sensitive, it makes me wonder if anyone has ever thought about me in such a way. Seriously, I don’t know if I’ve ever been that much in love.

His name was Michael and he was truly an angel for he taught me how to recognize the beauty that is “of this earth”. I met him when I was 26 and altho he may never know this, he changed my world in ways that words can not describe. My spirit was at an all time low and he became my mentor in this thing called life. He taught me that beauty is not all that is perfect; that it’s the very imperfections that makes everything individual and unique. That appreciating every little nuance of someone or something is what is important in life. He was my light thru a dark passage and I will always bring him to mind when my heart is bleak and I need a reminder of who I am, and why I am here.


I really try to be good but it just isn’t in my nature!

I’ll bounce it, since I looked it up. Very nice. (And no smilies, so you might like it, Chief!)

User FRiendly
Chrome Toaster

You’re not sporting a quilted, poodle-embossed toaster coozy, are ya chrome?

Anyway, thread john that I am, I’ll reminisce (note spelling NightGirl) away…

She was my first true love.
I first met her in at when my best friend Bill Schmidt introduced me to her. She was his but I wanted one just like her.

I scrimped and saved for she was dear. I knew that to make her mine, I must impress her with my diligence in saving money. With no regrets I planned to spend my meager fortune on her.

Just let her be mine!

One day I thought I could afford her… but would I be worthy?

When we finally met she was stiff. I knew that if she would only give me a chance we could become one. I was willing to invest the time with her.

Afternoons and evening I dated with her. I arose Saturday mornings early so I could proudly show her off to my friends.
But still she fought me and bucked my advances.

Dad gave me some good advice. Ah, yes. Our first oil massage!!

She drank it into her very pores as I caressed her, kneaded her, massaged her.
::sigh::

To my surprise she loved it! Couldn’t get enough!

She was a brazen vixen. When I slipped my fingers into her she clenched them, unwilling to let them go. The warmth of my hand seeped into her very soul.

God that was the best summer of my life.

And she was one fine catcher’s mitt.


Laugh and the world laughs with you. Smilie and you smilie alone (with my contempt). – missdavis

Didn’t someone say in another thread that we weren’t to use the word “cooze”? (Coincidentally, I think that was a NightGirl thread, too.)

But Chief, how nice of you to remember!
I do sport a lovely muu-muu, hand sewn by my old GrandMaMa. The poodle appliqué, regrettably, fell off long ago, and was rendered to the trash, along with that week’s crumbs. I shall miss that poodle.

CT

Her name is Sarah. We were coworkers for a few years. She was a rock and roll mama, just a few years past the right age for that. Guitarist/Lead Singer boyfriend, and she had spent a bit of time traveling “with the band.” I was a bitter, middle aged divorcee, hurt, and lonely, and dying of lonely separation from my children. I had shut down a whole lot of feeling for women. I pretty much didn’t let myself get interested. She was interesting.

She was physically fit, strong and active, and moved like she was dancing all the time. Bright, verbal, and irreverent, she wielded humorous jibes like a foil, when subjected to the nearly constant barrage of wishful thinking sexual comments from male coworkers. When I laughed with her, she would curtsey, impishly. She was hot as fire, and she knew it, but she wasn’t interested in how anyone felt about that, we had work to do, and people who relied on us to do it.

One day she turned around to a crude comment about her “doing that dance for me some time.” The comment took from her a private thing, a bit of herself, and made it seem to be something else, something dirty, and cheap. This time her humor failed her, and she ran off, and wept. I cried too. The clod looked at me and said “I don’t know what the fuck ** you ** have to cry about.” I said, “I know.” He got angry, and then said “I don’t see anything wrong with what I said.” I said, “I know.”

That night, I wrote a poem, about an elf maid, dancing in the woods. I don’t remember it all, but the last line was:

<p align=“center”>For the dance that she danced was for herself,
She did not dance for me.</p>

I went out for a drink the next day, with her. I told her that I wanted to love her. I knew that she could not feel for me what I felt for her, but I still wanted to love her. Then I gave her the poem. It took me some time to quit crying about it all. She had a lot of trouble dealing with it too, but eventually she understood that I did love her, even though it wasn’t going to be a love story thing. She said that the poem was the best present she ever got, from anyone. It gave her back her dance. We are friends to this very day.

And Sarah, the rock and roll mamma dumped the singer, and the band, and waited for Prince Charming. He showed up. Five years younger than her, six feet three inches tall, red haired, green eyed, Irish, and as honest, kind and gentle as ever Prince Charming could be. All that, and he understands how lucky he is to have her. I love them both, and the kids they have too.

And still, when she moves, she dances, and still, when I am near, I watch. And still I love her.
<P ALIGN=“CENTER”>Tris</P>

I don’t have a snappy one liner to follow this story. Tris.