LYNNE, MY SAUCY SISTER

I believe our friends become like our family at some point; that is, if they stick around long enough to get tagged with the moniker of "family." I have a few long-term friends who are the sisters I never was blessed with having. Some would say I was lucky because I missed having to share my clothes, toys and secrets with someone who could get me in trouble by snitching on me. While a sister might snitch, a true friend has lips so tight nothing can pry them opened. My sisters from another mister or two/partners in crime are Lynne, Margie, Lisa, Theresa, Carol, Joyce and Linda.

We meet many people throughout our lives and some of those people have a profound effect upon our lives and destiny. Some people enter and remain with us always while others enter and exit remaining just long enough to alter the path upon which we walk. Although Lynne faded from my life for a period of time, the footsteps she left has remained with me always. I'm truly grateful to Lynne because she entered my life at a point when I needed to be saved...mostly from myself because I was hell-bent on burning the candle at both ends. My demons had led me down a narrow path of darkened, self-destruction and then I met my savior, Lynne. There are many who would disagree with me by saying Lynne fed my demons, but those people didn't see how I teetered on the edge before she came into the picture. They didn't see how Lynne saved my life by befriending me, by extending her hand to pull me away from the edge, by giving me an alternative to my misery. They didn't see my pain, but she did. She may have never totally understood it, but she saw it and was there for me.

To say I was in awe of Lynne is a severe understatement…everyone was in awe of her! She was the quintessential woman every young teenage girl dreamed of being. I remember the first time I ever saw her. When I opened the kitchen door returning home from gadding about and walked inside my house, I heard voices coming from my brother, Brian's work out room. Ever since he had come back from Vietnam with the title of Heavyweight Champion of the 7th Fleet, he seemed obsessed with the three B’s: boxing, body building and babes. My middle older brother was Mr. Body Beautiful of Bangor, Maine (a fictitious title I gave him.)  Needless to say, he spent a lot of time pumping iron so he’d have a perfect physique. And oh, how he loved the females to admire him and yes, admire him, they did! I opened the door and poked my head inside to let him know I was home and also to be a little nosy. I wanted to see what female he had back there trying to impress with his biceps and other things!

When I opened the door, standing in front of me was a vision of everything I thought I wanted to be. She was a tall, dark-haired beauty with beautiful brown eyes. (Maybe Bob Seger wrote his song Night Moves about Lynne or someone like her.) Her body was perfectly shaped and she stood confident in her hip-hugger bell-bottoms and a shirt unbuttoned just enough to show some tantalizing cleavage. Her blue chambray shirt was tied in a knot around her midriff to show off her abs. No fucking way! Did she work out also? Later, I found out she was a go-go dancer at some local nightclub and that’s how she met my brother.

She smiled at me as she eyed me up and down. I guess I passed inspection or maybe I failed because she immediately took me under her wing. I thought it was only because she was dating my brother, but opportunities like that don’t come often, so I just played it cool and went along for the ride. Whatever the reason she had for befriending me didn’t matter to me. I was just a kid, but the road I walked on with Lynne gave me an education I’ll never forget.

Shortly after meeting Lynne, my brother told her to NEVER give me any drugs. NOT EVER!!! At 14, I was already experimenting with most illegal substances, but the availability seemed to widen immensely as soon as she came into my life. Although she never gave me any hard drugs and didn't do any herself in my presence, being in her inner circle gave me the contacts to get anything I wanted. She and I would occasionally smoke a joint together, but that was more a social thing to do than it was to get high. Smoking dope for me was never really any big deal…it was just something everyone did. Adults had their cocktails as a social lubricant and the younger generation smoked weed. From where I stood, everyone appeared to get lubricated somehow!

When my brother and Lynne broke up, we continued being friends. In fact, by that time we spent most of our time together. I was blinded by Lynne’s aura, but I doubt if I had seen my role in the grand scheme of things it would have changed anything I did. I saw Lynne as my ticket out of Bangor, Maine and so when she suggested leaving, I jumped at the chance. She was older than me and was street savvy. I felt safe with her and as long as I was with her everything seemed to flow in what appeared to be a positive direction.

Lynne and I developed a strange relationship on the streets after we left Bangor. I could do as I pleased without any questions asked, but she always insisted on knowing where I was. I complied with her request because she took care of me and for that I was grateful. The streets of Boston became my new playground and Lynne became my guardian angel and surrogate mother. I watched how Lynne operated and she did whatever she needed to do with the grace of a cat to support us, but I was on a need-to-know basis so many things just weren't discussed. I complied by not asking too many questions.

Eventually, I started doing stuff intentionally to piss her off because after all I was a snotty teenager. You know how teenagers can be! I pushed her buttons often, but she rarely got angry at me. I certainly deserved a swift kick in the ass, but she never gave me one. One evening while she was "out," I got into a poker game with a group of guys who lived in the same building as us. They liked to party and so did I. When I foolishly lost all my money, I got cocky and used Lynne as a bet. When I lost, I immediately had an “Oh shit!” moment. I couldn’t believe I had done that! I really caught hell on that one, but I deserved it. Lynne graciously paid off my bet and made the winner a very happy man. I never played poker with that group again but was frequently asked to do so. Go figure!

It was a fast crowd and although I was readily accepted into it, there was an unspoken rule that no one was to mess with me in any way. I was COMPLETELY OFF LIMITS! I simply became the one who everyone liked to laugh with, hang out with and get high with. And Lynne was the one they all lusted after. I accepted my role and knew my place. I never tried to actively change it because I knew what I would be going up against. But the day did come when I was noticed first and Lynne was virtually invisible. That day immediately changed everything and my path was permanently altered once again.

I look back on my time with Lynne in those early days with many emotions. It's hard to believe she's gone now. Her Golden Years were filled with some major health problems that eventually led to hospice care and ultimately, her death. The waves of grief that consume me come at odd times and luckily most of them are when I'm by myself so as the flood gates open, I don't have to explain why I'm crying. 

Story to be continued...

MEET THOR

Thor is the newest addition to my family. My partner in crime and lifelong friend, Linda aka Martha raises Corgis. She and her husband, Max gave me an adorable tri-color Corgi puppy (I'm so excited) I know my other furbabies, Fenway, B.A., Libby and Tara will go through an adjustment period, but everyone will be the best of friends before too long. 

Thor in his Christmas sweater

Thor says , "I'm a handsome boy!"

AN AFTERNOON AT THE BEACH

Yesterday was a difficult day for me as I reflected on my mother's death and emptied a box a Kleenex by 10am. I felt grateful for my friend, Jesse who chatted with me up until I decided I needed to get out and get some fresh air and clear my head. Then my friend and partner in crime, Linda (Martha) took over. We took quick spin out to the beach. It wasn't a bright, sunny day, but that was okay...it was 76 and the day was more like how I felt. I wanted to be strong because that's how my mother would want me to be, but when you love someone and they are no longer there and are gone forever, it makes for a gray type of day. 

There was a hint of blue and every now and then the sun teased us and tried to come out.

The Redneck Riviera at her finest! lol

We drove past the parking lot and found a spot that looked good. Off in the distance you can see some higg rises and the good thing about this part of Florida is that it isn't wall to wall high rises yet.  This is what the beaches look like.

I didn't even see many seagulls out flying around. 

A lonely shell someone left behind.

As the waves flattened the surfers, got out of the water.

A hint of blue sky!

I was glad to see that the winter has been used to replace some of the boards on the boardwalks.

Our sand is almost as white as snow, but a lot better because it doesn't need to be shoveled!

A lovely pic of my knees!

And one of my knees and shoes! lol

This is Linda gazing off down the beach (most likely watching the men in their speedos) What a wicked woman she is!

Linda was scanning the horizon and is deep in thought. She didn't know I was taking her picture and claimed nobody ever gets a decent pic of her. Looks like I proved her wrong!

 

As you see there isn't many people out here and believe it or not even in the summer our beaches don't get super crowed.

 

One surfer who came out of the water and peeled off his wet suit had a wicked sunburn. Oh, he was going to feel it later that evening.

Just more sugar white sand as far as the eye can see and water.

When we first got there, people were out surfing, but the waves started dissipating soon after.

THANKSGIVING BLESSINGS AND UNBLESSINGS

I was fortunate enough to be able to spend Thanksgiving with my children and their spouses, one of my nephews and one of my closest friends. We had a beautiful dinner...nothing burnt! Everything was perfect! But not all people were as fortunate as I was.

Of the people I did spend Thanksgiving with the roll call is short by a few people: my grandson couldn't make it in from Massachusetts (but will here for Christmas with his girfriend Sophia) and my friend, Linda's husband, Max (is still working in Maine for a few more weeks.)

During the day my thoughts lingered on other people in other places far and near:

I have a few friends and relatives going through difficult emotional and stressful times (you know who you are.) I have a few friends and relatives going through serious medical issues (you know who you are.) 

Today I found out I have a friend that was basically forgotten about by her adult children. No phonecall! No nothing! That makes me sad and mad that people can be so thoughtless and selfish regarding their parents at times. I encouraged my friend to not keep her feelings bottled up, but to express her feelings to her adult children and let them know how much they had hurt her. After all, she is 1600 miles away from her family and no one called her except her husband. What's up with that? Did they all have broken fingers and laryngitis?

Drumroll please...the biggest blessing-unblessing: the week's worth of leftovers I'll be eating!

Is it spring yet?

Is There A Contractor In The House?

I was just sitting here scanning over my adult life in respect to the serious relationships I've had and well...it didn't paint a very pretty picture. It probably most resembled a Jackson Pollack masterpiece "Male and Female."  Understand that and you might understand the jumbled mess inside my head. I can't say I've ever had a healthy, intimate relationship with the opposite sex.  Once sex got thrown into the picture all bets came off the table.  Why that is I most likely can come up with a fairly accurate answer, but at this stage in my life I'm wondering how much does it really matter. Don't we all have baggage? Some suitcases just weigh more than others.

When my last relationship ended, I put myself in what I called "time out."   I guess for most people after a break up, they need time to adjust before they get back out there and throw their line back in the water to do some fishing again, but my time out has lasted 15+ years. Oh yes, you read that right. I have been celibate for 15+ years and I'll go a step further...I haven't even been on a date in that time period. Before all of you scream "WHY?" in unison, I'll give you my five cent explanation. It's rather hard to go on a date or to meet anyone if you've become a hermit. I had a rather cozy cave.

I jokingly referred to myself as a hermit on my blog over the years, but I don't know how many people actually took me seriously or knew to what extent my being an actual hermit had become a reality.  I think I was really on the verge of developing agoraphobia. When someone once called me a troglodyte as an insult, I adopted the word because I liked it better than the word 'hermit". Hermit sounded too common and who likes being thought of as being common or ordinary...or normal? Certainly, not me!

Anyway, in January of 2019 my hermit days abruptly came to an end. A childhood friend, came for a visit and ended up moving in right next door to me. Martha (Linda) was the little red-headed girl who lived next door to me in Maine and we grew up together. We've known each other since we were 4 years old and did typical Mildred and Martha secret, naughty things growing up.  Having Martha back in my life was a much needed wake up call. It was one that I hadn't fully realized I needed until now.

Physically, I was barely living when she arrived. I couldn't stand up for more than a few minutes without the pain being too intense for me to bear.  In fact, I struggled to stand up from a sitting position and sitting was uncomfortable. Doing anything seemed like a struggle.  I had fallen down the stairs and fractured my vertebrae and the recovery was very slow.  Sometimes I wondered if I was ever going to recover. My legs and feet were swollen to the size of tree trunks, but not from the fall. I didn't find out until later that I had fluid around my heart. Before Martha moved here I went days without getting out of bed and I just didn't care about myself anymore. I had given up and no one was getting on my ass about it.  Nobody wanted to deal with the wrath of Mildred so my family just left me alone unless it dealt with my safety like when my adult children banded together and moved my bedroom downstairs after I fell. They banded together because they expected me to give them a real hard time about it, but I fooled them when I never said a word.  I knew I couldn't walk up and down the stairs and they were doing the right thing. I would have been a real bitch if I had given them a hard time about being concerned about my well-being. I'm a lot of things, but being a real bitch isn't one of them. All you assholes out there who think I'm a real bitch better keep your opinions to yourself or else Mildred will have her way with you! lol 

After Martha got here, I started doing more physical things and now I can work outside all day long in the heat and humidity of Florida like I did when I was younger. In fact, I'm in better shape now than I have been in 20 or 25 years. I've lost a ton of weight and I feel good physically and mentally most of the time.  And when I don't, I smoke some weed and then I feel better. When my back hurts, the weed comes out.  When I have trouble sleeping, you know the drill. And when I just feel like kicking back and getting stoned, well I kick back and get stoned. What can I say? I'm a hedonist!

When a person becomes a hermit they forsake their need for other people.  When I went into "time out" I went into time out all the way. I wanted to cushion myself from the world and I did a great job of it for 15+ years. Nobody came knocking until Martha rapped on my door. You see, I thought it was just going to be a visit and then she left to move to South Florida. but when she left I knew she was going to move back here even though she didn't know it at the time. It was just a feeling I had and I was okay with that feeling. It didn't put me in a panic to think about not being a hermit anymore. 

And I was right! She moved here shortly after she left for South Florida. Who wants to live in South Florida with all those people anyway? (There goes that hermit in me talking!) When the house next door to me came up for rent, Martha jumped on it and moved in. What I discovered is that I'm not a hermit after all. I enjoyed having a friend to do stuff with and even when we weren't doing anything, but goofing off doing nothing we still had a good time doing it. You know why? Because we're Mildred and Martha and Martha and Mildred, that's why! We're one hell of a team!

Unfortunately, Martha moved back to Maine about a week ago.  Sometimes things happen and make it so we have to make difficult decisions.  Doing the right thing is rarely easy.  Right now, we all live in difficult times.

I'm empty now and I'm scared. I definitely know how to be a hermit, but I don't want to be a hermit again.  Is it wrong that I want someone? That I need someone?  Oh, I know we're in a pandemic...blah, blah...BLAH and social distancing and all that hoopla and I have to be a hermit to some extent and yeah, I can do that. I'm good excellent at it, remember? I did it for a very long time! Geez! I thought something was wrong with me when I kept reading on other people's blogs about how blue they were about being locked down during the coronavirus. I was afraid to tell anyone that I was okay with it because I had been doing it for so long that it was just second nature to me. It was no big deal. But now, what?

My grand plan that Martha and I used laugh about was that when the pandemic was over and I felt I was back to my old running shape I was going to start hanging out....not in bars...fuck that! but I'd go to Lowe's or Home Depot in the Contractor's section and pick-up a contractor so I could get someone to help me to fix my house (you know we could work something out in trade...). I'd say, "Baby, show me your tool belt, your tools and your truck...and definitely your financial statement!"  He'd probably call security on me and have me kicked out of the store.  Hey, it's been awhile since I've picked someone up, but I bet I can still do it.  My daughter gets aggravated whenever we go anywhere together and men flirt with me and not with her. ha! I think it's hysterical.  My pheromones must be stronger than hers.

Anyway, I miss my Martha. I talk to my dogs. I talk to the birds and of course, Cecil. I talk to all the plants I planted in my backyard. I talk to myself. That's a trip. Damn it! I need a person. Maybe I should buy a mannequin or a blow-up doll. What do you think?  Does anyone want to volunteer to be my person?  Mildred does not bite! Much :)

WALKING THE GANGPLANK WITH MARTHA

Occasionally we meet people who can give their friendship without some kind of price tag attached. I was fortunate to have found several friends at an early age who not only loved unconditionally, but also withheld making judgment calls as well. My first memories of having friends date back before I went to school. My neighborhood was filled with families who had children of all ages. In my minuscule world that encompassed 4 or 5 houses, Linda was among my first friends. 

She was a soft-spoken, friendly child who later became the hot vixen all redheads seem to become. Our time together was always an adventure as we went from playing with dolls and hopscotch to skipping school and lusting after boys to becoming reunited after missing all those years in the middle where people become adults and have families. I’ve always tended to gravitate towards the edge and tested any boundaries that stood in my way. It’s where I felt most comfortable. Maybe it was the suspense, the thrill, the uncertainty of the outcome that made teetering on the edge so appealing to me. Whatever it was, that certain something was a definite factor in what kept a smile on our faces in those days of our adolescent angst. 

When I think of what a bad influence I was on so many of my friends, I now feel a little regret, but I won't lie...I also smile as I remember the progression of things and the fun involved. Back in those days among many other things, we became quite familiar with 5 finger discounts. As we built our collection of free make-up, jewelry, records, clothes and whatever else struck our fancy at the time (all things we really didn't "need"), it was the thrill of seeing how outrageous we could be that kept us going back for more. Why we were never caught is beyond me, but I suppose it was more dumb luck than skill that keep us on the right side of the law. 

By the time we were teenagers, my attic was transformed into a place to wile away the hours skipping school, while we waited for my mother to go to work at 2:30 each afternoon. Anything in my house that wasn't being used seemed to always found its way to the top floor making the attic a true cornucopia of treasures. As our collection of discarded paint cans grew, the whole spectrum of colors was represented. We had purple that was used to paint one of the bathrooms and blue from the other. I snagged what was left from when my mother had painted on an old sea captain's trunk a most delightful shade of tangerine. Buttercup yellow from the kitchen and lime green from my bedroom were among the many colors we collected. As we collected our decorating materials, we decided that what needed to be done was some original artwork to adorn our sanctuary. Jackson Pollock's "drips" had nothing over the hand prints we put all over the walls and large-planked wooden floors. 

My only regret is that I never took any pictures of it. Years later after my house was sold and the new owners discovered my magical hideaway in attic, they made several inquiries to my cousin who lived next door about the artwork in the attic. What a surprise it must have been for them stepping into what appeared to be a colorful insane asylum (if they only knew how true that was). Many, many years later my eyes twinkle as I think about last summer when I was "home". Somehow it seems fitting that the person who blossomed into a ravishing redheaded vixen is the saucy tart who insisted on giving me a blue streak in my hair that "would wash right out". Ha! All I can say is "thank you, Linda" for reminding me that growing old may be inevitable, but growing up especially when in the company of old, dear friends is quite optional and never preferred.