A story for you.
I met this girl when I was 12 years old.
Yep, 12.
And we started dating. We dated until I was 19. Seven years!
She lived a good 4 miles away from me. Before I got my license at 16, I had to either ride my bike to her house, or take a cab. Every day, I worked since a young age, and every day after work or school, I would make my way to her house, usually on my bike, but sometimes via a cab.
I became very close to her family. My father was gone, so they kind of took me in. Her mother would feed me. She made this delicious Russian soup. In return, I would do work around their house. Mowing the lawn, laying drain tile, etc.
I would stay there until around 11PM, every night. Her father would be asleep in his chair at that time. Before I left her house at night, I would walk into the living room where her father was half asleep. I would put my hand on his shoulder, and tell him goodnight. He would tell people how much he respected me for that small act. He felt like it showed respect.
Riding my bike home at that time of night was a real adventure. It made me feel like the cars were trying to kill this young kid. People would fuck with me.
If I took a cab home, I would get the same driver every night. We got to know each other on a first name basis. One night, he picked me up, and there was this drunk woman in the back seat. I climbed back there for the ride, and she started asking me all these questions. Then she started touching me. She sexually assaulted me, and I had to push her off me. The cab driver pulled over and dragged her out of the car.
So that is a snippet of memory from my teens.
My girlfriend fell in love with someone else when I was 19 or so. I was heartbroken. The guy was much older than her, and he was a piece of shit who treated her poorly. So that relationship did not last. My mother was heartbroken too, because she loved this woman. And my mother didn’t like too many people.
Then, I dated a woman who was about 11 years older than me. I wanted nothing to do with her, but she pursued me relentlessly. She used to write me letters that were about 10 pages long, professing her love for me. She was divorced with a child, and I finally succumbed to her advances, We had a wild long-term fling that ended abruptly.
I then dated several women after that.
My friend introduced me to my future wife. We went to the movies. I liked her. My mother fucking loved her. My mother invited me over to her apartment for a home made gnocchi dinner, and asked me to invite my future wife as well. This was in 1989. It was some kind of occasion, and for the life of me, I can’t remember what. But when my future wife showed up at this little dinner, she brought a present for me. It was a VCR, all wrapped up as a gift. Back in those days, they cost about $300, which was a lot of money back then. My mother was gob smacked. She pulled me into the kitchen, and I’ll never forget this...she grabbed my arm and dug her nails hard into my bicep, while giving me a firm look and whispering “You better hang onto her Lucky, you hear me”?
Some days later, I called up this woman and asked her to please take some time off work. She asked why, and I told her I was taking her to Pittsburgh for two Grateful Dead shows. She said PITTSBURGH? How far away is that? 6 hours I said. I told her we were going to stay in a nice hotel, and go out to a fancy dinner, so bring a nice dress. She knew nothing about the band. I reassured her that she would have fun.
So we made the drive, and stayed in some fancy hotel. We dressed to the nines, and had a nice surf and turf dinner. We went to the two shows. She didn’t know what to expect.
I’m typing all of this shit because I found a reaction video last night of the Dead playing a Dear Mr. Fantasy/Hey Jude combination which looks like it was around this same time period, give or take, 1989. The person reacting to the video was not familiar with the Dead, but he is a musician reacting to this combo of songs for the first time. His first time reactions are astute and profound. He talks about musicians going into a “flow state”, which is the same way Phil Lesh describes the band’s music. His reaction is very interesting to me because…
My wife had a similar reaction to these two songs when they played them in Pittsburgh. I recalled this reaction to my wife this morning, She didn’t remember it, but I do. She was unfamiliar with the band, they were playing these two songs, and they were blowing the roof off the Civic Arena.
We stared at each other all bug-eyed, and we both laughed and screamed HOLY SHIT!!!! Then she threw her arms around me and kissed me. We both laughed with joy at the ridiculousness of the intensity of the music. And that was the beginning. We got married on leap day in 1992.
A friend passed away yesterday, so I’m melancholy, but this brought back that memory for me. And I’m recalling a lot of memories today, because life is too short not to revel in your memories.
Please watch this if you are inclined to. If you do, play it LOUD.
Life is brief. Hang onto your memories. After all, they're YOUR memories, and they informed who you are today, at this moment.
Thanks for reading.