hearts at ease

Such an anniversary post of love should probably not begin with dry, documented musical history, but for those who know W and me, it makes perfect sense. And besides, the girl does love rabbit holes.

So, here we go.

Killing Me Softly With His Song was a hit made popular by Roberta Flack. It was composed by Charles Fox and Norman Gimbel, in collaboration with Lori Lieberman whose lyrics reflect her feelings after hearing Don McLean sing, Empty Chairs, live at the Troubadour in 1971. 

Though my reflection is a happy one, the recent performance of Taylor Rae's, Fixer Upper, struck me the same way. The girl was killing me softly with her song. The flashback feelings of our romantic beginning was almost palpable that night. Our feelings have not weakened in these seven years together, quite the opposite. From across a crowded room, W can still stare an unnerving hole through me and make me swoon.

When you stand there it takes the air
right out of this whole room
I can't help but spin this chair
and stare down at my shoes

Sitting in the old, uncomfortable chair in McKinney's old courthouse theater and sipping cups of wine, Taylor similarly drew me in, as Don did Lori.

I heard she sang a good song, I heard she had a style, And so I came to see her to listen for a while, And there she was this young girl, a stranger to my eyes... Singing my life with her words, Telling my life with her words, Killing me softly with her song.

Seven years ago when W and I let our secret out, it was by my written note to family and friends. It explained our own shock but total commitment to the affair, knowing so quickly that this energy was heading us well beyond breezy and casual.

Cause I feel too high, coming up on nothing but you 

I closed the note with: "It feels like I fell off a cliff but landed softly." 

Let's fall down this canyon
You can be my soft landing

Let's fall down this mountain
You can be my soft landing
I've never had it so easy
Let me be your broken lover
I know you like a fixer upper
Oh, I promise I won't leave

We're falling down this canyon
You can be my companion
I've never had it so easy
Let me be your broken lover
I know you like a fixer upper
Oh, I promise I won't leave
I won't leave
I won't leave

Never, Sweets. Never. 



(Fixer Upper, Taylor Rae)

not a coincidence

W and I have each brought people from our prior separate lives, to the Bistro table, but we've also met new friends through our cul-de-sac friends. The latest are Kelly and Terry, met through Magdalena and James.

At the recent Bistro gathering to celebrate a guest's 95th birthday, acknowledging our seven years together-forever anniversary date coming up, our new friends brought a beautiful card to us and the most adorable gift. A painted rock! 

We're not sure if they have actually noticed that the Bistro has stones and rocks all around. I think not; I believe it was a subliminal force at work.

The rock is a beautiful earthy brown, making the two flowers so cheery atop. When I unwrapped it, I knew immediately where it would find its home; the kitchen window, as if the sill had been waiting. Little did Kelly and Terry know, but the Universe did. 

8:36

W and I, early on in these seven years committed, found instant common ground with our love of music. It's been a wonderful generational crossover of sharing. She's made me many playlists of songs not that new, but new to me. I've still not worn out their welcome, listening as often as I do. I've in turn introduced her not to the artists of my generation so much, but to the depth of the stories they tell and footprints they left us. She readily agrees that my parents' Great American Songbook as well as my Era's richness, have had no rivals since.

As much as I love Don McLean’s Vincent, which W shared last evening in a private social media group, it’s his American Pie that makes me turn mushy from the nostalgia. 

It was 1972 when the song skyrocketed and I was on a short trip to Europe with someone who would become a future mistake. Driving a rental, we were in Belgium on the way to Paris, and we picked up a hitchhiker. She asked us to take a very short detour to her house in Brussels for her to pick up a few extra things, lunch offered in exchange. Just writing this paragraph feels like a jarring slap in the face; how different our countries are today, how little peace & love prevail. 

I still have a photo, a slide actually, that I took with the heavy camera I had lugged along with my backpack. The shot is of this young girl's elderly neighbor who had dozed off in a garden chair set among sparse but peaceful greenery shared by the small homes.  If I’m remembering accurately, there was a rose bush. Maybe more than one. Maybe pink.

I don’t remember anything about the lunch except our very long conversation explaining the very long song, American Pie. The US Billboard hit had also made it to Europe and this young girl was gaga over it. We totally blew her mind (you might say) explaining all we knew about the true meanings of the creative and powerful lyrics which have since been clarified by McLean himself. Lyrics of a personal nature to him and his faith, about musical leaders and a cultural revolution, they continue to be dissected by fans today. Forever chilling whatever their meaning: 
Bad news on the doorstep, When the jester sang for the king and queen, Helter Skelter in a summer swelter, The marching band refused to yield,  A generation lost in space, I met a girl who sang the blues, I went down to the sacred store, The lovers cried and the poets dreamed, And the three men I admire most... 

McLean told of the times as grandly as Dylan and Joni did, artists W now knows well, and tho she can’t have nostalgia for them as I do, she digs them (you might also say).  Not American Pie tho, somehow for her, there was a day that song died. 

They were singin', bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ol'boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', "This'll be the day that I die"

a tale of two donkeys

I’m not sure which came first, Gabriel or Patrick, but W and my love for them is cemented.

Patrick is the donkey (and therapist) in the wonderful film, My Donkey, My Lover & I. Despite the film using more than one animal during filming, there will for us always and only be one Patrick; pronounced Pah-treek in our best French accents. Trust me, it was love at first bray.

Gabriel, the other donkey to steal our hearts, is the longest running Metropolitan Opera stage donkey, running 16 years before retirement. He was featured most often in La Bohème and The Barber of Seville. My opera bracelet, a version I had envisioned with charms related to operas or their arias, was started for me by W. The first charm was Ponte Vecchio, followed by a Rigoletto figure. My most recent gift was a donkey. A Gabriel!

So how fitting that Bistro 3906 now has a nod to Sir Gabriel. Meet Little Gabriel, also known as Baby Gabe. So adorable.

there's no place i'd rather be

Last night was the third night reading by the glow of the small battery lights W had foresight to purchase months ago. A lesser storm than the one which caused this dim routine, had just blown thru bringing more blessed rain.

Earlier we stood at a window listening to the constant croaking of frogs layered with two late cardinals’ unusual duet, then the newly arrived gophers. What cute chatter! Seemed they knew what was coming our way. 

I am reminded, although this book is set in Paris and has transported me there, of one of the things I love the most about the bistro. It could be the magical way that it has of holding in coolness. With wood floors in the back half, carpet and tile and marble in the front, you would not expect on so many days, to enter and utter an immediate, “Ahhhh,” as if you were in a vacation villa, but that is what we both do, so often.

That night, instead, I was reminded of how much I love this home when it rains. It has a very, very wide overhang and unless the wind is fierce, the windows can remain wide open. A true gift! Who would have thought a 1965 suburban brick house could transport us like it does.

“Ahhhh...”

seeing pink

Spoke said it very factually, without accusation, and he was right though I wouldn't believe it for many more years. "You're not a hockey fan, Becca. You're a Stars fan."

I had been bitten by the bug after watching a full game for the first time. I didn't understand much but I knew I was hooked. I went on to learn more and love it more.

Being the hottest guys on ice at the time, this was when Hatcher was Captain and Belfour was Goalie. There was Modano, Hull, Lehtiner, Nieuwendyk, Zubor, and young Morrow.

They won the Stanley Cup that year of 1999 and I became more obsessed. I flew a car flag and bought flags for my family to fly. I had a hockey puck on my office desk, and my sister gifted Spoke and me tickets to a game; center ice just a few rows up. Not unlike the squeak of sneakers on an ACC college basketball floor, the sounds of metal blades on Reunion Arena ice was thrilling to this novice fan.

My enthusiasm was unwavering; I did not, the following season, miss a single televised game. Not a one and that's a helluva lot of games! 

The Dallas Stars made it to the Stanley Cup finals again that next year but lost. I was so heartbroken and exhausted, I quit hockey. Spoke would say I quit the Stars.

Fast forward to life with W. In 2017 she had followed her familiar players to the new expansion team, Vegas' Golden Knights. She told me about their start, and so, I was off again. What an unbelievable start it has been.

The Knights, now in just their 7th season, won the Stanley Cup last year. (Dallas' 1999 Cup Win is their only of three decades.) Vegas has made the playoffs every year but one, losing in the finals in their very first year. 

So the heart and soul of this team has won me over and I've become a fan. Again, I'll give it to Spoke and end this acknowledging his insight. Yes, I'm not a hockey fan, I'm a Knights fan!" Flamingos on the ice!

Note: This was written in the wee hours prior to Game 7 of the Cup's First Round: Dallas Stars & Vegas Golden Knights. If the Knights don't win, I'm on record for supporting my city's team forward!

speech! speech! speech!

It was a memorable birthday party, as all such parties should be. The Bistro threw it for W's 50th, and so many people came for her despite the torrential rains flooding streets city wide. 

They are an eclectic group of people which make for my favorite type of party. Ages ranged from 30's to 80's plus one honorary, energetic 93 year-old auntie. Dear old friends and dear new ones brought their natural abundance of joy. 

As hosts, it is so wonderful when guests comfortably mingle, genuinely interested in each other. That gave me time to keep glasses filled while I prepped the food to come. Also as with such parties at the Bistro, there comes a time for speeches. They are usually to give weight to the event or introduce people, so as this afternoon turned into evening, my speech was to celebrate a beautiful soul, known on these pages as W.

Blessed are those of us gifted with cherished romantic love. Fewer of us are gifted twice. Because I have been, my little speech came first, as a way of trying to explain that very thing. 

W was born under the sun sign of Taurus. I gave examples of how clearly she is that bull. Then I shared how from the early sparks of our chemistry, she reminded me of Spoke. Many little things! I struggled. I questioned.  Was I projecting? Did I so badly want her to be like him? Would that make my leap easier?

Turns out, her sun sign is Taurus but her rising sign is Aquarius. Bohm!

Where our sun signs are our core, our ego & id, our rising signs are the side of us we present to the world. Spoke was Aquarian, my mother was Aquarian, friends are... I know of these people well, I love these people, and so it all began to make sense.

I can write pages on Aquarian behaviors, but to connect back to the party... a main behavioral characteristic is that they are non-conformists. They beat to a different drum. They often go out of their way not to conform. So, in planning, even though W had chosen Italian cookies over a traditional cake (no surprise there), we would at some point want to sing to her, but my heart knew The Happy Birthday Song was not an option; not for this non-conforming Aquarian rising bull.

I chose Auld Lang Syne and a dear friend from W's past, played guitar to lead us in the singing.

Should old acquaintance be forgot

and never brought to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot

and the days of auld lang syne?

It is a Scottish song, a tribute to life is short and recognizing that these are the good days so let's raise a glass honoring people present and people passed. It is historically used to close out evenings or events; a soulful finale. And most of all, and very fittingly, it is used to say goodbye to one year and welcome a new one.

There were a few tears wiped away before W took what was a very brave measure for her, and gave a heartfelt speech. She took us not just from the passing of one year into another but her painful journey from the beginning of a decade to its beautiful ending.

Her words were full of hints to me which only I would know, but it also thanked all the people who have watched her and helped her walk through hell but come out gleefully floating on a serene cloud. 

Here is her personal draft which she read from that night. After our many, many, many comical conversations about legitimate use of the ampersand, she refuses not to let it be used freely in texts as a substitute for any and she pleases. Proof! Such proof, folks...  

She will not conform. Refuses beyond logic. The girl is such an Aquarian.

A wise woman once told me "Life is measured in decades." This nugget of wisdom was passed down to her by her beloved mother. 

I have spent a good bit of this week reflecting on that Psalm and I marvel at what this past decade as thrown at me. It began with the end of what can only be described as "apocalyptic chaos."  And it was peppered with several intense WTF moments. I have somehow managed to keep a few dear friends through it all; I thank you for sticking by me. Within these "character building opportunities" my salvation has been an ever present peace & lightness of being, reasons to laugh, and occasions to pause and be grateful that have mabbled me in the last three quarters of this decade. During this time I have found myself, found my passion, met a grand batch of new friends, and I have found solitude. But my greatest & most precious find, is Becca. What she has brought into my life is absolutely immeasurable & I am eternally grateful. I promise I'll spend our next six lifetimes together showing my appreciation.

So as I enter into this next phase, I shall raise a glass & with a toast I bid adieu to my forties & greet warmly a fresh decade. I look fwd to the memories, additional laugh lines with my loved ones, & more gray hair.