I feel like I can finally take back all the stars,
ink my flesh deep blue, call them mine not yours.
February 22, 2011
Great-Gramma-Betty made some beautiful Christmas ornaments (see yesterday’s family jewels post) and my mom has a small collection of them. This one was hanging on my aunt’s tree, mom’s oldest sister. About 10 years ago, my mom and step-dad decided mom should have this one and took it off her tree. When Gramma Lu was starting to suffer some dementia a few years back, she told my aunt and fanned the flames of a dispute they were in.
February 20, 2011
at my father’s memorial 3 years ago, my uncle gave everyone a cd with some of my dad’s music. they played a few tracks during the memorial, this song was performed live by one of my dad’s old friends. the lyrics had been printed out and handed to everyone when they arrived. in the middle of the performance, my aunt turned in her seat in front of me and whispered, “this song was for you.” and I sobbed. I realize that the song was written about the split between him and my mother, but it is indeed for me.
I can’t say that I’m a fan of the style of music my hippie dad made. but this is his voice and his words and the music from his heart. seems appropriate on the anniversary of his death to post. I hope you enjoy it for what it is.
Our Love by Bob Koski/session
on earth there is a mighty river, flowing ever onward like our lives
together in their source, they run a separate course
and join again forever in time
and join again forever in our time
it’s our love, our love
our river has been split down the middle, the offspring was near to your side
a long time has passed, young waters run fast
now the distance between us is wide
the distance between us is wide
as our love, our love
these days just pass me by, like dead leaves blowing in the wind
but I am strong, when I close my eyes and see your face
and I know all things have their time, and season’s fruit will be ripe on the tree
you’ll open your heart and there I’ll be
beloved you know that I have waited, and I can wait until the day I die
true love forever burns, that’s one thing that I have learned
and this love flame has grown in years gone by
this love flame has grown in years gone by
through our love, our love
this trip to the beach…
…brought back so many memories of growing up with an alcoholic mom. and you might now be 39 instead of 9, but it feels about the same.
as an adult, I have made the choice to not spend time with her when she’s drinking. she will always drink, I learned years ago that there is nothing I can say or do about that. the only control I have over the issue is to choose to not subject myself to the behavior I know I can expect once she starts in with the wine.
but here we are. in the same beach house. there is always something to be angry about. there is always someone at fault. the game is to make sure the blame falls on my step-father and not me. sorry, old guy, but it’s every man for himself. third night feels like the tenth and as much as I love it here, as fantastic as the weather is and the sound of the ocean and the sand in my toes, I cannot wait to leave tomorrow and return to the house I live in (mostly) alone.
of course, tomorrow morning, like this morning, it will be a beautiful new day. the insults spewed and the doors slammed, it will be like they never happened.
until then, I am keeping my mouth shut. I will tell her I love her. I will say goodnight. and I will escape to my room before I do something to turn the tide against me.
I just watched this “godzilla attacks” home movie that a couple of the guys I went to high school with made with their kids. they also had a “bloopers reel”, both posted to facebook. I have known these two dads since grade school, haven’t had much contact with them since high school except reunions and such. watching them create such a funny little movie with their kids in costumes and firecrackers as pyrotechnics and green army men and a city they created of cardboard boxes for the youngest to trample in her “godzilla” costume, listening to them give direction and cracking up in the background made my heart hurt. I never got married and had kids with a fun dad. I’m a big believer that we are where we are supposed to be in life, for whatever reason, and if that wasn’t what was meant to be for me that’s ok. but sometimes something like that confronts me and I can’t help but think about the alternate paths my life could have taken. and I mourn a little bit for the experiences I’ll never have.
February 18, 2011
Some Kind of Wonderful
when I was 16, my cousin’s ex-wife won a radio contest to go to Hollywood to the premiere of the new John Hughes movie, Some Kind of Wonderful. she chose to take me with her. we walked the Red Carpet at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, paps flashing cameras in my face not knowing who the hell I was and that I was nobody. we went to the after-party at The Palace where they served 16 year old me Coronas without hesitation. Mtv was there. I have a great photo somewhere of Mark Goodman with the cast of the movie (Eric Stoltz, Leah Thompson, Mary Stuart Masterson). I had a polaroid of me with Leah Thompson, taken just after talking to her in the bathroom (oooh fancy, there was a bathroom attendant!). Leah was looking for some guy named Steve and was told he went to get coke. [correction: she was looking for “Howie” - Howard Deutch, director of the film and her future husband. She was told he was getting coke from Steve.] I made my way to the “VIP” section upstairs and got an autograph on a poster from Mary Stuart Masterson. she apologized to me because she remembered accidentally kicking me on the dance floor earlier. I was given a free cassette of the soundtrack (which I actually still have, RIGHT NOW IN MY CAR). one of the bands on the soundtrack, the march violets, played a few songs at the party. the Beastie Boys were there. Molly Ringwald made an appearance, but I didn’t quite see her because she was surrounded by people with cameras. Pee Wee Herman was there, as Paul Ruebens. Craig Sheffer was in some fringed leather jacket and shades. my cousin asked for his jacket, he offered to trade it for her dress which she started to take off but I stopped her and then she kissed him. this was the first time I rode in a limo and the only time it felt like it meant something.
This was one of the greatest times of my life. How it didn’t inspire me to run away to LA, I’ll never know. I returned to Portland and promptly cut all my hair off and started wearing wife beaters, like Mary Stuart Masterson. sigh, I never learned to play the drums. I wish I still had all the stuff I kept from that trip in storage, but I’m certain it was all lost during one of my moves.
For those who haven’t seen this movie, it’s a reverse Pretty in Pink, with the ending PIP was supposed to have had before they changed it to let Molly Ringwald have Andrew McCarthy. I’d watch it right now, but my copy is in storage with the rest of my life.
summer. this song reminds me of summer. the summer after 8th grade. the summer before I started high school. it was a summer of pink frosted lipstick and straddling the line between preppy and new wave and of tanned skin and sun bleached blonde hair and crushes on boys and what was thought of as tragic heartache and the anticipation of a new chapter in my young life that felt so overdue.
berlin: the metro