Lost Summer Romance: This Wonderful Surprise, Part IV

Written by Barry A. Popkin on July 26, 2012

Staring off in the cold grey dawn

wondering if I was wrong.

I remember the look in your eyes

now hazed as I cry.

In the silence of a dead calm

now there is no place in our time.

The past rushes over me and I become blind.

Like the torrid waves in my mind

fades to nothing down a black hole of time

of now memory of regretful past.

But still I had love that will last.

Thinking now of the dark rain

as it always seems to happen

in a tidal wave of despair

and an ever-darkening pain.

From the shadows of the past

my sad thoughts echo in measured tones

like weights of ancient stones.

The web of gloom surrounds me

like black castle walls trying to defeat me.

But my disturbing memories

blazed into my mind’s fires

now lost without your desires.

Starry nights to silvery moons

turn now to nights in many dooms.

To wading deep in worry now

until the gentle breeze of time

pushes them back to sublime

Now I see them in a new view.

Like love and lost encased in a bubble

pops open to new potentials.

Now soft mystic winds are blowing

as my wholeness floats back to me.

I now can feel my heart trigger

as I warm to a new glow.

With a young and strong heart

I am now ready to depart.

I now walk alone

solid as a stone.

Into the abysses of loss.

But they are sucked into the past

through a wormhole in time.

Thirty years later

perhaps being the greater

I ponder where we had walked

now in the footprints to talk.

I find myself in a floating sea of maybe.

Now I am traveling alone down that highway of bird sanctuaries and sand dunes.

To the highway and island of memory and time.

I am now courting past memories piercing the heart sublime.

I feel the love for what has been.

Looking back thinking my heart can recover and win.

I am the lonely figurehead defined as some body with no real powers.

Then rain shadows my heart and eyes with showers.

Dark shadows now behind me overcoming my life’s rhythm.

Is this dark shadow my consequences catching up on me?

Or is it here to jettison me on.

I now feel its power pushing me forward.

But is this a godly trick?

To push, me back, to my chaotic mix.

Now the rain has stopped and the moonlight crown

has shown upon my head.

But now darkness consumes me and I feel dread.

But it is only the night and I now start to feel anger in red.

Yes I am sad, but I am also inflamed and stormy.

This now torrent rain is trying to defeat me;

in a never to know, potential, to consume me.

Then the sky clears from a never ending rain to one of anger and disdain.

Then suddenly I realize it is not raining it was just my tears.

On this fast road I now see a reflection shimmering in a heavenly pool.

A reflection of a memory suddenly I realize is cool.

Now I see only sunshine as I realize she was a great love.

But as my second oldest brother’s wisdom said,

“It is better to love and lost than not loved at all.”

Thirty years later,

perhaps being the greater,

Linda has found me.

She tells me she loved me and always will.

Sorry you left suddenly as we never talked about how we parted.

But now gives me a kiss.

As now nothing is amiss.

The past had merged with the future and although we are worlds apart;

It is good to know in closure that we pierced each other’s hearts.

Editor’s Note: Barry A. Popkin is the Delaware-based author of four books in multiple genres including military history and family biography. They include: “My Year in Vietnam,” “The Savior The Prophet The War,” “Worlds Collide,” and “The Death of God in New York City.” All the books are available on his website or on Amazon.com.

Lost Summer Romance: This Wonderful Surprise

Written by Barry A. Popkin on July 16, 2012

Before the days of my wife Randee, I went to this doctor’s office for some medical problem. The streets were crowded as cars were piled tight next to each other blocks up the street in Elmhurst, Queens.

I could not find a parking spot. So I parked in the doctor’s private driveway. As I was in the waiting room this young good looking nurse comes in complaining that someone took her parking spot.

I was called into the doctor’s office and was waiting to be attended to.

Here comes this complaining woman into the room to do my pre-physical. She sees me and–boy, oh, boy–do I see her!

She gives me a big smile and after she takes my blood pressure, my heart starts to go wild. She is gorgeous and standing really close to me with this big smile. Shortly she leaves, and the doctor comes in.

I am befuddled, as now I don’t know how I ascended to heaven, as I stutter to the doctor trying to remember why I came.

Half hour later I am back in the office, when Angie (my receptionist) tells me I have a call.

I answer the phone with my learned business manner and find out it is the nurse’s girlfriend that I just met in the doctor’s office. Her girlfriend says to me, “Do you remember the lady nurse that just attended you?”

I say coyly, “Sure.”

Her girlfriend says, “She wants to know if you would go out with her?”

My heart starts to accelerate as I do not believe this is actually happening. Thank god this was not one of my stupid moments, and I immediately said, “I would love to.”

Her girlfriend laughs and says, “She will call you right back,” and hangs up.

I am sitting there stunned. I say to myself, “How did I get this lucky.” One minute, two minutes go by, and I am about to cry, as now I realized this was probably a prank.

Then Angie (my receptionist) says, as she looked at me sort of jealously, “Barry, you have another phone call.”

I pick up the phone and it’s her. Her name is Linda and we agree to meet at the diner that is right on the border line of Queens’s Village and Bayside at 8 p.m.

It’s summertime, and after eating we go out to Jones beach and have a wondrous time walking on the boardwalk, then laying on a blanket on the cool, happily desolate night beach.

Then we sneak into the huge Jones Beach pool that was closed for the night. We are now swimming half-naked, as we have no swimming suits. Next we lay on the lounge chairs outside the pool on the top outside balcony.

It’s unreal, but somehow very real, between us.

We are both grown-up, mature individuals in our late-20s, and the night is warm and goes on wonderfully to morning light.

Please let it be known that we did not do the horizontal Rumba that night; as it was not required since everything was perfectly right.

It was magical, and we stayed together for the next year, as so much love would appear.

How could I be so lucky? This woman was so attentive to me, and every time I looked at her she was smiling back at me with love.

Linda and I were inseparable. We were really in love, but not that lost love of exotic wanting that leads to confusion and worry.

We just wanted to be with each other, never asking for anything at this moment, just wanting to be near each other.

We went everywhere together in that summer of bliss. We always found ourselves off to some great adventure in the Hamptons, Montauk, Lido, Long, and Jones Beach: Soon to Fire Island and other exotic, peaceful, natural wonderlands.

This summer was going by fast,  but fast in love.

Editor’s Note: Barry A. Popkin is the author of four books in multiple genres including military history and family biography. They include: “My Year in Vietnam,” “The Savior The Prophet The War,” “Worlds Collide,” and “The Death of God in New York City.” All are available on his website.

Read Part II of Lost Summer Romance: This Wonderful Surprise, on Thursday, July 19.

Lost Summer Love: Souls that Pass in the Night

Written by Karen Moller on July 12, 2012

The possibility that I might one day meet the man of my dreams took an unexpected and optimistic turn the night of the Redentore, a popular July festival held in the Bacino di San Marco, in Venice.

My girlfriend Emily suggested that we brave the crowds and take my boat out into the bay to watch the fireworks.

Dressed in her usual style–a light-blue, faded-cotton pair of dungarees and tee shirt–Emily arrived with food and half a dozen friends in tow, notably a man called Alain (who exhibited regularly in her New York gallery) and his part-time girlfriend.

She introduced him as an avant-garde American writer and eminent creator of Visual Poetry, a movement parallel to Fluxus which explored dimensions of language.

Alain’s face lit up with a glow of curiosity as he set down the bottles of Prosecco he was carrying and took my hand.

The charge was electric. Alive, every bit alive, was my first thought.

My second was the realization that few instances would ever match that moment of watching the sky reflected in the hazel green of his eyes and sensing the wild openness that beckoned me into his world like some kind of destiny.

Like an echo of my own thoughts he seemed to say, “Come with me. Let’s climb symbolic mountains and let life flow through our mutual desires.”

It was a moment of often longed for and much missed. Not only did we have many friends in common, but we had grown up with a similar love of the written word and a curiosity for the same kind of art.

We sat talking in close companionship as Emily drove the boat through the terrifying traffic in the Bacino do San Marco.

Unfortunately, that moment was not to last. It was soon shattered by Alain’s girlfriend’s screeching jealously from where she sat with other friends in the front of the boat.

When it seemed she was about to fling herself into the water, Emily whispered dismissively to Alain, “Go and do your duty.”

I watched as he made his way to the other end of the boat, his silhouette dark against the bright lights of the fireworks, my head filled with the thought, If he were my soul mate, the world would make more sense.

I turned to Emily and asked bluntly, “Why don’t I have a man like that?”

“Well, probably because men like that are afraid of independent women.”

Alain, she explained, had been married for many years to a mother figure, 22 years his senior, from whom he was emotionally unable to separate.

Now he spent a few months a year in Italy with a troubled, uneducated, young provincial girl, a kind of daughter figure to him.

“He’s in two unfortunate relationships that are both already over. He just doesn’t know how to finish either story,” her tone making it evident that she disliked both women and thought them unworthy of Alain.

An innocent lost in the decorum of trying to do the right thing, I thought trying to understand.

He seemed to sparkle like a firefly, and yet, at times, his light blinked on and off, as if he was suffering from some kind of complicated injury.

I tried to think no more about him, but I could never forget the feeling that he was the soul mate that life had destined for me.

Editor’s Note: Karen Moller, who resides in Paris, France, became famous as one of Swinging London’s key fashion designers. In the 1970s, she established a world-wide reputation for her textile designs. In the 1980s, she opened Trend Union, the Paris styling office that is now the virtual bible from which the major design companies begin their collections. Karen is also the author of  “Technicolor Dreamin’: The 1960’s Rainbow and Beyond,” and “In Her Own Fashion.” Thanks for sharing  your compelling lost-love memory, Karen. 

What Does Love Mean?: Part Four

Written by Braiden Rex-Johnson on February 13, 2012

In our February 2 blog post, we started a list of more than 20 ways in which young children discuss the meaning of love. Here is our final installment, numbers 16 through 21.

16. ‘Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.’ Mary Ann – age 4

17. ‘I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.’ Lauren – age 4

18. ‘When you love somebody , your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.’ (what an image) Karen – age 7

19. ‘Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn’t think it’s gross..’ Mark – age 6

20. ‘You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it , you should say it a lot. People forget.’ Jessica – age 8

21. And the final one. The winner was a four-year -old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry , the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard , climbed onto his lap , and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor , the little boy said , ‘Nothing , I just helped him cry’ When there is nothing left but God , that is when you find out that God is all you need. Take 60 seconds and give this a shot! All you do is simply say the following small prayer for the person who sent you this.

Heavenly Father , please bless all my friends in whatever it is that You know they may be needing this day! And may their life be full of Your peace , prosperity and power as he/she seeks to have a closer relationship with You. Amen . ork in your life. P. S. Five is good , but more is better.. God Bless You!

What Does Love Mean?: Part Three

Written by Braiden Rex-Johnson on February 9, 2012

In our February 2 blog post, we started a list of more than 20 ways in which young children discuss the meaning of love. Here are numbers 11 through 15.

11. Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.’ Tommy – age 6

12. ‘During my piano recital , I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.’ Cindy – age 8

13. ‘My mommy loves me more than anybody You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.’ Clare – age 6

14. ‘Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.’ Elaine-age 5 ‘

15. Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford .’ Chris – age 7

Lost Love: My Pete

Written by Tara on February 9, 2011

Peter Paul Kelly, my Pete. Gone at only 18.

First love, stealing glaces at Easter dinner, shy introductions, teenage gossip, whispers, dreams, next encounters, sharing, learning, first touches, exploring, new sexuality, passion, diamond earrings shared, dinners alone, presents, gifts, notes, handsome, strong, funny, caring, honest, stubborn, a July Cancer, poetic, beer, cigarettes, heavy metal, surfer, Irish, strong father, rehab, separate, self-destructive, yearning, running, secret meetings, embraces, kisses having to last for weeks, tender, eternal, tortured, soul pain, a fight, a break, sadness, split in two, the call, the news, the shock of death, dreams, memories, angel touches.

A once-in-a-life-time love; a one-in-a-million kind of man.

Twenty-two years later you are still held in our hearts.

We’ve had our five more minutes.

I know you and you know me.

Simply, I love you.