Old lover. Google. Wow.

Last night, I Googled a man that I hadn't seen or spoken to in 30 years. A man that I remember once loving - so much that though he wouldn't believe this, he has been indelibly etched in my consciousness since the last day I saw him. In 1979. I still have one old photo of us together and after all these years I knew right where to find it too. Third footlocker to the left, under the Christmas decorations and old paint cans. I found it in 30 seconds.

A look at that photo brought back to memory a beautiful, soulful brilliant, BRILLIANT, older man whom I was so smitten with, I could hardly speak in his presence. I remember lying in his bed, behind french doors with billowy curtains and a handwritten sign that said: Impasse. I talked a good hello but she talked an even better goodbye, while he read beat poet Richard Brautigan books and kissed me and stroked my hair and totally got under my skin. He was so cool. And I recall he broke it off with me, because I got too old for him at the ancient age of 21.

By his recollection I was a skinny, neurotic, emotionally unavailable and real emotional girl whom he slept with a few times and who maybe typed a few letters in his office now and then. He did remember reading poetry books but he also remembered me as the girl who wouldn't go to Ohio for the holidays to meet his family and the girl who didn't appreciate the gorgeous expensive dresses he thoughtfully picked out 'specially for me. And he recalls that I was mean to him and broke it off, and maybe even hurt him a little.

How do I know this is what he recalls?

Because true to my investigative nature, I Googled him, found him, chucked all caution to the wind, picked up the phone at 9:30 PM (after midnight his time) and called Poling Music in Nashville TN.

I was just trying to see if I could find his voicemail, listen to his voice and see if it really was him. I thought I was calling his office but he answered! When he picked up live, all I could say (remember, I could hardly speak in his presence) was "Oh my gawd... Tom Poling! Oh my gawd, do you remember me? Oh my gawd..." I can't remember what else I said in those first few minutes, but I will tell you that we talked for 4 hours, maybe more and he told me stories and read poetry to me over the phone. Richard Brautigan, Rumi and Tom Poling, m.d. originals. My heart soared, I thanked him for making me really happy.

And he thanked me for calling him, and told me that somehow with my middle of the night phone call, I had snuck into his basement in Nashville TN. and relit his pilot light.

DO NOT SLEEP

...until you have listened to this young man Derrick Ashong. Please listen to both of these videos (first one first). I think the interviewer in the first link thought he was going to get a different kind of response from this young man. Was he ever surprised.


This made me weep.

Wordless Wednesday - posted on Thursday for the following reasons:

I am having the whole house painted and I couldn't find my computer.

Adventures in Taiwan or Why I Cherish My Blog Header Picture.

In 2002 when Henry's Grandmother died in England, his Dad took him away to the funeral and didn't "allow" me to go. We were separated at the time and I was just not included. I was really sad and could not stand staying uselessly home alone so I hastily planned a trip. My 1st ever to an Asian country. Actually I didn't plan. I bought a ticket. Packed in 20 minutes. Forgot my glasses (1 hour eyeglass places are cheap in Taipei). Didn't have time to get NT. (Taiwanese money) Didn't call my bank to let them know I was leaving the country and subsequently got cut off from all cash AND credit and had to panhandle while abroad. (A tale for another blog.) I had no idea what I was getting into food, language or culture-wise. But I AM a true wanderlust so I just got on the plane and went.

I landed in the People's Republic of China and the first thing I saw after exiting the huge metal can I had been flying in for 15 hours, was a sign that said: Drug trafficking is punishable by death in the R.O.C.

Luckily, I didn't even have so much as a sleeping pill on me (I forgot those too.)

After successfully clearing customs, I tried to hail a taxi to take me to the hotel I had hastily booked online. (There's that word again) The address, 70 Yong Kang Street, seemed simple enough, only I didn't know that no one in Taiwan speaks English and they don't understand Western letter characters. Do you see any anywhere?

I ended up finding the right bus bus to town (about an hour away) and finding my "place." I needed a bath, a bed and breakfast in that order.

Everything in Taiwan is crowded. Floor space is measured in "pings" there which is roughly the size of two tatami mats, or 3.5 square meters. The room was a super small 10 pings, and 8 flights of stairs up. It was about 110 degrees there with no air conditioning. The bathroom was a little room with a shower head sticking out of the wall, a sink and toilet but no tub enclosure or shower curtain. You just showered in the room and everything got wet. I hastily showered and went to bed.

Wide awake at 5:00AM the next morning (it's tomorrow there today) I decided to take a walk down the street and look for food I could actually EAT and maybe a real cup of java. I had no idea that the food in Taiwan consisted of stuff that we Americans would NOT want to put in our trash, let alone our mouths. Anyone for some nice juicy chicken testicles with a swig of cobra blood to wash it down?
Or how 'bout a freshly beheaded chicken. White or dark meat? (Skin sold separately)




I came upon a 7 Eleven, but nothing looked familiar inside. I bought a carton of something that looked like iced green tea (give me caffeine please) and took it outside in the already sweltering morning. As I was walking and drinking my "tea" I realized I was getting a buzz, and not the caffeine kind.

Anyway, I know my limitations few as they are. I was definitely in a world I had not anticipated or prepared for, yet I found myself here and needed to make the best of it.

I found a good cup of tea here. Well actually the tea tasted like an ashtray but it was better than anything I had discovered so far. They also had good cold noodles that tasted like peanut butter. I probably walked about 2 miles before I saw... a COFFEE SHOP! WITH WESTERN COFFEE! And a menu WITH PICTURES that I could point to. Hurray.

Walking to that coffee shop every morning, for the 7 days I was there, became my morning ritual. So did slowing down a bit and planning future trips better.

I have been back to Taiwan twice more since then. And I have learned to LOVE the food and culture a lot. But I made sure to go to my Chinese Barista each time.

There are Starbucks on every other corner now but I still love my coffee shop the best.

It was 4 stories tall so I took my camera and my coffee to the top floor and set it up on the timer to capture the moment. THAT cup of coffee WAS good to the last drop.

And 6 years later it's the header of my blog.

How creative are you?

67%

This is a little embarassing since I depend on creativity for a living. Oh and my 8 year old son is 3% more creative than me. Hello new partner in PMW! Design.

Wordless Wednesday

Gran and the Airbag

A lady was video taping her son riding a skateboard when her attention switched to an old woman trying to cross the street. You might need to watch it twice to get the full effect on the driver. If you turn the volume up, you can hear the photographer giggling as she records the event.
Go granny go!....

Sharktank Redemption

Red: [narrating] "These walls are funny. First you hate ‘em, then you get used to ‘em. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on them. That’s institutionalized."

"Forty years I been asking permission to piss. I can't squeeze a drop without say-so."

-Ellis Boyd 'Red' Redding

I watched Shawshank Redemption for the 16th time the other night and it made me quite sad to think about the many days I have spent behind a desk, in a cubicle, working for someone else. I have spent about 31 years x 50 weeks a year x 40 hours a week in a cardboard box, behind a desk that didn't belong to me. 31 years doing my best most vibrant work for some f#ck-stick big corporation that just thanklessly swallowed me up and asked for more.

62,000 hours of my life that I didn't spend with my kids or friends or traveling, reading, dancing or doing things that I really wanted to do.

Now I have my own business and I shuffle to my computer every morning and sit down in front of it and create stuff. Yet I don't seem to be able to give myself permission to go grocery shopping, take a bath, go to the gym, walk the dog around the block or squeeze a drop during "normal working hours."

That’s institutionalized, isn't it?

Guess I better shake that cubicle mindset and get busy living... or get busy faxing.

Just Say No.

I wonder why when a man says no, that is the end of the conversation but when a woman says no, it is the beginning of a negotiation?