One Texas Summer

I want to post another story now for a couple of reasons. I'm heading to Vegas for a week tomorrow and doubt I'll have a lot of time for it next week. Also I got pimped by Gem in her journal and since she even mentioned these stories it encouraged me to post another one.

This is another story written for the theme "Escapades". It is also another collaboration. I can't for the life of me remember the inspiration for this story. As I remember the only comments I got on it from the judges were corrections to the grammar in the dialog. We had intended it to sound like a Texas teenager talking but maybe it didn't work, you be the judge.

It was August 1969 in Texas.  My folks had gone to South Padre Island for their annual vacation, but I was 16 and had a job, so I was spared.  Me and my best friend Jimbo were hangin' out at my house, reveling in our temporary freedom.  While we sucked on Marlboros, we were surrounded by dirty dishes, empty soda bottles, and overflowin' ashtrays.

But by the third day, the novelty of paradise was wearing off a bit.  Jimbo'd brought his girlfriend Kimmy over, so besides being bored, I had to watch the two of them neckin'.  Suddenly Jimbo said he had this great idea... a sure sign to watch my ass!

"Robbie, your daddy's car is sittin' right there, just beggin' us to get in!  Kimmy says Pam thinks you're pretty cute---we could pick her up, and head over to the lake, and have ourselves a good ol' time!"

Well, it was appealing, but I could see two problems right away.  First, I was not supposed to even *touch* Daddy's new '70 Hemi 'Cuda, let alone drive it!  And second, Pam had this reputation for being a bit "loose"... and while I was aching' to finally get laid, I wasn't sure I wanted it to be with her, cuz she would know for sure it was my first time.  But also, I didn't know when I'd ever have a more perfect chance... so I blurted out, "What the hell... let's go for it!"

I got the spare keys from where I knew Daddy kept them, and we headed out.  Jimbo and Kimmy were giggling and squirmin' in the back seat... he and I talked constantly about girls and sex; but he probably embellished as much as me; so I wasn't sure if the two of them had actually done the deed.

We stopped at the Dairy Queen where Pam was just getting' off work.  I watched Kimmy and her talkin',glancing' out at us now and then.  Jimbo kept jabberin' to me about how horny he was, and how he hoped Pam would come along, cuz he figgered that would make it smooth sailin' with Kimmy.  Well, his wish came true, cuz a few minutes later they both headed out to the car.  Pam climbed into the front seat, said hi, and rambled on about how great the car was.  I think she was actually more interested in that 'Cuda than in me... but hell, you hafta answer when opportunity knocks, right?

That big Hemi showed its stuff as I peeled outta there, and Pam squealed as she held onto my arm.  It kinda scared me, too---I'd never driven a car with that much scat!  But everyone seemed to be impressed, and Pam was *glued* to me---I could even feel her breasts against my arm!  And when we got to the lake, she even kissed me and said she thought I was cool!  I kissed her back... and even got some tongue that time!  After that... well, things got pretty hot and heavy in both seats of that vehicle.  Then suddenly Jimbo slapped me on the head and said, "Come on!  We came here to skinny dip!"  To my surprise, Pam looked a bit nervous at that.

We followed behind Jimbo and Kimmy, as they shed their clothes on the way to the lake.  Then Pam stopped and said, "I hafta tell you something, Robbie.  I never really skinny-dipped with a guy before."  I just said, "Well, no one will see us... and besides, Jimbo and Kimmy won't let us back out now without takin' a lot of crap about it!"

I promised Pam I wouldn't watch her, and I undressed and ran into the water first.  I really had planned to peek, but got distracted by Kimmy standing out of the water from her waist up.  Jimbo pulled her down so only their heads were visible then; but I had a pretty good idea what was goin' on underneath!  Just then, I felt Pam's arms around me from behind... and I was embarrassed as hell that I was already... well, "standin' at attention"... before I had even touched her!

We started kissin' right away, and quickly got our hands into the act, too.  We watched Jimbo and Kimmy head back toward some bushes... and soon the moanin' from shore sorta "inspired" us, and Pam took my hand and led us out of the water.

We laid down and started rubbin' our bodies together, and I knew I'd better get that rubber out soon, cuz it was too tempting to just keep going!  I dug it out of my jeans pocket, and Pam took it and said, "Here, let me."  But the second she started to put it on me... well, let's just say it got there a little too late.  All I could say was, "oh, shit"... and grabbed myself to finish it off.

Needless to say, it kinda broke the mood.  And besides being embarrassed, I was also worried that Pam would be pissed.  But all she did was hug me, and whispered, "Ya know, Robbie, I'm kinda glad that happened.  Cuz... I've never gone all the way.  Oh, I know what everyone says about me... and, well, I've always kinda liked that people think I'm sexy and all that.  But deep down... I'm kinda scared to do it, cuz the guys would know it's not true."  I hugged her back, and we ended up havin' a real good talk that night.

As things turned out, we got that 'Cuda back home safe and sound... and Daddy never did find out about it.  And Pam and I never told anyone the secrets we'd learned about each other that evening on the beach.  We actually stayed pretty close friends after that---though we never got together again for a "second chance.  But still... I'll never forget that whole escapade, cuz it was one of the most unexpected and excitin' nights of my life!

Who Chaperones the Chaperones?

Somebody is reading these :) Thank you for your comments!

This story was written in early March of 2000. It is based on a tiny germ of truth from my life. I got roped into being a chaperone for my son's 5th grade campout. The entire 5th grade of his school went. It seems like another life now since he is, this year, a senior in highschool. (obviously this story was not written immediately after the event). I have to put a disclaimer that this story is (rather unfortunately) not autobiographical and any resemblance to any real people is just a coincidence spurred on by my overactive imagination. I also should say that this is the PG version of this story. I also wrote a version that is more R or X but obviously could not have posted that version here on AOL without violating the TOS.

     Much against my will I found myself preparing to go camping with my fifth grade son and his classmates. This was a once a year thing for all fifth graders. When his teacher called me a couple of months before she somehow got me to say yes to something I would normally no way have agreed to. But I'd said I'd do it and I don't go back on a promise so here I was sitting in the school cafeteria as they explained to the parents who were chaperoning what we would have to do.

    We arrived and had time to get all the bags sorted out and in our assigned cabins before lunch. While waiting around in front of the main hall where lunch was to be and trying to keep my eye on the 5 very active boys assigned to me I ended up talking to a woman named Linda as she tried to keep her eye on the 5 girls she was responsible for. It seemed like all day we kept running into each other.

     By the time we were ready for the evening entertainment in the round lodge around the campfire all the parents were beat. I got my kids there and found a place on a bench.

    There were tables all around the outside of the circle and mostly the parents were sitting at these. The kids were sitting on the floor in front of the tables nearer the fire as the entertainment was presented. I had to move to help hand out drinks and when I sat down again I found myself beside Linda when I sat back down. We were in one of the three or four places that were almost pitch black due to theway the place was built.It was not crowded and it was the quietest place there was although that's only in a relative sense of the word quiet. Conversation was possible though without yelling.

    It was actually kind of pleasant sitting there in the dark watching the fire and smelling the smoke. Linda said something to that effect and said she was glad she'd met me and that she wished we'd had more time together. We talked for a while and her hand made its way to my leg and started to stroke it lightly. I put my hand on her leg and she covered it with her hand. When I looked over at her she smiled and then rested her head on my shoulder.

     When I asked if she thought she should do that she pointed out that nobody could see us as long as the house lights didn't come up.

    The entertainment was drawing to a close and it was all too soon time to take the kids back to their cabins. We arranged to meet a bit after lights out by the main hall. With a wink she said she'd see me after lights out and we went off our respective ways.

    It seemed forever to settle the kids and I thought lights out would never come. I told one of the other chaperones in my cabin as he settled in to sleep that I was going for a walk and left for the main hall.

    There were a surprising number of people sitting around the outside deck of the main hall. She came a couple of minutes later and after talking a bit in the group said she felt like taking a walk and asked if I'd go with her to keep her safe from snakes. At least a couple of the people in the group seemed to have a good idea what we were up to and the rest were clueless.

    As soon as Linda and I were away from the main area and off on our own she took my hand. I stopped, looked around, and seeing nobody bent a little and kissed her. She whispered that she had been waiting for that all day. My lips pressed against hers, and then gently covered her mouth. She returned my kiss with a hunger that belied how calm she had been all night. There was an almost electric sense of excitement between us. Our hands roamed each other's bodies and it soon became apparent we needed to find a comfortable quiet place to continue. We started off toward the back of the camp where there were supposed to be more cabins that were not in use then.

    We heard something up ahead and slowed down looking at each other and agreeing to quietly check it out. We were surprised to find two of the other parents necking. She was leaning against a tree and he had her shirt pulled up and his hands were roaming her breasts. We tore ourselves away and, skirting them as quietly as possible, continued back toward the cabins.

    Finally they came in view. Linda and I found one that was unlocked and went in. The bunks are far too narrow but we put two mattresses on the floor and that looked like it would work. We began kissing passionately. Her ardor totally inflamed my passion and it was not long before we were shedding clothes and sinking to the mattresses with our bodies wrapped up in each other. Our passions exploded and we made love with an almost savage intensity. We were both totally spent when it was over.

    We collapsed together holding each other and kissing quietly as we came down from that incredible high. She said she'd never done anything like this before but had fantasized about it since she'd agreed to go on the trip.

    We finally decided we'd better get back to our own cabins. We've talked since and both agreed that although this was a wonderful escapade neither of us desired a full fledged affair so we let this be a wonderful one time fling that will forever live in our memories.

Double-sided Blues

This is another 'Blues' story. It is also a collaboration. It was written, as was the previous story, in February of 2000. I won't say much about it since from looking at the hit stats and the comments only Connie is reading this journal any longer. Thank you for sticking with me. I'll keep posting them until all my existing short stories are here. (The ones that clear the AOL TOS anyway).

There I was, trudging along the somewhat muddy path through the woods, kicking at rocks, and generally feeling sorry for myself. I was less than a year short of my 40th birthday, an aspiring writer with no sales to his credit, and frankly, no real effort expended recently. Lately it seemed that all I wanted to do was sleep. It had even become an effort to crawl out of bed to care for the kids when they needed me, a duty which fell to me since I was the stay-at-home parent. It had never seemed like a burden until recently, when it had become as wearing as the rest of my life.

One of the worst parts was living with the perception of others that I "should be happy." After all, being married to a very successful woman, and not being *required* to bring home a paycheck, gave me financial security as well as time and freedom. But even though I had all that, and I knew deep down she loved me very much, I was still feeling such a void. It was an emptiness I tried to explain, justify, defend, and even ignore... but it kept creeping back and I couldn't shake it.

With the strenuous hours she's been working lately, her basic routine is coming home mid-evening, eating a late reheated dinner, playing with the kids a bit, and then falling asleep. And when I do manage to catch her awake in bed, and try to initiate some intimacy, I'm met with indifference at best, and at worst a feeling of "let's get this over with." I eventually realized that the ironic truth is, with all the benefits that her professional efforts provide me, they're forcing me further out of her life as time goes on.

I've been feeling more and more isolated. It seems that everybody but me has friends. Over the years, I've found that people in general don't seem to understand a man who doesn't have a 9-to-5 job in this day and age. Some assume I'm unemployable, some probably think that I'm just lazy; and some may even believe I have no control or say in our marriage. Only a very few stop to think of the rewards and recognitionmy wife receives that I don't, not to mention her opportunities for social interaction, of which I see little. Not many realize that unlike most wives, mine has very little housework to do, and her children are always attended by a loving parent in their own home. But even as I utter those words, I'm even questioning how much care and affection I'm capable of giving them anymore.

========================================

There I was, stuck in the same traffic jam that slowed me down every morning. When we started a family, my husband and I agreed that since my career was taking off, I would be the one who supported us financially, and he would stay home with the kids and pursue his writing vocation. That always seemed like the perfect setup to me, as I knew I had always been very fulfilled in business. But recently, it had become tougher to go to work, for so many reasons. I used to love my job, as it was usually challenging, and my efforts were measurable, visible, and appreciated. However, lately there had been lots of sporadic talk of layoffs at the management level. And since I was being assigned more "busy work" than major projects, I was more than a little worried.

One of the worst parts was living with the perception of others that a woman should have a natural "maternal instinct" and choose to stay home and raise her children if at all possible. But I had practically done that already with my own younger brothers and sisters, and although I wanted more than anything to be a mother, I could not see myself spending 24 hours a day with my children. I always knew that our preference for my husband to be the major caretaker while I continued to work was not the most popular idea to discuss, even though deep down I also knew it was no one else's business. And as long as I was able to separate and maintain those two worlds, I was alright. But now that I have to put in extra hours doing research and proposals for new projects in order to create some job security, it seems I have to drag myself both to work and back home.

With the strenuous hours I've been working lately, I find I don't have the time or energy for my family when I get home. The kids seem to get most of what there is, because they are more demanding and persistent, and their needs are more obvious. But I can barely make it to *their* bedtime anymore, let alone my own. I long for the intimacy my husband and I used to share; but when he approaches me at night, I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm sure he thinks it's because I don't want him anymore, but it's not that... I just need more than a few quick stolen moments now and then.

I've been feeling more and more isolated. One of the best side benefits of going to work every day used to be the enjoyment of friendships with coworkers. But commensurate with my career success, I've noticed those interfaces steadily decreasing. Some individuals probably think I'm power-hungry or ruthless, and only a very few have stopped to think that I'm simply doing the best I can to support my family. I think what I fear the most is facing the fact that we may have made the wrong decision all those years ago, about the "separation of duties"; because neither my husband or I seem to be happy... with our time apart, or our time together.

 

Blue's Dream

This was a solo story, no collaborator on this one. The theme was "Blues". It was written in February of 2000. I keep trying this story as a letter form. I like it but I seem to be alone because they never seem to be among my more popular stories and none has ever won any sort of award. I actually did a fair amount of research for this story reading a book or two about blues music including some stories of artists and their experiences on the road. I'm not sure it was worth the effort but I enjoyed the process.

Hi, baby!

I'm wondering if you're missing me as much as I'm missing you. I know I already called tonight, but I wanted to write so you'd have something to hold in your hand---the hand that I so often hold in my own. We'll be home in just about two more weeks and I can't wait to hold you in my arms again. At the same time, we're all having a blast, and I 'm so grateful to you for supporting me while I follow my dream.

I think I'll tell you about today, because it was typical of our days on the road.

I got up and down to the lobby right at 11, which is when we'd agreed to check out. While I settled the bill, Luther went to pry Fred out of bed and get him moving. That boy seems to need more sleep than anybody I've ever seen! He'll probably be dozing most of the way to our next gig, too, until it's his turn to drive (and even then, somebody keeps an eye on him just to make sure)!

We grabbed a quick bite to eat at a place by the interstate that was still serving breakfast. (I just can't start the day with lunch; you know how I am!) Then we motored back on down the highway. We've been really lucky in that we haven't had too much really bad weather for driving; and so far, we've only had a couple of fairly minor mechanical problems with the van, which Don managed to fix. We tease him because he can't play a lick on an instrument and can only sing; but I gotta tell you, honey, he can turn a wrench every bit as good as Fred blows that sax! Don kids us that if the group doesn't make it in this business, he's the only one of us that is employable! Lord, I hope we don't have to find out if he's right!

We pulled in here around 3:30 this afternoon and got checked in. This motel is better than the last, but not as nice as some. I'm getting pretty good at picking them, though, and knowing the important things to look for---so much that everyone just leaves it to me to make the arrangements. (Hey, maybe I should tell Don that I can always be a travel agent if we don't make it singing the blues!)

After we all got settled, we drove over to the club to check it out, talk to the manager, etc. Most of the guys hung around there while Don and I went to the local radio station and did an interview and a couple of plugs. I'm still learning to tolerate them, as I know they're essential to our success... but I'll tell you, Don has them eating out of his hand during those interviews! I guess it's because he's always been such a natural with details and bullshit, and both of those are essential ingredients, it seems!

And from there, we went back to the club, where we spent a while with the guy that handles music for the local newspaper. That can sometimes be a joke, but this dude seemed to know his stuff.  I think the guys sensed it too, because they gave him some good material. Now we'll just hope his editor doesn't cut a potentially great story down to filler!

After the sound check, we stopped to get some dinner, and got back to the motel around 7:30. I took a nap (and of course, so did Fred), but I think the others were too keyed up. I didn't have any trouble nodding off, though, as life on the road really wears on me. Don't get me wrong, baby; I love this! But having so much responsibility, and not being home for so long, does tend to exhaust me... and it gets pretty lonely sometimes. I'm sure it does that to everyone in this business. But then again, I'd also hate to ever get to the point that I didn't look forward to getting home to you!

As we always like to do, we got to the club about an hour early. We went on at 10 p.m., and the first set went super. We were really in a groove and were all surprised when it was time for the break. I saw some people in the audience I recognized from several of the other clubs we've played, and I went down to say hello. While I was talking to them, a lady came up and said she was from a national magazine. I politely said goodbye and thanks to the other folks, and talked to that woman for a while.  She said that while this was the first time she'd seen us, she really liked our sound. She seemed to be very interested in the story of how we got started, and told me she'd like to see how her boss would react to a feature story about us. Honey, that will be so great if she can!

We wrapped up the second set late---almost 1 a.m.---but it felt so good that it was justtoo hard to stop! An hour later we were back here at the motel. We sat around shooting the breeze for a while, as it's impossible to go to sleep right after a show (not even Fred can do that). It's now almost 3 a.m. and I'm sitting here alone, finishing this letter to you. I'll go to sleep shortly; and tomorrow, we'll do the whole thing over again.

I hope you liked sharing my day. You know how I love the blues, and you know how I love you. Thanks so much for being there for me, and allowing me to live out my dream like this... you're one in a million!

I'll see you soon.

A Bounty of Books

I'm back from Biloxi so it's time to get cracking and post some more stories. This story was another collaboration with the same person as the last story. It was written in February of 2000. The theme that week as 'abundance'. I think the main inspirations for this story were my total love of books and my son's dislike of reading. It still doesn't seem quite fair that I'd have a son who disliked reading as much as he does even though he does read quite well. The public schools did that much right anyway.

"But Dad, I don't wanna read.  I don't like it," my son Bradley whined at my suggestion in response to his complaining about being bored.

How could I teach him to *enjoy* reading... to appreciate books the way I did?  And most of all, how could I convince him to value having the *time* to read, which would only too soon be gone as he ascended into adulthood.  But I was determined to try something.

I sat down in what I've come to think of as my reading chair, although it seems I use it all too little lately for that purpose, and said, "Brad, come here and sit on my lap.  Let's talk."

It was obvious he considered my words less an invitation and more of an unwelcome directive, as he approached me with his face contorted and his body twisted, in dramatic agony.  As he squirmed onto my legs, he only murmured, "Don't you think I'm a bit  old to sit on your lap, Dad?" which we both knew was a rhetorical question.

I started slow and simple with my favorite form of making a point--- analogies.  "You like watching movies, right?" I asked him.

"Sure I do!" he replied with an excited smile, probably wondering if perhaps this discussion might be going in a direction to his liking after all.

"And TV shows?" I inquired.  "Like the Hardy Boys?  And those Disney shows on Sunday night?"  He nodded eagerly in response.  "Well," I continued, "those movies and shows all started out as books!  Except the people in those book-stories were even more like 'real' people, and their adventures and were even more colorful and exciting than in the movie-stories!  Can you guess why?"

Looking disappointed, Brad shrugged and fell back against my arm, "I dunno.  How can they be more exciting if they're only plain old words?"

"It's because they let you use your imagination!  When you watch a story on TV or in a movie, you only get to see what the person behind the camera thinks everything looks like---the kids, and the monsters and the bad guys; stuff like that.  But when you read a book, you get to pick how all that looks!  It's like making your own movie right in your head as you're reading.  And what's really neat is that our imaginations don't have any limits like a camera does.  Everyone who reads a book gets to picture the story in their own way, and nobody's right or wrong!"

He still looked a bit skeptical, but I had his attention.  "Remember how much you liked the movie 'Swiss Family Robinson'"? I asked him.

"Yeah, that was cool!"

"Well," I continued, "How about if we read that book together?  We'll take turns reading out loud and being the listener.  And afterwards, you can tell me if you thought the book was even better than the movie."

"Well okay... I guess," he said, less enthusiastically than I'd hoped; but I was willing to settle for anything.

We got off to a good start that evening, and after several days of reading steadily, we made it about halfway through.  He seemed to really be getting into it, and I was really enjoying the time with him.  Then about a week after we started, he said he needed to talk to me when I got home from work.

"I have a problem, Dad.  You're gonna be mad at me," he said, staring at his feet.

"Well, just tell me and we'll deal with it," I replied.  "Trouble in school? You didn't get in a fight did you?"

"No... it's that book that we're reading."

"What's wrong?" I asked, fearing that he wanted to quit reading it.

"No, I really like it.  But, um..."  He hesitated for a few seconds, and then blurted out the rest in one long breath.  "It was all rainy this afternoon and Tim is on restriction anyway and can't play and I thought I'd read it a little by myself when I got home from school and... well... I sorta finished it without you, Dad.  I didn't mean to, honest!  But I just kept going, and before I knew it, I'd read it all."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing!  And while I gathered my thoughts, he added, "I figured you'd be really disappointed that you didn't get to hear the end."

I could not help but laugh in relief.  "Brad, I'm not the slightest bit upset.  I can read the end myself, and you and I can read other books if you want!"  It was funny how relieved he looked!  "Hey, I think it's great that you liked it that much to want to read ahead on your own!  Do you see what I meant about how books can be even more exciting than TV or movies?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I do!  And when I was looking at the books you have in your office, too, I saw some other stuff I've seen on TV, like Tom Sawyer and Peter Pan." He had obviously found the group of books that I'd kept from my childhood.  "You have so many, Dad!" he added excitedly.  "Are they all good?"

"Well, I think they are, Brad.  But you know what?  The best thing is, there's pretty much an endless supply of books in the world.  So if you do come across one that you don't like so much, there will always be another one waiting for you."

I put my arm around him and headed toward my office.  "C'mon, I want to show you some special ones that I read when I was just about your age.  I bet you'll like them, too!"

As we walked, my heart just leapt with joy, knowing right then that I'd hooked him!  It was one of those incredible moments that you never forget as a parent... when you realize you actually can make a lasting, positive impression on your kid!

One Dozen and One

This entry was the first of several stories I wrote in collaboration with a friend. We had very different styles of writing but she mostly prefered to edit what I wrote so most of the stories don't sound too much different from my normal ones other than there are commas where they should be, shorter sentences and better grammar. Most of the plot was frequently her suggestion with me doing the development. I loved doing stories this way and miss it a lot. It didnt' last long as she quickly lost interest as other things in her life pulled her in other directions but it was nice while it lasted.

Hal trudged down the sidewalk, watching for icy spots and tugging his coat a bit tighter around him in response to a frigid blast of wind.  As he entered the florist shop, he found it refreshingly warm, although just as crowded as he had expected at 4 p.m.  But nothing would make him miss getting Martha her special bouquet for Valentine's Day, as he'd been doing for over 40 years.  He opened his coat to let the humid, fragrant heat of the shop soak in; and as he took his place in line, he looked around at the other faces, smiling at the one or two people who made eye contact.

Impressed at his cheerful demeanor in the light of their obvious lengthy wait, the young woman next to him struck up a conversation.  "I see you waited until the last minute, too," she said.

Hal grinned and replied, "No, late afternoon is my usual time to buy Valentine flowers for my wife.  She's always loved watching them open from beginning to end, so I have to be sure they're good and fresh when I present them to her!"

Her eyes widened slightly as she responded, "What a lucky lady she is, to have someone who cares about her that much, to be willing to stand in line every Valentine's Day!  I sure know my husband wouldn't!  In fact, neither would I, except I got tied up at work today."

Hal glanced down for a moment, and pushed his hands into his coat pockets; and with a wistful smile on his face, he continued.  "Oh, I'm the lucky one; my Martha is one in a million.  In fact, luck plays a little part in her special bouquet.  The first twelve years of our marriage, I bought her one red rose on Valentine's Day for each year we were married.  And when the next year came, she joked that I'd better stop with an even dozen, as thirteen roses might be bad luck.  Butinstead, I got her one more that year--a yellow one--just to show her that we make our own luck.  And ever since then, I've gotten her twelve red roses, plus one yellow one for good luck, on Valentine's Day."

When it was his turn to order Martha's bouquet, he saw that the clerk seemed very harried and uninterested in anything but getting through the line of customers, so he didn't expound on the meaning behind it.  When his order was ready and wrapped for the cold, he did the same to himself, buttoning his coat up securely and pulling the collar tight around his neck.  And as he left the shop, he was delighted with the cheery goodbye and smile he received from the young woman he'd met in line, and reciprocated in kind.

He shuddered as the warmth and comfort of the flower shop quickly drained out of him, and the icy wind gripped him once again.  He walked two blocks to the bus stop, and as he arrived, he was thankful that the next bus was already in view.  It was crowded with people going home from work, but it would be a short ride for him.  He sat next to a young man in a suit who was busily talking on his cell phone, but who was also eyeing Hal's flowers.  Ending his call, the young man turned to Hal and said in a disgruntled tone, "Oh that's right; it's Valentine's Day. I suppose I should pick up something for my wife."

Hal couldn't imagine the word "should" being attached to such a gift; it kind of defeated the whole purpose of it.  He thought for a few seconds, and then replied, "I'm sure she would appreciate it.  I love to get my Martha flowers for Valentine's Day, as I know how much she enjoys them."  And then leaning a little closer, he added, "I've discovered over the years that when a wife knows you're thinking about her, and you have made an effort to do something extra... the pleasure she feels comes back to us in very special ways."

The young man said, "But flowers die in just a few days. Wouldn't something long-lasting be more practical?"

"Well, I guess everyone is different," Hal answered, "but for Martha and me, this bouquet has a significance way beyond just a bunch of flowers."  He then related the story of the dozen red and one yellow rose. "Besides," he continued, "I'm sure your wife already has a lot of practical things; anybody can give her those.  But when I get flowers for Martha, I'm saying she's worth something more.  Even though some people think of them as a frivolous expense, I don't feel like I'm just giving her a thing; I feel like I'm giving her my love and attention."

Seeing that his corner was coming up, Hal rose and signaled the driver to stop.  Before he headed to the door, he looked down and smiled at the young man and said, "I hope you and your wife have a wonderful evening tonight."

As he exited the bus, he thought of all the many years of Valentine's Day evenings he and Martha had shared.  His presentation of flowers was just the beginning of their celebration.  She always made him a very special meal, using a linen tablecloth and the good china, and it was accompanied by soft music in the background of a room illuminated only by candlelight.  And the thirteen roses always sat at the center of the table while they ate, stopping their conversation now and then to fit in a quick hand-squeeze or a soft kiss.

As he passed through the gates of Hillside Cemetery, taking his usual path to Martha's grave, he decided he would tell her about the young man and woman he'd met today, and how he had shared the story of their special bouquet.

Opposites Can Become One

Well I'm back from vacation so it's time to post another story. This one was, in part, inspired by things a couple of people I was talking to at the time told me. It was written in January of 2000. The theme was "opposites".

How did it happen? I can still scarcely believe it. Even when I look over at you in the night and see you sleeping there, it's just too good to be true.

There I was a 40 something divorced mother of two. I was trying like crazy to lose just a little weight on the hopes that I could, maybe, find a good boyfriend then. Oh I had dates but I realized finally I was settling for people I didn't like, just to not be alone. I was working my butt off as a secretary. I had just bought my first house all by myself and was so proud of it.

Then you answered my personal ad. After all the pretenders and jerks, I was sure that you were too good to be true. You lived on the east coast yet were willing to fly all the way out to meet me, if I would only agree. After all the times I met people closer that I knew less about, why did I put you through so much? What did you see in my letters that kept you interested while I did my best to discourage you?

Then when you did come and we got along as happily as we had by email and on the phone all those months, I dared to wonder. But it was also apparent to me that you were in a class above me. You didn't say anything about my house but I could tell you were used to better. The restaurants you picked, the cars you rented, later the hotels we stayed in told me that if you could truly afford this you were out of my league. Just the fact that you came back every month for 3 months told me you were unlike anybody I'd ever met.

And again, I tried to discourage you. I was so sure you could never be happy with somebody like me. A lowly secretary. Oh love, I know better now but if I'd known the truth then…. I only thought I knew how far apart we were.

I remember vividly the only time I've seen you mad at me in all the time we've known each other. I remember how it shocked me to find you knocking on my door after I'd told you that we should not see each other anymore, that I was not good enough for you. Oh how your face looked a combination of anger and hurt, as you demanded I tell you what you'd done to make me think I was not good enough for you. I tried to tell you and you shut me up when you got down on your knees, took my hand and said you'd give everything you owned away if I'd just agree to be your mate for the rest of your life.

How you must have hurt when I just told you I'd think about it and told you not to call me that I'd call you. Then I spent the next week thinking, searching my soul. Could it be real? It was more than just me too, my kids deserved more than I could give them and you seemed genuinely enamored of them as well. Was I being selfish? I was beginning to let myself believe that you really did love me.

Finally, I relented and called you and tearfully told you that I loved you and that if you still wanted me I was yours. Then it was, that you showed me the rest of your world and you know how it nearly blew my mind. I know to this day you shake your head at my one request. My refusal to quit working.

I am happy now though. Five years its been on this Valentines day. I wanted to write this to you so you know how much I love you. You have all the physical things you could want and I understand that's not what you craved most. That I can give you the gift you most wanted, I who was so opposite you in every way possible it seems, that just makes me want to love you all the more. Now I can proudly say that I'm happy as your wife, your mate for life and I thank you for your compromise so I can also say I'm your secretary.

Happy Valentines Day my love.