Yi-yi-yi! a s a boyfriend of mine used to say and what a beautiful day I've had, working in the house and the yard. That boyfriend was Black Foot and Creek and Irish, too and when he sang/screamed that yell, it was something. The first time I ever saw him I thought of Michelangelo. Need I say more? I don't think so.
He was crazy, though, and Mr. Moon dropped into my life at the perfect time to save me from him and it was as if the god and devil each perched on my shoulder and said, "This way or that," and I chose the right path. But I still remember that Indian-Cowboy. I hardly ever think of him at all and I hardly ever think of other loves I've had but for some reason, tonight, I am thinking of a boy I knew at D.U., University of Denver, where I was a stranger in a strange land, without a doubt.
Almost everyone at DU had gone to prep school in New York and me, coming from Winter Haven, Florida, didn't even know what prep school was. Seriously.
These were all kids who'd dropped acid in middle school and I'd eaten a few mushrooms and that was it. I knew how to water-ski but snow skiing was way beyond my ken and mountains scared the shit out of me and I was so homesick for my friends and my baby brothers that I could hardly bear it.
But. There were people whom I learned to identify with in some strange way. There was Larry J. who was as white-bread as me, from Kansas City with a beautiful jutting jaw and there was James K. who had sung with Up! With America and with whom I got stoned for the first time while he held me in his arms and there was my roommate, Gale Norton who grew up to be G. W. Bush's Secretary of the Interior to whom I introduced pot to and she would get stoned in our dorm room and listen to my Bach, my Vivaldi, my Joni Mitchell.
She inhaled, babies. Oh yes, she certainly did and it is not my fault she turned into a Republican.
Anyway, there was a guy I saw in the lobby of our dorm and he looked like Bob Dylan and we met, somehow, I don't remember how, and his name was Bruce Pearlstein and we became friends. We used to go to a friend's apartment where I would make bread for him, kneading my dough and he would say, "Marry me," and I would laugh because really- who can base a marriage on bread?
But that was when I realized that my abilities in the kitchen were perhaps more valuable than my abilities in the class room and I fell in love with Bruce Pearlstein, at least a little. I never slept with him although I did sleep with boys whose last names were something like "Spivack" and other names I do not remember but what I was appreciated for in that faraway place was my ability to make munchy- food out of a few cans of tuna, a box of noodles.
Finally, I had to leave DU. The south was calling my name so hard and I couldn't live any longer where there were no trees and no water and oh, my babies- the men I loved, the women I loved, not in a sexual way for the most part, but in a loving way. You can't even begin to understand those times unless you lived them or maybe nothing has really changed. I don't know. Doing peyote with my roommate and listening to Laura Nero and B.B. King and oh- did I mention I worked first aid at a place called The Open Clinic and we were a 24-hour phone line where people could call in and say, "Hey, man. I just ate some pills that were green and white and what's going to happen?" And we went to concerts and did first aid on people who had taken too many Sopors and drunk too much tequila and I abused my backstage pass to go gawk at Ian Anderson who was sucking in oxygen in the mile-high altitude of Denver during a break after something like this and I swear, that's what he was wearing that night as I watched him breathing deep breaths backstage, all by himself while I felt guilty, watching him take in air:
Yes. I am tripping backwards today.
I spent hours in the garden listening to Keith Richards talking about guitar chords and acid and hash and first-time love and I did some laundry and a little house-tidying and it was the best. How long has it been since I had an entire day here to stroke and pat and brush the hair of this beloved house and yard of mine?
Too long. Too damn long.
I have so many names these days. Mama and Mer-Mer and Ms. Moon and Crazy Aunt Chicken Grandma and I spend so little time being Mary.
But that is my name, you know. Mary.
I have been a crazy woman before I was a crazy grandma and I have been invited backstage by the Neville Brothers and I have made bread for Bruce Pearlstein, wherever he is, and I have gotten George Bush's Secretary of the Interior stoned and I have chosen between Good and Evil and I have danced myself blind to one band or another and I have possibly saved lives and I have held newborns in my arms and said, "Welcome, welcome," and I have held dying people in those same arms and said, "It's okay, go on, go on," and I have held lovers in my arms and I have lived a life.
That's what I'm thinking about tonight.
Thank you for letting me say that.
maybe it WAS your fault that gale norton became a republican. i mean, was it sensemilla, and what was the strain, mary???ReplyDelete
Adrienne- It was Mexican Crap Weed. Yeah, it was probably my fault.ReplyDelete
It would take more than bad weed to grow a Republican, I expect she was raised by them -the apples can't fall too far from the tree...ReplyDelete
I truly enjoyed your time trip, it's nice to have days to be yourself and remember who you are, who you've been. Music can really help take you there.
You have lived quite a life, Ms. Mary Moon. Quite a life already and there's so much yet left to live. I love that you have helped so many enter, and leave this world, surrounded by love and warmth. You have earned your angel wings or whatever they hand out, and then some, I believe.
I smiled at your choice between the wild man and Mr. Moon. I left my wild man behind for my Mr. too. It really wasn't much of a choice, in the end. I picked the guy who liked me just the way I was and saw me for more than I saw myself. Probably a lot like yours. Never looked back, but I do remember fondly those crazy years with my mountain man. It would have been something to know you back then. But I'm content to at least know you now.
Thanks for the shared memories - make lots more!
When are you going to write a book? Your writing always draws me in Ms. Moon. Thanks. I love reading about your life and experiences.ReplyDelete
makes me think of Molly Bloom: "yes I said yes I will Yes"ReplyDelete
Wow Ms. Moon this was awesome. I was going to read some more blogs but this post left me with such happy thoughts and good feelings that I am going to call it a night and be glad that I stopped here last. You are an amazing lady and I enjoy reading all about it. Take care my friend.ReplyDelete
Such a mellow, poignant glow.ReplyDelete
i've missed you, MaryReplyDelete
OMG, did you take me back to my college years! You and I had many of the same experiences and the memories are wonderfully mind-boggling, to say the least...I so love time-traveling back to those days.ReplyDelete
And, oh, that video of Ian Anderson ~ I have had the good fortune to see Tull several times, first in 1972 or '73 and most recently in 2007 at the beautiful old Florida Theatre in Jax. That man still plays his heart out on that flute and still does his ballet moves on one leg!!! He's amazing.
Thank you for this great trip ~ what a great way to start off my weekend. Now please excuse me while I go put on Thick as a Brick!
Mel- You know, sometimes I think that if I died tonight, it would be pretty much okay. I HAVE had a life. No wonder I get so tired....ReplyDelete
I am grateful.
Rebecca- Like Elvis Costello said, "Every day I write the book."
x-ray Iris- And I did, indeed.
Mr. Shife- Oh. That's so sweet. As are you.
A- Martini-and-Richards fueled.
Michelle- And me too, you sweet, sweet sister-woman.
Lulumarie- He's not quite human, is he? I love you. Have a wonderful weekend.
Far out Mary! Taking the walk into days gone by just feels good and like closet cleaning in the brain. You pick a memory, get lost in it and then move on to the next one.ReplyDelete
You have had a life and that is what living is about.
My youngest daughter brought home a new boyfriend (hope this is a short relationship) who says he can't wait to get old! I looked at him and told him it is important to let life happen. It builds your character, lets you learn from your mistakes as well as the positives of life. You can't hurry it or should hurry it anymore than you should want to have a baby quickly learn to sit up, walk, talk. You need to love and appreciate the times in your life.
If I could know what I know now when I was 20 or 30 that would be amazing but I can't really want that because I would not be who I am now!
Live in the moment.
As I read your memories for some reason what struck me the most is that your children get a special gift from you in this blog. I think it would be really interesting to hear detailed stories about my parents' lives. Makes me think again how this blogging thing has unlimited positives.ReplyDelete
I liked the time travel. I have some old Ian Anderson lp's. I am sure that you did your best not to turn that cabinet appointee into a Republican. I wonder what happen to people that their greed wins out. They are the ones who cry me,me,me.ReplyDelete
Dearest Mary, I loved this post, your stories are brilliantly told.ReplyDelete
How funny is this? Ian Anderson's daughter is my friend. The Actor and I got together on her husband-to-be's stag night which will be five years ago on 28th May. AND her name is Gael! Spelt slightly differently, but hey.
Ian Anderson lives in the most beautiful old house in Wiltshire and grows chillis. He's an expert apparently. What a lovely man he is too.
We are so connected in our way. I'm still holding on my end.
Love you loads xx
Basing a marriage on bread is about as sensible as anything else, I'd say. At least you would eat well.ReplyDelete
The Moms loves the Neville Brothers. Wait until I tell her.