A Pete Seeger Moment with Tracy Chapman

As widely reported, well-known musician and activist Pete Seeger died earlier this week at age 94.  I have read several articles about him in the New York Times, and relived in my mind the experience of seeing Seeger perform with Arlo Guthrie at Blossom Music Center sometime in the mid-1970's.  Last night, Palladium channel ran a two-hour program about him, that taught me even more about the man and his music. 

The thing with Seeger was that he never wanted to sing alone.  He always engaged the audience.  The unifying power of music motivated him to write such powerful songs as "We Shall Overcome" (an anthem for the Civil Rights Movement) and "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy" (an anti-Vietnam-war song.) And of course, songs of hope and action like "If I Had a Hammer."  He suffered the slings and arrows of a somewhat narrow-minded society, yet continued with fortitude and fearlessness.

What I remember most about the concert at Blossom Music Center was that it was a night of singing along -- not knowing the words was never a problem because Pete taught us along the way.  I don't remember anything about one singular song -- what I remember is the feeling he gave us.  And isn't that something Maya Angelou is known for saying?  People don't remember what you say, they remember how you made them feel.

Pete made me feel great. Refreshed. Like I belonged.

"Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"

The unifying power of song.

I wrote about it here -- a memory of a party that ended with everyone singing along to the Eagles greatest hits.  The Palladium program reminded me that I learned many of these folk songs while taking the bus to CYO Day Camp.  Folk music and its spawn are the songs we can all enter into easily and communally. 

Which brings me to Tracy Chapman.

These past couple of weeks I have been doing an exploration with my students into the poem "Fifteen" by William Stafford and the song "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman.  Both songs use a vehicle as a way to dream of escape to a better life.  (See this blog post for explanation of the exploratory concept.)

As usual, my students went crazy when they heard Tracy's voice, thinking she was a man, and totally bewildered to find out she is indeed a woman.  Being 8th graders, this was fodder for plenty of jokes, not the least that she is some kind of transvestite.  The first day I introduced it we read through the lyrics and just listened, then discussed who the speaker was and did a breakdown on the time shifts in the song. A few students told me on the sly that they really, really liked the song and begged me to play it again.  I knew I wouldn't win everyone over, but it never stops me from putting new poems and songs in front of my students -- how else are they ever going to find out about all the great stuff out there?  Certainly won't see it on the Grammy Awards!

But I digress.  I've had to deal with the ugliness of students' judgments before, and by the last day, right before I played the Tracy's live performance of it for my first period class, I asked them to stop with the comments until they do something as well and as powerful as she has done with this song.  That actually shut them up, to my surprise.

But what was even more surprising was that a number of the students started singing along.  And not just the chorus:

So remember when we were driving driving in your car
Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
And I had a feeling that I belonged
I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

They quietly sang the entire song and even applauded at the end.  It wasn't all the students, but it was enough for me to feel the power of song right there in my classroom.  And the biggest part of this?  They sang even though many of their fellow classmates -- some who have been very good at shutting down creative expression in the past against my best efforts -- would not approve or think it was cool.  They were singing along to an "ugly" woman whose gender was suspect to them.  They were singing because the song moved them and they could not longer pretend it didn't.

Seeger said something to Judy Collins that I read about in the NYT.  She had asked Pete just recently how he felt about the state of the world?  He replied, "Optimistic."  When she expressed her surprise he said, "Don't think about the big leaders -- look at all the small leaders around the world, and the people doing good things." I had to immediately write that down.  Focus on the small leaders.  Many people are doing good things. 

Small leaders emerged in my classroom that day, as the kids sang along with Tracy and goosebumps rose up on my arms. 

Seeger's banjo had a saying on it: "This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender."  I am writing this down so that I will always remember the day that hate surrendered to the power of song in my classroom.

Tracy sings "Fast Car" live.

My Music: Discovering Jimmy Buffett

I have wracked my brain but cannot remember his name.  He was a fix-up from a friend, and I think I only went out with him a couple of times. The first time was on the blind double date and we saw the film Taxi Driver.  The second was a surprise party for his friend Dave.  Yes, it is ironic I remember the name of the friend but not my date.  Oh well.

What is significant about this party was the music involved.  Dave and his wife lived in an apartment in Parma, and Dave was happily surprised when he walked in the door and saw a ton of his friends.  They were a friendly lot. We were all in our early 20's. It was late February 1976.

Dave's number one request for a gift was the Lynyrd Skynyrd's album with the song "Gimme Three Steps."  I had never heard that song before, but it was played several times at the party (Dave politely begging if he could hear it "just one more time"), and watching Dave dance around to it was a lot of fun.  I knew the song well by the end of the party,

But that isn't the only musical significance of this party, where I knew no one except my date--a little bit.

Somehow I ended up talking to a guy at the party about music. When he heard the kind of music I liked (The Eagles, Jackson Browne, Pure Prairie League, and The Outlaws), he asked if I had heard of Jimmy Buffett?  I had not.  So he told me about this guy that came up to Nashville every year from the Keys and recorded an album.  He told me I should check him out.

I did shortly thereafter.  I went to a music shop that sold albums at a good price, but they didn't have a huge selection. I asked for Jimmy Buffett. They had this one, his fourth:

I took it home and began to listen...and I didn't stop for a long time.  I found an amazing storyteller: "Woman Goin' Crazy on Caroline Street" is the first song, about a lonely woman looking for a lover.  Then the Buffett humor in "My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don't Love Jesus," followed by the poignant "The Captain and the Kid" a lovely song about Jimmy and his grandfather.  Inside the album were photos of his boat and a very tan Buffett, as well as his own words about having a real Coral Reefer band now and how he is loving his Havana Daydreamin' life. This was certainly welcome during late winter in northeastern Ohio!  His music was some of the most gentle and inviting I had ever experienced -- well, since James Taylor's Sweet Baby James album six years earlier.

Anyway, the most touching song on the album is "Something So Feminine About a Mandolin" -- a story about a woman playing a mandolin that made him "want to sing." "Singing" in this case could probably be a metaphor for many things, but I just took it literally.  The song itself is tender, with the gentle mandolin ringing and trilling throughout the song.  I know at the time I wasn't all that familiar with the mandolin, but I am convinced that it was this song that imprinted the idea to learn mandolin -- which now at age 58 I am finally doing.

This is the best I can do for a video for this song, as it is definitely not a popular Buffett song.

The next summer "Margaritaville" would hit the airwaves and the whole Parrothead phenomenon would soon follow.  Buffett would still be appreciated for his storytelling, but mostly in the party realm -- not about listening to a beautiful instrument being played in a field near Austin.  I was fortunate to see Buffett at Cleveland's Music Hall in March 1977 before the craziness began.

Now, back to the party, because there is still more musical significance to discuss.  That is Communal Music Appreciation.

Taking pride in burying other stations.

Back in 1976, listening to music was done in community.  We all listened to the same radio station and knew the same songs.  The only country music we listened to was anything that crossed over to pop radio or rock stations.  Rap was only getting started somewhere far, far away from our blue collar town, and we wouldn't even hear rap until the 1980's.  In Cleveland, WMMS was the music leader, and we all followed -- especially in the mid-1970's -- it was a powerhouse.  Books have been written about that time, and I was surely influenced in many ways by the WMMS point of view.

So here is the other fond memory I have of the party:  the last hour or so, someone put on the newly released Eagles: Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975).  Dave was no longer dancing around to Lynyrd Skynyrd, and everyone was seated in a circle on the floor, couch, and chairs.  As each Eagles song came on, we all sang -- everyone -- because we all knew the songs: "Take It Easy," "Witchy Woman," "Peaceful Easy Feeling,"  and we all knew the words.  Sometimes someone would come forward and "solo" their favorite part of a song. It was one of the most enjoyable, uniting, and entertaining events at any party I ever attended.  It was spontaneous -- not planned in any way -- but I believe it came out of the fact that music was a shared experience, not the fragmented, solo playlist activity it has become.

And the guy I was with?  Cannot remember what ever happened with him, but I don't recall going out again, and I don't recall ever having a discussion about it.  I feel like his whole purpose in my life was fulfilled -- I found out about an incredible singer/songwriter who influenced me as a musician, and I have a very cool memory of a party. What more did I need?

Short Story: "All He Ever Wanted"

All He Ever Wanted

Bob Hess believed there was always room at the top.  He believed it as he struggled through college, paying his own way pumping gas and selling motor oil.  He believed it as he got his first real job and a first real suit and went to work as a salesman for a credit-reporting agency.  He believed it as he competed with others for that coveted place at the top – the number one sales leader – the guy to chase.  He believed it as he came close the year he competed directly for the number one spot with upstart Sheri Ackerman – she who is young, pretty, driving a fancy sports car, owner of her own townhouse. They exchanged first and second place throughout the year, and despite all of Bob’s best efforts, Sheri surpassed him in the end, setting a company record. At the annual convention she was mobbed by salespeople from all over the world wanting to know how she did it.  Perhaps it was her talents, but more likely her competitive spirit. Without Bob’s efforts, Sheri would have never worked so hard. She was better at getting to the top than Bob Hess ever was.  No one clamored to ask Bob how he came in second.  No one cares about the silver medal winner.  Sheri herself didn’t even care about the gold, leaving the company shortly thereafter for marriage, children, a mini-van, and house in the suburbs full of Little Tikes toys.

Bob Hess never came close again, something his wife Yvonne liked to rub in.  He liked to think his marriage was solid, but it was solid in the way butter is – hard when things are cold and soft when things are warm, but in general just an oily mess posing as something else.  Bob and Yvonne believed in their daughter, Rachel, their only one, but Rachel was definitely her mother’s daughter, never failing to laugh at Yvonne’s snide comments about Bob, never once coming to the defense of her father.  Bob Hess learned long ago not to even try to compete.  He learned his lesson with Sheri.  That alone was constant fodder for Yvonne, culminating in the most cutting remark ever, one delivered at a neighbor’s outdoor barbecue, the time she said, “Bob just wants to be the hero of his own life,” and everyone laughed. Even Rachel, who had snuck up to the table to grab another cookie before dinner. Bob Hess was beginning to believe that the top was only for true winners, and there was nothing about his life or his family or his surroundings that provided any way for Bob to win.

Bob Hess never stopped working for the agency.  He survived downsizing, taking commission cuts, and whatever else necessary.  He watched as every year more young and new salespeople competed, making it to the top.  Because of budget cuts, the annual sales conferences became a thing of the past, so most of those at the top Bob never met face to face.  He waited out the days toward retirement, wondering what he could possibly do then?  Everything has been about the sale and what television shows are on and deflecting the latest barbs by his wife. 

Except for this. Bob Hess was a timbrophilist – a stamp collector. He was crazy about stamps – the way they felt, the history, the colors, the variety.  He had a treasured archived collection purchased solely with bonus checks he cashed without Yvonne ever seeing how much they were for.  He knew that his hard work had to count for something, and he thought this little breach was well earned and inconsequential.  He rationalized that someday he’d take Yvonne on a wonderful vacation, total surprise, with the money he would retrieve from selling the stamps.  That is, if he could ever part with them.  And if his relationship with Yvonne somehow took a turn for the better.  He never gave up on that dream.

Divorcing Yvonne never entered his mind. He would never do that to Rachel.

Rachel Hess went to a local college, living at home to save the expense of housing. This, of course, advised by Yvonne who reminded Rachel that her father was just a loser who couldn’t really afford to send her away to college.  That wasn’t so funny.  Rachel fell in love with Scott Cline, a fine young man she met her senior year, a winner, a guy’s guy, a gentleman and scholar, a fine family and future ahead.  Rachel had chosen well, despite the old adage that girls marry their fathers.  Bob Hess had always wanted more for Rachel than he had for himself, and was thrilled for her since Scott was obviously “the one” -- and even as he feared the empty nest she would leave and what it could mean for him.  Who would be the audience for Yvonne’s criticism?  Who would laugh at his expense with her?

A date was set and Bob Hess sat down with Rachel and Scott and made them a promise: I will pay all your wedding expenses. This is for you, from me.  This was gratefully accepted by the two young people, who immediately began to plan an expensive Hawaiian honeymoon with the money they would save by not paying for their own wedding.  Bob Hess was thrilled about that, too, since he had never had a real honeymoon with Yvonne and never the exotic vacation he kept on the back burner.  Just a trip to New York City.  Another to Washington D.C.  The obligatory trip to Disney World when Rachel was young.  Nothing special.  No Cancun.  No Paris.  No Alaskan cruise. Certainly no Hawaii.

When she found out later, Yvonne said she would never forgive him for putting them into debt over this wedding.

But there would be no debt.  A few weeks later Scott would come to Bob privately and ask how he was affording the wedding, that Rachel had concerns.  Bob told Scott of his plan to ease the future groom’s mind.

**

Bob Hess stepped out into the lobby of the church, the pant legs of his tux being a tad too long, but the white rose in his lapel, perfect.  His daughter Rachel came out of the bride’s room, dressed in a strapless sweetheart mermaid gown in misty tulle and lace, her auburn hair piled high and dotted with fresh flowers.  She gave Bob an odd smile and tears filled her eyes.  She took her father’s arm and, just before taking that first step down the aisle turned to him and said, “Daddy, Scott told me what you’ve done for us. I am so grateful.” Her voice cracked a little as she continued. “You have made all my dreams come true. I may be marrying Scott, but you will always be the best man I know.” With that the “Bridal March” began.  This time it wasn’t just for the bride, however; Bob Hess had found his room at the top. He had finally become the hero of his own life. 

And as he and Rachel walked up the aisle, friends and family looking on, there was only one thing on Bob Hess’s mind. He would file for divorce on Monday.

Heartbreak in the Rain

His mother's death hasn't hit him yet. His eighth grade year marred early by tragedy.  He was swooped away to family in another part of the country for a time.

He was goofy, fuzzy-haired, lopsided grin, unfocused on anything related to school -- every thirteen-year-old boy cliche -- before she left him.

Upon his return he is still goofy, fuzzy-haired, and grinning...smart but not productive.  Social and friendly.  Unorganized and scattered.

I pick the class up at the cafeteria, as I do every day.  It has begun to rain. There is a place in our open hallways where the rain comes down -- not hard, just a gentle rain but enough to create a small puddle.

He pulls his hood up on his head and heads to the open area, splashing in the puddle, doing a little skip and trot, dancing in the rain. I see pure joy on his face.

Right there in the main hallway my heart breaks open. These words flood into my mind and heart cavity and are felt deep in my gut...How could a mother leave her child? How could she not want to see his spirit alive and smiling as the drops dot his gray hood?  She will miss every minute of his joyful presence, his growth, his future.  I am full of rage and tears fill my eyes.  Students surround me. This isn't the time.

That day I fell in a little more love with these students of mine.  Especially the one who has seen the rain and is still dancing.

So Much Depends Upon...Poetry!

I have had a love/hate relationship with the poem "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams for as long as I can remember.  But this week, I have shifted over into the "love" category.  In just three days I saw the power and influence of this poem, and am now awestruck by it.

Here is the poem for those who may not know it:

So much depends 
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

Yes, it is a short poem with mysterious meaning and origins, and about a million interpretations.

Let me back up a little.

As part of getting my 8th graders ready for high school -- my expressed mission for returning to middle school -- I have created a short segment for each day called "exploratory."  Each Monday I present a poem and we notice things about it. For the rest of the week, I will be presenting songs, pictures, paintings, stories, videos, anything else that connects to the poem. On Friday, they will write a letter to me with specific questions to answer about the poem.  I am just getting started with this, and I am encouraged!

We had a short week, so I chose "Red Wheelbarrow" because it was short.

The first day (after they got over laughing at the poet's name), we talked about the imagery, the fact that it is just one sentence, and we even broke down the subject, predicate, and three prepositional phrases.  I pointed out that the design of the poem looks like a series of little wheelbarrows.  I pointed out the break up of compound words: wheelbarrow and rainwater.  We discussed some of the many interpretations of the poem: that Williams, who was a doctor, wrote it when a young girl he was treating was dying.  This prompted what has been traditionally my favorite interpretation -- that the wheelbarrow is the heart and the rainwater blood and the doctors are the chickens because they can't really control any of it. A lot of students really liked that analysis.

I also shared with them that someone once told me there is no such story about the dying girl, but that Williams wrote it based on a painting he saw.  By the way, there is no dearth of painting and drawings related to this poem.  Here is one:

The second day, I showed them a Prezi that was on YouTube, where a student names Allysen suggests that the poem is really about nothing but the image. 

The third day, I showed them a Prezi that a student named Katie made who said the poem was about the essentials of life:  water, food, production.  It is a cycle we all rely on.  Many students found this interpretation the most pleasing.

Even after all of that, I had a student say that he didn't think any of those interpretations were right.  To him, the poem was about hope.  Said and done.

Then they were put to the task of writing their own "So Much Depends" poem.  I showed them the examples from all age groups available on the writingfix.com website -- but was rather dismayed when I realized that the poems there are very abstract -- hardly any of them truly emulate Williams' concise description of a specific image.  This was a big deal in our classroom because we have been working for a month on discussing and identifying and using concrete language -- so I was very pleased when the poems started coming in.  I simply have to share them with my readers!  I've sorted them into categories.

Oh, and one more thing -- while the students were writing it was quite evident that in the course of the week they had memorized this poem.  I heard some third period students arguing whether the fourth word was "on" or "upon."  An English teacher's dream!

Humorous

So much depends on
this rope
if it breaks
I will fall
and I might die.
-Patrick

Goals
So much depends upon
the newly paved path
that is blocked by
the mean black cat.
-Everett

Concrete Images

So much depends
on a bus glazed
with yellow paint next
to the bus stop.
-Mariana


So much depends
upon
the Silver King
the King of the sea
discovering back bay flats
to in-shore wrecks
Destroying pilch (baitfish) school
When you hook one it will dance
Doing the top water tarpon tango
-Cameron
(Note: that's a true Florida boy poem!)

So much depends upon
a desert camo tank
splattered with blood
rampaging through the streets of
Iraq.
-Kyle

These students inspired by the cycles of life interpretation

 So much depends upon a
sea

shore washing 
up

with fish in 
it

to feed the 
world.
-T.J.


The Bumble Bees!
So much depends upon the
little bumble bees, the flower
depends on the bumble bees to
collect its nectar and pollen,
and the bumble bees depend
on the flower to make the 
pollen and nectar, and we 
depend on the bumble bees to
keep the flowers and trees
alive so we can breathe 
oxygen, and we also depend
on the bumble bees to make
the honey so we can make
candles, candies, cough drops,
and tea. 
-Estephan

Special Interests

So much depends upon
books

All the variety 
with the different choices

All the thrillers and
disappointments

Sometimes it's good
sometimes it's bad

Books are unexpected.
-Brant

So much depends upon

the bass in 
back

Getting into the 
lyrics

it changes the 
mood

spilling your feelings
out

comparing yourself to
others

remembering the past
memories

wishing to go
back
 -McKenna

 A little abstract, but with feeling

So much depends on
A newborn life,
Big shoes to grow in
Steps back and falling down,
Get back up, move forward.
Amazing adventures,
Future is ahead.
Only to know the cycle will start again.
-Tamia

So much depends
upon

a single waiting
person

making other decisions
alone

waiting for their
own.
-Preston

So much depends on a beating heart,
living life and expressing itself.
Loving, hating, and starting over.
Trying to survive the heartbreaks,
no matter how much pain it may cause,
or the happiness it may strive.
Everyone needs a heart,
because a life with love
is a life lived.
-Kelly

Troubling (no name included)

So much depends upon
the sharp pocket
knife
that cuts into
skin
to take away
pain.

The one that provoked the best one-on-one discussion with a student

Two Wolves
So much depends upon
Two wolves
One is jealousy, inferiority, ego, greed, and anger.
The other is happiness, love, friendship, and honesty.
That wolf that wins?
The one you feed.

When I read this poem by Zach, I simply couldn't believe it.  Just two hours before, I had read the Cherokee story that this poem is based on.  It is very short and you can read it here.  So I said, "Hey, you must have been reading that Cherokee story." He was taken aback and said, "Yeah, I have, and I'm part Cherokee." Then he told me how he loves wolves and how he had taken this little test to find his spirit animal and it was a wolf.  I told him that wolf is the spirit animal for teachers as well.  It was one of those great moments when I felt like I got to know a student just a little bit better.

Besides the effort they put into creating their poems, there were two other significant things that day.  First, not one student asked if the poem had to rhyme.  Second, I did not have one student say they couldn't write a poem. Those are both perennial favorite distractors when it comes to writing poetry in class.  Every student wasn't successful, but no one said they couldn't do it.

When class was nearly over, I asked the student of the bumble bee poem what he had learned this week.  His response: that little words can bring big meaning.

I loved that!

Finally, here is my poem, reflecting this experience:

So much depends 
upon

the freedom of
structure

allowing for creative
expression

in a room alive with
learning.

Next week: "I'm Nobody" by Emily Dickinson

Poem:"136 Syllables on Southwest Florida January 6"

I was finally motivated to get out into nature on Monday after staying inside for most of my vacation working on projects. It helped when I found a poem by Allen Ginsberg called "136 Syllables At Rocky Mountain Dharma Center" which consists of 8 lines, each 17 syllables long;  basically a collection of haiku. You can read the poem here.

After studying the structure of the poem a little, I went to Lakes Park equipped with notebook and iPhone for an hour of haiku writing and picture taking at the park. Here is my version.

136 Syllables on Southwest Florida January 6

Black and white Swallowtail Kite soars high--Viceroy Butterfly greets me.

Mad at exposure of my favorite sitting rock--trees all removed.

Breeze kicks up--I raise my face to let my hair blow back, sweet free coolness.

Zebra Longwings floats over succulent garden, dipping dreamily.

At 11:43 a.m a couple circle the Peace Pole.

A Great Blue Heron wings through the pines, reflecting the bright noonday sun.

Fading red roses, purple ground orchids, fluffy tongue of wild cotton.

Lakes Park 11:00 am until noon

Contented to be writing, be a writer living the writing life.

Home 1:00 pm

Gifts for English Major Me

In all my crazy days of shopping (mostly online) for Christmas, I made sure I picked up a couple of items for me.  My selections appealed to the English Major in me, and both items were new to me so kind of exciting. 

Haikubes

This is a collection of little cubes, with a variety of words written on the sides.  I was so excited when I found this, I bought one for my friend Iris, too.  We played with the Haikubes a little bit when she was here, but there are some things that we had issues with.  I border on being a haiku purest, which means that the poem is written to define a moment as it is, without metaphor.  It is supposed to focus on nature.  Haikubes makes no qualms about being about anything -- a haiku can even be a rant, in their estimation. So that means a lot of words are included which may not fit into a haiku purest's vision. 

The cubes themselves have a wonderful feeling to them, and they are kind of fun to shuffle around.  I have decided the best thing to do is to find a couple of word that go together, that sound good, and then build the rest of the haiku (term used lightly) after that.  Today I wrote this one:

precious time whispers

for any fertile fortune

promises return

Yeah, it's about my last day of break.  A bit abstract, right?  It's a 17 syllable poem. We'll leave it at that.

You've Been Sentenced

This game holds more promise, and is a grammarians dream.  It consists of over 500 5-sided cards with variations of the same word.  Each player gets 10 cards and attempts to make a sentence that is grammatically correct, while using as many cards as possible since they all have point values.  I bought this hoping to use it in the classroom.  Not sure when that will happen, but it is definitely a possibility. 

The thing about You've Been Sentenced is that you can't help but make crazy, silly sentences.  It isn't meant to be serious by any means.  The main point is to get it put together in a grammatically correct fashion.

Here is the one I put together today, with 10 cards I randomly gave myself:

Hairy ducks changed quickly to playing with saucy necklace.

May not make a great deal of sense (no way to include what they were doing before they changed), but I believe it is grammatically correct. This game takes some practice, yet I'm still interested in bringing this to my students as a table activity one day.  They really do love playing with words, and it will give us another way to talk grammar.  We need that!

The Night Television Took Me By Surprise

On Thursday evening new episodes of The Big Bang Theory and Two and Half Men were on.  Usually the networks tend to show repeats until further into January, figuring the viewership just isn't there around the holidays.  Since I didn't hear anyone talking about two great scenes I witnessed, I think perhaps that is true.

The Big Bang Theory pulled off an allusion to a great scene in the movie When Harry Met Sally.  I am sure there are thousands of people who watched, not understanding what Bernadette was doing. Here is the scene from BBT:

The scene stands fine on its own, but is much better if you understand where it came from.  Here is one of the most famous cinematic moments in the history of romantic comedy:

Later in the evening, there was this delightful scene in Two and a Half Men.  Upon reviewing this scene again, I realized that there are many layers to this segment-- in particular, the "blurred lines" between when you are young and when realize you are actually getting old--and all the ways it shows up and takes you by surprise.  The best line is: "Who?  Are those friends of yours?"  (In full disclosure, I thought Walden was going to reference Sam and Diane.  Talk about blurred lines!)

Here's the scene:

I hope this kind of writing and humor continues.  It was one of the best nights in television in a long, long time.

Phil Everly: The Loss of Another Great

Musically, I came of age in the mid-1960's.  It was the Beatles that brought me into popular music.  Little did I know for many years that the Beatles were influenced by so many American artists -- the Everly Brothers among them.

The Everly songs with the amazing harmonies have been a regular part of my life. "Wake Up, Little Susie" and "Bye, Bye Love" are American standards that belong to the era, yet extend beyond.  On our recent trip to Nashville, the Everly Brothers were mentioned several times, most notably because they were "discovered" in the alley next to the Ryman Auditorium, and looking out the window at that alley is part of the tour.

In a New York Times article today it was mentioned that the Everly Brothers sang dark songs with light melodies -- a juxtaposition that always brings depth to any piece of writing, be it a song, a poem, a novel.  This contrast is what made them so influential and long-lasting.

I don't think a lot about Don and Phil Everly, but their influence on the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, and so many other favorites of mine has certainly been noticed by me.  With that, I give you my five favorite Everly songs.

5. Walk Right Back
In the early 80's I was involved in a musical at my church, and one of the songs we sang was this one.  I actually had never heard the song before learning it for the show, but it brings back good memories for me.  Here are the Everly's singing with Lulu in 1968.

4. All I Have to Do is Dream
Not any direct memory -- just one I've always liked.

3. I'll Do My Crying in the Rain
I've been wanting to write about this song for a while.  Somehow, this one escaped me all of these years until this past summer when watching James Taylor and Carole King sing together on PBS.  This song was written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, and when James Taylor sang it, I immediately fell in love with it.  I downloaded the Everly Brothers version right away as well.  I honestly don't remember hearing it until that night, but ever since then I've listened to it plenty to make up for it!

Here's a beautiful version by Art Garfunkel and James Taylor.  Wow.

2.  Devoted to You
The harmonies!  What more can I say?  I have adored this song for as long as I can remember.  James Taylor and Carly Simon did a duet of this on one of her albums, and that increased my love of this song. Perfection.

1.  Cathy's Clown
The harmonies at the opening of this song are among my favorites in all music history.  It has such a rush of melancholy and humiliation and hurt -- and in such an accessible, not sappy way -- and the song itself seems to be a marker for the transition of music from the 50's to the 60's.  Watching the video of the Everly Brothers put together by the Country Music Hall of Fame, I learned this was their biggest hit on Warner Brothers.  The record company believed it in so much they numbered it "WB1."

Listen to any of these songs then listen to the Beatles sing an early version of "Please Please Me", and you can clearly hear the influence Phil and Don had on the Beatles.  Godspeed, Phil.  Your music will live forever.

Short Story: "Ice" Part Two (Conclusion)

 Before reading this, be sure to read the beginning of the story found here.

7. Shelby

            Shelby was just walking in the house from the college library where she had been researching for a big paper that was due, when her cell started ringing.  She guessed right when she saw it was Paula calling, a call she had been expecting all morning.  She dropped her backpack and answered, “So, how was it?”

            “Oh, Shelby.  It was a disaster.  I just couldn’t hang in there, I just couldn’t let him get close. I tried, I really tried.”

            “Tell me what happened.”  This opened the door for Paula to tell her version of the story…how they had dinner and went dancing, that she tried to let Drew get close, but it was too hard.  Shelby suspected that Paula was leaving off a few ripe details.  Perhaps that she had gotten plastered, maybe led Drew on, then shut him down. That had been the pattern in the past, one that Shelby noticed Paula didn’t discuss with her anymore.  Paula sensed Shelby was sick of hearing it, and if she wanted her sympathies she needed to make it sound like something else altogether was happening.

            “Well, how did you leave it with him?” Shelby inquired. 

            “I don’t know.  The night just ended, kind of abruptly.  He left me sitting alone in Applebees parking lot.  Do you think a guy should be doing that, I mean, leaving me alone?  Anything could have happened.  I think that was really cold.

            Well, you aren’t always so warm yourself, ice princess Shelby thought to herself. But to Paula she said, “Well, it sounds to me like you pissed him off.  What did you do, Paula?”

            “Nothing.  Honest. I had a few drinks at Cristina’s but that was all. I thought we were having a good time.”

            If Shelby knew anything she knew that Paula was covering her butt with her story.  Ever since high school this had been happening to Paula. After three different instances of being date raped by various jocks, and once beaten by the student council vice president for not giving in, she was shut down on men. Shelby was the only one who knew these things happened, but had sworn an oath of secrecy at Paula’s request way back in high school. Sometimes Shelby felt downright guilty at not getting Paula help. She had seen the bruises on Paula’s back from Jerry Pines, the one who didn’t want to take no for an answer. But Shelby wasn’t sure who to go to. Paula’s mother and stepfather were workaholics. They owned their own restaurant, which kept them busy 24/7.  Shelby never saw them when she was at Paula’s house.  Paula had been close to her grandmother, but the woman had died of cancer when they were in ninth grade. It had always felt like Paula was left alone in a cold, hard world, except for her friendship with Shelby. This had caused Shelby to act against her better instincts many times. Paula had confided in Shelby about the attacks, asked her to keep it to herself, and Shelby, being a loyal friend, kept her promise.  But now that they were both twenty-one, she was beginning to feel the weight of her silence wearing on her. It often crossed her mind that she would like to be rid of the burden.

Paula obviously needed psychological help. For years, however, has resisted any of it, insisting instead she could get better on her own if she could just meet the right guy. Taking courses in psychology had only bolstered her resolve to fix her problems herself. Thus the dramas continued, and Shelby was always there, picking up the pieces.

 Shelby was about to make an excuse to hang up when Paula said, “Hey, what do you think about me having Drew fix you up with one of his friends?”

Paula’s offer got her attention.  It had been several months since she had gone out with anyone, the last one being Mike who was a lot of fun, good in bed, but so angry inside that at times he scared her. After witnessing what Paula had gone through, she finally had to break it off.  She was really afraid that one night Mike might go off on her. That was in September, and it was now January – a long, cold spell for Shelby.

            “Well, who do you have in mind?”

            “His friends were all pretty cool, but Eric was the best looking.  If I can figure out a way to get back in Drew’s good graces, maybe we can make it happen.  Would you like that?”

            Shelby took a big gulp. Here it was – she was being reeled in again, hook, line, and sinker. Damn loneliness. “I think it might be okay.”

            “Good,” Paula said, excitement rising in her voice, “because I have an idea.”

            Oh God help me, Shelby thought to herself, as she opened her ears to hear Paula’s plan.

8. Drew

            When he had left Paula in her car after their crazy date, he had vowed never again: he had no use for bitches who played games.  Yet, here he was a week later, sitting at her friend Shelby’s apartment, watching the news footage of a huge Noreaster that was dumping snow and ice on the entire east coast of the U.S. 

            Paula had called him on Sunday evening begging forgiveness. He was not that interested in forgiving her, but then she laid all this stuff on him about how difficult intimacy was for her because of lack of connection with her real father, and all kinds of other psychobabble that he didn’t quite get.  He was able to put off seeing her until Wednesday evening, when she managed to show up at Donatello’s where he was with the guys.  She weaseled her way into their table, drank their beer, told hilarious dirty jokes, had a belching contest with Josh, and won all of their hearts.  She was the freakin’ life of the party. Paula kept leaning against Drew, but at first he didn’t respond. Eventually, Drew could tell his friends thought he was a cold, heartless asshole who couldn’t see the charms of this amazing woman.  As he drank more beer, he began to think, yeah, maybe I am an idiot for thinking of dumping her so fast.  Her arm was soft against his, hips against hips, her long thigh pressed into his jean-clad thigh under the table. Sometimes her head dipped close to his shoulder, her perfume wafting his way. His memories of Friday night --  the headache, the overspending, the cold chill he received from her – all faded away as he felt like he was “the man,” his friends openly envious as Paula lavished attention on Drew.

            When Paula was away from the table in the ladies room, Josh was the first one to say it. “Drew, she is a blast.  And sexy as hell.  I hope you are going to give her another chance.”

            Drew had been up front about what had happened on Friday night.  The guys had all agreed he had done the right thing – that is, until Paula sat down at the table with them.  It all changed in a flash.

            Drew said slowly, with a grin, “Well, yeah, I’m thinking maybe she isn’t so bad.”

            “Isn’t so bad?  She’s great. Does she have any friends?” Eric asked.

            “Well, she does have a friend named Shelby she is trying to fix up with one of you.  I haven’t met her, but I understand she is a redhead.  Aren’t you up for a redhead these days, Eric?”  Everyone knew that Eric liked to alternate between blondes, brunettes and redheads.

            Eric smiled his evil grin.  “I’m actually looking for a blonde, but I think I could kill some time with a redhead.”

            So, it was set.  And now it was Saturday afternoon, and Drew had driven over to Shelby’s place in San Carlos Park.  Paula didn’t live with Shelby, but had spent the night there, so she was in the shower while Drew stared at the television, pondering life in snow country.  He was there early to hang out until Eric got off from his job selling digital cameras at Best Buy, then they were all going to a dinner and a movie.  Drew was glad he worked in the campus computer center during the week so that he had weekends completely free.

            “Can I get you a beer?” Shelby asked.  She had been in the kitchen since he got there, and hadn’t had much time to talk with her.  He thought she was pretty cute.  Petite.  Gold-flecked green eyes. Sweet smile. Eric would like her just fine.

            “Sure. That would be great.”   He started to get up from the couch, but Shelby was already in the living room, handing him a cold Heineken.  “I like imported beers,” she confessed, as she took a swill from her own bottle and sat down on the chair next to the couch. “Can’t stand that watered down Bud stuff.”

            “That’s cool.”  Silence. Then, “How long have you known Paula?” He wasn’t always good at initial conversation, but this girl seemed friendly enough.

            “We’ve known each other since middle school. I moved here from Indiana in seventh grade and Paula became my best friend right away. I was from Bloomington, but still, a Hoosier is a Hoosier.”

            “That’s cool.”  Drew didn’t know what else to ask, and he wanted to avoid saying that’s cool again.  He was beginning to sound like a dweeb.

            “How about you?  Do you like Paula?”  Shelby seemed suddenly serious, which took Drew by surprise.  Made him feel uncomfortable, too, although he couldn’t quite figure out why.

            “Sure, she’s okay.  Don’t really know her that well yet,” he waffled.

            Shelby laughed.  “Oh, I think you probably know her pretty well.”

            Drew was confused. What had Paula told her?  He sat quietly, not sure what to say next.

            “What about your friend, Eric?  What is he like?”

            Drew was glad she changed the subject. But then he realized he didn’t know what to say about Eric.  He didn’t think saying He’s looking for the next redhead to screw sounded like the best answer.  “He’s cool.  Majoring in Public Administration.  Kind of a politician, if you want to know the truth.”

            Shelby smiled and started to pull the label off of her beer bottle.  She stared at the television, cars off the road, snowplows barely getting down streets, people bundled up in mufflers and big, bulky coats.  “Thank God we’re in Florida,” she said, lifting her bottle toward him.

            “You got that right.  Here’s to Florida,” and he tipped his bottle back.

9. Shelby

            The rant rolled through Shelby’s head: Everything was going so well.  Drew and I were enjoying our beer, watching the television with no need to say anything to each other at all.  Drew is an okay guy and surely Paula does not deserve him.  He’s nice looking in an every day kind of way:  like he would be the roadie, rather than the big music star.  He definitely doesn’t have that anger overtone I was so used to with Mike. And then she has the nerve to come trouncing out here wrapped in just a towel.  I had to say something. I mean, come on, this is my apartment and I don’t even run around like that.  She laughed it off, of course, calling me a prude, and then sat there with her legs crossed, the towel not covering a bit of her bare ass or anything else.  What the heck was that all about?  I could see Drew was getting really jangled. I can’t say for sure if he was immediately turned on, or if he, like I, was upset that she ruined our ambience.  Whatever it was, it sucked big time, and even though I’m going ahead and getting ready to go out, I really would prefer to not be spending any time with her.  Drew, yes.  Paula, no.

            And when she was done with the rant in her mind, done finishing up her make-up and putting on her earrings, she realized something: this was the first time in her life she was angry with Paula.  Every time before it was about compassion and understanding given her “circumstances.”  All of that has come screeching to a grinding halt. Shelby realized that the circumstances didn’t matter to her anymore.

10.  Paula

            God, Shelby is so uptight, Paula thought to herself as she went into the restroom at the movie theater.  All evening Eric – who in Paula’s estimation was a darn great-looking guy, with his gently curly golden blonde hair, Roman nose, and deep brown eyes – was trying to talk with Shelby, make her feel comfortable.  Paula noticed how Eric kept casually touching Shelby, yet Shelby just kept flinching, like he was pinching her or something.  Guess I haven’t been on a double date with her in a long time.  I didn’t know she was so, well, untouchable.  Paula checked her make-up.  The movie was boring her so she had left the theater by herself.  She wanted to think about how to liven up this group, and she thought maybe a trip to Cristina’s would do the trick. After all, it was 80’s night at the dance club.  Who doesn’t love 80’s music?  She decided that she would do what she could to get the party started.  After this dull movie, they would all need a boost.  I bet that Eric is a good dancer she thought.  She went back into the theater, her intention set.

11. Drew

            All through the movie Drew was hyper-conscious of Shelby sitting next to him.  He couldn’t help but notice she made a point of seeing that they were seated together, with Eric on the other side of her, Paula on the other side of him.  He felt a wave of jealousy when he noticed Eric had put his arm around her.  He chuckled to himself when he noticed Shelby took his arm off of her.  Eric was striking out big time.  Good for Shelby.  Eric was just a leech anyway.  If Drew had known how great Shelby was, he would never have set her up with a snake like Eric.

            At Shelby’s apartment he had felt a momentary happiness. Then Paula made her entrance, and a fool of herself at the same time, wrapped in that towel.  Oh, Drew knew that he she had managed to give him a thrill – it really was hard not to with a girl like Paula.  But that feeling quickly passed and he mostly felt irritated at her presence.  Dinner was no better. She yammered on constantly about all kinds of nonsense, continually demanding more ice for her drink, a habit he already detested. Yet it was obvious Eric found it all delightful. Well, he was up for a blonde.  As far as Drew was concerned he could have her. Drew knew that if nothing else, tonight had sealed his fate with Paula. He was done with her.  Once this movie was over, he just wanted to go home.

12. Shelby

            When Paula made the proposal to go dancing, Shelby looked quickly at Drew.  They were standing outside the movie theater, and the suggestion took her by surprise.  “Yeah, let’s do it,” she heard Eric saying.  Shelby was sunk. She didn’t want this evening to go on any longer. She just wanted it over.

            Drew asked her, “Shelby, what do you want to do?”

            “Oh, c’mon Shelb. When was the last time we were out with two such fine-looking dudes?”  Paula was giving her the look, the one that said, Do this for me.

            Shelby looked at Drew again. He was hard to read.  Did he want to go, or not?  Finally, she just said, “Well, maybe for just an hour or so.”

            “Great!” Paula declared, and they walked to Drew’s Jeep.

            Shelby noticed Drew was very quiet.  He never said he wanted to go, yet here he was driving them there.  Oh, well.  Just an hour won’t hurt.

            They got to the club and immediately Paula reminded Drew that he shouldn’t drink much since he was driving. Then she proceeded to order a Mango Tango martini, and screamed when “It’s Raining Men” came on.  “Let’s go, Shelby.  Remember this song?”  Shelby remembered the song, but had no intention of dancing.

            “I really am not in the mood, Paula.  You go have a good time.”

            Eric, Drew, and Shelby pulled up a table, and watched as Paula made her way around the dance floor.  There were plenty of other single women dancing to the song, so she fit right in. 

            Eric looked at Shelby and said, “Boy that Paula, she sure is a ball of energy.”

            “Yeah.”  Shelby really didn’t want to talk about Paula to Eric.  It seemed weird, since he was her date.  Although, truth be told, she really didn’t want to be on this date with him.  Everything seemed out of balance.

            “Burning Down the House” was the next song.  Paula came to drag Drew out on the dance floor, but he begged off.  Smart move, Shelby thought to herself.  So instead, Eric was dragged – albeit willingly – by Paula out to the dance floor.

            “I guess that is supposed to make me jealous,” Drew said with a rye smile.

            “Oh yeah, me, too,” Shelby laughed.  It felt good to laugh. The evening had been pretty dismal. She felt like she was fighting off Eric every five minutes, and it had made her very tired.  He was obviously in this for only one thing.

            “Well, it is probably better that Eric is with Paula. After all, he is up for a blonde,” Drew said matter-of-factly.

            “What?”  Shelby didn’t understand what he meant.

            “Oh, Eric likes to alternate: brunette, blonde, redhead.  He recently had a brunette, so a blonde is up.  Paula has those blonde highlights, so that suffices.”

            “Wow.” Shelby could not believe Drew’s honesty.  “Why are you telling me this?”

            “Because I’m sick of the game-playing I see. Eric.  Paula.  It’s so old.  I’ve been trying to figure out why I feel so bored all of the time, and now I know.  It’s these damn games people play.”

            Shelby felt something ignite inside of her. Something fierce and hidden and powerful. The music was too loud, but she knew what she wanted to do.  “Drew, do you want to step outside for a minute?  I need a break from this music.”  A slow dance was coming on, Cyndie Lauper’s “True Colors,” and Paula and Eric had fallen into each other’s arms.  Shelby didn’t care, but she didn’t know what Drew would think.

            Once outside, Shelby let it rip.  “You know what you said in there?  About game playing?  Man, I feel the same way.  I have stood up for Paula what seems my entire life.  When she had tragedies, when her grandma died, when her parents were non-existent, I was always there.  Well, today I decided I don’t want to be there anymore. Most of the time she is out having a good time, screwing up another relationship with her lies about alcoholism in her family and who knows what else, and by alternating between sex siren and ice princess, while I’m home lonely and worrying about her.  I’m sick of it. I have held her secrets and they are too heavy.  I carry them – she doesn’t. “

            “What secrets?” Drew asked.  He was fascinated by what she was revealing.

            And Shelby let it spill.  Everything that had happened to Paula in high school, how Shelby had taken a vow of silence about the rapes and beating, how Paula used that against her all the time and used it as an excuse not to get help.  “It wasn’t until today I really saw it,” Shelby confessed.  “Today when she came out in that towel. That was it.  Like I was finally able to admit the emperor has no clothes.  I thought it would be betrayal to tell someone everything I just told you, but you know what? She betrayed me all those years ago in high school. I’m done!  I just don’t know why it took me so long.”

            Drew reached into his pocket and dangled the car keys in front of her.  “I drove,” he grinned.  “Do you want to get out of here?”  Shelby nodded. And with that Drew reached out his hand and took hers, and together they walked to his Jeep, the ice they both felt in their hearts for so long melting along the way.

   #        

           

           

Short Story: "Ice" Part One (2007)

In the summer of 2007, I was a response leader for the National Writing Project Summer Institute.  At the time, the NWP was putting a strong emphasis on the participants writing, which gave me a lot of time to formulate this story.  I was inspired by students I saw on the campus of Florida Gulf Coast University (referenced in the story as FGCU), and a writing marathon that we did in Naples.  Here is the story I wrote that summer, in two parts. 

ICE  
an original story by Helen M. Sadler

1. Shelby

            “I can’t believe it.  I finally met someone new.” Paula’s voice came over the phone, excited and almost breathless.  “His name is Drew and I met him last night at Donatello’s Pizza.  He was there with some friends.  I went back to their apartment and watched them play poker.  It was a blast.”

            “What?  You just met him and you went to his apartment with him, and other guys, too?  You crazy, girl?”

            Paula assured, “Oh, Shelby, it wasn’t like that. He’s a real cool guy.  Kept his hands to himself. We’re just getting to know each other. He goes to FGCU, too.  Hey, you gotta know I knew it was safe.  I just hung out and watched them play poker.  They were a lot of fun.  Drew is the one who came up to me and started talking. He’s a really laid back kind of guy and, in fact, I’m meeting him again tonight for dinner.”

            Shelby was quiet for a minute.  A wave of jealousy washed over her.  Lucky girl has a date on Friday night.  But then she remembered –Paula was always like this with a new guy, and it never worked out. Issues.  The girl has issues.  “Well, Paula, it’s your life.”

            “You say that like it’s a crime.  I know you know I’ve made poor choices in the past.  This is different.”

            Shelby bit her lip. She wanted to rattle off the number of times and all the names of the guys she heard in the past were “different” – Reg, Bobby, Thomas, Carl, Simon, Al.  A never ending line of men – most Paula did wrong, some did wrong to Paula.  When you know someone since middle school, you got her history.  Somehow, though, Shelby decided to herself Just let it go.  She knew that as long as she was friends with Paula, the drama would continue.

            Paula, tired of Shelby’s silence, said, “Well, if you have nothing more to say, I’ve gotta go.”

            “Okay, bye.  Have fun tonight.”

            “Oh, I will.  Believe me!”

            Shelby clipped her phone closed and put her i-Pod back on. She laughed to herself when Foreigner’s hit from the ‘80’s Cold as Ice came on.  Only a matter of time, she chuckled to herself.  And I couldn’t have said it any better.

2. Drew

            Drew mentally tried to fight off the boredom of another night with the guys. Same old, same old, he thought.  Supreme pizza, pitcher after pitcher of Bud Lite, then Texas Hold ‘Em until the wee hours. His life had become a repetitive treadmill.  It was their usual routine, nearly every night, after classes and studying had run their course.  “Here’s the pizza, you guys,” the server Patti chimed.  “Anyone for more beer?”

            “Need you ask?” Sam cracked a smile.  “Bring it on, Patti-Baby.”

            Patti trotted away with the empty pitcher.  Drew remained pulled into his shell, dwelling on his own inner thoughts. Every day he seemed less likely to talk, yet every day he’d go out with Sam, Eric, and Josh, his college roommates.  Same old, same old.  They even sat at the same tired booth every time they came to Donatello’s.  Boring.

            Josh slugged Drew in the arm.  “Hey, check out that chick.  Look at her tank top. It says, “MAJOR BABE.”  Betcha can’t start a conversation with her.”

            Drew glared at Josh.  Where did this come from?  The guys usually left him to his own sullen self.  He looked over at the counter and saw the girl, who was waiting to place an order.  She did indeed have MAJOR BABE written on her tank, which was an Army camouflage design.  She wore short khaki-colored shorts, black platform flip-flops, and her hair was cut in a blunt style, just over her shoulders, and streaked light blonde.  He could hear her place her order: a personal veggie pizza and a Diet Coke with a LOT of ice.

            Sam egged Drew on.  “Come on. She won’t be here but five minutes and they’ll give her the pizza and she’ll be gone.  Go talk to her.”

            Drew got defensive.  “Why me?  Why don’t you guys go talk to her?”

            The guys exchanged glances.  Josh explained. “Well, you see, we did a little calculating and we figured you’re the one that needs to get laid the most.  I mean, how long has it been, dude?  You gotta get rockin’ here while you’re still young.”

            Drew could feel the heat rising up to his ears.  He wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or angry.  “How the hell do any of you know how long it’s been since I got laid?”  He eyed them carefully, trying to put up a front.  But it was no use. They burst out laughing.

            “We all live in the same place – duh – we know your habits, “ Eric chuckled.

            “Go talk to Major Babe. Ask her about the shirt.”  Sam gave Drew another push, this time right out of the booth.

            “Okay, okay.”  Drew knew he could wait out the girl. She’d be gone soon.  But something inside of him was a bit curious.  Plus he wouldn’t mind getting away from these imbeciles for a few minutes.  They were really getting on his nerves.

            He hitched up his baggy black jeans and began to walk over to the seating area where Major Babe waited for her dinner. He had no idea what he was going to say.

3. Paula

            “I said I wanted a LOT of ice, not NO ice,” Paula told the clerk.  “Please – a LOT of ice.”  She waited at the counter and finally received what she wanted.  “Thanks,” she said as she turned around and crashed into the guy standing behind her.

            “Look out, you’re in my way.”

            The young man was college age, wearing a grass green t-shirt and black baggy jeans.  His hair was close cropped – just short of being shaved bald and he didn’t look to be in the best physical condition.  He wasn’t moving out of her way.

            “My friends and I noticed you and wondered if you’d like to bring your dinner over to our table and join us?”

            “Now why would I want to do that?” she retorted.

            “My name is Drew. Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners.  We’re just some college guys having pizza and thought you’d like to join us.  I mean, if you were going to eat alone, that is. No harm, no foul.”

            Paula considered his sincerity.  It did suck to eat alone.  “Where are your friends?”

            Drew pointed to the table where the guys suddenly tried to pretend they weren’t watching every move.  “They put you up to this, didn’t they?” she asked.  It was more of a statement than a question.

            “Well, in a way.  But I did want to meet you…”

            She looked again at Drew, who really seemed like an okay guy, then at the table of his buddies. How bad could it be?  She decided she was up for a little adventure. “Paula. My name is Paula. And yes, I’ll join you and your buddies.  But just for a bit, to help you out.  Fair enough?”

            “Fair enough.”

4. Drew

            Things had gone well with Paula that Thursday evening. She had stayed for several hours, hanging out while they played poker, watching them, occasionally making jokes.  She was interested enough in Drew to agree to a date the next night.

He met Paula at the Applebees not too far from campus.  They got a booth in the back, where they could be left alone and talk.  He really wanted her undivided attention. It suddenly seemed important.

            “So, what are you in the mood for?  They have pretty good food here.”

            “Well, I usually lean toward salads.” She ordered the chicken Caeser and he ordered a sirloin steak, medium.  She once again ordered her drink with a lot of ice.  “I’m an ice fanatic,” she said, “love to have my drinks REAL cold.”

            Drew felt uncertain about ordering a beer. He didn’t want to offend her, since she didn’t order a drink. She hadn’t drunk any alcohol with them last night. He really wanted a beer, though, to calm his nerves, but now he figured he’d look stupid if he called the waitress back, since he had followed Paula’s lead and just ordered a soft drink. Shoot.  This dating shit was too much to work out.

            “So, I know it sounds corny, but what’s your major?” she asked.

            “Criminal Justice.  How about you?”

            “Double major: Psych and Communications.  Love them both, couldn’t decide.”

            Drew officially felt stupid.  He picked his major because he heard it was easy.  He really didn’t even want to go to college, but it was pretty much required in his family.  He was just trying to get it over with.  Yet, here he sat with a girl that was enthused about her program.  He really couldn’t figure out how he felt about that.  He decided to order a beer.

            They received their food, and he got a tall draft.  “I just really enjoy a good brew with a steak,” he told her as a way of explanation.

            “Oh, you go right ahead.  I just want you to know, though…” she stopped and took a bite of salad,  “that I come from a long line of people who drink too much and it nearly ruined my life, so ya gotta know that about me.  Capiche?”

            Drew officially felt like the biggest ass who ever lived.  “I’m sorry about that, Paula, I really am.  I don’t have to drink.”

            “Well, that’s good. Because most people I know get started and they can’t stop.  It has wreaked havoc in my life and I’m not ready for more of that.  So, are you originally from around here?”

            “My family moved her when I was in sixth grade. We’re from Ashtabula, Ohio.  My mom got a job transfer, and my dad figured what the heck, they were probably going to end up in Florida anyway.  I always thought I’d go right back as soon as I could, maybe attend Ohio State.  But, here I am, still stuck in Florida.”

            Paula smiled and nodded. “I was lucky, I guess.  We moved here to be by my grandmother, but I was only five, so I just consider myself a Floridian. We’re from Indianapolis, which is where I was born.”

They talked through the meal and got to know each other better: more about school, a little about families, some mutually understood jokes about life in Florida, and Ft. Myers in particular, and how it was truly not the best place to be a young, single person.  Just not enough action, unless you count Ft. Myers Beach.  He felt much more comfortable after the beer, but he didn’t order another one. He felt that maybe this was a girl he could really enjoy being with, and he didn’t want to blow it.

            Drew paid the bill, and they walked out of the restaurant.  He wasn’t sure just what to do or say next when Paula turned to him and said, “Hey, let’s go to the new dance club in Bonita.  I think its called Cristina’s.  I’m in the mood to dance – how about you?”

            Drew stared at her.  Here was a Vision, in black sleek pants, a skimpy red satin top, and four inch high-heeled pumps that were painted in an array of watercolors: orange, red, blue, green, and purple.  In the restaurant he hadn’t really noticed what she was wearing, and how great she looked. He had never been with a girl so trendy and sexy, someone he enjoyed talking with, which is why he didn’t date much. Now he realized he was going to have to dance if he wanted to keep this going.  “Yeah, sure.  Let’s go to Cristina’s.”  Drew just didn’t have the nerve to tell her he couldn’t dance for shit.  Or that he had never in his life been to a dance club.

            Paula didn’t pick up the hesitancy in his voice.  “You drive,” she said cheerfully, tossing him her car keys.  “We’ll leave your car here.”

            After months of the same dull and repetitive life, everything now seemed to be happening too fast.  They got into her black Toyota Corolla Sport Coupe and the first thing he noticed was a Christmas ornament – yes, a Christmas ornament hanging from her rearview mirror. It was a long, glass icicle.  He suddenly had this chilled feeling, remembering a movie about a woman with an ice pick. Who was it? Sharon Stone?  Glenn Close?  He always got those movies about psycho bitches mixed up.  He wanted to ask Paula about it, but decided he didn’t want to sound paranoid. She was going to discover what a loser he was once she realized he was a dud on the dance floor. And then his Major Babe would be long gone, and he’d be back at Donatello’s shooting shit with the guys.  Life is just too freakin’ complicated. But he kept that to himself, and drove to Cristina’s, while Paula yakked away in the passenger seat, her words crashing over him like a tsunami.

5. Paula

            “Could you buy me another margarita?” she asked Drew, leaning on him so close that her perfume overwhelmed him. They had been at Cristina’s for an hour and already she was on her third drink.  Drew was carefully nursing a beer, and she knew he was remembering her words when they walked in: “Now, don’t you drink too much. After all, you’re driving.”  Oh, he couldn’t forget that, she knew. She could already feel that she had the upper hand and she planned to milk it for all it was worth.

            He ordered her another margarita, and meanwhile, she split for the bathroom. She was just getting warmed up. It was 90’s night at the club, and she was ready to dance. Paula secretly hoped that Drew would just keep himself at the bar, because if there was one thing she loved it was dancing alone when she was blasted.  And she was definitely blasted.

            The familiar strains of a song came on and she decided to forget the line in the bathroom and she headed out to the dance floor:

Ice ice baby

Vanilla ice ice baby

Paula danced in circles around the various couples on the floor.  She danced her way over to Drew and picked up her margarita. He made a move like he wanted to get up and join her, but she just leaned forward, gave him a kiss with her Scarlet Macaw red lipstick, and told him to stay put and watch.  Thoughts were running through her head – he’s up for the seduction.  Ha.  How easy men could be.  She looked over at him and winked.  He started to get up again, but she wagged her finger at him. No No No.  Stay put like a good boy she indicated. And being the kind of guy he was, sat right back down on the barstool.  Paula could tell he couldn’t do it fast enough, and she knew she him pegged right. He couldn’t and wouldn’t and probably shouldn’t dance. And that was fine by her.

6. Drew

            Drew watched Paula dance most of the three hours they were at the club.  He  finally had to pull out his VISA card because her drinking had run him out of cash.  He wanted to leave, couldn’t stand the music, and wondered if he could stand her.  He was dying to know what all that stuff was at the restaurant about drinking.  It just wasn’t making any sense. She drinks like a fish, he thought, and I’m going broke. What the hell am I doing here?

            He finally decided to he had to put an end to this. His head hurt from the music, he was out of money, and his VISA didn’t have much credit on it as it was.  He made his way over to the dance floor, and that is when she pulled him to her, pulled him into her breasts, the red satin covered breasts, and placed his hands on her butt, moving around seductively, making him quickly forget about the headache and the lack of credit and the questions he had in his mind.  This was it. This is what he came for. At last.

            After the music they were dancing to ended, Paula leaned in close to him and said, “Let’s get out of here.”  They held each other closely as they walked toward the door, he jamming his hand into his pocket to get her car keys.  Once at the car he was planning on a warm up for what was to come later. He would ask her, “your place or mine?”  Corny, he knew, but it would work.

            But, it didn’t work.  In fact, when they got back to Paula’s Corolla she silently got in.  He immediately could feel the chill.  She said, “That was fun, but I’ve had enough. Take me back to Applebees so you can get your car.”  He wanted so much to ask her what was going on, but something about her mood silenced him.  He drove quietly up U.S. 41, back to Corkscrew Road and to his car at the restaurant.  Before he had a chance to turn off the car, to see if they could talk for a while, she said, “Goodnight, Drew.  I’m tired.  It’s been fun.”  Fun?  He was so stunned he could barely move.  He finally leaned over to give her a kiss, just on the cheek, but she would have none of it.  “I said, GOODNIGHT.”  And he knew that was his cue. He opened the door and got out of the car.  He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should ask her what was wrong. But something warned him not to go there.  She was sitting in her car, on the passenger’s side, staring straight ahead. He just didn’t get it.  Against what was considered the gentleman’s way of doing things, he left her there, in the Applebee’s dark parking lot, and he went home, his head spinning from the strange turn of events.

            That night, in a hazy bubble of sleep, he dreamed of being somewhere north of Alaska, on a large ice float, floating up to the Arctic.  He felt warm, but yet there it was: ice, ice all around him.  It seemed he woke and slept and had the dream over and over.  Ice ice everywhere.

(The conclusion will be posted tomorrow)