…a few weeks of bliss…

Over the next few weeks, he would call every two or three days.  I liked that.  He wasn’t oppressive and demanding, nor was he showing insecurities, which I hate…. he left me space.  And he didn’t leave me hanging during these times… it was rather a perfect start.

And I might add, he never failed to deliver in that interpersonal realm, definitely making up a thousand times for that first funny “bad impression of Brasilians” … I had thought he was a bit boyish, and he was in ways… but believe me when I say he was one of the most wonderful and most Present lovers I’ve ever experienced.   And his skin was electric…  He told me that divers are the cleanest, because of all the salt water, and how many times they rinse off each day.  But it was more than that.  The energy coming off of him in those times was in big wide swaths, like he was on fire from the very center of his soul.

The phone rang.


“Heellooo…”  deep voice… I know that voice…….“So…… how Are you?”

“Oh… the wind is making me Restless and Bored …”

“Reeelly?  Can I come over an take advantage of that?”

(soft snickers on both ends…)

“oh I suppose…”

“gooooood.  I’ll be there…”

…..and he’d hop on his bicycle and peddle the short half mile along the ridge road to my house.   He was camping at a friend’s house just up the road.

How cute, I thought.  This manly man, this worldly cultured man, hoping on a bicycle to come visit me.  He was quite winsome.

Once I looked out to see him surfing the top of his buddy’s white van as it drove in.  Surfing it all along the bumpy and unkempt little road from the street to my front door, past the little pond, past the cabin where my son lived, and up the drive to be delivered at my door…. Like fresh milk, or the daily news or the most delicious meal, cooked to perfection and just for me.

Our times alone were pure magic.  Years later, he would tell me he was mesmerized.  Great word, mesmerized.  It comes from a magician, or hypnotist or something,  named Mesmer, I’m pretty sure….

And I… I was swept away.  He pleased my eye so, this artist was enchanted by beauty, intrigued by his wit, and searching for the truth of just who this being could be.

He loved Opus and Bill the Cat.  He said he was voting for Opus for President.  He would sit reading the paper, and mumble to himself about the news from home.

“Stupid fucking Brasilians” he would curse.  “ they deserve everything they get”.   He was furious, the way they dealt with the rainforest, the Indigenous tribes, the natural resources of that most gorgeous country.

He loved “Monthy Pyton”, and I would laugh and gently correct him.  He always had a hard time with that difference, the T and the Th.  But it was endearing, and sometimes I’d tease him, calling out “Lucy….. I’m Home!….”.

Then came a time where I hadn’t seen or heard from him in days, which was unusual.  I had his number in Tahoe, and one night with great trepidation, I dialed the number.

A woman answered … the one he called “the woman who lives in my house”…

“Is Alcir there?”

She called him to the phone.

“Oh, you’ve made a woman here very unhappy” he scolded.

“Oh I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have called.”

“No no, it’s alright.  I’m just going to be here for a while…”

Short and sweet, uncomfortable and strange… I hung up.

I had known he had someone in Tahoe.  Not much else.  I justified everything by the notion that he couldn’t be That happy there, if what was going on here was going on…

I remember the second or third time we were together, when we came back down to earth, and he sat up abruptly, and said “Oh noooo, I cannt Dooo theeees.  I leeeve weeth someone. “

“I know”,  I replied.  “Are you in love with her?”

“I don know….…I don know” he trailed off.

“Well, you’re here now” and I shrugged.  He looked long and hard at me.

And then he dressed and left to dive.

And right around that same time, early on, and I’m not counting that first time when he snuck into my bed like the bandido he was, …. As was our way, we went into another reality, our world where there was no time, no ground, no division between us.  It was truly mystical… and then he sat up quickly.

“Oh Nooo”….. he shook his head, his hands like they were holding it on.

“I deeed not know eet would bee like theees…” his voice soft and a bit lost, his head slowly moving from side to side.

“I did” I replied. “that’s why I kept you away for that week”


“Yes….”    For from the first, I knew that once I stepped off that cliff, it would never be the same for me.

When he came to retrieve his things once more, and it was funny, for he always seemed to leave something to come back for….I walked into my studio and as I began to ascend the ladder, I asked how he was doing…

“Oh much better now” he grinned, looking up, and as I glanced back, I understood the wicked pleasure in his smile.

Once when we were making love, and he was above me, staring into my eyes as he so often did, his body stroking mine in every way possible, words came from his lips in a soft dark voice…

“Oh, yooo’re a Gooooood Wooooman………. What am I going to doooo weeth you?”

”You’ll think of something…” I whispered.

I loved my house.  It was my hippie haven, with little rooms here and there, places to sit outside, decks and landings.  Handmade, pieced together, I didn’t care.  I truly loved it.  It was a sculpture that took form over many years with many owners, and it resonnated with my lifestyle.  There came a time, as often did in my renter’s life, that the owner wanted, needed to sell.   It had been on the market for many months, but nothing had really taken shape.  Now the owner took charge, and as it turned out, took charge of my Life.  There was one time that I Really hated my status as a single self employed mother, and wished there was a Man behind me when I spoke with the owner man guy.

His situation was desperate I guess, and so much so that he and his family came out from Colorado and asked me to leave while they Lived there (yes!…can you believe it?) and proceeded to sell it themselves.  It was Terrible.

My girls and my animals and I all had to camp around during that week, I couldn’t get any work done in my studio, and I was Sure he wouldn’t sell it…….. but he did.  It was devastating.  He and his family really never acknowledged what they put me through, and after that, I had a month to move out.

Rentals were hard to find, especially for a single woman with children and animals, and self employed to top it off.  I was part timing at St Orres, a glamorous inn and restaurant on a hill of Hwy 1.  with panoramic ocean views and the best food… but still, I lived precariously.

To add even more stress, it was Renaissance Faire time, and right now I have no idea how I managed to accomplish it all.  The Faire means Three Months of weekends, building a booth, studying Renaissance lingo and costumes…they kept changing the rules every year…. and Making Stuff to Sell.  It tires me just remembering …  but somehow I found a Wonderful, but very different house, and the owner was a woman…. a single woman!  Yeah!… and she decided she’d let me rent it.  I remember arriving at my faire booth and calling out to my faire partner….”I got it!  I got my house!”  and we did a happy dance.

And What a house.  I called it my Glam House.  Somehow I knew I wouldn’t be there a long time, but I decided I would enjoy it while I could.

Get this:  Five Levels.  Two master bedrooms with bath.  Three smaller bedrooms… and they left me a Huge couch that wrapped around one corner of the level with windows and a big screen TV… big for then anyway.  The entire house was wall to wall carpets… Shelves for books, window views, Two Acres which had a lot of woods, and even a large …no Super large aluminum shed/workshop thing that could have eventually been rented out to someone as well.  The kitchen was super, and the lower deck… there were several… had a hot tub that could easily handle a party of twelve.   Oh yes, and an attached single car garage to use as a studio.  All for $600 a month… unbelievable, No?  …..this was 1986.

I was sad to leave my little boat house, that had cradled and nourished and protected me for three years, and the last day crept quickly near.  Then it was the last night.  I recall a thought blurting out from my brain, erupting without hindrance… oh if only I had someone here to share my last night with.  If only He was here.  But it seemed too much to ask.

He’d been gone for several weeks, and I can’t remember if it was because of the urchin season… they had breaks that they had to abide by… or his business in Tahoe, which I never really understood… something about a snow cleaning business….but anyway, he was gone.

My girls and I were in the far end, the bedroom with bath that had been my oldest daughters room, before she left for college.  We were watching TV, I was on the floor enveloped in a bean bag chair, the same sucking me in to the netherlands of the floor, sinking me down, cradling me in soft surrender….and very mellow from eats and wine…

A knock came…

Piney went to the door, and then rushed back to me.

“Mom! Mom!! Oh my god mom…. You’ll never guess who’s here!  Get up, Get up!”  and I remember groaning and slowly rolling off that beanbag world, wishing I could just stay there forever, I was so tired.

I literally crawled to the doorway, with a clear view to the entry way.  And who stood there, hands on hips, in his bright green BARBADOS SWIM TEAM sweatshirt, Varnet sunglasses and a big fat grin…

I swear, I was awake and up and over to him, and I began punching his  shoulder, yelling…

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you”, …..and then falling into his arms.

It was always like that.  The joy always overcame the frustrating and unpredictable side of him that drove me mad.

He walked to the open door, hung off the railing and called to his diving buddy in the van….

“See?  She’s happy to see me!  Jest looook at dat smile…” and drew me close.  We were both grinning from ear to ear…

The next day, knowing I was moving, he left to dive, and said he’d be back to help.  And he was.  Along with several friends with trucks and hands, we managed to cart out almost everything of mine, and drop it into the next house.

When he saw the new house, he took a deep breath.

“You do VooDoo?  How deeed you fine this house?   You dooo voodoo for meee…. I wan a meeelion doelars… eeets worth ten pearcent, an a month in Montecarlo”

“OK…!  I can do some visualizations…”

“It’s a good thing you showed up when you did…. you wouldn’t have known where I was!” I chided…

“Naaaaa…. I’d have found you” he scoffed, and it pleased me to no end, the way his confidence created confidence.

Long time later, when I reminded him of his offer, he laughed out loud and told me…

“Ha! Ten Pearcent?  No way!!  I might as well just maaaarry you…”

The next couple days, I settled in, and he came over to help get that hot tub started.  Oh, he couldn’t wait.  He walked out onto the deck, which had to be 5 feet off the ground, took hold of top of the over 3 feet tall railing, and in one perfect movement, went over it, landing on the ground below… like a cat.  He looked up briefly, just to make sure I had been watching, then proceeded to check everything, reset the motor, and get it going.

And oh my, did we enjoy that hot tub.  It was simply amazing, under the stars, slow swims across, melting together in the middle of nothing but us, nothing but our breath, our bodies…..and our hearts.



…the night …

I remember that night, the one I’ve promised to tell you about, like the movie that it was.  How many times I replayed it, I cannot tell, but it was truly one worth re-viewing.

So, you remember it was the Fourth of July, 1985.  We had briefly seen eachother along the parade route, Main Street Point Arena.  He had given me the Latin Stare across the small town road, and I’d invited him with the gesture of a lighter needed.   Later, up at Bower Park, I was singing with a Blues Band, along with Gary Bloom and Barry Bastian (then known as Abdul), and John Scott on base.  I was good that day, and felt in my element, very hot, and really enjoying the crowd of my beloved locals who always looked forward to the yearly happening.
Interestingly enough to me later… I did a solo of a Sade tune….
“Smooth Operator”…… and sometimes it felt pretty right on, Mr Souza.

I always worked the Oyster Bar with John Scott, my long time buddy, and had been given the title of Oyster Brother, one not easily won for a girl, amongst the boys… I dined on oysters, drank micro brew beers, and felt so at home with my neighbors.  Absolutely delightful and blissed out.

I remember seeing him once or twice, amongst the crowd that meandered around the woods and open lands of the park, and even once when I was dancing.  He was always in the background, fleetingly, and  always watching.

That evening, I took my two girls Piney and Lily, then 13 and 9, down to Schooner Gulch, and as we sat on that big log watching the smoke and sparks rise into the sky and blend with the stars…. and as the fireworks shot out over the ocean, blending with the sparks and the stars…..you might remember that that voice came over my left shoulder, that fellow from Brasil joined us on the log, and he revealed the sadness that would capture my imagination, and later my heart.

What is it about the sad hero, the gladiator who realizes he’s not quite received as the hero he thought he’d be as a boy?  This man had grown up reading all the classics, and his heart was one who knew he could send himself forward, sword in hand, capture the maiden, tame the beast, and arrive safely at a home where rewards and repast reassured him that he, indeed, had done the right thing, followed the path that he alone was meant to walk, and in the end it would lead to Everafter.   He was Built for it, blessed with the talents and physical blessings that would enable him to fulfill his Destiny.

Ah… but not so for every hero, or even for a few, not so for every brave gladiator.  Not so for the brave and beautiful, for LIFE has a way of stepping in and letting us know that it is not Simple but Complex…. it is not Foretold, but proceeds on its own path, and none can predict the outcome of the life we lead.

So…. on to what you are all waiting for, I’m sure.  The WHAT ?… after I suggested that he come over… after I put the girls to sleep…. oh you wonder, do you?   Hmmmm?….. And so did I….

I only remember the thrill, the terror, the excitement.  I put the girls down, probably changed into something yummy, although now I do not remember just what.  And I waited…. but not for long.

And then he was there, at the door.  What can I say about his energy…?  He was like no one I’ve ever met, before or since.  His energy field was large, full of sound and furry, and definitely signifying stuff that I’d never known, but wanted to know, to understand.  I didn’t know how much of the longing I felt was because he was from another world… Brasil… and how much was because the life he’d lead was so completely different from the one I’d chosen, and it was very much Opposites Attracting from both sides…. and yet, we truly met on so many levels of understanding and taste.

I know we were both high from chemistry, from drink, and from the greenery we shared.  We never got to the upstairs loft of my bed, at least not for the first meeting.  I only remember the complete and utter surrender I felt, and the swept away feeling that overcame all fear, all doubt, and time itself.  Yes, time became meaningless, and the Fourth of July was omnipresent inside and out.   Skyrockets is putting it mildly.   I remember laughing as we tumbled off the couch onto the rug….

Somehow we woke up in the loft, he leaving at dawn to go dive for urchins.   He sat up quickly, as that was the way he awoke in those days.  Startled awake, no pause for the re-entry, ready for the challenges of the day.   I have no recollection of what was said, I only know that my mind was completely burned, swirling, confused and delighted, all at the same time.  He left, and I was glad, for there was no way we could look directly at what had just occurred.  He was off to conquer the sea and plunder its treasures.

Later that day, in the early afternoon, he appeared at my door to retrieve his wallet.   Aaaaahh! The moment was brief and charged with sparks across the ethers.   He said he’d call me….   and of course I had gone through his wallet, you silly.  Wouldn’t you?   Alcir bla bla bla de Souza.  born February 14th, Rio de Janeiro.  (oh great… Valentine’s Day….) …several cards from those he’d met.  Not much of anything else, not much money.  But nice wallet.    It was funny, because the first time he’d left his beloved divers’ watch, and now his wallet….

“When you leave things, it just means you want to come back”,  I told him later…..

It was the next day that he called and he returned, and from then on  he called pretty much every other day.  We seldom talked about US.   We were each equally swept away, and for those times, there was nothing to say about the experience that this clash of souls had created.

It quickly became the center of my universe…..



… the first time….

It was so Almost There….

Almost……achingly Almost totally….. It.

Icons meet and clash, like warriors that bend and dance…

The depth of passion, in this life, I will not experience again,

Unless it’s at the birth of my child’s child…

Or the birth of my own.

Is there much more than birth, death and the deepest love.

And what is love? Does anyone know.

But crazy indeniably irresistibly magnetic to the point of

Insanity might begin to describe….

And isn’t that what we all crave somewhere…?

Oblivion…..the Somewhere Else place, where self and other

Blends and melt-melds into the great glorious mysterious All.

Yes, love and great sex can indeed, like fresh mushrooms,

And fresh homegrown…and the oldtyme LSD, the real sacrament.

they can take you to paradise, goneness,

Oblivion, out of here man, and I don’t care and I don’t know

And it’s all just OK.

OK… so….. This man has just given me the most perfect kiss ever… in my life anywhere.   It embodied the most pure, the most innocent…. And moved thru all the punches………To complete sexually blended bliss.  How can this be with just lips?

For the next week, I literally ran away from him.   He showed up the next morning, because ‘he’d left his watch’, that multi-hundreds state-of-the-arts at-the-time divers’ watch.

Oh, wait…….. I forgot to tell you about the rest of the evening…..                                                     (she sighs and drifts….)

So supposedly he’s too drunk to drive home, and can he camp on the couch.  Ok, whatever.  The couch is in my studio, below where I sleep.  He snores.  I sleep well in my king size, Steven joining me as cuddle buddy….  He leaves early for some new job on the wharf.

And then….. Someone knocks at the ladder….

Are you surprised, dear reader?  Oh I hope so….

“Hello?  Can I come up and see the view in the light?…”  and before I can answer, this head appears just above the floor…  and he says something, and he’s here next to me, and……he pulls back the covers and climbs in….

I’m half asleep, and say ineffectual words about Steven, and wait, and……. He’s inside me….. with full kisses and legs surrounding me.   And before I’ve caught my breath,….. he comes.

I instinctively draw in my breath ……………He sits up.

“Oh I did not expect That…”…. And he holds his head.  The white sheet falls around his brown skin…  I start to laugh…

“Oh, I hope I have not given you a bad impression of Brasilians .”                                      …..and I laugh again… damn, how adorable Is he….

And I softly say…”No…. actually it’s sort of flattering..”

And “Oh yah, flattering…very funny…” ….comes back, nervously.

Then he was bustling, getting dressed, off to work, gathering his wits, ready-ing for the cove and the guys and the dive.  Off to jump in the ocean, and away from whateverthefuck this is.

Late that day, he returned for his pride and joy, his divers’ watch, and I remember holding the door in front of me, a shield from his shine, because I felt so naked and vulnerable and it all scared the shit out of me, and…                     I was totally swept away.

So… for the next week, I avoided him.  He showed up along maybe Wed nite with his diver buddy, and I sat at the far end of the table, engrossed in whatever the what I was engrossed in, just as long as I didn’t have to make eye contact with him.  After lots of laughs and a couple beers, they jolly well leave, and my heart rate slows to near normal.

Once I saw him with a few guys, on the back of a truck in town, and he flashed his trademark wide grin.  Like a hungry animal…..I looked away.

That weekend was the Fourth of July parade and gala… oh yah, a gala in a 3000 people town, back in the backhills hideaway on the NorCal coast.

The parade was classic.  Always the flags, the hippie floats, and the local guns and bad ass boys, a couple horses.  And some pretty girls… lots of creativity everywhere.

So we’re on the street, near the little town store, my girls and I, and along comes Big Alcir, walkin that way he walks, sort of a bad boy walk, like I could Kick your fuckin ass, no problem, walk…. but he’s got long Indian hair, and there’s a style to him that you can’t deny… he’s got class.

“Good Morning Ladies” comes the warm refrain.  Oh god…

He makes pleasantries, and passes.  Damn… he is rather intriguing…ya think?   But what just happened that night, that morning… I still haven’t completely figured it out, but I’m getting close.  Very close.

So I’m there with my two little girls, waiting for the parade to start, and he’s across from me, on the other side of the narrow street, behind someone else sort of, but not, and we eye contact… I make a motion like ‘do you have a light for this thing?’ …. ok, it’s the eighties, and yes, I smoke.

He crosses the street, his Varnets intact, hair beautifully tousled, a neat plaid in soft tans adorns his ever more interesting body.  He walks like a cat.   So…what’s happening today, what’s the deals in this town, (where are you going) blahdeblah ensues.   So he mentions that this whole thing is just too Wholesome for him.  And I say……

“…hmmm… so why don’t you come over sometime, and take me away from all this wholesomeness. ”   ….Really…. No Really, I actually said that.                   And “Really…?” was what He said back to me…

The parade starts, he goes to the store, hands us something as he passes, a candy for the girls, and he’s gone.  The day with its barbeques and sweetness that only a small town can dish up, included a giant picnic at the park, and I was singing in a Blues Band.

I vaguely remember his face in the crowd as I concentrate on my vocals, coming and going, appearing once when I’m out dancing, watching me, offering me a light as I hang with friends.  But he’s etherial, and I’m relieved to see him that way.   I have, in my gut, been keeping him at arm’s length, and he is picking up on that, not pushing me, not rushing it, just being there and waiting…. like that kiss.   I like that.

The proceedings move day to night, and now it’s very dark.

I am sitting on a large log with my girls, facing the sea.

In front of me is a Gaugin painting, a Van Gogh of sand and crashing surf, dark but with well heard drums as background.  A huge bonfire erupts into the sky, and the sparks and stars combine and swirl (starry starry night) with the giant booms and flashes of fireworks, shot out over the ocean, enough to make the world dance forever.

Beautiful happy hairy hippies dancing and meandering round the fire, and I swear at that moment I thought to myself that I was in heaven.  The beauty was beyond any dream…. such sweetness…

And then I swear, I thought………… If only he were here….

And once again, I swear…. I hear over my left shoulder…

“Good Evening Ladies…”… that deep dark voice.

And he sits beside me, all of us hunkered down to warmth, and we talk……                        Like really talk  for the first time.

“So how are you?”

“Oh I’m great, just fine, oh ya….” …he trails off….there’s a wistfulness there…

“Not so great, actually…”

“Why?  What’s happening..?”

“Oh, new kid on the block, I guess…….I don’t know…”

“So… how’s your spiritual life?” I venture, and to this day I don’t know why…

“Oh ya, just great… hahahahaaa, and he nervously fills in the blank air.              I’ve thrown him a curve…

“Hmmm….” I mysteriously hmmmm.  I think now that I wanted to convey to him that there was more to me than the surface that he so enjoyed…                      I also sense he was looking for redemption somewhere, and I wanted to take him somewhere, lead him somewhere else, to some sort of new dawn.

Long pause.  We both look at the fire, the trailing sparks, the stars, the dancers….

“So…what are you doing after this?

“Oh, I have to take the girls home soon…. Ya,  pretty soon……”

“Oh really?  So…maybe could I come over later?”

“Umm… ya…. maybe later, maybe like 10 or so?”

“Ok…” and he smiles in the dark… I can feel the smile more than see it.

He says good evening, and wanders off.  My heart is now salsa dancing.

Oh god….what have I done?..