Month: June 2024

It was the Kiss

/ cigarman501 / 10 Comments

“Okay, this was kissing. Serious kissing. Not just a kiss before moving out, not a good-bye, this was hello, sexy, and wow….” ― Rachel Caine, Glass Houses

I’ve got Betty Everett’s “Shoop, Shoop” song playing in my head. If you don’t remember it, there is a Cher version that is slightly younger. The reframe, “It’s in his kiss, that’s where it is” is on auto repeat in my head. I am changing the pronouns from his to her.

Today would have been thirty-eight years…our anniversary. Unfortunately, it is exactly three months to the day since you left me. It is exactly three months not using the “d” word. Saying you “left” implies there is a possibility of reunion. Using the “d” word implies finality and I can’t use it. The truth hurts too badly.

This past weekend I decided to take a drive. I needed to get out of the house and a walk in 95-degree weather didn’t seem prudent. I decided to retravel some of the old pig trails we once traveled together in the comfort of our air-conditioned Jeep. It was a mistake. The pig trails mean nothing without you.

My drive did trigger memories of a time now past. The good old days…late 1984.  Pig trails meant something then.

I danced around you for a year or more while you dated Jim, my roommate. We became great friends that year. We grew close but there was no dancing together. You tried to “fix” me up with all your friends, but all your efforts failed. The joke was that you failed so badly you took mercy on me. Thank you for that mercy.

I think my subconscious knew you were the one. I recognized there was a spark, a tingle whenever our fingers might touch but you belonged to another. That’s not true, you never belonged to any one person, not even me. The problem was that I was loyal to a fault even to a person who didn’t deserve it or you.

Later that year, there was the inflatable pumpkin on your head in the fall and a major reaction when I came home and found you helping Jim wash his boat that spring. That two-piece… ala Jimmy Carter I sinned in my mind. In between there was the ice storm power outage and Jim’s stupidity putting a puppy dog under the house to keep warm with a five gallon can of kerosene. I don’t know when we laughed so hard, and Jim didn’t appreciate it or deserve the puppy…or you.

With summer came the road trip from hell. I was a tag along…a third wheel as I had been all that year. If a film or fifties TV show had been made of the year, I would have been Pat Brady to Roy Rogers or Jingles in Wild Bill Hickock…funny but safe.

Jim was forced to move to Charleston because of his job but your relationship with him was already unraveling…had been unraveling for a while and that trip to Charleston brought it into focus.  I had nothing to do with the fraying even though Jim believed otherwise.

I don’t remember what threw us together without Jim that Saturday afternoon in Charleston, but I took you to the market. What an afternoon. That is when it dawned on me that you might be special. Confirmation would have to wait until Jim’s final straw broke your back.

After your breakup, I continued to dance around until you took the initiative. We found ourselves dancing together for the first time at Bennigans. Serendipity put us together, and like the stray animals you love to adopt, I followed you home. The pretense was to get you safely home but there was the goodnight kiss…and I knew. There might have been several kisses at your doorway, but I knew after the first one. You were the best kisser…the best friend…the best lover…the best everything. I think heaven will be like that first kiss.

Dusty Springfield has replaced Betty Everett, “That ever since we met you’ve had a hold on me, it happens to be true, I only want to be with you!”  And now I can’t. I can only remember your kisses…and the way your body fit perfectly with mine when I held you close. You took spooning to a grand level.

I think about all the mistakes I made before we found each other. You made a few mistakes too. Our mistakes were fate’s way of preparing us for kismet. We talked about it often, sometimes karma isn’t a bitch.

The night I followed you home I wanted to protect you. I have wanted to protect you for thirty-eight years. When it came down to it, I couldn’t protect you from what I couldn’t see or touch. It isn’t logical but I still feel guilty.

Happy Anniversary my love. I miss you terribly. Truely, the guilt is real. So is my love.

Just Hush Up and Enjoy the Holiday

/ cigarman501 / 10 Comments

“Our ability to reach unity in diversity will be the beauty and the test of our civilization.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

I made the mistake of searching for local Juneteenth celebrations or rather made the mistake of reading the accompanying comment section from my local news station. This was after I made a mistake of reading earlier comments made about Pride Month from the same source. Ah, the joys of living in a Red State.

Some of you bigoted folk need new material. Most of the comments were the same recycled stupidity I read when I previously clicked on last year’s comments about Kwanza and Black History Month…and this year’s Pride Month. Along the same lines, I’m sure many of you are cheering our state board of education’s decision not to offer AP African American Studies. Actually, I know you are, I’m a glutton for punishment and read those comments too.

Why are you so upset over something that isn’t bad? Don’t want to celebrate Juneteenth? Don’t. I’m going to celebrate with slow cooked pork, a crisp pilsner or five and the traditional piece of red velvet cake. Don’t want your child to take AP courses. Don’t sign up for them, AP courses are not required. Not gay, don’t say yes if a gay person asks you to marry them.

As far as Juneteenth, do some research…people on both sides of the argument slept through history class or were taught by “Lost Cause” instructors. You need to utilize our public library system or at least Google.  For example…and if you don’t want a history lesson you should back out now.

Many concerns centered around July 4, Independence Day….

“Juneteenth is just a made-up holiday. We were all free on July 4.”  The celebration of July 4, 1776, is also a “made up” holiday and freed us from nothing. We weren’t freed of anything other than Merry Old England and that wasn’t until September 3, 1783, with the signing of the Treaty of Paris. By the way, the Declaration of Independence wasn’t signed on July 4.

“We don’t need a second Independence Day!” It is true Juneteenth is considered by some to be a “second” Independence Day. By others it is celebrated as the Day of Jubilee. Still others celebrate January 1, 1863, Emancipation Proclamation as the Day of Jubilee. Why is that bad? I want to point out that when the Declaration of Independence was signed a large segment of the soon to be United States was not free and would not be free for almost one hundred years.

Another frequent comment, “Slavery still existed in the border states and in the North after June 19, 1865.” You are correct. The Emancipation Proclamation didn’t end slavery in the United States, the Thirteenth Amendment did. The Emancipation Proclamation only ended slavery in those areas involved in rebellion. Chattel slavery existed into 1866 in a couple of Border States and until new treaties were made with Native American tribes that had slaves.

Addressing the previous comment, “Why don’t we celebrate the Thirteenth Amendment instead.” I don’t know but it was ratified on December 6, 1865, and proclaimed on December 18th. That is a little close to Christmas don’t you think?

A comment about indenture, “What about my Irish slave ancestors?” Indentured servitude and chattel slavery are not the same. There is no evidence of widespread enslavement of the Irish indentured servants in the United States. Were some forced to work past the end of indenture?  Probably, and in some cases, they were brutalized, but it wasn’t widespread and indentured servants signed contracts, usually for four to six years, and had rights. Chattel slaves did not and that form was generational and for life.

“Making Juneteenth a national holiday was just a political move to gain votes.” Juneteenth as a national holiday might have been a political move. Possibly…probably…but it still isn’t a bad thing to celebrate and occasional good things occur from political moves.

June 19, 1865, Major General Gordon Granger ordered the final enforcement of the Emancipation Proclamation in Texas at the end of the Civil War. Can you imagine the emotions that swept through the formally enslaved when they found out they were free. Juneteenth is Freedom Day for those whose ancestors were enslaved. They aren’t hurting or taking anything away from you. Join in and enjoy.

“Why did it take so long for word to get to them?” It really didn’t. Emancipation occurred piecemeal as the Confederacy was overwhelmed. While Lee surrendered his army in April of 1865, it didn’t end the war. On June 2, General Kirby Smith signed the surrender of the Army of the Trans-Mississippi making Texas the last Confederate stronghold to surrender. The final Confederate land forced to surrender did not come until June 23, when Cherokee Confederate General Stand Watie gave up his command in the Oklahoma Indian Territory.

Juneteenth is not new and originally wasn’t called Juneteenth. It is new as a national holiday, but the first Juneteenth celebrations occurred in 1866. Festivals popped up across the South until the Great Migration took it across the rest of the nation beginning in the 1920s and 1930s.

While there was a decline in celebrations during the Jim Crow era (wonder why?), since the 1970s, Juneteenth celebrations have become numerous and have centered on African American freedoms, history, arts, crafts, and food. How is this bad?

Not historical, my least fravorite comment was, “When can we have a Whiteteenth?” Okay. Irish Heritage Month is in March, Scottish American and Scot Irish Heritage Month is in April. Italian Culture and Heritage Month is in October. Get my point? I know they aren’t national holidays but there is plenty of opportunities for us to celebrate our fish belly whiteness while gripping about Asian American Pacific Islander Month, May, Mexican Heritage Month, September 15 through October 15, and Native American Heritage Month, November.

So, please just hush up and enjoy the many diverse cultural celebrations…not just Juneteenth, celebrate them all. Go to a festival. Enjoy art, music, or food. Try to learn something so you don’t seem so dense and bigoted.  If you refuse, just hush up and stay in your lane.

***

Many diverse recipes are included in Don Miller’s latest book, “Food For Thought” and can be purchased in paperback or downloaded at http://tinyurl.com/yrt7bee2

Do I Want it to Get Better?

/ cigarman501 / 6 Comments

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

It has been two months, ten days and a double handful of hours, minutes, and seconds since you left me. I do miss you like hell. You were my sunshine, and the skies are much grayer since you left.

Family and friends check in to make sure I’m okay and always ask, “How are you doing?”

I appreciate their concern, but I don’t know how to answer the question. “I’m okay” is the lie I often tell them because I don’t think people want to hear, “Somewhere between numb and devastated.” Whatever I answer, I usually get the unsolicited but well-meant comment, “It will get better over time.” Will it?

I appreciate the advice but one of the voices in my head asks, “Do you want it to get better and for clarification, what is ‘it’ exactly?”

An honest question deserves an honest answer. I don’t have one. I’m at a loss. I want the pain to go away but I honestly don’t think I want the hole in my heart to heal. I think for the pain to go away memories must fade like an old black and white photo. You were so much more than a faded black and white photo. You were my “technicolor” darling.

My life was without color, and I was never whole until I met you. You were the tie that binds and a colorful psychedelic painting. I’ve gone back to incomplete and unraveled and as bland as boiled chicken. I don’t like the feeling that I’m not dead but not alive either. I am in a halfway house for grievers it seems.

Truthfully, I don’t want to not be thinking about you. I don’t want to not be missing you. I want you to be the first thing I think about when I rise in the morning and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep. You deserve that along with the thoughts that come to me throughout the day and in dreams at night.

I’m sure people are worrying that I’m spending too much time alone wallowing in self-pity. I’m not. I’m not alone. You are still here. I carry you with me, right next to the hole in my heart.

I remember going to parties or gatherings and following you around like one of our puppy dogs. We would always find ourselves in an unpopulated corner of the room talking to each other, ignoring everyone else. You were always the most interesting person in the room and tit was comforting feeling your hip pressed against me and your arm hooked in mine. I carry you with me but the thought that I will never hold your hand or hug you brings back the unfathomable pain.

I try to stay busy. You certainly left me with a gracious plenty to do but as I work my way through bins and boxes, it is like one of our adventures. I never know what I’m going to find next, I just know it will remind me of you or something we did.

“So”, the nagging voice in my head asks again, “do you want it to get better?”  No, I don’t if it means the memories of you will diminish in any way. Maybe I can just hope for getting different rather than getting better.

***

Just before my wife’s passing, I published a “cookbook of stories” described as being Southern fried in the renderings of fried fatback. These are short essays and recipes from the South. Download or purchase in paperback. Food For Thought. http://tinyurl.com/yrt7bee2