Tag: Cheryl T
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Tempus Fugit: Life As I Knew It in January of ’73
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 on…
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Tempus Fugit: Remembering Mid-December, 1972: New School, New Girlfriend, and Apollo’s Last Hurrah
“December is the holdout month, all the others torn away.” ― Anne Gisleson, The Futilitarians: Our Year of Thinking, Drinking, Grieving, and Reading With Christmas Day of 2022 only 12 days away – and New Year’s Eve 18 days in the future – and my move to Brandon looming on a date that is “TBA”…
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Tempus Fugit: Remembering Cheryl T: Music from the Original Blog Soundtrack
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 even…
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Tempus Fugit: Remembering Cheryl T- 50 Years Later (Epilogue)
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,…
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School, 1972 (Heartsong): Haiku # 10
Afternoon’s cold light Songs played in melancholic keys Remind me of you
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School, 1972 (Heartsong): Haiku #9
Auburn hair, loose, brushed Past fair shoulders gently spills Catches morning’s light
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School, 1972 Revisited (50 Years Later): Haiku #8
Winter’s coming nears Northern winds bring sad gray skies Tears fall like snowflakes
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School, 1972 Revisited (50 Years After): Haiku # 7
Old childhood picture Yellowed, dogeared, still treasured Past heartaches return
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School, 1972 Revisited -(June 1983): Haiku #6
Springtime’s warm embrace Clasps the haunted wide schoolground First love’s promise smashed.
A Certain Point of View, Too 