…i’m comin’ babe…

It was autumn, and the Harvest was in full force.
I was fortunate enough to have more than several friends
who worked the green, chanced the marvels of easy money
and big risk.
Friends who delivered The Best there was to offer, and
shared their bounty with folks like me, ready and eager to
help with artistic eye, to create one of the finest products for
humanity…. magical herb, beautifully cleaned and packaged,
with the best energies….if you’re into that sort of thing…
that the Planet had to offer at that time.

I had enjoyed my friends’ companies, living spaces and
comfort zones… extended family for sure.  They knew of my
plan to return to Brasil to be with my crazy Brasilian boyfriend,
and cheered me on…. I was listening to them, to him, and
to MY Self…. and so the day came…

“I’m coming…”  I announced.
“Where Are you?”
“I’m here… in Cali… but … I’m coming.  I can’t wait any longer. ”
I could hear the Thud at the other end of the line.

“I have to leave soon.  I just can’t let my life drift on hold any
longer… I have to either come back, or make plans here for
over the winter… so … I’m coming…”
and then I said something that he’d said to me
Oh so many years ago…

“So…… if you have a girlfriend, you better tell her to Leave.”

So many years ago, more than I’d care to renumerate, he had
called me out of the blue…. I do believe it was in the late 8Os…
and I hadn’t heard from him in more months than I had hoped,
and he Announced on the phone that he was leaving Tahoe, and
would be at my house in a few short hours….
‘So…you’re saying you’re going to be here in 4 hours?” I repeated
in a sort of daze, mind doing it’s best to catch up with Now.

“YES…..So….eeef you have a boyfrien’, you better tell him to Leeeef”.
He said this in his most bandido, revolutionary, deep voice.

I figured at this point, it was only fair to turn his words on him,
and he could likely handle the mirror …

He bullied up to the challenge, said OK, and my plans began
to take shape.

I was going back to Rio.  And I would stay as long as it took
to figure it all out.  It would be Hard, It would be Real…
and somehow, we would figure it All out together.
I believed in US….together… and that we could Do it.
I Believed in Love and Fate and All of it…..
After all …he called me Babe…. and my heart leapt with the sound.

________________

…then and now…

…1986…

When we first met, Mendocino Coast California… he was 29, I was 43…

 

 

…2005…

Together in Brazil, here we are nearly twenty years later…

 

 

 

…babe…

It’s March 9th…2005

We’re at the aeroporto… we cling to eachother like frightened
children…. or frightened old people…..
we’re too quiet to be children…

I can only hold onto him, hold his hands, touch his borders,
until the very last minute, knowing full well that time just keeps
moving on, and soon all this will be gone…the now of now
will soon be the now of the future, evaporated
but for foggy memories.

He sits beside me, and we are quiet together, our last moments
before the long distance once again pulls us to someplace else.
I lay my head against his maleness, holding to his arm,
head on his shoulder, my hands absorbing all I can of him.
He feels solid, grounded, calm, sad and resolved.
He says nothing… there is nothing to say.

I cannot hold the tears that fall down my face, and onto our
mutual hands…… and he looks long at me…

“Oh…I think thees separation ees going to be harder on
you than me…..”
He trails off …… I hold tight.

He takes my journal, borrows my pen, and writes
one last message to take home …

I remember turning to him for one last look, after I walked away,
before I moved into customs, and readied myself for the long trip home…

I may not see his face again for a long time… and for all that life offers..
….and for the way he is… it could be never.

The old panic buttons send their blaring sirens off into my nervous
system, for the so-many-times he’d left before, all of it coming up
like a slide show carousel on the dark wall of my brainscape.

I remember boarding the plane, and asking the assistant to please
bring me some kleenex…
“I am leaving my fiancee,” I tell her…” and I know I’m going to cry…”

And I did.  I cried as the wheels left the runway, as the plane banked
for the last time over that city, over that bay, and away from that
magical place…my magical place…..until I could no longer see
that city, that bay, that coastline, or Brasil at all.

And then I wiped my eyes, sat up a bit, pulled out my book and
began the long journey home.

 

 

…into Rio, the old city…

One of the more wonderful things to do, at least from
my point of view, was to go on the ferry and into the
mainland city, the old city that has held such fascination
for so many millenia.
Rio was the destination for the rich and famous, Hollywood,
and the glamorous.  It was also the place to run away to, for
its vastness made it possible to hide forever, from whatever
or whomever you were running.

Traveling through, it is such an unimaginable combination
of centuries, styles and cultures…
My camera’s eye was enthralled with the contrasts and combos,
the most incomprehensible next door neighbors created by
circumstance and availability.
I share some photos, because Words do not suffice.

Rio just goes on and on.  The sidewalks are made of broken
marble from older buildings from the past…puzzled together
to create artful walkways, each street with its own pattern.

The beaches themselves, lined with deco lighting and the
eternal sidewalk strolls, enabled by parks and grassy spreads,
and that white white sand, going on for miles…..
Copacabana…. Ipanema…. who does not feel a little thrill,
at the sound of these almost mythical places…
Nothing creates sand like that, but a million years…
This I know from Hawaiian times.

There, as the sea bed’s volcanic activity keeps on spewing, the
land mass moves over it, traveling NorthWest, and one by one
the islands were formed in order.
This is a beautiful example of geological creation of land mass
that is a clock, a window on the timing of movements
and how it all works.

Kauai is the oldest, and thus, those immaculate white sand
beaches that are indicative of long time coming…muito tempo…

The Big Island, at the other end of the chain, is relatively new,
and mostly you see black sand beaches, and lots of lava rock,
while the volcanic activity is still fresh…. the irridescent lava beds
lying like moon landscapes out before you…as each forming island
straddles the upwelling energies.
Actually off the south east end, there is yet another island forming
under the ocean, while the islands beyond Kauai on the far northwest
end have already sunk, only coral atolls marking their perimeters,
the memory of islands eons ago.

Thus… what I am trying to say, to express, is the Ancient
Quality of this so Ancient a Port…Bay…Islands…of Rio de Janeiro.
This place has basically been there forever… forming, rounding,
sheltering, protecting, like a huge womb, even in its shape…
and being the nursery for the sea for more eons than we
can even conceive.

Port of a million years, Born of a million years…. yes.
James Taylor got it right…. he got the Magic of the place.

And so did I…. and it helps to see a new country with a Native…
Obrigada……!
Ate amanha meu amor………. amanha….

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…nascimento…

What a Beautiful Spirit…. this man.

I love this song for so many reasons, for when it first came out
in 1987, I was in the throws of my love affair with Brasil and Alcir…
I believed that it was more than a dream…

…and when Milton sings it, his deep and spiritual nature permeates,
lending layers with that voice and those eyes.   …..Enjoy…..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cJ21t2Pxtg&feature=related

Quando a nossa mãe acordar…………………When our mother awakes
Andaremos ao sol………………………………….We shall walk in the sun
Quando a nossa mãe acordar…………………When our mother awakes
Cantará pelo sertão………………………She shall sing in the wilderness
Quando a nossa mãe acordar…………………When our mother awakes
Todos os filhos saberão………………………All her children shall know
Todos os filhos saberão………………………All her children shall know
E se alegrarão………………………………………….And they shall rejoice

But it’s more than the shining eye, more than the steaming green,
more than the hidden hills, more than the concrete Christ,
more than a distant land over a shining sea,
more than a hungry child, more like another time.
Born of a million years, more than a million years.

 

 

…born of a million years…

James Knows…….

Quando a nossa mãe acordar…………………When our mother awakes
Andaremos ao sol………………………………….We shall walk in the sun
Quando a nossa mãe acordar…………………When our mother awakes
Cantará pelo sertão………………………She shall sing in the wilderness
Quando a nossa mãe acordar…………………When our mother awakes
Todos os filhos saberão………………………All her children shall know
Todos os filhos saberão………………………All her children shall know
E se alegrarão………………………………………….And they shall rejoice

But it’s more than the shining eye, more than the steaming green,
more than the hidden hills, more than the concrete Christ,
more than a distant land over a shining sea,
more than a hungry child, more like another time.
Born of a million years, more than a million years.

…the plan…

“I Love you for your Intelligence,
your Temperament,
the way you Carry yourself,
and your Elephant Memory.”

…what a lovely picture he paints of me today.

After seeing Ibicui, our vision of the future began to
formulate for both of us.
Our number one priority became Happiness, and once
we had seen what we could build upon, what we could
create living in peace, and with our love for eachother,
well, our ideas just fell into place.

“Journal, March 1, 2005

I am engaged. We proposed to eachother today, before we
went out to see the city…we have at last Said the Words,
taken the giant step of faith and truth.
We just can’t decide if I should be Carol Souza, or
he Alcir Williams…hahahaa!
He likes the sound of it, and the custom of incorporating
eachother’s names into the other is certainly
amusing at the least.

“I can’t believe it…I’m getting married again!”, he thrilled
to me.  “Are we going to Die together?
Is this going to be IT?”

We are going to get a place in Ibicui.  A place with a nice
big backyard.
He will get a little boat, and run tours on the weekends.
His heaven!

He wants to make one of those big barbeques using a
trash can, and we can go to town, get big cashes of chicken
and beef, and have Barbeques in our backyard on the
weekends… and sell to the tourists and locals.

He can make soups, and I breads…
The tourists come every weekend, so there you have it.
I could even sell my jewelry from a cart on the beach.
Here, it’s all like the sixties, things easy and local,
and not all the regulations and limitations.

We can take foods to parties…
As well, we can scout around for things to Export …
On our trips we saw so many beautiful things that would
fill a container bound for the US.
Fantastic carvings, large ship models, little tables
and chairs sets…
Amazing precious hardwood chairs, the designs are
brilliant, and the exchange is so excellent right now.”

The ideas were immense, and flowing.  So many possibilities.

Journal continues…

“She shook her proverbial head, her mind reeling with
the truths of the moment.
Where had she been but four months ago?

Her birthday was a good, but sad relief from the efforts
of a year and a half of trying to make it work with the
son, out in the woods she loved.
A month of complete breakdown, sadness…and then
…the Dec 7th connection.

And now… to be married …the Fiancee…
the Intended…!
Still there were big questions for her,
especially regards the consumption of alcohol..

It was seeming that he would rather get wasted than make love…
over the past three weeks, she could likely count the
number of actual encounters on little over one hand, maybe…
this reality puzzled her… He was a sexy and sexual man.
And yet, it was not a priority, and getting Drunk was.

She had never known anyone who could drink the quantities
that he could, and every night.
If this was the reality ongoing, there would be trouble.

“Your drinking is your business…how it affects me
is My business.” she said.  ” I’m concerned with your health,
and that’s what really worries me.”

The problem for her was that she was already committed.
He was the man she had wanted, and no one would ever be able
to touch this place in her heart…

So it was a done deal.  The had to solve the quandary of
this terrible addiction that had hurt her so many times before…

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand… she did,
and all too well… it’s just that it was
a Now What…? situation.

 

 

…corcovado…

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A visit to Rio would not be complete without seeing a few
of the tourist spots.  Rio itself is a year’s viewing, but since
that’s more than I had, Alcir saw to it that I enjoyed that
Huge Guanabara Bay, 15 x 16 Miles, with scores of islands,
and the ferrys going to what they call Downtown Rio, and
what I called Mainland Rio…

Alcir had a theory that the Bay is a splash up from a giant
volcano… tossing up all those lumps that are so familiar
to us in pictures of Rio… a geological phenomenon that would
seem to be somewhat repeated on the NorCal Coast where I
used to live… although certainly not as massive or spectacular.

Corcovado is one of those hills behind and above Rio, and
back in 1931, they built the Concrete Christ, Cristo Redentor,
and at nearly 100 feet, the mass of it alone is rather awesome.
The day we visited it, his head was in the clouds.

Researching it, it sits on a base that adds 30 ft to the height,
but still it’s not as large as the Statue of Liberty, and dozens of
Jesuses and Buddhas and Quan Yins all over the world.
Still, in the presence of it, at the feet of it, and realizing the bulk
the mass, the scale…. quite wonderful.

A little side note:  it was recently voted to be one of the
New Seven Wonders of the World…

One of the other ‘Musts’ was Pao d’Azucar, what we call in the
States ‘Sugar Loaf’, and the whole experience of traveling on the
trams along steel cables, to the top of the largest of those Lumps
in the Bay… well that’s another day and another story.

 

 

…getting to know you…

One really amusing aspect of this visit with V was to
watch the two of them romp and kibbitz.
They were terribly in love with the reflection of each in
the other, and I was truly content to be amused by the show,
and to see this fierce warrior as a tender father was
a beautiful gift.

The photos I share here are but a fraction of the film I spent
on their interactions.  She was Made for the camera, and
if you add watching Lots of Novellas (soap operas) on TV,
Plus…if you’ve ever seen the Carnaval Queens of Rio, you
might consider the images that children there see every day.
Glamorous, gorgeous, and very comfortable in their bodies
…well, I guess you have the makings of a star….

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She and I spent the first couple days sharing and comparing
words.  I have pages in my journal of her numbers and letters,
and lots of things in Portuguese and English.

We had fun, and laughed some.  We would point to things, and
then we would teach eachother the language we each knew.
She spoke no English, which surprised me actually.  Alcir was
so conversant, but then again, the mother didn’t speak English.

While I was there, he would only speak English, as he was
excited to be practicing it again.
I knew some Portuguese, but couldn’t carry on conversations.
In particular we worked on pronunciation, for each language
has sounds that are not used in the other.
It was funny on both sides, and we laughed at eachother’s
attempts and tongue twisters.

It was lovely sitting out on the steps in the sunshine and breezes,
and making our little baby steps towards eachother.
She loved watching me paint with my watercolors, and
tried some herself.

But Alcir had his warnings for me….
“Watch out,” he shared.  “She’ll be nice at first…”

We took a little drive, after much coaxing by both of us girls,
up to Corcovado, the rolling mountain top where sits
the Concrete Christ, way above the downtown city of Rio.

The enormity just doesn’t get to you til you stand at the feet
of that amazing statue.
The day was overcast, and his head was in the clouds.

They were also in the midst of repairs, likely sort of like the
San Fran Bridge, where it just keeps going on in one manner
or another, constantly, and the drapery and fencing just
added to the surreal scene.

During this  visit with V, I came down with a terrible
fever, and although I was frightened, it turned out to be a
really bad bladder and kidney infection.

I remember his large warm hand on my forehead, checking
me often, as in dilerium, I was carried inside and tended to.
Chills came and went, deep shivering and heavy sweats,
and the comforting energy he gave me with his concern
stayed with me.
Beyond that, the only positive thing was the loss of five
pounds, which actually were helpful in adjusting to the
humid summer heat.

I think it was 9 or 10 days that she stayed, and during that time
there would be no intimacy between the two of us.
We had only had four days alone, our honeymoon time.

She began getting dramatic.  Very dramatic.
She would go visit Aunt Maria, eat sugary things, and
watch the Novellas.
Her father wouldn’t let her watch them here.
Then, when she would walk in and find us close together,
holding hands or cuddling, she would sigh loudly,
turn and stomp away.

One day the child Raged all day.
Every moment was consumed by her, nothing was enough.
Pai!  Pai!   Pai….!
Once she did her stomp away to Maria’s, and Alcir followed.
When he returned he was both angry and laughing.

“Oh Good Lord!” …he shook his head.
“She has thrown herself on the bed, and she is
pounding the mattress with her fists screaming…
…..WHY ..WHY … WHY….!”

journal continues… it’s Sunday

“She is doing a little better in general, doing her best to accept
something she can’t compete with…. or kill……….
….V goes home Tues or Wed. “

…the visit…

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I didn’t write much of anything while V was with us.
There was so much intensity, so much to take in and feel.

So much attention to pay, and things to learn.  This was the only
child he had really given himself to.  As is frequently the case with
men, when they are young they do not allow themselves to get as
involved in child rearing as they do when they have matured, and
I knew by the pictures in the drawer and on the wall that he had
indeed been very involved.  It was a beautiful thing to see.

When his girlfriend got pregnant, Alcir was very happy, and began
his quest for a healthy child, by enforcing rules upon her.
He told me that he made her eat her broosel sprouts, and
made her stop smoking and drinking.

From what I could glean, they had already split up and made up many
times, so I’m sure there was a lot of adjustment going on on both sides.

_____________

Journal, February 2005…

“He told me that when he introduced his woman to his grandmother,
later she told him..
“She loves you, yes, but she loves you because
of what your penis does.
Later on, when you turn to her she will not be there.”

This was the grandmother who was the only one really There for him,
and did her best to support him, while witnessing the abuse that
he suffered every day from the father and mother.

He says V’s mother hated him for taking care of her
during the pregnancy.

“I made her eat her vegetables, wouldn’t let her smoke.
Not for her, but for what she was building inside of her.
That was mine, and I wanted my daughter to be strong
and intelligent.
This was not Hers… it was Ours. ” ”
_______________

She gazed at the tiny snapshot of the boy.  Such innocence,
such beauty.  Perfect symmetry, those wrap around eyes,
a pure, sweet baby.
And here was that little boy’s picture, overlaid with one
of little V.

The photos of them, his face glowing with pride and
complete satisfaction… these pictures amazed me.
To see this man I knew as a fierce warrior, now a tender father
caring for his child was a beautiful side, and I was fascinated.
There were faces there I had never seen before.

It was at a tender age that he began to turn;  he was constantly
in trouble in school, couldn’t sit still or be quiet.
He was beaten, and punished on a daily basis, and emotionally
abused as well, frequently in public.
I know they did it out of ignorance and stupidity…
but…what a travesty.

ADHD or not, the sort of Hatred that was heaped on him, because
his mother never wanted a child in the first place, was
unforgivable in my mind.
They also may have been embarassed in front of family and friends,
by his inability to behave and fit in, and the trouble at school.

They knew nothing about ADHD brain chemistry in those days, and
well I know it, for my brother is close to his age, and is ADHD too.
And as well, and this is really strange, both he and my brother
were left handed, and both mothers made them go Right.
I thoroughly believe this made things even more difficult.

“All I wanted was kisses from the mother,” he said.
” Kisses and holdings….
But the same mouth that kissed, that same mouth punished me
with hatred, told me I was worthless.
I was hated by them because they said I was the most intelligent
in the family.  The Most Intelligent! and all she wanted was to turn
me into a faggot.  She could control me if I was a faggot.
She couldn’t control me as I was, and she hated me for that. ”

This small room which served as living room and bedroom contained
only things of and about Him.  The only one else present, in the form
of photos, was his daughter, who was now eight years.

The rest of his life was in a drawer, and I did look at the pictures
now and then, when he was gone…. of course I did.
But I could not find one picture of the mothers…. his Or V’s.
I wanted, nay, needed, to understand just what it was that
made up this man.

So it’s Birthday Day, a day of delight for him, we picked up V,                                                   and the three of us went out to a wonderful dinner….
a very fancy family restaurant, where the waiters bring out
huge slabs of beef, and slice it in front of you, as much as you want.
This was my gift to him… dinner and his new Raybans,
which he wore with pride.

When we came home, there was romping and play with the two
of them, and I happily sat back, doing my part by taking
scores of pics, and thoroughly enjoying the cloud of
wild abandon between them.

That night, we all slept together on the simple bed we’d made on
the floor, and I let her take possession of her father.

She lay in his arms, between the two of us, arms and legs wrapping
up any thought that another might join in.
Little puffs of soft, light green jealousy clouds floated up
now and then, and from both sides.