Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana. – Anthony G. Oettinger On January 20, 1973, I was nine going on 10 and lived in a modest but comfortable house, along with my widowed mother and my older half-sister, in Westchester, a suburb of Miami, Florida. 50 years ago, January 20 fell onContinue reading “Tempus Fugit: Life As I Knew It in January of ’73”
“Fare thee well, and if for ever Still for ever fare thee well.” ― George Gordon Byron Today I woke up to an even chillier – by Florida standards, anyway – morning than I did the day before; the sun had only just risen, so it was still semi-dark outside, with temperatures in the lowContinue reading “Musings & Thoughts for Saturday, December 17, 2022, or: Chilly Day in Tampa Bay Area Triggers Memories of Sevilla in 1988”
Last week, as many of you know, I wrote a series of posts in the “memoir” category I call Tempus Fugit (Time Flies) about a boy, a girl, and their painfully brief schoolyard romance at Coral Park in November of 1972. I called it Tempus Fugit: Remembering Cheryl T – 50 Years Later, and evenContinue reading “Tempus Fugit: Remembering Cheryl T: Music from the Original Blog Soundtrack”
I never even talked about Cheryl much with “the girl who came after,” and – I don’t know why the fuck I did this – what little I did say was not true. I don’t remember what cockamamie story I told K the few times that she asked about the girl I had left behind, but I can tell you that I did not tell her about the pink sweater, or that I had cried myself to sleep three nights in a row before starting school at Tropical Elementary on Monday, November 13, 1972.
Afternoon’s cold light Songs played in melancholic keys Remind me of you
Auburn hair, loose, brushed Past fair shoulders gently spills Catches morning’s light
Winter’s coming nears Northern winds bring sad gray skies Tears fall like snowflakes
Old childhood picture Yellowed, dogeared, still treasured Past heartaches return
Springtime’s warm embrace Clasps the haunted wide schoolground First love’s promise smashed.
Autumn wind outside In class, young pupils study My gaze locks with yours