Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow...

Every young boy remembers his first time.

The first time he looked across the room and saw a pretty girl, the first time he discovered that warts didn't come from frogs, the first time cupid shot him blindly in the ass and laughed like drunken fool.

My first time was the summer of 1975 at age 12.

You and I travel to the beat of a different drum

Oh can't you tell by the way I run
Every time you make eyes at me
Wo-oh...


That voice warbled out of the dual speaker stereo in my room and I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I had never heard a voice so clear and beautiful come out of anyone but my mother.

You cry and moan and say it will work out

But honey child I've got my doubt
You can't see the forest for the trees


Who was this person with a voice that was  mesmerizing me so? Who was this person with a voice of the Sirens that was surely helping cupid pull his bowstring back a bit harder? I sat on the blue shag carpet and pressed even closer to hear ...

Oh don't get me wrong
It's not that I knock it
It's just that I am not in the market
For a boy who wants to love only me

The black light illuminated the room as fluorescent posters stared at me in blatant wonder of what was going on beneath their placid eyes.
The RC Cola girl winked? at me, Don Garlits' Wynn Charger dragster shot hot blinding flames out of its' exhaust, And I swore I saw Sammy Davis Jr come alive on an old Ebony Magazine, slap his knee, hold his side and giggle while pointing at me...my head was swimming like it never had before.


Yes, and I ain't saying you ain't pretty
All I'm saying, I'm not ready
For any person, place or thing
To try and pull the reins in on me

I was floating! Cupid had not only shot me in the ass, but loaded the tip with a double dose of fuel injected, high octane helium. In the distance I thought I heard my mom shout something like "Turn it down"or what it 'What's that sound"? Was it possible she had heard this glorious voice and was being hypnotized by it also...

So goodbye I'll be leaving
I see no sense in this crying and grieving
We'll both live a lot longer
If you live without me

What! No, this song couldn't be possible ending, I said to myself. This was my Cinderella, my Rapunzel! I would not have a drunken out of work cupid shoot me in the ass only to have my future girlfriend to be just disappear into the static charged night! I may be on 12 going on 13, but I knew this person would be my girlfriend maybe wife one day.
And then as if she had read my mind, she replied -

Oh don't get me wrong
It's not that I knock it
It's just that I am not in the market
For a boy who wants to love only me

Yes, and I ain't saying you ain't pretty
All I'm saying, I'm not ready
For any person, place or thing
To try and pull the reins in on me

So goodbye I'll be leaving
I see no sense in this crying and grieving
We'll both live a lot longer
If you live without me...

As the song faded out, The disc jockey, ( no doubt feeling sorry for me), told me her name, but at the same time I heard my mom definitely say, "Turn it down!" thus only hearing "and The Stone Ponys"

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

And then I knew what had just happened in a bizarre three minutes of my life.

I had fallen in love for the first time with someone...someone who would never be my girlfriend or wife,

Someone who I would only be a dark face in a crowd, illuminated by moving lights on a stage one day.

It wasn't until about a month later, when I  heard her voice again on  The Midnight Special.
My heart jumped 15 beats, my eyes dilated, I looked back at my ass  for Cupid's arrow and ran from the kitchen to see the face of the Siren that has grabbed attention like a deer staring at headlights.

I've been cheated
Been mistreated
When will I be loved

That night, I put face to voice and fell in love really for the first time.


I didn't marry her of course, but continued to follow her work as we both grew older.
 I discovered a group called The Beatles about five or six years later and ran with them like a thief in the night and have never let them go.

Then last week, at age 49, some thirty five years later, I saw something that made me shake, and openly weep.

The voice that I had first fallen in love with had been diagnosed with Parkinson. Long story short, she would never sing again.

John Lennon once said, 'Life is what happens when we are busy making other plans'. I know that her singing career may have come to an end, but I have a good feeling that I will be seeing her in the limelight sometime soon.

Tomorrow has come and gone, and I am still pressing ever closer to hear her beautiful sounds as I grow older.

CT2014-REBEP

Linda Ronstadt

Every young boy remembers his first time.

The first time he looked across the room and saw a pretty girl, the first time he discovered that warts didn't come from frogs, the first time cupid shot him blindly in the ass and laughed like drunken fool.

My first time was the summer of 1975 at age 12.

You and I travel to the beat of a different drum

Oh can't you tell by the way I run
Every time you make eyes at me
Wo-oh...


That voice warbled out of the dual speaker stereo in my room and I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I had never heard a voice so clear and beautiful come out of anyone but my mother.

You cry and moan and say it will work out

But honey child I've got my doubt
You can't see the forest for the trees


Who was this person with a voice that was  mesmerizing me so? Who was this person with a voice of the Sirens that was surely helping cupid pull his bowstring back a bit harder? I sat on the blue shag carpet and pressed even closer to hear ...

Oh don't get me wrong
It's not that I knock it
It's just that I am not in the market
For a boy who wants to love only me

The black light illuminated the room as fluorescent posters stared at me in blatant wonder of what was going on beneath their placid eyes.
The RC Cola girl winked? at me, Don Garlits Wynn Charger dragster shot hot blinding flames out of it's exhaust, And I swore I saw Sammy Davis Jr come alive on an old Ebony Magazine, slap his knee, hold his side and giggle while pointing at me...my head was swimming like it never had before.


Yes, and I ain't saying you ain't pretty
All I'm saying, I'm not ready
For any person, place or thing
To try and pull the reins in on me

I was floating! Cupid had not only shot me in the ass, but loaded the tip with a double dose of fuel injected, high octane helium. In the distance I thought I heard my mom shout something like "Turn it down"or what it 'What's that sound"? Was it possible she had heard this glorious voice and was being hypnotized by it also...

So goodbye I'll be leaving
I see no sense in this crying and grieving
We'll both live a lot longer
If you live without me

What! No, this song couldn't be possible ending, I said to myself. This was my Cinderella, my Rapunzel! I would not have a drunken out of work cupid shoot me in the ass only to have my future girlfriend to be just disappear into the static charged night! I may be on 12 going on 13, but I knew this person would be my girlfriend maybe wife one day.
And then as if she had read my mind, she replied -

Oh don't get me wrong
It's not that I knock it
It's just that I am not in the market
For a boy who wants to love only me

Yes, and I ain't saying you ain't pretty
All I'm saying, I'm not ready
For any person, place or thing
To try and pull the reins in on me

So goodbye I'll be leaving
I see no sense in this crying and grieving
We'll both live a lot longer
If you live without me...

As the song faded out, The disc jockey, ( no doubt feeling sorry for me), told me her name, but at the same time I heard my mom definitely say, "Turn it down!" thus only hearing "and The Stone Ponys"

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

And then I knew what had just happened in a bizarre three minutes of my life.

I had fallen in love for the first time with someone...someone who would never be my girlfriend or wife,

Someone who I would only be a dark face in a crowd, illuminated by moving lights on a stage one day.

It wasn't until about a month later, when I  heard her voice again on  The Midnight Special.
My heart jumped 15 beats, my eyes dilated, I looked back at my ass  for Cupid's arrow and ran from the kitchen to see the face of the Siren that has grabbed attention like a deer staring at headlights.

I've been cheated
Been mistreated
When will I be loved

That night, I put face to voice and fell in love really for the first time.


I didn't marry her of course, but continued to follow her work as we both grew older.
 I discovered a group called The Beatles about five or six years later and ran with them like a thief in the night and have never let them go.

Then last week, at age 49, some thirty five years later, I saw something that made me shake, and openly weep.

The voice that I had first fallen in love with had been diagnosed with Parkinson. Long story short, she would never sing again.

John Lennon once said, 'Life is what happens when we are busy making other plans'. I know that her singing career may have come to an end, but I have a good feeling that I will be seeing her in the limelight sometime soon.

And I will be pressing ever closer to hear every word she has to say.

Blackbird

There are two sides to every story.

 It’s who you believe that matters.

 Most of my travels had taken me around the globe. I had always dreamed of seeing the world as a child, and through the graciousness from the fellow upstairs, I was able to see the world from behind a camera.

 In 1995, while on assignment in for Sol Magazine, I was involved in a rather complicated car crash in Manchester, England. Being from the States, I simply forgot that while driving elsewhere, right is left and left is right.

 Long story short, my leg was broken in two places
. I remember the pain and dizziness, the shouting and the sense of floating, then calmness.

 I awoke, to the distant hum of florescent lights emitting from the hallway. My right leg was propped upward under a pillow, traction pulleys and a cast from my upper thigh to my toes.

 Judging from the sound of the monitors next to me I had been brought to an infirmary

 As I looked around, I noticed that I shared the room with not just one, but six other people, old people. Old like George Burns, old like time. I heard someone cough to my right. As I turned my head, my eyes were locked immediately with a black man sitting in a chair next to my bed staring at me.

 His eyes were hazel as fall leaves and yet told the story of a thousand years. He seemed to be in some discomfort. Hemorrhoids, I giggled to myself... He smiled at me and I hesitantly smiled back.

 “Hello. My name is….”

“Colin Townsend and you’re one of those potpourri people...the kind that killed our Diana.” He said

 “Not exactly”, I said. “ I’m a world photographer, a freelancer you might say. You’ve probably have seen my works...I was immediately cut off in mid sentence.

 “Nope, why should I, you’re all the same. Shoot to kill and will kill to shoot. I went through your stuff last night while you were sedated. You damn near kept I up all night with that entire loud hyena snoring you do…”

I’m quite sorry about that Mr.…?” He was a thin man of average height, coco complextion with salt and pepper hair and noticeable scar on his left nostril.

 “I didn’t…." he began to stammer but trailed off and looked out the nearest window, darkened from the night outside. His doppelganger stared back from the other side looking less intimidating than the aggitated man before me.

 “ Elliot...…"

 “I beg your pardon? Who?

 “Elliot Barrow…” He turned and walked to the empty bed to my left, pulled back the curtain and laid on his side, exposing is ass through the recycled hospital gown. I honestly didn not care to be mooned at midnight. There was an awkward gap of silence that appears when there is nothing humanly possible to left to say.

 The faint sound of an ambulance siren on the streets below and thr low muzzle of a tv left on across the room was the only thing to be heard in a now dimly lit room. About ten minutes passed and I thought he had fallen asleep.

 “How old are you? “ He said not turning toward  to face me.

 “Thirty seven in March” I reponded startled.

 “Humph, You're not even a good liar!” With that he rolled over on his side exposing his hairy ass again through the slit of his hospital gown.

 “Goodnight Townsend.” He said.

 Goodnight Elliot, I hope we..."

 "We can't, we won't and we don't have to..." He interupted and that gave me enough to leave him be for the night

. “And by the way Minolta, It’s MR BARROW TO YOU!” he reared up and said so loudly that the Peppermint nurse came running into the room to see if there was an emergency.

 This was a place I did not want to be, especially next to an angry old man with a complex series of issues going on. He eyed me for a while and then punched his pillow with his fist and heavily laid his head down and fell fast into an uncomfortable slumber.

 Morning 7:16 AM

 The next morning I awoke to bright rays of light emitting through the blind of the window. Mr. Barrow was shaving with a straight razor , a instrument that has always terrified me to no end. He seemed to noticed that I was awake, but ignored me just the same.

 “Look” I said, “I wasn't here when Princess Diana was killed…”

 “You have a camera?”

 “Yes..but..”

 “Well then that makes you one of them…

 “Them? Them!? What the hell is that supposed to mean? And by the way, good morning! I raised my voice in a defending way.

 “Just what it’s supposed to mean, you’re an asshole like the rest, always wanting and not knowing the circumstances…”

 I could see a tear swelling up in his left eye, as if he was remembering something from the past. I threw my head back against my pillow and stared at the earthworms that occupied the ceiling tiles. I looked back at Barrow and felt bad for raising my voice.

 "Look," I said, I didn't..."

 "I know" he said in a soft voice. "You don't have to explain to me, I'm just.."

 His voice trailed away without looking at me. It was an hour before the orderly came in to bring us breakfast. The older men on the floor all seem to be having porridge, I guess to eliminate the rigors of chewing. I looked over to see what my equivalent of George Burns eating a bowl of fruit and drinking a glass of milk in between.

My plate arrived and I removed the cover...porridge!

 "Oh you have GOT to be kidding!" I said to the orderly, a heavy woman about sixty five.

 "I don't have time to kid Mr. Townsend, I have a hospital full of old men who are very grateful to receive such delicious food every morning, so if you will excuse me.." She turned and began to walk out, but stopped and looked over her shoulder. "I'll make sure to bring a cherry for you tomorrow, that should liven that bowl up for baby!" She sneered at me with a smile that came straight from the the pit of Hell.

The other old men in the ward all began to cackle like crows. Some were laughing so hard that their porridge became lodged in their windpipes and they began to gag. The orderly just looked at them in disgust and left the room. I ate my porridge, wishing that there really was a cherry to sweeten the taste. After a couple of spoonfuls, I pushed it aside. I glanced over at Barrow, staring at me while shaking his head, and wondered how and why I got porridge and he
was able to receive a king's delight of  assorted fruits and a bagel.

It was apparent that he had been here for a stretch.

 How long have you been here?” I asked.

 "Why?" he asked in a defensive tone.

 "Just wondering", I said "I saw you had a different menu than the rest of us."

 He smiled a suspicious smirk and looked me aover slowly like a cobra does to his prey before all negotiations on whatever life is left in seconds, are ceased.

 “I've been here since December eighth, nineteen hundred eighty. They found me passed out on the street next to Malone's newstand. They said I had hit my head on the sidewalk which set of a year long touch of amnesia.  I couldn't remember a thing until..."

 He faded as if an unpleasant memory had been released in the library of his mind

. “Until what?” I said.

Overhead on the dusty intercom,at a decibel tone only teenagers could hear, "All My Loving" statically tried to exit the speakers.

 At the sound of this, he frowned and turned away.  Glancing at sky through out of the window, he wiped streaks of moisture from his face took a deep breath and turned and began his story…

Saturday July 6th, 1957


I had heard there was going to be a carnival of sorts down at the church in Wooten. Back in those days, if we wanted to see live music at a congregational church other than our own, we had to out of sight, as not to upset those who we attending”.”

‘”You mean…”

“Yes,” he said, “Surely you didn’t think the whole separation thing shit, only happened in your country did you?”

“Well no…” I said embarrassingly. It had never crossed my mind about England of that time having racial conflicts, and I know that he saw it in my eyes.

He smiled wryly and continued.

“ I could see signs about advertising a new band called The Quarrymen, and thought I’d give it a go to see if they were any good…”

‘Wait a minute, THE QUARRYMEN?, you're yanking my chain now old man" I said.

“Yes, as in THE Quarrymen..” he said with a sarcastic wince, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

 He walked across the room to a elderly gentleman and helped him into his wheelchair. When he finished, he continued back towards me, but not before he stopped at a his footlocker  at the foot of the bed and pulled out a photo and handed it to me.

While it was obvious, who the four young men  in the photo were, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the face in front of me in the photo with them.

"That's, that's,that's you!" I said like a young boy who has just met his baseball card hero. "How..What...What are you doing in this photo?"

Again he smiled, but this time he simply said, "Who do you really think wrote all those songs?"

Saturday July 6th, 1957

I had heard there was going to be a carnival of sorts down at the church in Wooten. Back in those days, if we wanted to see live music at a congregational church other than our own, we had to out of sight, as not to upset those who we attending”.”

‘”You mean…”

“Yes,” he said, “Surely you didn’t think the whole separation thing shit, only happened in your country did  you?”

“Well no…” I said embarrassingly.  It had never crossed my mind about England of that time having racial conflicts, and I know that he saw it in my eyes.

He smiled wryly and continued.

“ I could see signs about advertising a new band called The Quarrymen, and thought I’d give it a go to see if they were any good…”

‘Wait a minute, THE QUARRYMEN?” I said.

“Yes, as in THE QUARRYMEN” he said with a sarcastic wince. He walked across the room to a elderly gentleman and helped him into his wheelchair. When he finished, he continued back towards me, but not before he stopped at a his footlocker located at the foot of the bed and pulled out a photo and handed it to me.

My son just arrived the other day....

Harry Chapin's song just finished on the radio and I am reminded of this past weekend when Logan was in the car with me going to get lunch. At 11, he is a closet singer with a singing voice like his brothers. I was pleased to hear him sing 'Cats In The Cradle' in its entirety, and as it was ending, (the last two verses) ,we pulled up to Schlotzsky's. I asked him if he knew what the song meant and he said he really hadn't thought about it.

I told him that it was a story about a man who was too busy with life and work and although he had a son he was proud of, never took the time to be a part of his life over the crucial years.



I'm gonna be like you dad, you know I'm gonna be like you...

Logan looked at me and said, 'Oh yeahhhh, now I get why he said, as he hung up the phone it occurred him that his son was just like him...'

I smiled and said 'Yep. That's why mom and dad attend all of your events, do and go to different places with you and your brothers and encourage you to live your dream, no matter how outrageous it may seem to others."

One day, when my boys grow up and become men of society and have families, I know that when I call and say " I'd like to see you, if you don't mind..." they will say "ok dad, sure." And when they do, you know i want to hear about how their new job is a hassle, and how the kids have got the flu. And when they leave I'll hug them and say, " it's been real good talking to you sons, I really had a good time boys..."

My dad was and is a strong influence in my life, and as I have model myself after him, I know that my boys will eventually carry on that legacy.

Ring of Fire

Love is a burning thing
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire

- Johnny Cash



It was a hot summer night in 1986 and the Astros game had just ended in a victory for the home team. I was working as a ticket taker on the south gate that night, and as a custom, I would say goodnight to all of the fans as they either walked out or rode the escalator down to the exit.

As I stayed close to the escalator watching an elderly woman in her late 80's approach the edge of the landing, I heard my name called out from the top in a very unflattering way.

"Muthafucka! If it ain't Cal Tucka!" I looked up in shock to see a man horribly burned over ninety five percent of his body gliding closer to me with every passing second. His eyelids were partially missing, lips melted so much that it showed his within, a look that reminded me of  Batman's enemy Two Face, and digits missing from both hands.

I admittingly  took a step back.

As he glided closer, the visual index cards of people I had met and known moved to the alphabet W. He stepped of the elevator and extended his had that was missing all but two digits.

"You don't recognize me do you?" he said with a smile with no lips.
I looked him straight in the eyes and nodded an affirmative yes.
"Who am I muthafucka?!" he said with a sneer borrowed from the bowels of hell.

"You are my lifelong childhood friend Wendell"... My eyes focused on his expression of surprise and disappointment that I was actually able tho recognized him through all of the burnt flesh.

His perfect row of Tom Cruise teeth open to say something, and then he paused, looked down and said softly, "How did you...?"

I explained to him that I recognized his voice and as he approached me closer, his eyes.

"No one has ever done that except you, I didn't freak you out with what's before you?"

"You did" I said, "But you are and have been my friend, we've shared good times and laughs for over twelve years, therefore your image does not scare me as it would most others."

He looked at me with eyes that weren't so gentle. People passed us by and looked at him as if he were a zombie come to life. Children pointed and some held their parents hands a bit closer than they normally would.

I grabbed his arm and we walked about ten feet over to the side, away from the leaving crowds.

"Wendell, what happened?" I asked.
"Why? It fucked me up and all you can ask is what happened?

" Yes," I said without missing a breath, "What the hell happened?"

" I was trapped in a crack house fire. There were burglar bars on the windows and when I tried to jump out, and well, I couldn't for obvious reasons!", he laugh a hesitant laugh and continued.

When the firemen came in, my clothes, hair and body was ablaze. I don't remember feeling any of it p because I was all "cracked" up!" We both laughed at the irony of the sentence, and for a brief moment it was like we were young boys of eight laughing at recess.

"Im sorry to hear about that", I said. " How are you adjusting?"
"Adjusting? Adjusting?! Goddammit Muthafucka! Look at me and tell me what YOU think?" his voice was not a low  and curious people gave us that Dr Frankenstein and his morbid creation look.

"Wendell, I just asked out of concern, I didn't mean to upset you.."

"What did you think you were doing by asking me that shit? Did you think you could solve my woes, make what happened go away, you've always been that way!"

"Been that way?" I asked somewhat defiantly. Here I was, truly concerned about a dear friend and now he was bashing me.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" I said, "All I asked was how you were adjusting. I know it must be hard and life is not the same but I'm not the one who chose to crawl up into a rat infested shithole and smoke my neurons to a crisp, that was you!

"You've always been that fool that has always wanted to help the less fortunate, help that kid that got beat up on the playground, or that boy or girl who couldn't freaking spell 'cat'. You can't ever help me the way I need help!"

I backed away and in a way I knew he was right. As much as you want to help people and raise them up and put them on the right path through Sherwood Forrest, it was initially up to them to take the initiative to move on or welter.

The crowd had almost left the gate at this point. An police officer wandered up the ramp from the lower level and commanded that everyone exit. I looked at Wendell, and he looked back at me with his hollow eyes.

'Well, I guess that means closing time..."
"No shit Sherlock", he said and extended his two digit hand to shake goodbye.

I grabbed his hand and shook it and told him it was good to see him again, but I didn't quite appreciate him rhyming my name with "muthafucka". We both laughed and said our farewells.

As I watched him disappear into the night, I knew I would never see him again.

There are times when I pass the Astrodome, I think about him. I think of the times that we laughed and played as young boys. I think about how I had someone to show me the way out of Sherwood Forrest and unfortunately, he had no one  to guide him away from demon that trapped him in the Dark Forest he wandered into so many years ago.

We Got Married...

Going Fast,

Coming Soon

We Made Love In The Afternoon.

Found A Flat,

After That We Got Married.

I am standing in a holding room, covered from head to toe in surgical scrubs. My heart is pounding so loud that I feel its vibration would shatter my ribcage. There is a doctor in front of me, he is speaking, but I cannot hear a word he is saying. My eyes are focused on the image showing on the television behind his left shoulder.

Johnnie Cochran turns toward the screen and in my doctor’s voice, calmly says,
“If we don’t get them out now, we could lose all three”.

Working Hard For The Dream,

Scoring Goals For The Other Team,

Times Were Bad,

We Were Glad We Got Married.

Five years had passed since we had been married. We would indulge in those things that made young couples happy, going to movies, taking trips and attending gatherings with friends. But still.
The thought of raising a family had often come up. We would lie in bed and daydream of hologram children running from down the hall and jumping onto our bed, begging us to make waffles and eggs before the trip to the zoo. “A boy for you”, she would say and “girl for you” I would reply, tickling her beneath the sheets.
Most of our friends had known the joy of having children, and often invited us to share moments with their families.

Like The Way You Open Up Your Hearts To Each Other,

When You Find A Meeting Of The Minds.

Just As Well Love Was All We Ever Wanted,

It Was All We Ever Had.

“You have to make the decision now” Johnnie Cochran remarked “Every minute we waste is crucial…

Monday Night Football is like a medieval town crier roaming the streets late at night spreading the news of a late night royal birth or that the castle is about to be overtaken within the hour by the enemies to the west, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I can still hear Howard Cossell breaking the news about John Lennon being shot while a game was progress. I can still hear the excitement in Don Merideth’s voice each time the Cowboys scored a touchdown. And I will always remember my wife screaming,
“Honey look!!! It has a plus sign!!!!

Further On In The Game,

Waiting Up Till The Children Came.

Place Your Bets, No Regrets, We Got Married.

We saw the doctor every two weeks and eventually it became a rotation of every other day each checkup would bring smiles and happiness. There were terms that we had never heard about, words we couldn't find in a dictionary, and an uncertainty of what lay ahead,
We were far into woods now with no turning back, The doctor was leading us to safe passage and I for one, was ready to follow him to the gates of Kathmandu if it meant things would turn out on a positive note..

Yet somewhere in between there were complications, far beyond what we expected.

“I know it’s a hard decision son”, I heard Cochran say, “but I know you’ll make the right one”

I looked into the eyes of the doctor that stood before me, and with tears unknowingly flowing, gave him permission to proceed with the operation. In an instant, I had become judge, jury and Heaven forbid, not the executioner. Within a matter of seconds, I was passing a warrant on to the most qualified person in the room, to bring one person I loved back to me safely and two strangers I had never met.

In the room next door, my wife lay on her back, consumed in mortal pain. Her vital organs were starting to shut down one by one. Her kidneys and liver were being shut down, struggling to support the life within. The doctor said that the unborn fetuses were literally “fighting “for their lives to survive, thus putting and extra strain onto the host body.
I watched as my wife body was put upon the table in the operating room. A nurse, from behind a lime green mask asked me if I wanted to wait outside. I quietly shook my head from left to right and proceed to sit on a bench at the end of the table. Holding my wife hand, she slowly drifted away into unconsciousness. I watched as the incision was made, a clean precise cut only a doctor could administer.

Monitors beeped ,heartbeats were heard , trickles of sweat ran down our faces, nurses rotated to assigned places, someone was gently patting my back.

And then it happened.

Do you remember when you thought you heard Santa Clause walking on the roof as you lay in bed on Christmas Eve? Or the day you woke up and discovered the Tooth Fairy stopped being a tight wad and left you five dollars instead of two?

The joy I experience at that moment was overwhelming. There before my eyes and ten others, was my son hanging upside down wrinkled and grey. And like Houdini, totally not satisfied with his last illusion, the doctor pulled out another son.

The world had rolled off my shoulders and was given back to Mr. Atlas...


My wife briefly saw the boys and then passed out. She had given it her all like John Henry beating his hammer to beat the steam engine. She suffered seizures thereafter and remain hospitalized for a good part of a month. The twins remained in ICU for another two months to up their weight. At three pounds each, they were determine to hang tough like their mother.

Nowadays Every Night

Flashes By At The Speed Of Light,

Living Life, Loving Wife,

We Got Married.

I Love The Things That Happen

When We Start To Discover Who We Are


It’s thirteen years later now. I don’t hear Johnnie Cochran channeling through doctors anymore. I don’t have the weight of the world on my shoulder wondering about uncertainty is to come. What I have is a wonderful wife and three kids.

Believe it or not, we went through the same thing five years later.

We Got Married


But that’s another story for another day.

We Got Married - Paul McCartney, Flowers in the Dirt MPL