Memories are images of past experiences, pleasant, not-so-pleasant, of the touch of a kitten's nose, the sweet feel of its purr, of people we have loved, still love, of people who have touched us, good and bad …
This page is my … good memories page, images that I cherish, that I call to mind when I need something to ease my troubled spirit.
I remember my first crush. Just as Charlie Brown had his little redheaded girl as his first crush, I had my little redheaded boy. Cory Wolfersberger — whattaname! Of course, just like Charlie Brown's redheaded girl that never spoke to him, alas, 'twas true of Cory as well. Still, that smile of his, that wild mane of carrot-hued hair made me shiver with goosebumps. I always wondered what it would be like if he kissed me. I never found out. Of course, I was only, oh, seven or eight years old at the time.
Cindy had been one of my best friends since kindergarten. We slowly drifted apart when we reached our teen years. Her mother considered herself a class above all others and considered her daughter a debutante. Tall, chubby and with the face of a ragdoll, Cindy just didn't do well in her new role. Furthering the great divide, she spent her first year in high school at a Catholic high school, where other self-proclaimed debutantes seemed to be attending, rather than the traditional high school most all of our parents had attended. The reason for her attending the very big and bad and dangerous Banning High School, I don't think I ever heard, though I assumed it had much to do with the death of her father. He was a man I greatly admired; he was father that I never had. We used to talk about life and I remember him telling me that he felt I would be the first woman President of the United States. I believe that it was my relationship with him that truly caused the split between Cindy and I. His death was untimely, a young man truly, the victim of cancer; his moments of relaxation, smoking a pipe, was his nemesis. I still grieve his death.
Roxanne and I lived around the corner from each other growing up, passed each other all the time, but she was a half-grade behind me, so we never really had a class together. Back then, grade levels were divded up by semester, rather than year. The levels were B1, A1, B2, A2, B3, A3, etc. (I could never understand the logic of "B" coming before "A" but it did). The "B" levels started the school year in September; the "A" levls in February. This allowed for kids born after Christmas to start school right away without having to wait until September. In 6th grade, the Los Angeles Uniform School District emerged into the new age of straight year levels. Yay. Which is how I met Roxanne. We had Cooking class together; our little group decided to rename ourselves with boys' names. She became Rocky, I became Chuck. Actually, the others decided I should be Charlie — Charlie Brown; Rocky spoke up and said nope acheter viagra … Chuck. And Chuck — stuck.
In my quest for inner peace in my college years, along came Steve. From my high school days, I was involved in the martial arts, and I was thrilled to find a Judo class to take that would fulfilll my physical education requirement. Groovy. Not so groovy was the pervert that was our instructor. One of only two females in the class, we fended off his accidental brushes of hands, his gropings, and the clencher — an invitation to join him at an orgy. One of these co-assistants was a trainer at a dojo in another of Lost Angeles' infamous 'burbs, and said there was a Karate Club forming at the college; would we be interested? Sure thing. Enter Steve. Steve was the owner of the dojo and a seasoned Dom. He had only begun introducing me to this fascinating world when … I met my future husband.
It's Diana that I owe a lot to; well, more like her then-fiance. I met DeeDee when my mother and I had to leave the house I had grown up in. Diana lived down the street from where I lived; I was introduced to her by another girl I was an acquaintance with. It was DeeDee's boyfriend that urged me to date his friend (who became my husband). I lost contact with her after I got married; one of the friends he had caused to be pushed away. I ran into DeeDee at the high school where my daughters attended school just after my divorce. She was still in touch with her ex-boyfriend, and called him about a reunion; he didn't want to see me. We laughed. We figured he probably was afraid I'd strangle him for introducing me to twenty years of hell.
*dreamy sigh* Roger, Roger, Roger. A Navy SEAL, he was a gentle man, a bit shy. I think he was far too sweet for me though. But my mother was in love. You see, Roger was quite handsome — an Elvis lookalike, even hailing from a town nearby Elvis' hometown.
This page is an exercise in the continuous placement of images …
