… the fourth …

How funny, to be here in July, when I am writing about this date.
I honestly haven’t thought about Alcir on this July day for many
years, and yet now July 4th in 2005 is not just in my mind,
but in my writings.  And so is the one in 1986.

Being an American… Alcir didn’t like me using that term, and
reminded me that Brasil was American too!
Being from the US, we are so self centered, and think of the
whole world celebrating Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July,
but no… They are ours and ours alone.

But I read from my friends that that picnic that happens every
year up on the ridge, in Northern California, in the summer warms,
with music and oyster bar and good beer, the one when I sang
in that Blues Band, and watched him watching me…
It’s going on right now….

The fireworks are no longer on that long beach, my favorite
beach, with the bonfire and the sparks flying into the night sky
to join the stars, and us sitting on that log.

They’ve been on the pier in Point Arena for many years, the Pier
that he loved, in that little town that he loved…
And it’s a great show.  Everyone sits on those giant rocks they
brought in after the massive storms took out the old pier.
And they sit on the balcony of the newer building down there,
the one built over the old cafe…Sophie’s Cafe, with the
Greek dancing at midnight.
The one I was sitting in when we were new, and he came by to
say hello, before going out to dive for our dinner.

The parking lot is still there, where he displayed his catch along
with the other divers, and he peeled off his body suit in front of me.

And that night… the first night… is still there, hanging in forever,
frozen on fire, a warm glow of coals and sparks to rekindle my
spirit and remind me that magic does happen, and life is good.

Alcir recently wrote
” …It’s 5 am and I am in Norway having a “few” 1664 Kronenbourg,
some shots of Glenmorangie, smoking a Jose Piedra Vuelta Arriba,
watching “The Man Show”, and the Venus passage in front of the sun,
in MY BOAT…..”

And now today I send this, my favorite quote from “Castaway”,
to him, and imagine him on His Boat, with that great big grin…

“And I know what I have to do now.   I gotta keep breathing.
Because tomorrow the sun will rise.
Who knows what the tide could bring? ”

 

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… the anniversary …

It was the day they got together… hooked up… did it
for reals … and she always had remembered the day.
It was easy… the Fourth of July.

People joke about it, how getting together with someone
was like the Fourth, skyrockets, all that, but it was that
too… and on the very Day, with the sounds and flashes
still reverberating in the night skies.

That was a long time ago.. 1987… yet it was clear as spring
water on a summer’s day.

It’s 2005, and she called him all day.
It was the first time the date had come around since
they had found eachother again.

She called into the night, but no answer.  The phones
were often out in Brasil, but it was odd that no one
answered for so long.
It was mid morning on the Fifth that he picked up…
he’d not been home that long.

“How Are you?”… his jolly voice barked at her.
“Sad and lonely… not good this week” she drifted off.
“Really?” came the response.  Quiet…

“Where have you been?” she asked quietly, the first thing
on her mind, relief and strange wondering mixing in her.

“Oh, I was checking out a job, I was visiting a friend, I got
a haircut… I Knew it was our Day …blah blah …”
…..the list went on, but she wasn’t hearing the details,
only the tone.  A certain manic thing…

“Listen… I have to tell you.  I wasn’t looking, but I got
a haircut, and I ran into someone I’d known before…
(her heart suddenly went dead)

“well, I don’t have to tell you do I?
I’m not going to apologize.
It meant nothing…

“….Say something…!”

She was without words.  The sounds were there, but nothing
came from her lips.  Her breath came in shallow whispers.
(please allow me to absorb this, she thought, but could not say)

“If you go out and do something to retaliate, it’s over!”…
…he shot back at her over the line.

“It was just sex, tits and ass…”
Quickly he evaporated the subject, and his hurried voice
filled in the hollows.

“I want to buy a ticket for my wife to come here…
I caught a 30# fish, I’m good, you’re gonna be so
proud you chose me…”

Still she could not form words… everything was floating.

“I’m not going to say it was the alcohol or the drugs…
I wanted her, she appealed to me …
I’m being modest here…
I had a hard time.  I decided I needed a reward….

“Do you want to think about it and call me later…?

His voice went on in her ear, she doing her best to just
hear what the words were, and put them away for keeping,
to interpret them later…

“If you don’ wanna speak with me ever again, just let me know…
I’ll pay you back what I owe you.  I’ll sell my car, my watch…”

….”Do you love me?”….

While he waited for her to breath again, he started singing
Lou Reed’s  “Walk on the Wild Side”, and when he got to
…”an’ the colored girls sang do de doo de doo…”,
she almost threw up.

“I can’t do this right now” came out of her mouth instead,
and she hung up.

 

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