When the film Love Story came out in 1970, I was around twelve years old. As a tom boy everything in the film repelled me. My nemesis and best friend Lynn looked just like that annoying woman Ali MacGraw,
“Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” PLEASE??!!
The guys followed Lynn around like puppy dogs and the time we use to have, playing football and baseball on the golf course hole near her home, ended. All the guys who I use to play with started talking about the film. The naked scenes especially. Just like the pages form the first Godfather book. Everyone was reading the page where Sonny screwed some lady before his wedding. I felt just like Betty White, when the character Rose form the Golden Girls said, that sex;
“Was some colossal joke.”
I had it down. Life was about running as fast as you could, sliding down hills on cardboard, and having dirt fights with massive weeds. It was about hating school, and all of your teachers, and only enjoying kickball. My prime objective of,
“Never stop running as fast you can,” imploded when puberty hit. I blame the whole darn thing on the film Love Story.
Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, and the autumn moon is bright.
I love this time of the year… moving into it like a wild cloak of wonder; Crones, screams and laughter; cinnamon, chills and the first full moon of Autumn in the wilds of October. I also honor Lynn now… this is her time.
You’ve done terrible things… be strong.
The dark, Halloween and the shadow… here we go again. My best friend, who died five years ago, was my champion of scary and forbidden places. She was a true wild and free soul and lived life by the seat of her pants. Lynn never could break the mold of her youthful lust for life. Even love could not bind her beyond her desire for a type of youthful fulfillment. This time of the year was our time. We ran with the hallow of the night with lycanthropy biting at our heels.
My mind now circles with Ouija boards, and horror stories and of the film Suspiria.
She led me to depths… depths I dare not always follow! It is hard to understand that Lynn is gone from me now!
She sometimes stands beyond the darkness. At such altered times I catch her memory…the few breaths between twilight and darkness. I feel a longing pain, a need to run with her by way of the hills of our youth. Ah… but she is free now of this aging of these memories…
Many years I have celebrated the first full moon of Autumn in October with this song…until I die…!!
I hate flash backs or Sunday daydreams. I still get them. I just pressed my finger against some leftover fried shrimp crumbs on a large frying pan. The flash was intense. It was back in the 70s. My best friend Lynn and I use to go to H. Salt Fish & Chips. We would walk or ride our bikes to Ventura and De Soto for a couple of containers of left over fish crumbs. It came free with a coke as a necessary cure for the munchies; because our eyes were as red as the H. Salt Fish & Chips sign. The salt and vinegar fumes mingled with constant vibrating laughter of our speaking in tongues by a couple of silly valley girls about 14 or 15 years old.