Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed Our days of quickly escaping Wondering what really happened Are now star-crossed dearly departed Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations Powerful emotions dim to despair Distress signals, setting off flares No answers echo in air From a sweet embrace Chromed foghorns blare: “Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!” You never did! Floating adrift never on shore Twisted riptides screaming: “Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?” Swimming through riptides Tangled pillars of seaweed Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead Never shall we rise above Our shadows of duality I’ve accepted our end in lament Forever, oh forever and again!
hey it looks good... (but who was that nutter who did the biggest... boringest... poem?... probably my mother...) it just is not sooo practical... but fun for once in a while...
hey guy! My name is André, and I was looking up on internet when I found your web site. It was really good to me because I simply loved the style of it. The possibility to type the commands in the page. Well, I was surprised when I got the links file, because I discovered that you are bahá'í, or, at least, know the Bahá'í Faith. So, I want to be in contact with you and, if is possible, get a copy of your template. See ya!
Leslie Siegel at ksiegel61@yahoo.com wrote all these original poems
POPULARITY EBB TOLL
Flowing through popularity ebb tolls Moods changing the tides Split personalities falter then readjust A full circle glide, people's rules must we abide Survival of the fittest in our herds They talk, they shout, they laugh off gaff Steadily so remote Slapping the back, underlying envy clap One minute of King O’ the Hill, Then suddenly bottom of the ‘sill “Good job, good job”, raising the stabbing dagger Saying great things, witty and fun Isolation in full swing Better saying nothing at all Be your own worst best friend When they start to ignore No longer considered best of the bunch Loud mouthed, crazy, doing the best Losing patience, going under board It’s not quite right finding a new dream Ol’ riptide takes it out to the sea
GOD COULD-DA, WOULD-DA, SHOULD-DA
Hey God, let life stay stationery So we can all remain happily unconcerned To follow life’s many paths That would still be filled with hope and the Devil.
If the world stopped spinning We could all enjoy the seasons of living without getting dizzy.
It would be grand if we never aged Only in our brains So we could have a ball in children’s bodies as old farts!
It would also be satisfying If criminals stopped robbing Because the rich donated 100 million to anyone who applied The world would surely be a better place But, maybe not!
ART’S HITCH
Two years past, two years zip You’re still a haunting psychic tick Attacking the hearts that once beat rapid fast
Two minutes ago, two seconds gone A dazzling love thrill once upon As memories fade from subconscious will
Two moments to now, two meters to hell Waiting breathlessly as you ran Screaming “Uncle, uncle” to be let go.
Two inches to him, two feet to hold Taking your place in a muddled fold Excitement abounds when you were around
Two fingers to judge, too many have said Put you to bed, move on to others who won't falter or go Except for you, our broken fate will never show
DONKEY FALLS ALONG ELEPHANT’S WAY
We met by chance in '82 Crunching autumn leaves West Virginia’s colored hues He had his goals While shouting the praises of Alan Cranston!
Lost touch for years He got involved Memories never faded Romantic notions of first love Surrounded by an Allegheny Forest Almost died in time’s firestorm
Reading old letters His futuristic gubernatorial path Never coming to full fruition The path strewn with expectations A shaky past of a Nomad named Brad!
Unbelievable circumstances Befell his pool of downward coasting Watery-eyed dreams of political aspirations Rising up the Legislative ladder State rep, Connecticut mayors, bouts for the Governor's Mansion Elephant's destiny knocked his Donkey away While senators met, recessed Ingested amongst his constituents
Arizona bound to become a chef Passion for sauces, a blur of brisket Rise in weight, loss of hair Wouldn't have cared Because my love for Brad Would have bared
The grandest cooks make the best politicking reps Knowing the right ingredients, the correct mix It's one for all, and all for the Bipartisan fix His golf game hadn't suffered much Even when joining ranks of the new young Aficionados
Brad arrived back home The un-conquering hero Looking for an outlet Wanting to get involved in people's causes
The political arena, that's where he fell That was his place, his platform, his Nirvana bell Anywhere away from the painful aloneness Tittering on the edge of Alcohol's awful retch!
On a whim, the Internet allowed him to be found and contacted Almost 20 years after us By then he was already West Cooking up a storm Drinking like Phish (his favorite musical group)
The putt was his game, he knew everyone's name Had a certain something going strong, something gained Except a whiskey sour tingeing his good soul Those kind eyes gelled over with despair As the liquor addled his flare
So he headed home To his destiny calling A new position for the rabble Gave it his all, settled in for the countdown to disaster
We spoke one day when I reached a shallow depression Of losing yet another true love Telling him, my first, that the second perished in an auto wreck Although not truth, dear Brad believed That the one so much like him had died
His words of condolences Set my own heart aflutter But 3 days after, reality hit cruel and bitter Wrenching his life-force through a car window On the wrong ramp of a freeway He was killed instantly In a flash of mashed glass
Letters stopped, phone calls ended, his vibe faded to black Until months later his Internet obit Floated into up from the sea
His name, the cause, his cause, those he loved, all listed in a row Finally coming into his own If not for too much spirits swallowed out of habit He is missed, as I sit like a loose tooth Out of place yet feeling in sync, but without Brad
LOCKED UNIVERSE, THE POEM
A starter's pistol was my live universe An affair from a man that held me for ransom. We proceeded, Mr. Live Universe and I Running the streets in fear of being caught in cinches Immortalized cheaters crawling on all fours, doggie style
Taking chances, running the baseball diamond ragged Controlled by a Mama's boy philosophy shored up an ever downward spiral As our times floated by between the thin sheets and paper walls We moaned in unison to the ears of the ones that brought him into this world
Live universe created and patented by him, spinning infinitely into the finite reality So sweet and safe he is, as I dock into the locked universe Where there is no return, no key, no love, only mistrust & sadness Violent separation like giving birth, his live universe is now locked & cursed
ONCE WE ARE
We find ourselves at the end of what was first culminated Still like young lovers casting out our fears Growing times together feeling strong, more linked than ever Little things you do so reminiscent of love in late bloomer A kind message, a fruit basket, a card spewing I love you just because Sitting side by side enjoying the company of being Wondering, marveling, exclaiming how we met Very lucky, total chance, but meant to be on the Internet Blessedly, we turned out to be good for one another There was a future, a lifetime of caring, loving, doing Knowing each has been wrought through the ringer Nothing gets on our nerves, little idiosyncrasies just trivial pursuit Traveled to New York, had a ball, you showing so much interest in my past When we speak, it’s a nice chat pattern, no stress tuned in Time has flown by in two years Memories of old faded into fog New moments with you take away ugly spaces and places of my past Making love no longer a stretch or high maintenance Emails flying back and forth like butterflies, rich with passion and interest We converse making sure to be listening in There is change on the horizon between us, but faithful though Noticing how we are now, remembering the then of living in hell Could short temper whiny, bothersome moods replace tolerance? Conditioned responses changing from once soft fluttery kisses on the whim of love A hint of negative feelings may come through loud, clear and above Is it really much easier being mean and ornery rather than sensitive and sweet? One who’s been thrown backwards knows the score Chipping off the golden ice to reveal what we could become Anxiety laced from a non-reaction to stimulus of a lifetime Heads bowed in a laptop not wanting to communicate Becoming all too familiarly remote, the twin bed theory From whence we came, all full of rose pedals and love May be one day treading on hard water, industrialized Face facts we’ll both change for the good, the better and the worst More times than not locking the bedroom door But feelings can’t be mistaken so late in this old game Will you grow tired of my antics, like I am hormonally deranged? Where in the before time, you usually let things roll But now, often times than not, you blow off steam seeming irate There’s a secret part to you, a closed off portion Your kiss distant, your touch not as reassuring, body language blaring annoyance A bean counting hermit replacing a once spirited ardor I didn’t mean to drive you away if that happens!
IT’S A COMIN’, IT’S A COMIN
Noticing my bosses charm is waning and tarnished Finally be overwrought with my loud uncouth way of booming around the office Growing ever tired of spastic actions of a woman with a fine high energy Most times on the norm, they seem happy, fulfilled, satisfied With my underrated work level force My boost declines, carrying more unrest in the ranks of the late great tele-ladder As we move up, they are more uptight, more business minded, like sharks Watch out, you may be devoured, let go or fired Easily sent home for being too freewheeling Others getting peeved, she’s too happy, too up, something’s wrong The upper echelon wants to know what she’s on Having too much fun - Relax, shut up, be quiet or you are gone An empty desk, a sullen walk down the green mile escorted Leave the card key under the now “unwelcome” mat Another love affair with the wanted ads, another place, another chance They won’t know you at first … until the full circle curves around The pavement you will pound Remembering other jobs when you were the best queen around When all is done and said, employment put to bed, rest in peace Wondering if it’s a self destructive mechanism in place This makes me vulnerable to the executive switch Deconstruction at its most highest level A well-liked, underplaced employable girl lies flat on her face Supervisor’s pitch is so off keel, taking the wind out of my ‘sales’ Wondering when and if the axe will fall Getting caught and enthralled, put on the spot, the seat is hot!
Karma’s Rue will Rule!
Subconscious word of mouth Running like diarrhea, diseased in all areas of life World is shaky, friends are nil, enemies hiding behind bright smiling faces Looks that could kill Family so non existent, wanting no part, no fill So that is why I am breathing, sitting idly by, my gray hairs seeping Reflecting the reasons as to why I am vibed! Simple tongues wagging, “over and out!” Continuing to a final pit stop Before you turn around, the whole world hears you Rabid folks ready to plunge their teeth into your soul A once free spirit, now too much said, a big mouth Others assuming you’ll spill the beans of secrets, which you will No longer a muse to soothe Those who knew you, now weary of your “flapper trapper!” The Karma of your oral voca isn’t always in good shape or taste More like a dentist popping cotton between your cheeks!
MY BUMBLE BEE A.D.D.
Always hyper, full of life’s imaginations Speaking a mile a second Never quite growing up, always flying around in my mind Like Peter Pan – In flight, all different directions Sometimes brain isn’t pacing, a rollercoaster ride racing Never reaching an age of reason Still retaining that crazy, batty affliction Can’t stop, always talk, talk, talk Meds almost doing the trick Pulling that psychiatrist’s stick A thought, a process, an idea With clarity, but buzzing like a bee. That’s what they say of me! Speeding out of control, a million miles a minute Running of the mouth piece, chemical imbalance Thoughts not exactly jumbled, seeming clear and concise But to others my outbursts bring in thoughts of medical mind crisis! No leash to bring me to bay No lease on jumbled jargon’s way Gene pool takes a dive Chromosomes bearing the spot Endorphins bursting In air While the ‘tat, tat, tat’ of the nervous processing is speeded up and boarded out Like a funny car souped up and racing about. My bumble bee A.D.D. in full swing
ENABLING FULL FORCE
Open arms, all right in Wish to be where I should really be Not stuffed in a cubicle Taking calls, a 20 year old telling me what to do Not of my own – Just a rabid spot between the crack of everyone’s ass! Want to say fuck you! Take it and shove Can’t, stuck, sad The best shunning my talent Forthright and grandiose No delusions … just enabled in full force
HERE YOU ARE NO MORE!
Alienation has landed, blowing away your sunshine Can’t start anew, where no one knows you Clean slate, another fate? Roll out the red carpet, open the gate Once easy to escalate and stick around The same scenario happening Like a skipping record, no escape You as golden goose losing luster with others Dared to cross the line Looking for old friends, colleagues accepting of apologies Venting machine broken down No one wants you around Pounded down of your own volition Their finally fed up Your gossip turning kind eyes to daggers A jagged edge sword slicing popularity Dead woman walking, not a happy camper Here you are no more, it’s become a familiar shore Heads turning away, putting you at bay Nothing else to say Once happy smiles lit your path Now downward glances bar the way because of what was said Don’t cry, don’t pout, be resilient and just ‘bear’ the ‘grunt’ for now Nothing remains the same ever! Think good deeds, good times and the many months you shined
OUR LIVE LOCKED UNIVERSE
Chance meeting or act of God? Tittering on the edge of wondering why we were The supermarket where we met, a flash point Like Normandie and Florence Our blooms became Reginald Denny against rioting mobs Volatile memories surface then fade away Heartfelt desires always seem to stay Sneaking around zero ground A stone's throw from another mushroom cloud Detonated by an angry bee smoldering in rubble His stinger a beacon to the men in blue Who answered the call and broke us up Gleaming handcuffs blocked the way To opening a Locked Live Universe with you to remain! Did the cosmos say "Make it so"? Or possibly Lady Luck passing the romance buck From whence we met Thoughts of togetherness weaved life in two lonely hearts We had a clue but chose to ignore, but who knew? Until the Devil himself waved his pitchfork Our fall from grace for lost quadrant's sake Vainly weeping, wondering what would have become What we would be borne from A budding sweet love released from bondage under another man's thumb
TELE ME THIS!
Ring, ring, ring Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up Want a loan? Investments on the phone Rules, laws and edicts Against the soliciting marketer Tele Me This: Hello, hello, hello Stop calling No, no, no Hang up, hang up, hang up Predictive dialers gone wild We need the lead Just grin and bare it Smiling and dialing all over the nation As they pass legislation Smearing reputations as retaliation Continuous clicking of open line titillations Remain resilient in the face of busy signals, A.M. hours The stigma of high rejection, low pay Overworked with a large turnover force But with luck, we'll come through And someone will believe the scripted malarkey Pulling down on that one armed bandit Ante up, ante up, ante up
FLASHY TIMES FLY BY
Good times, bad times come and go Past days move in an even flow Even though moments pass gas We react, cry, pondering why A Vietnam Vet's post traumatic stress What was, creeps in Situations arise, burning ambers never die In the deepest recesses of the mind That is where you'll find 'Them', where they reside. Those flashy, musty, messy old things that shape our lives Coming back to haunt, flaunt and fawn Flashing over and over, sometimes on a dime Procured by an odor, a word or rhyme Processing long ago deeds into static of the brain Yielding flashbacks in color Simmering, shimmering back and forth like R.E.M.
A CAN OF WORMS FOR MOMMY!
Just trying to draw my family back in Mater’s rule is iron clad Siblings afraid of her scold Scared of the power she wields and holds They cower and indulge her fancy, not wanting me with them They’ve shunned my crazed openness Umbilical cord detached long before my birth An empty void where sisters and brothers should be, only trouble lurks They perceive me as wicked and unclean Not fit amongst their polite Martini Society They live, they breathe, they laugh, they party But only under Mom’s rule of thumb Until the drama queen, known as me, her oldest daughter pushes the insanity button Forgetting the dysfunction engrained in their brains over you They fear retaliation from the ‘Big Kahuna’ Mom’s rage and resentment bars me from worming my way back to the fold Time passes with no communication, no episodes Frivolously, the wheels start to turn, crunching raw bones once more Enabling my grandfather’s favorite daughter to trample upon my twisted goal This is only to irk the one who brought me into this world ‘Ema’ waits with a clever to hack me off their limbs Even surfing the Net is like a poison pen Written by Me to ‘Mother’ Who goes so far as to keep me away and in my place, far from my kin To her deathbed she shall curse me in her last dying breath No room for niceties, make room for ‘Mommy’s can of worms’ No time to settle, she’s too set in her ways of despise to take heed and forgive
Leslie Siegel at ksiegel61@yahoo.com wrote this original poem about Brad Boyers from West Hartford who died in a tragic car accident. Brad Boyers is gone, but Leslie Siegel still misses him. Here is the poem about him.
BRAD BOYERS, DONKEY FALLS ALONG ELEPHANT'S WAY, LESLIE SIEGEL ORIGINAL POEM Brad Boyers, original poem by Leslie Siegel, ksiegel61@yahoo.com, Leslie Siegel misses Brad Boyers who used to live and work in West Hartford, CT. Leslie Siegel think Brad Boyers was a very deep and spiritual person, but lost his way somehow. He is truly missed!
DONKEY FALLS ALONG ELEPHANT’S WAY
We met by chance in '82 Crunching autumn leaves West Virginia’s colored hues Brad Boyers had his goals While shouting the praises of Alan Cranston!
Lost touch for years He got involved Memories never faded Romantic notions of first love Surrounded by an Allegheny Forest Almost died in time’s firestorm
Reading his old letters A futuristic gubernatorial path according to Brad Boyers Never coming to full fruition The path strewn with expectations A shaky past of a Nomad named Brad Boyers!
Unbelievable circumstances Befell his pool of downward coasting Watery-eyed dreams of political aspirations Rising up the Legislative ladder State rep, Connecticut mayors, bouts for the Governor's Mansion Elephant's destiny knocked his Donkey away While senators met, recessed Ingested amongst his constituents
Arizona bound to become a chef Passion for sauces, a blur of brisket Rise in weight, loss of hair Wouldn't have cared Because Leslie Siegel's love for Brad Boyers Would have bared
The grandest cooks make the greatest politicking reps Knowing the right ingredients, the correct mix It's one for all, and all for the Bipartisan fix His golf game hadn't suffered much Even when joining ranks of the new young Aficionados
Brad Boyers arrived back home The un-conquering hero Looking for an outlet Wanting to get involved in people's causes
The political arena, that's where he fell That was his place, his platform, his Nirvana bell Anywhere away from the painful aloneness Tittering on the edge, an awful retch!
On a whim, the Internet allowed him to be found and contacted Almost 20 years after us By then he was already West Cooking up a storm Drinking in 'Phish' (his favorite musical group)
The putt was his game, he knew everyone's name Had a certain something going strong, something gained Those kind eyes gelled over with despair What addled his flare?
So he headed home To his destiny calling A new position for the rabble Gave it his all, settled in for the countdown to disaster
We spoke one day when I reached a shallow depression Of losing yet another true love Telling him, my first, that the second perished in an auto wreck Although not truth, dear Brad Boyers believed That the one so much like him had died
His words of condolences Set my own heart aflutter But 3 days after, reality hit cruel and bitter Wrenching his life-force through a car window On the wrong ramp of a freeway He was killed instantly In a flash of mashed glass
Letters stopped, phone calls ended, his vibe faded to black Until months later his Internet obit Floated into up from the sea
His name, the cause, his cause, those he loved, all listed in a row Finally coming into his own If not for too much spirits swallowed out of habit He is missed, as I sit like a loose tooth Out of place yet feeling in sync, but without Brad Boyers
Leslie Siegel, original novel LOCKED UNIVERSE excerpts. Adventure of lost love, trumped up charges that made no sense and other details...
FORWARD 10 YEARS LIVING AN ALMOST UNLOCKED LIVE UNIVERSE
It began like an article straight out of a cheap dime novel, right around mid- August, around the time of my 40th birthday. I went to the grocery store in my neighborhood, having no real thought or desire of meeting anyone new there, even though my 10-year relationship with TJ seemed to be crumbling day by day. I drove over to the grocer from my job at a telemarketing firm nearby to the neighborhood market I’d been frequenting for years since I’d moved in with TJ. He had lived with his mother there for 6 years, and before that his sister lived there with her husband. A lot of people were on their lunch breaks and were milling around as I made my way to the check out counter. That’s where I met Him. I had no idea that my life would drastically change, hurling me into a Live, but Locked Universe with almost no escape. Albert was wearing thick sunglasses and allowed me to go in front of him. He was medium height with short dark brown hair, a dimple to die for, a bit overweight, actually resembling a pudgy John Cusack in some ways, believe it or not. His mind waves shot out at me, which was what caught my attention right away. I felt totally open to our future eclectic beauty right away. That coupled with his quiet, reserved demeanor wasn’t to be ignored, and was appealing to me, giving him an air of mystery. I noticed his most striking features after he’d removed his signature thick sunglasses, revealing the most beautiful hazel eyes. It was as if he stepped off the boat from heaven. How could I have known then that this male stranger I met casually in the market would entwine himself into my life, turning it upside down? New relationships like ours can be deceiving, looking tame and tactful on the outside, especially with the smell of infidelity welcoming us in for the very first time. But there was no denying that there was an immediate attraction, a pull toward one another. We talked while taking care of our purchases at the market, only for a moment or two, but enough to spark interest before I had to get back to my job a few blocks away. As hoped, he stopped me outside in the parking lot. We chatted and realized that there was something akin to electricity between us, something I hadn’t felt in 10 years and seemed to be dead to TJ and I. As we made our way to our cars, which ironically were parked next to each other, he handed me his phone number on a receipt. I promised to call, not really wanting to leave him to go back to the relationship that had become my growing hell. I had the strongest urge to hug him, but refrained. That night when I closed my eyes all I could see was his beautiful hazels staring back at me like a stark plastic photo negative. No coaxing on TJ’s part would rouse me from my side of the bed, nor would he be able to pry me away for the next 5 months! There was so much to what Albert and I experienced after our fateful meeting at the grocery store a week after my birthday. Things between us began to light the skies above even more quickly than when I’d met TJ ten years prior on my birthday when I was with Herb, who was long dead by now. Eventually I had introduced them, both taking a liking to each other, Herb even remarking that TJ resembled his long lost son, who ironically we found out committed suicide by jumping in front of a train after a big court battle began when Herb had actually left TJ $100,000 and a 40 foot boat! In that time, the relationship between TJ and I became sexually one sided. I’d been conditioned to ‘turn-off’ to any intimacy he tried igniting, except when I was pressured, which was usually the case. It had become a “let’s get this over already” with me. And the day Herb passed away a few years earlier after I met TJ, Aimee had called and asked for TJ. In fact, they had become very close in those few years. Herb had left TJ $100,000 in his will, but by the time I’d met Albert, the monies were spent and long gone. TJ had become a tyrant, sometimes a brute, especially sexually. He was rough and tumble, more prone to watching porn and constantly asking me to talk dirty to him, really down and dirty, which I found repulsive after 10 years of adhering to it, like a dutiful wife! So when I’d met Albert, he immediately felt wonderful to touch, kiss or just talk to and relate with on many levels because of his mellower personality. He seemed a lonely man living the solitary life of a self-philosopher and I was empty inside from my own rough relationship. I needed and sorely missed an essential ingredient to sex and love … fluff! I needed the pomp and fluff of it all! I had to have romance and warmth, which were things TJ didn’t have high marks for, especially as we progressed into our ten year relationship. For the first time I was with someone like Albert, it was less demanding for me as we took each other to another world and back again in so many ways. Such intense feelings grew and coursed through both of us. I might have gravitated in this direction when TJ’s fun, joking attitude gave way to the controlling, insensitive man he became as we marched forward toward our tenure. In all our ten years together, I had never cheated on him, nor had thoughts of fooling around with the neighbors! I never put myself in the position, and if the situation arose, which it occasionally did in ten years, I would snuff it out before it could begin. But after meeting Albert, in a short period of 5 months, he and I grew quite close in all ways, even closer than I felt to TJ in 10 years! It made me truly see what TJ and I had become. I saw a new beautiful light surrounding Albert and I. It was there, because we always acknowledged it, as did others in our vicinity. Whether it was to a restaurant, a park or a concert, everyone noticed us. When we went to eateries, waitresses paid extra attention to the couple sitting in a booth holding hands and staring intently at each other. I’d never shown or received such a public display of affection and felt open and good doing it. At the time it felt totally genuine and very refreshing from what I was used to. What I shared with TJ became so very rough around the edges leaving literal paper cuts. What I didn’t know then, that I read much later down the road was that Aries’ like Albert seemed to fall for someone who was already involved with someone else! I fit the bill on that one. Although Albert was 35, he lived with his parents for some strange reason, in a beautiful Colonial American home with a pool and rambling rooms up the hill from where I resided with TJ. I should have seen the signs then, but was just too languidly dazed over the new feelings flowing through me from the moment Albert and I met. Albert’s house was only 3 blocks from my own, so it became an easy, comfortable jaunt for me to be with him when we began seeing each other regularly. Usually I rode my one speed bike up. Other times I’d use TJ’s car. Still other instances I’d just walk up there, or be so brazen that I’d tell Albert to pick me up on the corner. I’d even bundled up the nerve to wait for TJ to fall asleep around midnight. By this time he’d become used to my pattern of transferring myself into the living room and sleeping on the lumpy old couch. I’d feign sleep for awhile. Then I’d get up, call Albert and walk up to see him. I’d even made fake bedding, feeling like Herman Munster in a long ago Munsters t.v. series plot when he was sneaking away and leaving a pail and mop head rolled in blankets to conceal his hasty departure. His wife Lily suddenly one evening awoke and thought he was having an affair and rushed to follow him. I heard the canned audience laughter in my head as I made my way up to Albert and the security of his cozy little bedroom in his parent’s house. There was no doubt about it, I loved being with him even when we were simply hanging out in his room doing nothing, just enjoying each other’s company. His room and several other rendezvous points around town became our haunts. I had been very unhappy with TJ for many years, but couldn’t seem to break away from him. Whether it be a powerful hold he had on me, or just that I was afraid of his angry repercussions, I couldn’t detach myself. In the end, neither could I break it off with Albert, a man who delivered me from my rising sexual misery and high tension that had grown between TJ and I. I could see it in one of the first letters Albert had written me. It flowed from him like a new mink coat and truly touched me.
I fell asleep and woke up at 10:00PM. Sorry I didn't come over. I can see why you reacted the way you did. My honesty can easily be misunderstood as saying more then I mean. Please read this and help me decide if I am just using reason to cover myself. For me, (being celibate for 10 years and having only two serious relationships before), I see sexuality as the lower end on the spectrum of spirituality. People meld spiritually and even sexually without knowing it (in the conscious mind). The degree of connection and the spectrum it is in seems to characterize a relationship. I believe in a hippie universe, combined with a Puritan spiritual approach to ethics (just as one needs both right and left brain perspectives to balance life). I connected with you (from the beginning at Ralphs) at the peak of my spiritual spectrum (my God self -where in reflection God speaks to me). My life shines from there! This is my Puritan center. All that gets into that light becomes as born into that world. This is my hippie domain of ethics. Some love is universal, some love is absolute. Love that flows from the God center is absolute (like the infinite world). Love that flows from lower spectrums is universal and relative (like the finite world). Some see all or none (as in the finite world). But more accurately, there is all and some (as in the infinite world). As above so below, drop the intensity of our relationship at its spectrum, into the lower spheres and you get wicked magic. As the man learns to control the lower (faster spinning - farther out from the center) spectrum, so too can he maintain the higher more centered perspective. The world (being finite) is full of temptations (to be drawn out from the center -infinite). The relationship is so new I have no thoughts about it really. Just maybe I have a hold-out of maleness in me that wants to unite with anything that shines of life. Yes I admit it, I want to have spectacular orgies and spin and love with communities of life. But that is the hippie in me. The Puritan in me wants a nurturing home with new life. I see you (potentially) as cradling with me that absolute love which flows from our centers and creates new life. I have never led a swinging life style. Who knows, I might hate it (It’s just that I feel so strongly for life and connection). I admit I spend most my days fantasizing about sex and masturbating, but that is probably only because I have been denied connection for so long. And your idea about chasing the dragon, if I understand it correct, seems potentially correct. Let's talk it over. Have you ever had an interesting sexual experience? Am I wrong in my beliefs? Lets see every day as a learning process, not just of the world, but of our infinite natures. I love you. Just read your e-mail -I feel Soooo Goooood !!!! Come over if you feel safe walking the streets. Or call and I will get you ---Yes call -I want you so bad! Wait, that is very dangerous with TJ, so lets not. Love Albert.
Both our laughs were full and jolly, and we were constantly cracking each other up, smiling brightly and chuckling loudly. It was obvious we were falling for each other more and more as we progressed from the market. I did not tell Albert that I was with TJ, and had been living with him for 10 years right off the bat. I told him gently, after he’d asked me candidly, I didn’t leave out any gory details about TJ and I. When out of the blue Albert had casually asked me (as if he already had the sixth sense to know) about TJ and I, it would be two weeks after we’d met that I’d filled him in on everything. Albert seemed like a fragile individual where you had to let him in slowly or scare a man like that away like sneezing before he the butterfly is about to land on your shoulder. When I’d first met Albert, I told him that I lived with TJ’s sister Loren, and that TJ was always coming around, but finally, after two weeks, I came clean to Albert. In all that time, I’d never met anyone, nor done anything close to what was coming for Albert and I! At times I felt he was a delicate leaf floating down My raging river. We would lose control and I had never cheated on my boyfriend TJ in the past, so why now with Albert? The other relationship with TJ steadied at 10 years on the meter and wasn’t going great. It left me with a stunted sexual drive where at first there was so much promise. TJ slowly became a bit manic in other ways, and on many occasions lost a very important part of any relationship … being sentimental about intimacy. I soon realized he was like that due to his own upbringing riddled with abuse in all its ugly forms. I would find out soon after moving in with him ten years ago that the man harbored a temper and could be provoked easily. He’d done a stint in the Army, ranking all the way up to Sergeant, which made TJ into a very ‘tough love’ sort of guy, as I was to find out later. It was the first time in the history of my relationship with TJ that I began a pattern of sneaking up to Albert’s house, hanging with him partying and just being together with someone else. It was like a mini-vacation time for me, even if it was deceiving to TJ. My relationship with The Boy Up The Hill blossomed; more like mushroomed into more and more each time we got together, and I wouldn’t put it passed the fact that Albert and I were running around like virtual spies, which added extra intrigue and excitement to what we were doing, especially in his eyes. Mama’s Boys were prone to leaning over to the wicked, forbidden side, but I felt comfortable around him, enjoyed keeping company with him, even for the first time in literally years loving the intimacy a man and woman shared. For a long time I’d not enjoyed it much with TJ, and was so unhappy lately. It always seemed like I wanted to get away from him and the ‘act’. More often than not I found myself trying to detach myself physically from TJ. Our relationship had grown quite stale, cold and a bit one-sided. I had met Albert at the local grocery store on a whim and hadn’t expected the potential it had for pure infidelity coupled with storybook romance, as his letter to me reflected. I should have picked up on his mortal fear, but just couldn’t see it, or ignored it.
I feel magical around you, but I need my morals as well. I could have lost it (my mind) when TJ asked how long I knew your friend Jeanette. We need to be strictly friends. I think we could still have the exact same kind of fun together (including TJ whenever). I will probably struggle, and fear, and contemplate, in silence frequently, over my feelings for you. But I need to know that I am not doing anything wrong. I love you quite a bit. And our relationship will radiate light. People will know our truth. Friends are allowed to love each other, but where is the line? Do you know what I hope for? That TJ is your brother, and you are just using him as a shield from men. Then when things are right between us, we could become lovers, without hurting TJ. But until I can openly love you, I will not. I played guitar last night till dawn with my friend Benny. I wish the four of us could jam some time. I am still thinking about you all the time. I miss you and hope we can get together somehow, soon. Sorry I didn't call, I was hung over, and needed to think things out between us. I hope we can be friends for life. Love Albert
At the time, from the moment we met, I felt so good being with this man, and couldn’t stay away. We were always holding hands, sharing so much closeness, filling in the loneliness for each other. So for the time being we were together and made every moment count! Sometimes we would just kiss for hours, nothing else. The times we danced together cheek to cheek in his room reminded me of the old World War II scenario of the soldier and his sweetheart at a social dance. We’d hold each other tightly and were just having such a ball getting into each other that both of us got carelessly stupid, easily underestimating TJ’s resolve to catch us and put an end to it. Mostly we were hanging out in his room, going to eat and taking hikes, as well as going to the movies and excursions to San Francisco to see The Grateful Dead, not activities I was doing with TJ, where days of renting movies at Blockbuster strung together like the links of a ball and chain. Albert was nuts about The Grateful Dead even though the lead singer Jerry Garcia had passed on years before and the remaining band was now called The Other Ones. We actually managed to sneak off to San Francisco twice under the premise that I was heading to my cousin’s cabin in Ojai. She didn’t really have one, but it sounded reasonable at the time seeing as she was a doctor and they did those things. Those two trips were fantastic and we spent the whole time kissing and making out in a corner like high schoolers all through the concert. In fact, I felt like I had gained back my high school years, even though I was totally unpopular, unhappy, teased and picked on for years by the kids then. He’d even mentioned the concert and his fears about TJ in another one of his flowing, flowery letters to me.
I am glad you wrote me back and want to meet again soon. I hope it is O.K. Tomorrow is good for dinner - I'll meet you at Marie Calendar’s at 6:00? Or should I come by and order in some Numero Uno pizza and TJ can join us? I got two tickets for Shoreline in San Francisco on Sunday, Oct 27. SUNDAY's LINEUP is going to be as follows: Neil Young, James Taylor, Jack Johnson, Ryan Adams, Thom Yorke, Tenacious D, The Other Ones (really the Grateful Dead), Vanessa Carlton, Plus... special guests to be announced. I hope all is well... Does TJ feel better about me?
Those trips made up for everything, including my growing guilt over what I was doing to TJ. But with Albert I felt like we were at a dance 24 hours a day holding each other close and swaying to the music, feeling like the 1940’s couple that meets there, everyone disappearing when they touch and move slowly to the music with the crystal ball spinning above. The make-out passion had started innocently enough. We were sitting in his room looking at something on his computer when we began to slowly kiss and nuzzle each other. That quickly turned more passionate and distinct and before we knew what was happening, the both of us were moving against each other vying for release, which came for both of us like a sudden tidal wave even though we were fully clothed. We held each other long after. He was sweating and breathing very heavy, almost wheezing. He broke free of me just long enough to grab his atomizer for his asthma. He took a long drag from the canister, which had a top on it and sounded off a long mournful horn sound, like an elephant in the jungle! We actually became voyeurs when the truck drivers would whiz by us on both San Francisco excursions. Both of us willingly attracted a lot of attention driving up to Oakland one afternoon while holding each other and making such a spectacle of ourselves that the truckers radioed ahead to the others up the highway, who were all ready to stare at us when we passed their rigs as they honked their approval of our actions. I’ll admit it wasn’t the best thing to be doing, but it was so invigorating and when we laughed it brought us to another world. At the time it felt as if our hearts were always full when we were together. But in the end, because of the way the relationship with Albert was culminated, it was destined to crash and burn eventually, especially sneaking off like we were doing. The free-spirited feelings gave way to more sneaky tactics to be together, and in the end, that may have drove the relationship over the brink. Little did I know then that TJ became very suspicious and began following me when I left our house. One particular day I couldn’t wait to get with Albert, who resided a stone’s throw from our own little place. I rode my bike up steep streets thinking only of Albert and not the consequences of wanting to be with him. TJ followed in his Camry. When I was just reaching the street where Albert’s only friend Benny lived, TJ came driving around the corner and yelled out the window, “You’re busted!” I froze in my tracks and tried playing it off, pretending not to hear or see him at first. Finally I circled his car with my one speed girl’s bike. “I’m going to work. There’s a new bus route up here,” I stated, trying not to stammer or lose my cool. “There’s no bus stop up here, come on, you’re busted!” He didn’t believe me. But he did drive away again for some odd reason. I was vigilant and continued up to Albert’s house, trying to throw off my growing panic at not being able to see him or having to spend the day fending off TJ, who came around the corner again and said the same thing - - - “Busted again! Okay, what’s going on?” He asked, his arm leaning out of the open window. “Are you going over to that guy Albert’s house?” “No! I told you, I’m taking a different route. I don’t like to take the same way every time!” I was so desperate to reach my destination that I didn’t care whether TJ saw me dive into some bushes when he drove away a third time. It was at that opportune moment when TJ turned on Pacific that I high-tailed to Albert’s house. I was out of breath and had to sit down on the bed. “TJ nabbed me, but I got away,” I said, breathing heavy, face sweaty, having a slight urge to try Albert’s asthma buster machine. Albert got a scared look in his beautiful eyes. “What are we going to do? Do you think he followed you here?” “No, he went down Pacific,” I answered as Albert sat on the bed and we put our arms around each other out of habit by now. After kissing passionately for a few minutes I pulled away for a moment. “I’m going to call him!” My voice was filled with resolve. “Oh God, do you think that’s a good idea?” Albert went to his shuttered window and cautiously looked out into the empty driveway, something he was prone to doing and I had gotten used to. I went to the telephone inside the closet by the bathroom and nervously dialed TJ’s number. It was easy to get up the gall to call him from Albert’s and ante up. “Yes, I’m at Albert’s, but I’m leaving shortly for work,” I said into TJ’s answering machine, knowing full well he was still out looking for me. I hoped that he wouldn’t try and come to the house. Again, Albert and I got to spend the day together, but from then on we were both scared and traumatized that TJ’s wrath would eventually reach us. We holed up in his room for the rest of the afternoon and evening making love, partying and having long drawn out conversations about the 4 quadrants of the brain, plus taking time out to sneak away to an obscure restaurant for a bite to eat. Soon it was time for me to ride my bike back down and face the music with TJ. We left his room after surveying the driveway through his window as had been done throughout the day with him. It was a clear night, a bit brisk while walking down the hill slowly. We reluctantly reached my drop-off point by the high school and embraced, holding each other for a long time. Every now and then his hand would brush my curly locks and we’d practically crush each other. Our lips always met in the middle of all this, easily roaming up and down our necks. Goose bumps rose on my cool skin, and a sweet liquid held fast below. Our breathing was rapid and almost frantic. He just felt so good against me, and I wanted to melt into his chest cavity and stay there as we moved against each other creating an incredible friction and wanting for each other! In all my years, I’d never experienced anything like what I did with Albert, except maybe my college flame Brad Boyers, but that was 20 years ago. I would never forget the feelings I felt when we were together. It was powerful and intense, especially when we were kissing and close physically. There was also a mental stimulation as if we made love in our minds just as fiercely as in our reality. A special bond formed between Albert and I, especially when we got more into the intimacy that comes with a relationship of our type, no matter where or how we met. Holding hands, kissing, cuddling even making love multiple times a day was the norm for us, things TJ had never given much thought to in the last few years. It was pure heaven and opened me up like a baby rose after a 10-year Nuclear winter. Albert’s letter to me summed things up nicely.
I have read your letters several times... It makes me feel like I am talking to you (all warm and fuzzy inside). I have been bored and sleepy most of the day. I wish you could walk over and sleep here tonight. I have all the pay channels on cable TV. We could turn on the surround sound and eat popcorn. I bought a picture of Janis Joplin today. The picture looks like it was taken 200 years ago. Janis looks just like you in it. You can have it for your collages. I need to get the USB cord from my Mom to transfer the pictures from the camera. I should have them on a CD by tomorrow. Love Albert
Many times when TJ wanted to get intimate with me throughout the 5 months, and actually before, I would pretend sickness or tiredness, and he asked outright on many occasions if I was fooling around or had met someone else. Toward the end of the 5 months he even asked outright if Albert was the culprit, which I always downplayed, usually hinting that my best friend Jeanette’s Lesbian neighbors were influencing me, seeing as I was spending so much time over there, when in reality I was using that as an excuse. It got so real that I began to actually see these two old non-existent Lesbians that lived next door to Jeanette in Tujunga Canyon where she had a house up a long winding driveway. TJ was only half buying the explanation, and had a feeling I was with someone else. Now it was happening and I was stuck in the denial muck with no way out. That was a mistake, as I would soon find out. But it would be almost to the date Albert and I met that everything caught up with us finally. Our time was growing short and we didn’t realize that our last few precious hours together were approaching like the sound of far off cannons. That particular day, like many others, we couldn’t wait to be in each other’s arms. I could feel it when I knocked on his door, setting yet another pattern of our hearts and bodies coming together in fiery passion. He was in his room as usual. If you could read the fly on the wall’s brain, it was obvious we seemed like a happy, normal duo, and it showed all over our rosy faces as we lounged on his bed talking. When I was with Albert, thoughts of my other relationship with TJ fell to the wayside. TJ could be crude in the ways of foreplay, as compared to Albert’s gentle, almost soothing, passive nature. It was easy to melt like butter into Albert’s arms than stiffen like alcohol-dunked wood in TJ’s. It made me dread intimacy with him, and all its fixings spread out like a dried-up turkey dinner. But my views would change with the sudden and fiery appearance of the 35-year-old man who still lived with his parents, saying he’d not had a serious girlfriend in 10 years! I believed him, and cherished the fact. That’s probably what attracted me to him in the first place. Time and time again we’d come together and got closer, more intimate, more relaxed around each other, especially in his room. His space was small, but became quite cozy in our months together. It was once occupied by one of his sisters who had long since married and moved on. Where at first there was no real warmth to the room, toward our latter months together it registered a true love that brewed between us. We were constantly trying to make it better, him moving furniture around like a madman. We’d added little touches that couldn’t have gone unnoticed by him when I reluctantly had to leave, returning to my own house down the hill. Before I walked in, Albert had freshly downloaded some new photos of us. We took tons of pictures everywhere. Many of those shots should have been in a photo magazine. We both looked so happy and free, and many of the photos reflected our true selves and feelings. I felt transformed, empowered and beautiful with him, as we sat together gazing at the photos on his computer that fateful afternoon. We looked wonderful, like a couple of old souls together. We enjoyed holding each other until gentle caresses suddenly turned explosive and we’d end up rolling around on his bed for hours, whispering “I love you” in each others ears, moving together over and over until we were spent and sated, just like a romance novel stuck in a foreplay jag or make-out mode. I’m sure TJ sensed what was happening. My whole demeanor changed when I met Albert. It was apparent by the lightheaded high-schoolish attitude I was exhibiting from wanting a man and being wanted back just as fiercely. My face took on a taunt, beautiful rosy appeal. You could see the twinkle in my eyes and more. Everyone, not just TJ noticed this. People around me, including neighbors, family, friends and strangers in stores also took note. I was constantly stopped on the street and told I looked different, very healthy and up. I felt more energized and confident than I’d ever felt in my life. Albert felt it and saw it too. The question was: How long could things go on like this before the bottom dropped out from under us? I wasn’t answering that question as Albert and I prepared to go into bliss mode after looking at our photos. He put them on the automatic slide version on the computer and darkened the room. We quickly ambled over to the bed and lay down. Albert always paid attention to who was coming and going in the driveway, but for some reason didn’t react when a car door slammed harder than normal outside his window. I knew his parents were in, so didn’t think on it too much and figured it was just his Uncle Curtis, who Albert avoided like the plague whenever the man would drive in. As we kissed and held hands, there was a harsh knock at his door. It was his father. “Can you two please come into the living room right away,” his father asked seriously. “Is there a problem, Dad?” asked Albert. Very rarely would his parents ever disturb us, but this time something was wrong. “Yes, a big problem!” His dad’s usual jovial face was pressed with strain. We both headed for the living room that I’d only been in once before. His mother was sitting on a plush chair crying her eyes out, her usual makeup dripping down along with her tears, totally out of character for her. This time she wasn’t waiting with curious crossed arms to embrace the new girlfriend of her baby boy, the last child of many, and wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. Albert and I sat stiffly in a loveseat, his father sat on another chair. The scene made my stomach churn and my already dry mouth was going even dryer by the millisecond. “A man claiming to be your husband TJ knocked on the door and knew you were here with our son,” his mother said between racking sobs still not looking at me. “He wanted to warn us that you were bad news and were doing bad things against the law, and that Albert was with you, his wife, carrying on for the last 5 months! He wanted to warn us.” She spit it out with dignity, still not meeting my steady gaze. “What have you done?” She asked between wracking sobs, she seemed to almost want to believe what TJ had said. As we sat in the tastefully decorated living room, usually the Forbidden Zone with Albert, it had finally come to this: Sitting together facing his staunch parents as we were forced to watch Our Rome burn, TJ playing the role of Emperor Nero. This was a far cry from my first visit with his parents, which seemed worlds away now! I sat there silently at first, as if I was witnessing our crashing and burning from afar, easily slipping into a memory of a calmer first encounter with his parents. * * * …By chance, I found myself standing at Albert’s door before he’d returned from work one October evening, two months into our relationship. I had never met his parents, so I turned toward the main door and knocked lightly. Albert’s mother answered and invited me in. I had a chance to make my feelings known about being with her son. I could tell she felt uncomfortable, maybe somewhat wary, but cordial, even when Albert came in the door looking nervous, knowing I was there when he specifically stressed that we meet in his room. The man looked as though he was about to have a coronary right there on the spot. He held himself together while staring transfixed for a moment at his mother and I sitting in the living room chatting like old friends. Albert seemed even more quieter than usual, especially for him when he finally joined us. The man looked downright hot under the collar, his rosy cheeks giving him an almost cherub baby look, but the infant was teething and fussy. It was about time I did this, so he had to sit there and grit himself through what seemed to be torture for him, watching his mother and lover interact with each other. I could tell right away that Albert felt totally freaked out that I had made the contact with his mom. We’d known each other since August and he’d not once asked if I’d like to meet his parents. That should have been another indicator of things to come. Again, I was so blind and carelessly happy, not realizing the full scope of Albert’s mental aggravation and emotional strain when it came to his personal life with his parents. But on this particular evening, even with Albert’s panicky-ness, I ended up being invited for dinner. Soon Albert’s father walked in the door. It didn’t take long for me to melt him. The older man seemed very pleased that his son was happy or he appeared to be pleased just to get the skinny on us. “My son didn’t tell me he had something ‘precious’ in his bedroom,” piped up Albert’s father. Both Albert and I blushed deeply. Albert was a virtual recluse and didn’t seem to have any friends except Benny, whom he’d known since early childhood, and who lived down the street. I would see a million pictures of them as little boys in the Scouts. We sat in the kitchen talking and eating. When Albert’s father broke out the red wine I should have known it was to loosen us up a bit. But Albert’s mother was a whole other realm. Albert would always be a Mama’s Boy through and through, and that too would be our downfall in the end. Because the relationship didn’t start in a wholesome manner, it was doomed. I didn’t think she liked me too much anyways. But his father might have, had our relationship was given more time to grow and mature. I could sense it. There had been many times when Albert and I were in his room, his parents obviously having to hear our sexual ruckus. Maybe it bothered his mother, but his dad seemed to take it in stride, even leaving a big paper bag full of condoms for us by the bathroom door. It was comical at the time and we got a huge laugh from it. During dinner I told his parents how much I loved being with their son and how happy we were. They quizzed me the usual questions, which I answered honestly. My mother was an opera singer/concert pianist, father was a lace designer, brother worked as a property officer for a county jail, and sister was a housewife living a good life in Florida where they were all based now. It was a strained, but fun dinner and we ended up talking for hours, even decorating a pumpkin for Halloween. Afterwards, Albert and I hung out in his room dancing slowly in a tight circle to The Grateful Dead. Then afterwards, very late at night we’d do my absolute favorite thing when I slept over, TJ thinking I was at my friend Jean’s house in Tujunga Canyon. -- Albert and I would sneak into the neat kitchen and pour over leftovers and watch TV. I loved those times when I sat wrapped in one of his blankets while he cooked up something for us. His parents always seemed to respect his space and never came downstairs even though our banter must have reached their ears upstairs. Those times procured a beautiful peace in us that was truly rare. * * * Now his parents sat right in on us as our blissful coupling came undone to reveal a true, full-blown tragedy unfolding, which probably would never afford their youngest son another chance to bring a special, but misguided girl in their home again. “First of all, he’s not my husband,” I countered as steady as I could. “He’s lying, I didn’t do the other things he’s claiming either. You have to believe me,” I begged. “Please!” I put my head in my hands and wept openly. “I love being with your son, but you just have to understand my side of the story here,” I pleaded. Albert’s dad said. “TJ told us he took out a warrant for your arrest, and that you had been living with him as his wife still! Is that true?” I denied all of the trumped up charges. Albert didn’t say a word and just sat there pale-faced, sweaty-looking and scared, like he was going to wet his pants at any second. As we sat immobilized, sharp memories of our past 5 months flashed before my eyes, like right before dying in a plane crash. One of his letters to me flashed in my trampled mind as I sat frozen:
Pain is a multi-sourced thing -- one of which is not bad. Pain directs awareness of spirit, and spirit heals. Of all the things in the world (finite things), each causes pain in loss. The good feelings from finite things are fleeting. But to feel the pain is a healing process. It shows you what is eternal in you and what is contingent --- to work from your center when all else is burned off in a clarity of vision that can direct your life to less painful waters. Love Albert
Now our genuine flare was turning to yellow-bellied fearful pain in a matter of minutes, as I continued denying everything to his parents that TJ had told them. “I don’t know how things got so out of hand,” I said, crying in my lap. “And I don’t know why TJ is doing this!” As I looked over at Albert to get some support, there was a steady knock at the door. He got up this time and answered it to find TJ angrily standing there with an amp Albert had lent him to play his electric guitar with. It was one of a lot of little tokens Albert brought down to us out of his vast supply of ‘things’. Unfortunately, it was another bullet for TJ’s smoking gun, and he’d let off another shot, point blank range in our faces. I was dumbfounded, shocked and reeling from this. TJ repeated everything again … “Hey, Albert, thanks for sleeping with my wife for 5 months, here’s your amp!” He also repeated the charges and warned of the impending appearance of the police to arrest me. “I didn’t know!” Croaked the paralyzed Albert, trying to save himself from his parents and hold the heavy musical equipment in his arms. He had an amazed look on his face, the wonderment of being spared a punch in the face and a swift kick in the balls. TJ looked like the sort that would take it that far, but restrained himself. For a split second, when Albert’s hysterical mother looked up, I could sense she wanted to give her son a slap across his smooth, baby face and I wouldn’t put it passed her that she wanted to side slap me upside my head too. “I respected you as a friend, Albert. I let you into my house and this is what you do? I was even giving him guitar lessons,” he said to no parent in particular. “I think you’re partying way too much, but I thought I’d come up here and warn you about the situation here with us! I’m not kidding about the police. They’re coming up to arrest her,” said TJ with a cutting calm resolve in his deep voice. With that last comment, TJ simply left like a mad hornet. I still couldn’t believe TJ had called the police and put in a report on me. It seemed so overblown, like a bad 1920’s radio show. As TJ left again, my blood ran cold as I stared over at the scared little man, my lover Albert sitting next to me. For the first time since we’d met, I felt a stranger beside me and knew this spelled the end of Albert and I. It was devastating to be sitting there in the hot seat and thinking back to the first time we’d set eyes on each other. My mind flashed back to that time, trying to escape the madness growing like fungus on bathroom tile. * * * In the back of my mind I thought about him and let a week swing by, but didn’t call. One day at my job, the receptionist approached my desk and said there was a cute guy waiting to see me out front. I walked outside, my heart beating. It was him, Mr. Grocery Store Boy, standing there wearing his standard dark shades, covering his sensitive eyes. We took a quick walk and chatted until my manager, a black guy who wanted to date me, came outside, shooed him away and made me come back in. I had the heaviest urge to kiss Albert right then and there, but refrained. Later on, of course he told me he had the same thoughts. It was one day after seeing him at my job. I was, ironically, in the bank making deposits when he spotted me walking by. He was waiting on line. Right then and there we hugged tightly and I felt urges I’d not experienced in years. I remember distinctly that everything faded away and went dark as I hugged him in the bank. We walked down the street together to a café and had coffee and chatted for hours, plus made plans to get together again soon. Later, months down the line, he told me that he felt something as well. It also turned out that our cars were again parked next to each other. It was no fluke that we were to meet. * * * I was pulled out of my flashback and thrust back into the black hole that had formed from our void as we sat in the living room feeling like members of the Spanish Inquisition, except Mel Brooks wasn’t going to be popping out of the closet dancing in the aisles. We watched our past flow out like blood from a deep puncture wound. I sat there in the living room feeling like Guinevere when the king caught her with Sir Lancelot. I was deeply weeping, tears flowing down my now cold, clammy cheeks. “All I wanted was to get away from TJ. I’ve been trying for months now!” I pleaded to Albert’s parents. “So, what are you going to do now?” asked Albert’s father. Again, I denied all charges. His father suggested I call an attorney, but I was rooted to the chair and didn’t go for the phone, even though I had contacted a lawyer months ago when the threat of this seemed remote. It was on the insistence of my friend Jean who gave me his name and number. He had said that if TJ did try something like attempting trumped up prosecution, that I should call right away, but I didn’t. His mother continued her tirade. “Do you think he’ll come back?” She cried, not once looking up at me sitting there like petrified wood. Albert’s parents were scared and wanted to know the story between all of us. His mother was crying hysterically and it was turning into a nightmare. I was crying too and denying. My mouth was so dry that white stuff was caking up on the sides of my lips. Rabid guilt at its finest, at least in their eyes. TJ was not the romantic type, nor the nurturer like Albert had become. Little by little, as our time stretched out before us, I was falling head over heels in love with being with Albert, not caring what TJ thought or was doing about it. Both of us were finding out harshly and plainly that we should have paid more attention and not have been so lackadaisical. Obviously, TJ had been planning things to fall in his favor and had timed everything to perfection as he welded his power ball with near precision. As the large grandfather clock ticked loudly, I flashed back to the time Albert actually came over to our house under the pretense of friendship with TJ, seeing as they were both musicians and had a lot in common. Many times Albert would show up to jam party music with us. TJ is an excellent musician and was actually teaching Albert to play. As time went on, it became increasingly difficult to pull the wall over TJ’s eyes. At first it was easy to have Albert there and pretend there was nothing growing between us. But as the months flew by and Albert and I consummated our relationship, it became difficult to hide our feelings for each other when he was at my house. The passion Albert and I shared behind closed doors was ripping at the seams and pouring down the hill into my declining life with TJ. One particular evening Albert and TJ were playing bass and guitar respectively. TJ’s back was turned as Albert and I stared at each other longingly, our eyes locked in dreamy reflection. TJ noticed and commented on it after Albert left for his house up the street. “Hey, what’s with you and that guy?” TJ asked me later in the evening. “Nothing, he’s just a friend, that’s all.” “Well, I think he likes you, and I don’t like any other guy looking at you that way,” stated TJ. “So, what’s going on between you?” He asked again. TJ could be very harsh and blunt. His features would actually change as his anger rose. His deep aqua eyes would turn slate blue and crinkle up, almost like an old Korean woman’s. His face would pale, taking his handsome profile from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde in a matter of seconds. He wasn’t passive, and had way too much sexual drive and tons of testosterone from that Scottish/English background. That mixture was starting to spell disaster for me. I didn’t like living in it, and it became much more apparent how tolerant I had become of it over the years, especially when I met Albert. My eyes were open, but I was pretty much still stuck. By TJ’s second angry, but well placed visit, Albert’s parents became alarmed and it could have spelled a positive turning point for me in getting away from him, but unfortunately, that was not to happen. My tainted Karma would not allow it. “Well, I’m calling the police just in case TJ returns a third time,” said his father. As the man got up to make the call, his wife increased her wailing and carrying on. Albert still hadn’t uttered one word in defense or support. He just sat there like a statue staring straight ahead like the little boy caught doing wrong already retreating into his shell after being caught masturbating by his mother, who sat in the corner crying uncontrollably. It made for a very dramatic scene. As we waited for the cops, I still couldn’t quite fathom that TJ had turned me in like he did. I knew in the back of my mind that my best friend Krista, who was visiting me from Arkansas, must have told him everything, leaving nothing to his imagination, which was running wild right now. He was going on emotional impulse. I had hurt him deeply and he must have been as shell-shocked as I had when he showed up at Albert’s door. As I sat there in all my jittery misery, my mind flew to thoughts that Krista was indeed the catalyst that destroyed Albert and I. She put a 12-year friendship with me aside and went to TJ out of jealousy, telling him where I was, whom I was with and that sealed our fate. Thoughts of Krista and the damage she’d wielded faded from my brain when there was a harsh knock at the door. Two police officers walked in to Albert’s house. The female had her pad ready, the male asking the questions. They began quizzing us more about TJ and what his motives were, making it seem like a routine domestic dispute, which they put in their report. At first I thought I was off the hook and TJ was just trying to scare me about them arresting me. They were about to leave and Albert’s father offered to at first take us all out for dinner to discuss this, and then to secure a safe room for me when another officer walked in. He asked me to come on the porch to be questioned. I went with them. The tall, menacing cop asked the questions as the two others stood ready. He told me they’d spoken to my husband TJ and if what he said was true. The tall officer stood there holding his shirt pocket like he was recording everything. I was in stunned shock. “Do you have what your boyfriend says you have? And don’t lie to me, Lady!” I was scared, but answered with a meek “Yes”. They asked me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. I was getting arrested at my lover’s house right in front of him and his parents. I wished it were a dream, but it wasn’t. There I was getting my rights read and having steel cuffs placed on my wrists, then being dragged away to one of the three waiting police cars parked in and around Albert’s driveway. I was crying foul, but the cops ignored it and placed me in the cruiser. I couldn’t believe it was happening but it was! TJ had brought the cops on me out of pure rage of finding out about Albert and I. Sitting in the back of the black and white crying hysterically, I howled and proclaimed my innocence. In the back of my mind I thought they would help me, but Albert and his parents never came out again. The male cop exited the beautiful home carrying my purse. Right now, I was in the doghouse and didn’t see a light at the end of this love tunnel. At that moment I felt like a photo of ‘Bruce the pitbull dog’ who had gone mad and mauled 3 people before he was unceremoniously hauled away to await extermination. His picture haunted local newspapers when it was found that he was living at an upscale location still running around free! I wanted to wake up from the horrible dream we had become, but no luck. The black and whites still stood parked on Kensington in front of Albert’s house, which had become a haven of love for me. As the sun set a brilliant orange I sat with bruising wrists and a sad heart. I was crying uncontrollably, but to no avail. No one came to my aid; no one tried to speak in my behalf. I began cursing TJ to no end. Just as I felt the funny urge to ‘bark’ to add some silliness to the situation as darkness fell, the cops came to the car and got in. As we drove to the Glendale jail, I asked them what was going on and what the mood was in the house. The male cop turned to me and said, “Lady, if I were you, I’d never go back to the house again. And your boyfriend Albert, or whatever he is to you, has a lot of growing up to do!” His answer to me dashed any hopes I’d held, as my mind flew to our first date. For a while I let my mind wander to save it from a total mental melt down as I sat in the police car trying to get comfortable. All I could see through my tears and agony was that image of me being hauled out of Albert’s life forever in handcuffs. * * * To Live Or Not To Live In The Locked Universe?
Again, my mind had wandered as we drove onward in the police cruiser. When the cop told me his comment about never going back to the house, the officer abruptly turned away from me as we drove down Kensington. I cried and whined that it was all a mistake and all this was TJ’s wrath over me being with another guy. They didn’t listen to me and even were joking with each other about other things, easily blocking out my whimpers and whines. I kept asking lots of questions about my fate. At first they didn’t answer me, but then they seemed to soften just a bit and let me know what was going to happen. It didn’t look good for me at all. I was going to jail on trumped-up charges. TJ had actually gone ahead and gotten me incarcerated. The charges were a separate issue from being with Albert, but they seemed to mesh and become one. It was dark when the cops drove into the jail. I tried to calm down and not make a spectacle of myself. This didn’t look good for me at all. My purse was filled with things that suddenly turned into hard evidence they were going to use to prosecute me. It was a sad day indeed. In one swoop I’d lost everything, including Albert and my freedom. It seemed to take forever to book and search me this time. The cops took their time going through my purse and even joked that it was time to clean it out. It was stuffed full of things. They pulled out all the stops, searching me thoroughly a few times just to make sure and for intimidation sake. They took a mug shot of me smiling brightly into the camera, something no one would do in my situation, but I had. Afterwards they fingerprinted and processed me. That’s when they noticed my hands. I had been born with only two knuckles on each of my fingers and toes, which afforded me a lot of typing talent and added flexibility. My mother had the same thing, and could have been an accomplished concert pianist. A few officers crowded around the prints and shook their heads strangely. “Well, we won’t ever have a problem identifying your prints, Lady,” said Officer Adler, a huge black policeman. Two hours had passed quickly and I was wondering what was going on at Albert’s house, whether they’d bail me out or what. They didn’t. In fact, that night after I left a few messages on Albert’s machine, he turned it off. They put me in a holding cell and I was allowed to make local calls. I called Jeanette first, giving her every number I knew of family and friends. She felt terrible about it. “See, see, I told you this would happen,” she said in her thick New York Jewish accent. “I warned you that TJ would stoop this low to destroy what you and Albert shared. You know I begged Albert to get you a place somewhere, to get you out and away from TJ, and he didn’t listen,” she said on the edge of hysteria. She promised to call those numbers and did reach some folks, including the lawyer she’d gotten me. After two years of not speaking with my younger sister for some stupid email letter writing with her ex husband, I did reach her. She immediately came to my aid and checked into things. I asked her about bailing me out, but my bail was $20,000 and rising by the minute. It would seem that there were several pending counts on me hanging low ceiling. Jean, thank God, had reached my cousin (who was a doctor and lived here in California) and sister, so between them the wheels began turning. In the interim, Officer Adler, the policeman on duty, found a prescription for Ativan, an anti anxiety drug I was taking. He asked me about it, and I said I was on Disability from the State for a panic disorder. “What is this for?” he asked me, holding out the bottle of Ativan. I told him, “If I don’t take it, there could be problems that aren’t very pretty. “ I thought it would get me off, but it only worsened things. “Oh, I didn’t know that. We’re not allowed to give any medication, so hold out your left hand,” he instructed casually, and proceeded to clamp on a County Jail wristband with my name and now familiar booking number. I was going to County Jail because of the medication aspect and my condition. I frantically called my sister again begging her to bail me out before they sent me to County. She looked into it, and it seemed as though I was going after all. “As usual, you had to open your big mouth,” she said. It brought me back to when we were kids and she’d say the same thing after I’d said too much to my father about what we’d done that day. I hadn’t used the bathroom since I was with Krista that afternoon. I begged them to let me out to use one. They brought me into the cell area and I, for the first time, had to use the open toilet out in the open. It was hard to pee, but I managed to do a little, which brought some relief to me. They had locked me in the small dirty cell and I wanted to get out and make more phone calls. The policewoman who dropped me in there didn’t come back for almost 30 minutes. I started crying loudly until another woman in the adjoining cell said to stop that she was trying to sleep. This was the beginning of a jail stint for me. Finally, after my tirade, the female officer casually came back and led to back to the other cell. I made one last call to my sister who had gotten more info on what was going on with me. She was surprised they were sending me to a psych evaluation and that I was basically nuts, or something akin. No bail would be paid, and by that time Officer Adler was growing tired of my crying and carrying on over the phone and in general. I was going to County whether I liked it or not. They shut the phone off and prepared me to be transported. By this time it was passed 10:00 pm. My hopes were dashed. I had called TJ a few times and he screamed into the phone that he knew everything and didn’t care they were sending me downtown up the river. He also called me a few other things that weren’t flattering. The two cops that brought me in were at the door ready to take me to County … The Twin Towers as the facility was called. It almost sounded like a resort, but of course, it wasn’t. They led me out of the holding area and outside in the darkness. I kept asking what was going on and they told me, as if I didn’t know. As we drove on the 110 freeway toward the immense jail facility I kept asking if I’d be safe, to which they said I would be. They told me it would go better if I calmed down. I did somewhat, and began telling them the saga of why I was there, that just because I fell in love with someone else, my boyfriend of 10 years got me arrested. They didn’t respond. We reached County in record time. There wasn’t any traffic to delay my arrival. The building entrance was ominously scary. Everything had a gray color and looked menacing. They drove to the gate and it swung open invitingly. I walked out into the darkness and was sent right to processing. I was led to a chair and told to sit, handcuffs still adorning my very bruised wrists. I was then told to stand by a window where a big fat black officer ordered me to hold out my hand. He scribbled in magic marker some letters I didn’t understand, which immediately reminded me of the tattooed numbers of Jewish prisoners during the Holocaust. The officers that brought me in, prepared to leave, but not before the dark haired woman cop came over to me. She stared at me sitting on the chair as I asked her for the umpteenth time if she thought things would be okay for me. She reflected a moment, probably debating whether to say anything at all, but replied, “You look like a woman who has gone through a lot and in the end I think you’ll be okay. You’re strong and just got off track. Take care, don’t worry, everything will be okay for you, I know it.” With that last comment the officers left. Afterwards everything happened a bit faster. I was led to a room and told to disrobe and put on the two-piece County clothes. I quickly donned the jail clothing and before long I was in the County color of dark blue, even having to put on the ugly white sneaker shoes. I was taken to the next phase, which was much slower. By this time it was way passed 11:00 PM and I was losing hope and very scared. I had never been to County Jail before. My mind whirled with visions of dropping the soap as I was led down a long florescent lit hallway and into a large elevator to a holding cell where there were at least 25 other woman waiting. I was afraid to look at anyone too long once the guards locked me in with them. They all seemed like girls that would slit my throat in an instant, at least at that time. Female deputies were immediately inside barking orders. Some acknowledged women who had already been through the system like old friends at a party. Except this was not a festive occasion. They asked us to straddle the steel bench and look ahead, no talking, of course, which was fine with me. I made sure I was at the end where no one was behind me. We sat a bit longer, a few of the women recognizing each other from other stints in the slammer. I spotted a short girl with scars all over her face. She spoke with a deep criminal voice and I didn’t want her noticing me watching. I overheard her talking to another tall gal about what to say during the medical evaluation. “You say that you’re very sick and taking all sorts of pills, plus you hear voices,” said the menacing looking woman. I took that to heart and realized that it might be easier on me if I did the same to some extent. I took account of my surroundings as the shock wore off a bit. After waiting there for what seemed hours, one deputy led us single file, our right shoulders always close to the wall. I noticed a blue stripe running to the horizon of the endless hallway, and I did my best to stay in line. I began whispering a tune that shored my fate, “My life is over, my life is done… My life’s over, this is it…” I sang it over and over as we walked, hands in pockets, heads down. A short, crass-looking blond woman in front of me turned around and whispered, “No, your life isn’t over!” I still sang it over and over. She seemed to get pissed off and told me to shut up. I did, until we reached a large freight elevator. I could hear other deputies joking, their voices echoing like boys taking a shower after a victory football game. I began crying again, until the same woman turned around and gave me a gaze that shut me up. “Look,” she said at a hissing whisper, “Your life is not over. Just cool out. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” How could I believe her? It all took on this surreal feeling as the elevator went up. I felt a bit claustrophobic, but knew I had to get a grip. My mind flew to my times with Albert, and I tried to put myself back in the security of his room and arms, but to no avail. I was on the verge of panic when TJ’s stone cold face rose in my mind like a full moon during Halloween. We were led out of the elevator and told to walk with hands in pockets, no talking, keeping our right shoulders to the wall the whole time. I noticed repetition was a big part of the jail system, probably instilling order among these chaotic, wayward women housed here. I had long given up the notion that any second someone would pop out and say it was all a gag, maybe a new t.v. show, but that never happened. They deposited us into yet another holding tank with more women of all races, sizes, shapes and ages. Once settled in the ugly room with the open toilet I could not imagine using, girls began chatting loudly. Some paced, most slept on the concrete floor, and others sat together exchanging stories of why they were in. That seemed to be the question of the hour. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself while assessing my surroundings more closely. To the left there were two very overweight tough looking black women sitting together talking. One lay down and didn’t care that her butt crack was showing. I stared mesmerized, taking a long hard look at her ugly, spotted body. The woman’s face was pitted and scarred. I marveled at how they both were so manly looking. In fact, I would notice many mannish looking gals, some even sporting stubble of a beard. They looked like a tough bunch, but there I was immersed in them. Memories of Albert surfaced easily and I wept knowing that whatever we had and were growing with was now dashed into the sewer. I thought of TJ, who was the one that put me in here because of it. I ran the arrest at Albert’s house over and over in my mind, wondering why I admitted wrongdoing. If I hadn’t answered the tall officer, maybe they would have let me go and I'd be in a safe room via Albert’s father, not in a dirty jail. I cursed TJ and myself for letting it get this far. Here I was in jail for being with another man. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel as more women were added to the already overcrowded holding cell. Finally, I started walking the perimeter of the room really looking at people. I seemed to start to accept my fate and didn’t see them as dangerous as first thought. They all looked like they’d done a lot of bad things. “Yes, I did what I did, but don’t think it was warranted that I be thrown in jail,” I whispered to myself. I still hadn’t spoken to anyone directly as feelings of crushing depression over took my soul. In a span of hours I had lost my boyfriend and, my lover all because of my best friend. My thoughts kept flying back to the good times I shared with Albert, TJ and Krista, which was normal. In Albert’s case, I felt like Juliet being wrenched away from Romeo, except I knew I couldn’t kill myself, nor would he. In fact, I got the impression that this incident would plunge Albert back into the reclusive, lonely, solitary man he was when I first met him. He had one friend I knew about with the exception of a few cousins on the outskirts that Albert told me about vaguely. He didn’t have a normal social life and spent most of his free time going to Grateful Dead concerts and hanging in his room building speaker components. His seemingly only friend Benny lived with his parents in a house not more than two blocks from Albert. I imagined TJ gloating and angry and doubted things would ever be the same in any area. Things spelled the end of my reactivated, long time friendship with Krista obviously. I walked to the corner, sat down in lotus position and actually began doing a little Yoga. That’s when I noticed other ladies looking at me strangely, so I exercised and stretched, trying to feel better, like I wasn’t scared of them. “Hey, Blondie,” yelled the big fat black girl. “What’s that you’re doing over there? It’s making me nervous.” Her companion, a boyish looking black gal had fallen asleep with her head smashed between the others butt. She cracked open one eye, not even moving. It looked weird, and brought visions of lesbians attacking me in the night. She couldn’t take her steel dark gray one off of me as I did more Yoga contortions in my corner. Finally she turned her head, readjusted herself and went back to sleep. More time passed. I wandered over to another corner and sat quietly crying and looking sad. Next to me there was a pretty, longhaired comely girl, who looked no more than 18. She turned to me and asked, “Hey, you want to talk about it?” I gladly accepted her offer and began telling her what happened. She listened attentively and couldn’t believe TJ had the nerve to go so far, but he had, and there I was in County Jail ready to be put in a cell. She told me what went down with her, that her boyfriend had put her in jail for attacking him during an argument. She was so sweet looking and pure faced. It was hard to believe she had done anything wrong. It was then I noticed the other women drawing their attentions to us, wanting to hear more about my story again. So, I related the tale again, more women gathering closer at rapt attention, some asking poignant questions about both Albert and TJ. It was then I realized that I could take the situation and make it better for me by playing the role of the storyteller, which I was always very good at. Out of the blue, another idea hit me! I asked the young gal if she’d like me to read her palm. She said okay and I took her delicate hand in mine and began reading her palm. I guessed a lot about her and she was amazed as were a lot of the girls forming a small ring around us. Before long many others wanted their palms read. I suddenly noticed that this also would be a good outlet as well. Even the big fat black girl wanted her palm read. She pushed at her sleeping comrade to wake up and move over, making room for me to sit down. Rather than hesitate, I took a seat beside her, even feeling the slight body warmth of her friend radiating out of the cement block ledge, like a phantom still sleeping. I had read everybody’s palm in less than an hour. I was getting better with each new hand. It was interesting for me to see trends in the lines, especially the Line of Mentality, which represented the written word, things in black and white and legalities of their pending cases. It would seem the trend with women in there was a visible “X” in the middle of the palm above the Line of Mentality. I said it represented their outcome. One girl even wanted me to show her how to sit in lotus position. I sat on the cement floor and began twisting myself up in all directions, even taking my legs and putting them behind my neck, something I’d been doing since I was 3 years old. They were all amazed and started cheering me on madly. It was a good distraction. Others wanted me to read their hands, which I did like an assembly line. There never seemed to be a shortage of palms, as I would find out. Many wanted to hear my story about Albert and TJ again, and I was getting a nice pace going with it, remembering all sorts of small details about what I experienced with Albert, TJ’s demeanor and an assortment of other things I had forgotten due to my shock in being arrested. It doesn’t compare, but could be paralleled to the pain a mother feels giving birth, which is soon forgotten after the baby is born. Strangely, Krista fell into the role of midwife, the Deliverer. Unfortunately, the whole episode would turn my life upside down, and now I was in a real Locked Universe. Talking about the incident and reading their palms coupled with the Yoga helped calm me and put an almost human touch to things. I even started pursuing the girl with the scars on her face so I could read her palm. She declined saying, “That’s okay, Blondie, I know I’m dying…” Others convinced her finally. She sat with me as I read her small, delicate, blotchy, dish-panned digits. I could see the lines of concern and illness, as well as other things that came to me in a flash. I also told her other things I couldn’t possibly know and she was amazed. It was a tool I would use over and over in that place. After I read her palm she directly cued me in on how to get sent to medical evaluation rather than straight to General Population. “You just play everything up,” she said. “Just like you’re doing?” I asked. “Hey, all my conditions are serious,” she answered without hesitation, raising her voice for all to hear, then suddenly coming close to my ear, her voice becoming a throaty whisper. “They’re listening,” she said, pointing to a two way intercom speaker. I took her advice to heart. She had red dyed hair and other than the scars, upon closer inspection, her face was smooth and unblemished. Her beady eyes showed criminal hardship. The woman claimed to have every sickness and condition known to mankind, and was on all sorts of drugs, prescription or otherwise. She was quite vocal about it as she pranced and preened around the cell to anyone who would listen. “I guess the question of the hour here is ‘What did you do?’” “All I did was rob a 7-11,” She said, wanting to hear my story, which I told in greater detail, with most of the crowd leaning in to hear again. “I know, you were with your boyfriend, right?” I asked her, actually feeling the vibe that she was with her boyfriend. My hunch was correct. She was totally amazed, as were those around me. “Well, I sure was with my man,” she screamed like winning a Wheel of Fortune round. She looked around at everyone edging in to hear. “And I never told her that,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “You’ve got the gift, Girl!” There seemed to be no limit to my story and the energy I put in to telling it. As I told it again, I could feel they easily identified with me and put my own fears to rest about my stay at County. Some of the old timers came up and explained things to me. They didn’t candy coat it for me, but said I didn’t have much to fear from inmates as much as the deputies. At that moment, I felt like a character from the movie Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome! “Those deputies can really mess with you,” said one lady with the most beautiful flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes I had ever seen. “Why are you here?” I asked, grabbing her palm on instinct. “I have an anger management problem. I’m raging all the time and on medication,” she said honestly, pulling away from me only to be able to talk with her hands. “I’ve been here many times for my anger. I’ve beaten up countless family members and friends for no reason,” she said matter-of-factly. Rage was written in the lines of her palm when I finally captured her flailing hand in my own and read it. It was way past 2:00 AM in the morning when the deputies came and separated us into smaller groups. I was put in a smaller holding cell with some of the women I’d read palms for. I felt an immediate identification with the others like I’d known them and had met them at some function. We were wearing the same garb, the dark blue County outfits with white boat shoe sneakers and socks. In a funny twist, it united us in our plights. I was put in with the first gal I had spoken to, as well as a few others, including the rage girl, whom I was starting to like. Some new faces heard that I read palms (news traveled fast in that place) and wanted theirs read, which I did. It passed the time. I noticed a nice strawberry blond girl with clown-like lips watching me and laughing at everything I said while launching into a barrage of jokes, becoming a real clown myself. I sat on the floor and rolled up into my lotus ball, which made everyone in there laugh hysterically. They tried to do it with little success. For the first time I was actually feeling better about myself. I’d brought a little joy to others and might have found a new calling. I entertained those ladies for over an hour, until a deputy came and brought us to med evaluation. I knew what to say in there, thanks to Scarface. We were finally led to the next phase. In a large brightly lit room with desks and chairs they told us to take a seat. We waited until our names were called. I noticed that the girls they put me with in the smaller holding cell were still by my side, as if they’d grouped us accordingly. My name was called and as the jail nurse behind the desk cleared her computer I saw Ms. Scarface getting her evaluation. I heard her rattle off all her ailments and drugs. “Yes, I’m taking Valium, Wellbutren, Sulfa drugs, I have Cancer of the stomach, I hear voices all the time, and I’m taking steroids, plus Codeine-5, Morphine…!" I couldn’t believe all the drugs and symptoms she had, most probably trumped up and bogus, like my own situation with TJ. But the nurse jotted it all down like she’d heard it all before. When my evaluator asked me, I went into my rap. “I’m on Disability from the State for anxiety and panic disorders.” I showed her my fingers, which at that moment looked like I had arthritis. “I take medicine for this too,” I said, holding out my fingers, making them shake a little just to drive home the point. “What are you taking for the anxiety?” She asked. “I take Ativan and can’t be in any enclosed areas or I’d have an attack,” I answered. She rattled off the usual questions. “Do you hear voices? Do you have thoughts about killing yourself? Do you have thoughts about killing anyone?” The last one through me for a loop and I almost answered otherwise, but didn’t in my moment of clarity. Krista and TJ came to mind of course. I didn’t want to take it too far, just get assigned to a medical section, thinking it would be better for me. She jotted down all my ‘no’ answers. “Am I okay, and is it safe here?” I asked shakily. She just looked at me, her bored expression giving me no real answer, like she’d heard it all before. After the med evaluation they led us to a group of poorly constructed partitioned offices and said to sit tight, which we did. I finally got into to see an older lady who did more evaluating, asking me a load of new head questions. I asked if I was safe, and she said yes. I started telling her my case background like a love story and why I was really there. She didn’t seem fazed, but I joked a bit through my tears and could just see a hint of a smile crossing her lips. It was then I asked her to say something in her evaluation about Albert and I, which she did. She wrote one sentence and turned her computer screen around so I could read it. “Inmate hopes she gets back together with Albert when this is all over!” Through my tears of loss and gratefulness I asked if she wanted her palm read, but she declined. That ended, and I was led back outside to the holding area where they split us into smaller groups. I found that most of the women I was brought in with were smiling at me wanting to talk more about my story with Albert & TJ and how it related to my case. The deputies seemed adamant about making us shut up and move quickly though. By 4:00 a.m. I couldn’t believe that 12 hours earlier I was sitting in Albert’s room ready to go into bliss-land. I wondered what he was doing now, probably traumatized and hiding his head under the pillow like he used to do when things got too much for him toward the end of our 5 months together. He must have been affected, but at the time I thought our love would and could conquer all. Apparently, it hadn’t though. I imagine his parents were laying into him big time, and the scene popped into my brain, as clearly as I was starting to read palms. I could actually see their lips moving in unison yelling at poor Albert, who was now a casualty, a Romeo bleeding. We were all led back to the elevator and to the 3rd floor. They told us to take a mat, a blanket and a sheet and follow them. They marched us through several sleeping quarters and finally into a large space they called a day room. There were steel tables and chairs and the lights were very bright. We had to sleep on the floor and so I placed my mat in the middle and prepared my bed with no pillow. It was almost 4:30 a.m. when I laid down and looked up at the ceiling tracing all the pipes and ducts running along the wall like counting sheep. I doubt I’d sleep and needed an Ativan, but knew I’d get nothing, which was the least of my problems. Thoughts of Albert filtered into my mind, as I knew they would. It was becoming so painful to not know what happened, yet sense the inevitable as I lay awake, sleeping a few snatches at a time. I thought back to yet another letter Albert had written me and cried quietly:
Thank you for being my friend! It is so rare in my life. I was wishing for years to meet someone like you. I love that you live so close, and transcendently we have so much in common. I wish I could be a bridge for you in your trials and survival. I love that you are an evolving spirit in your own right, and I think I can learn a lot from you. I can image us having enormous fun and mystic experiences that could rival Adam and Eve, but we have a lot of work to do on our paths. I can see you have that higher wisdom which knows the difference between the finite and infinite. So I say to you that I am entrusted to myself to be such a guide to all life save my own temporal limitations. Temporal limitations are tough! For example: Your DNA scares me, and makes me think I would not wish to have children with you and since I wish to have children one day, that precludes as getting married, and since you need a husband to share experiences to survive, I need to cut you free of any expectations of me supporting you. However, I can also imagine that if we truly become soul mates, I could bare the risk someday and marry you. Until then, let’s just be the best of friends, even if in secret. Love Albert
At 5:30 a.m., the day room they put us in took on a whole new aura. A stern deputy came on the loud speaker and announced a new day of counting and lockdowns! Women were stirring and cell doors were unlocking all around me, the ominous sound filling the echoing, stale, re-circulated air. I had barely slept 30 minutes when two deputies entered the “pod” as the sleeping quarters were named. They announced breakfast after rousing and counting all of us, plus looking at our wristbands. Luckily, I’d made friends with the girls with me and after a breakfast of cold cereal, cold hard boiled eggs, milk and orange juice, we were led out into the corridor and marched to the medical section where recovering addicts, pregnant and suicide watch women resided, some in cells, most in triple decker bunk beds in the day room, some even sleeping on the floor with only the thin pad and county blanket for comfort. The jail was overcrowded, but neat and clean for what it was. We walked single file again, right shoulder to the wall, hands in pockets, heads bowed. A door unlocked and there I was in Pod 242 B. Other women were meandering around after count, and idly stared at us, the new comers. Some sat on their bunks reading. Others took showers or sat with their bunkmates chatting. As I walked in, I spotted all colors, shapes and sizes brushing their teeth, brushing their hair, and other activities. I saw the red and black signs that read “Suicide Watch”, “Bites”, “Spits”, “415 Med Obsv.” The women looked a bit menacing but there were placid looks as well. Some even looked like men! It was not General Population, but rather a medical evaluation section. We were assigned bunks in the day room for the time being. I took a top bunk to the back of the pod. There wasn’t much to it. All I had was a thin pad, a county blanket and a sheet, plus one towel and a nightgown. I was given a plastic bag with soap, deodorant and the like, but no toothbrush yet. I already smelled like slight B.O., something I never experienced much. The medical pod was two stories, glass cells lining up and down toward the back. The day room served as quarters for many, even some pregnant women sleeping on the floor. Mostly there were heroin addicts on methadone, crack addicts “kicking” as they called it. I would soon become used to the daily grind, and even in most cases becoming desensitized to it. It didn’t take long after witnessing so many seizures and actually getting involved with helping them through it, for the episodes to become hearsay and routine. We all got settled, and it was all the women that were in the smaller holding cell with me from that evening. They smiled at me, waiting patiently for me to take the stage and make them laugh, which is what pattern we all fell into. Payphones lined the walls, but were turned off, as well as the t.v. against the wall. The pod was neat and clean, not grimy, as I had expected. The walls were all glass for observation. Male and female deputies walked in and out of the pod regularly. We were being watched day and night. I sat on my bunk morosely at first, which was normal for most. All I could think about was how this mess had escalated and how unnecessary it really was. Or was it? I prayed to God silently and cried to myself. God must have answered my prayers because before I knew it people were coming over and introducing themselves, some re-introducing their selves from the evening palm readings in the last holding cell. The raging blond with pretty hair was there, as well as the clown-faced woman who still laughed at everything I said even from across the room. I climbed off the bunk finally, and sat at one of the steel tables. An overweight, white lady who looked like someone’s mother was reading a romance novel and I asked to sit down. She obliged and started talking to me explaining the daily activity going on around me. Soon another bouncy, blond gal sauntered up and was introduced as Bev. One of the girls in the holding cell with me said I read palms, so I started reading a few, Carole (the woman reading the novel) first. I got her M.O. down pat and she was amazed as well as a few of the others in earshot. Bev and I bonded the very second we met. She was tall and blond and actually reminded me of my cousin. Long blond hair, oval face, blue eyes, kind demeanor and very up for where we were. I liked Bev and Carole right on the spot. It turned out that Bev was the girlfriend of a well-known D.J. on the local rock station. She was in on her third DUI. Carole was caught shoplifting and had been there a few days ahead of me. She had a family and a daughter, but had to do her time. She was very overweight and I could see bedsores on her elbows and arms from sleeping in the rickety bunk bed with only a pad. Bev had a huge cold sore on her lip and kept trying to hide it as she talked a mile a minute. More people started noticing how I was … very animated and up for someone in jail. A few asked if I was on something. I denied it, but don’t think they believed me. The truth was that I was still up from my partying with Krista. I started noticing others in the pod. There was a woman trying to kick drugs and was on methadone. She could barely talk, but others seemed to understand her. There were groups of gals milling together. Blacks, Whites, Latinos, gang members (mostly 18th Street). Everyone sat together in groups, but we all were in there for something. Even Scarface was on the row. Every time I spotted her, she seemed less mean looking, just a girl down on her luck. I doubted she even had half of what she said was wrong with her. There were even women sleeping on the floor under the stairs of the day room, that’s how overcrowded it was in County. Ironically, when I returned to my bunk another gal had pushed my stuff aside to the lower bunk. “I wanted the top bunk, and you left!” dictated the blond. I didn’t argue and moved my stuff to another side of the pod to a middle bunk. I noticed bruises on my legs from trying to get comfortable the evening before, and doing that first bit of Yoga on the cement floor of the first holding cell. I had little bruises on my arms and wrists from the obvious. I was still wearing the same jump suit from the night before, and hadn’t gotten any courage up to take a shower in the one shower stall that surprisingly afforded privacy. But by lunchtime I had begun to make friends and flowed easily through the various cliques around the pod. I read palms, and started giving soothing massages to the various girls kicking drugs. Afterwards, I took a nice long lukewarm shower and felt better. Under the stairs was the Latino click of girls, gang bangers kicking mostly heroine, shooting speed and crack. It didn’t take long for it to get around that I gave good palm and wonderful back rubs. “Blondie, Blondie, come here,” cried one gang girl named China. It was tattooed on her forehead. Her face was heavily pitted from acne and the like. She had tattoos of tears on her face, as well as a small ‘18th’ under her left eye. She wanted me to read her palm, which I did. It had several ‘X’s’ representing her cases on the Mentality Line, as well as ‘concern’ lines around her Lifeline. I was getting so good at reading that I started to feel this confidence rising in me, and get hunches on people. When I read China’s palm she almost jumped out of her skin with its accuracy. “You are really good, Blondie!” she praised while reclining on her bed. I began to massage her gently. Her back felt smooth and oily. In fact, I noticed that no matter what their faces looked like (scarred or otherwise), their backs were blemish free for some reason. I asked her to hold out her needle-scarred arms and began trying to send positive energy into her by gently focused my mind’s eye on each bruise from her needlework and imagined a cool white light infusing healing vibes. A new understanding and knowledge of where to rub and how to do it rose up in me. I really began to feel that I was making a difference. I rubbed China for a long time and she told me she was in for trespassing. I’m sure it was more than that judging from her arms, face and palm. She kept asking over and over if her case would be settled and she’d be set free. I said she would be if she kept her head cool. She seemed to be the type that got angry and wanted extra attention though. I picked that up and used it to my advantage while reading her palm. Next to China was another gal kicking drugs. She too had the lizard look to her. I went to her bunk where she lay in agony of withdrawal. I turned her over and noticed that her back was smooth and feminine, unlike her face, which showed, like China’s, her addiction and pain. The girl was not well. She barely could get off the bottom bunk. She had the body of a praying mantis. The woman was tall and gangly and in definite pain from her ordeal. I would spend many sleepless nights rubbing her and helping her get to the bathroom. While I sat with the girl, China got jealous and called out to me from her bed on the floor. “Blondie, Blondie, read my palm again, please!” She always said my name twice. By the late afternoon I was feeling comfortable moving from bunk to bunk. I concentrated on reading the palms, and rubbing backs. I, of course, obliged China and read her other palm. Others crowded around wondering and asking if two palms were different. “The right palm is a cross reference,” I said knowingly. I held up both of China’s palms, she seemed to enjoy the attention. “It confirms information I read from the other palm.” Some nodded with understanding, other’s pretended to know. Not everyone in the pod was open to palm reading. A few other Latino girls began calling me “Voodoo Woman”. I explained that it was all in fun. “Do you go to the movies?” I asked. Most said yes. “Well, think of it as a movie of your life!” I said, trying to keep my voice hypnotic and calm. “Think of it as a road map of your life,” I stated, feeling like David Carradine in the t.v. series Kung Fu. Everyone cracked up and the tension of the moment passed. I hadn’t really gone to the bathroom much, and knew I had to take care of business. Thank God there was one bathroom enclosed. I used it a few times, trying to relax and pee at least. As far as the other business, I didn’t want to rush that. I knew I was irregular, but it would pass. I’d not eaten much for breakfast, and lunch wasn’t much better fare. It consisted of stale baloney sandwiches, fake fruit juice and a cookie. By dinner, the only hot meal of the day, my voice was becoming hoarse and dry. Drinking the water was like sipping out of the toilet, but I had no choice. I was losing my voice and at times became overwhelmed that I was actually in jail, put there by TJ. Of course I was thinking about Albert constantly, and what was in his head. Between palm readings and massages I tried calling him, but his machine was turned off and remained so throughout my ordeal and beyond. I also wondered what had happened to Krista. Did she go home back home, or had she simply left our house and spent the rest of her ill-fated vacation with her friends in Hollywood? I’m sure my questions would be answered. For now I had to sit tight and be strong. But I kept fretting about Albert. “Hey, you were arrested in front of his parents, for Godsakes,” said Bev as we lounged around goofing on things around the pod after I’d told her the whole saga. “It made him go back to his recluse state and block out everything you guys experienced together,” said Carole. She had listened well, and got Albert’s personality down pat. I was crestfallen, but determined to see this out. “Have you tried the other guy, TJ?” asked Bev. “Once or twice, but he isn’t accepting my collect calls,” I said. I had also been calling my sister, who always accepted my jailhouse collect calls. She told me that she was in touch with my cousin and between the two of them, would get me out. Thanks to my friend Jean, everyone concerned had been notified. I begged and cried for them to bail me out. They were doing the best they could under the circumstances though. For the time being I was stuck, but the good news was that they were going to be hiring an attorney, thanks to Jeanette again. She had already recommended the lawyer to me months ago. “Hey, why are you in a psych ward? What’s that about?” asked my sister. “They think you’re crazy!” “Good, I’m better off here,” I said, glad I’d taken Scarface’s advice. “Hey, what’s it like in there? Are you safe?” She asked conversationally. Of course, by now I knew I was pretty safe for the time being. “Is it like that show Oz on HBO?” My sister had a good life in Florida, lived in a lovely home and had a genius daughter and an ex she was working things out with. For the past two years we’d not spoken because an email barrage I had with my sister’s ex husband! TJ had found that out and was pissed off because I’d written a bunch of bad things about him then, as well as nasty things about my sister. It had all backfired in my face, like this situation I was in now. I never seemed to learn. Albert represented more carnage in the wake of my downtrodden life. “I just can’t believe Albert has totally abandoned me and shut off his feelings,” I said to Carole, but it seemed he had. I cried for him, tried to reach out mentally like we did before all this, but to no avail. “I’m not feeling him any longer.” I remembered calling him in my mind many evenings after TJ had gone to bed, and before I knew it, he’d call leaving his signature one ring. “He’s basically ‘shut-down’ on you,” Carole said wisely. “But it’s extremely hard for me to turn-off,” I admitted. Albert lucked out and had the emotional responses of both male and female. We’d often discuss things like that in great length. “It wasn’t just the physical attraction I miss, but also his mental aura. I’d gotten used to roaming up to his house and being there with him,” I said. “I miss how we used to talk to each other in our heads. I’d call out to him, and he’d answer!” I thought of another letter he’d written and things seemed to come more into focus:
I know God is watching us through our relationship. You said once that you know God has something very important for you to do in your life. I also have such a feeling. Since our thoughts evolve, God is manifest. My contemplation and actions through life take over a fundamental spiritual realism that is transcendent to my personal will. If you already have a boyfriend or whatever, it is okay with me, as long as I don’t mess things up for you. In other words, I don’t want to own you. Your survival comes first. I hope my honesty does not preclude our relationship that you have been so open with me about right from the beginning! I feel I can do nothing otherwise. In our relationship you don’t even have to be present for our love to grow. For our love stands as I stand in evolution! The mind is above the heart -- The spirit above both. Our relationship is below them only redeemed through the spirit, thus is our work in life! Love Albert
I began telling the story to anyone that would listen, which was just about everyone. There was always a new ear to tell. By my second night in jail I had almost 50 women listening to my story of the saga of Albert & TJ. It was interesting, and every time I told it, I remembered some vague memory of a time I spent with Albert. It was starting to sound like a movie to me as well as a good outlet for hours of idle boredom. There was always a newcomer to the pod. They were always directed to me for a palm reading and that always led to the story of how TJ put me in jail for straying to Albert and carrying on with him for 5 months, but because of my best friend Krista, it had all come crashing down like in a Jack and Jill fairytale gone awry. “Albert and I shared something very special, maybe too special. We didn’t realize TJ would go so far to end it,” I said, felt like Conan the Barbarian when he loses his true love to a snake arrow. I told the whole story from beginning to end. There was always a stream of new women in the pod and everyone wanted to hear about it. Afterwards, like Oprah, we’d have a question and answer section about Albert and TJ. Then it transformed into shouting matches, some saying I’d end up with one or the other, but mostly women shouting that they hope I’d end up with Albert. One smoldering-looking Spanish gal standing in the wings with her arms folded disapprovingly said I wouldn’t end up with either. That caused a crescendo of girl’s yelling voices into overdrive. There were even a few shouts for all of us to “shut up about it!” I told the story over and over again, actually getting things down in my mind better because of the repetition. Small details started floating to my conscience. Instead of Albert having something precious in his room, I was now resigned to the fact that it was happening, so I continued to read palms throughout the day and evening, even reading China’s palm for the 6th time. Dinner came and went. I tried Albert over and over, but no luck. I did reach my sister, who for the first time in years was actually taking my call every time, ringing up a phone bill to the tune of $500. Dina always wanted to hear gory details of grit and Lesbian fights, but that’s not what was going on with me and the other girls. After talking to my sister, I did tons of crying until the woman who stole my bunk came over and put her arm around me and consoled. Could you read my palm?” She asked hopefully. I looked at her face and noticed she had niceness to it, a far cry from the scowling lady who stole my bunk. “Why are you here?” I asked while taking her little hand in mine. “Can’t you tell me?” She smiled brightly, showing crooked, but clean teeth. “Doesn’t work that way,” I shot back, sounding like a professional. “I’d just taken a hit from a crack pipe in my room when the cops were banging on the door,” she explained easily. “They caught me red handed, and could smell it.” “Yes, I see that conflict,” I said. “And the neighbor called, right?” “Yes,” she answered in amazement. “You don’t get along with him, do you?” “Nope, I don’t! You’re right, Blondie! He called the cops!” She stared at me hypnotically. “I can’t believe you picked up on that!” After reading her palm and blowing her mind, I told her my story again and she smiled brightly, “See, I told you your life wasn’t over!” It turned out that she was the same girl that was walking in front of me when first taken in. Her face had changed 3 times, and I felt like she was a comrade now, even though she pulled a power play with the top bunk. I let it pass easily and we became friends, often talking in the hallway and at the steel tables. It was amazing how she’d transformed. Of course I told her about my own saga, a very familiar and fun story in the pod. We actually began a small jogging routine up and down the steel stairs around the second landing, and back down to the bottom over and over until we were exhausted and the stale, re-circulated air had gotten the best of us. She had also overheard me talking to a few girls in the larger holding cell the night before. As we talked in the day room, the raging girl with the beautiful long blond hair walked up and joined us. Even in jail her hair was in perfect order. She was really striking and I told her she’d make a great model. In fact, we were to share a few incidents in the next few days that would bond us, and it was so hard for me to believe she was violent, but she was … but never to me. She already had a few confrontations with other girls in the pod, and would eventually be transferred to a 24-hour lock down cell on the end of the row on the second landing. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said, plopping down on the empty round seat beside me and putting her long arms around me. “If I were you, I’d get someone to beat the crap out of TJ when you get out of here!” She said plainly, seeming to want the job in an underlying way. “It’s hard to believe he’d do that over some other guy. And what’s with Albert? He hasn’t even tried to visit or contact you!” She seemed to get angry with them, and wouldn’t doubt she could do some serious damage to them. “Well, it’s not that easy. They both probably have reasons,” I said while sipping stale tap water out of a milk carton. I thought of the arrest, and just how far TJ had gone. Albert’s baby face hovered in my mind constantly, as well as the sweet relationship, clandestine or not, that we shared. I recalled so many moments that my heart was ready to break in two, especially over the fact that Albert had shut down on me. It was hard to grapple with, plus thinking on TJ’s anger over all this, it was all so overwhelming to deal with. “Honestly, at the time, I really did see a future with Albert,” I said to her. “TJ and your friend Krista did this, so just hold on,” she answered, grabbing my hands in her own and squeezing tightly. A lot of women were hoping everything worked out for me in the dismal County Jail. My status in there made it somewhat bearable though, which was some consolation for me. “In the back of my mind I know how Albert is. His life is sedate and rent free, an easy high paying lab job examining women’s pap smears and cultures,” I said to the girls, who cracked up and screeched with delight, my timing and statement perfect. I told them how he was so easygoing and quiet, but had this funny humor, plus how we’d talk for hours about the mind and why people did what they did, even about our experiments in restaurants when we made others do things with our collective minds thinking as one. Other memories surfaced and I shared them with my crowd. I could imagine Albert turning off completely, but how could he turn away from the wonderful memories that assaulted my mind? I couldn’t fathom him washing away those great, magical, electric times we shared our ‘white light’ with each other and those around us, but he had. However things turned out, I would always treasure the months I spent with him, no matter how cruel it was to TJ, or how bad things looked on paper. I felt a deep, deep love blossoming between us, but TJ had somehow stolen the power and dashed everything in a burning hellacious fireball, and I had let him do it! I knew that both Albert and I were reeling from the blows TJ branded on us. I doubt either of us would be the same from the experience, but it did happen, and was unfolding right before our eyes. At least I did have a cheering section developing. I imagined Albert was hiding behind his mother’s apron strings and that virtually no one knew about what had happened. I surmised that the more people that were told, the more he would withdraw, actually blocking out what we had together more easily. They hung on my every breath as I described days of walking through the park with this man, a bit zonked from our partying, driving up to San Francisco two times to see the Grateful Dead, running wild around town trying to avoid TJ, or just hanging in his bedroom holding each other all night in the dark and laughing at stupid things that came to us. Our favorite game was sitting under the covers in total darkness trying to guess numbers we were thinking of, childish on it’s own, but so wonderful when it was followed by a barrage of soft kisses and caresses, amidst the flicker of softly lit candles in temple holders reflecting against the ceiling. A few of the girls swooned at that point in my story. For hours, sometimes we’d hang out at the Chinese buffet just eating, kissing and making out. On occasion we’d really head up to Jean’s hippy pad in Tujunga Canyon, where she’d let us hang out alone while she’d run errands. We’d spend hours in Jeanette’s cool canopy bed holding each other, making love and just laughing kid-like. The girls loved to hear it all, even the times I was with TJ. I had distanced myself from him easily, but not securely. “He’d gotten into the habit of following me when I left the house to meet up at Albert’s parent’s home,” I explained to the crowd of women listening intently. “You should have taken more precautions,” said Bev. “But my pull to be with this new, quiet, stimulating man was crowding out everything I should have done in protecting myself from TJ,” I answered eloquently, which set off mumbled conversations all around me. “Man, that TJ really pimped you, Blondie,” said one black girl lounging against the back wall of the pod. “And why did that other guy even live with his parents? He’s grown, right?” “Yes, but that’s what it was,” I answered, continuing to tell my saga. “By the first trip to San Francisco in October, it was getting increasingly difficult to get away safely. I would hop a bus going in the opposite direction and ride 4 miles out of my way on my bike just to be with Albert. At the time, it was my haven, he was my heaven, and when I was with him, my life was like a cocoon of secure bliss, hiding from the world safely in his ‘nook’. It was very attractive to me. His parents seemed to turn a blind eye to it as well, probably enabling him, the youngest son, for years.” “Yes, I can see that, Blondie. But his mother didn’t like you from the get-go. That’s her baby, her last child.” “He said he’d been in trouble with them before, mostly about partying. He’d been thrown out of 3 prep schools because of that, and bordered on the edge of brilliance. His concepts were a bit Sativa-soaked, but made sense,” I related easily to the crowd. As I sat in the jail talking to my new friends, I thought about all the notes he’d leave his parents via his bathroom, most saying he was skipping being with them, or not going to work, which started to bother me, especially one day when he refused to leave his room until his Uncle Curtis, his mother’s brother, left. “On many occasions whenever Uncle Curtis was visiting or sitting in the family driveway, Albert wouldn’t leave if Jerry Garcia rose from the dead and was standing naked outside his door!” I said. The room broke out in serious laughing over that last statement. “Who the hell is Jerry Garcia?” asked one sweet looking boyish black girl. Thank God I had many palms to read, and my family was accepting my collect jailhouse calls, even doing the illegal 3-way connection, which was against the rules. One inmate, a recovering speed addict with a sales charge, said all you had to do was blow into the phone when it connected. It worked like a charm. I thought about how everyone was looking at me on the outside. Family was family, true blood relations that should come to your aid because of that stigma, plus the Jewish guilt factor in full swing too. I knew that probably by this time even TJ was feeling blue about what he’d put into motion, even if I did have charges ringing in the New Year like flashing neon! I did notice that after I told my story that first evening the majority of them were swinging toward Albert and I, and he would pop out of his fragile, recluse stationery mode he was currently in and step up to the stage to save me. Unfortunately, as the second day kicked in at the jail, it looked like that was not to be the case. But I held onto the hope and memories I shared with Albert, and the shear fact that he would allow them to carry him through like I was trying to do, making it a happy ending love story. As I told my epic, we were always stumped as to what would happen, and that is what made it so stimulating to discuss. After all, we were the most bored humans on earth and didn’t all walks of life like a happy ending or a good mystery? We also had our distractions. Every now and then a certain handsome deputy we nicknamed “Butt Boy” would saunter in and do a count, which paused talk in there. Sometimes he’d walk in every 10 minutes just to wander around to the various groups of girls lounging in the day room and on the landings. It was a medical observation pod, so that was typical to see guards there. We knew they were watching us closely. But the women liked this particular deputy because he posed for them and enjoyed it. I could tell that right away. He was in great shape and not hard to look at. I began trying to throw my mind at him, making him do simple gestures. I shared my experiment with a few of the girls in our pod. Bev got a kick out of it and we’d spend a lot of time staring out the large windows at Mr. Handsome with the closely cropped hair, decked out in full deputy regalia! A few others picked up on our cue. They began watching and waiting to see it happen. At first it was very subtle, then it kicked in full swing. We were all amazed. One morning he had wandered in 4 consecutive times and by that time I had made him trip on the stairs, turn around and smile, stop in mid step and even say certain sentences that amazed the other inmates watching me. I don’t consider it a magical thing, because from reading all the palms and getting notions on people from that, I believe a new perspective was growing in me. I was able to actually predict what he would do partly. “Hey,” piped up Bev as we sat in the pod discussing Albert and TJ and any new thoughts on the matter, as well as any memories. “…Maybe we can think all together and make Butt Boy unlock the door and let us go free!” We all laughed loudly, knowing that it couldn’t happen. As he followed our thought patterns, and actually did what we thought him to do, the women would “ohhh and ahhh” every time. It was during these moments I didn’t feel like a jail inmate, but just with a group of women like myself at a retreat. Soon we all would gather in a circle and think deeply of that deputy, actually making him appear out of nowhere and come toward the pod. But his own strong will made him turn around one morning and never enter our pod again after that incident. After that, Butt Boy resigned himself to posing in front of the computer by the watch station, which was situated right in the center view of our pod, for all to see out of the glass walls where our beds were aligned row by row. Every now and then he’d sneak a glance our way, pretending the vibes we were throwing out at him didn’t bother him. This was done in silence, because whenever the deputies entered our pod everyone would stop talking and almost be at attention. In the beginning I was talking to Carole when they walked in and singled me out as I was in mid sentence when a certain mean female deputy asked me to step down from the second landing where I was standing, just about to read a palm. I was wearing my jail shoes which I’d fashioned into sliding shoes by putting my big size 10 feet on top of the tongue of the flimsy sneakers. I could slide around unhampered and it was easy on my feet. As I was coming down the steps trying to slip into my shoes, I fell, but recovered, showing my flexibility. “Hey, it’s the Pretzel Girl,” said one female deputy. Other deputies chuckled loudly. I laughed, easily joining in on their joke until they stared sternly at me. “What did you do to get in here?” She asked scrutinizing me up and down, which was their way. My naturally curly blond hair made me look younger than 40 years old. The dark blue jail suit actually complimented my look, especially my coloring. I definitely stood out. “You don’t even look like you belong in here, Pretzel Girl! So what did you do, and I can’t wait to hear,” she said, already looking bored. I walked slowly forward, hands in pockets, head held high. “I’m not sure,” I whispered. “What, I didn’t hear you,” she commanded easily. “What?” “I’m not guilty!” I stated, not even daring to mention my Albert and TJ story. Obviously, they saw me doing my Yoga and it had been a joke amongst them. Who knew what other information they had on me. “That’s what they all say,” she answered. “Well,” she added, putting hands on hips. “… Maybe some time in a cell will shut you up from now on when a deputy enters the pod. Get your stuff and lockdown in cell 7.” “Listen, I’m on Disability from the State from severe anxiety and panic attacks, and I’ve not had any meds for it,” I explained, my voice low and shaky due to the bad re-circulated air and the trauma of the day before. “I don’t care about that, you’re here now. This is jail! Get moving or I’ll tack on more time, maybe a full week in lockdown! And while I’m at it, I think I’ll check your records…” I grabbed my property and walked up the landing to cell 7, slowly stopping at the door, not going in right away. “Go on,” screamed the deputy, uncaring that I was starting to whimper. “In, or more time, you make the choice.” She got on her walk-talkie and radioed the watch house outside the pod and gave my booking number. You could have dropped a pin and heard it in that pod. In the background I saw all the faces I’d read palms for and they registered pain there. Most gloated when someone was sent out of the day room and into the small cells lining the walls and landings away from the groups of ladies littering the day room. But these women were not gloating. They truly liked and wanted me to stay with them. I brought them up like no one else had. I was told to shut the door. It clicked solidly. I walked to the top bunk and noticed someone sleeping in the bed below. As I was putting my stuff on the bunk I began to cry and carry on. I was panicking and no one cared. I began pacing and screaming and couldn’t breathe. Just as the tears blinded me and I was going into a black panic, hands reached out and held me closely. It was the blond rage girl enveloping me in her strong shoulders and pressing me against the smooth cool strands of her wonderful hair. That morning she had gotten into a verbal tussle with the girl who stole my bunk, so was put in here. She pushed the two-way intercom that all cells had, and was screaming at them. “Hey, she’s having a severe panic attack! You’ve got to let her out, please…” If the situation weren’t so serious, it would almost be comical. The whole jail environment revolved around closed in space. I held onto her tightly and prayed to God for them to let me out. I know the girls downstairs wanted the same and were pulling for me as well. I could feel their silent prayers. I cried harder and held onto the girl tightly until we heard a click and I ran from the room. “Get your stuff!” cried the deputy. “…before I change my mind.” I was relieved and grabbed my stuff and gave the blond a tight quiet hug. She smiled at me through her own tears, which had nothing to do with her being locked in alone. It was a rare thing that just happened. Usually when a deputy makes a decision like that, it sticks and nothing would change it, even if I were suffocating to my death. After that incident, I noticed that the Boy Butt thought sessions suddenly turned into Bible reading and group prayer. I would always remember those moments. The whole pod got together before count. There would usually be 40 of us standing around at the table in the middle and holding hands. One Latino woman Kicker actually pregnant with twins would lead us with readings from the Bible and go around trying to make us talk in “Tongues”. Tears ran down my face and the goose flesh rose on my arms as I prayed along with them at an even pace. Trustees, as they were called, the ones who worked outside the pod, and had special privileges, stared at us in awe from the outer receiving area, not moving from their spots in the outside hallway. It was an amazing thing to watch. I didn’t talk in Tongues but the Latino woman did come up to me and hold my head way back. She even knocked on my forehead, which made me think I was! What a wonderful, exhilarating secure feeling you feel with other women in the same boat as you. A bond formed from all the palm reading and massage therapy I was giving the Addicts and Kickers in the pod. Even the praying mantis girl was with us holding hands. I was the only inmate that seemed to be able to cross groups. I was starting to feel welcome among them all – The Latino girls, the older white ladies, and groups of black girls, who actually took me under their wing when I was moved to ‘General Population’. We prayed every night like that for 20 minutes, the deputies even delaying their 15-minute count until we finished. Then I’d read palms and give more massages, plus do my Yoga contortions in front of 50 women, who quickly became used to seeing me do it. I was literally rolling myself up in a ball and twisting my body in the air, doing head stands and sitting upside down in lotus. Even our guards would soon allow me to do these things unhampered. It was a rare thing and many in the pod came over and told me so. Word of me was spreading to other pods on the floor as well. One day while in line for a med evaluation two women from another section came to me and asked me to read their palms, which I obliged right there in line. As usual, my readings were accurate and true. I was secretly amazed at myself. One girl clapped her hand to her open, amazed looking mouth and backed away in awe. I was also starting to receive little notes that said “thank you” for the palm readings in the holding cell last night. In between reading palms, the massages and the like, I talked of my situation. Many heard the many stories of my adventures sneaking away with Albert for 5 months behind my boyfriend of 10 year’s back! They identified with why Albert shut his machine off, and said they were sure he was thinking of me daily, but didn’t want to upset his parents or the balance of his life any further. Also, the pain must have been hard for him to deal with from what I explained to them about his personality. It was more than that, and it started to bother me and distress my soul that he had turned his machine and himself off to me. I was thinking of him mostly in that dark, dank place and he’d not had the decency to at least be a man and let me know what was happening in his head. Yet another letter he rattled off to me came clear now:
I see things strong in you. You have an inner strength, and duality of spirit that is aware and actively self-evolving. It is a bit confused, but you harbor great love in there. Too much love to hold on to alone – so it becomes grounded. Always Albert
But I took solace when many girls did say it was traumatic for him, especially the way I described Albert … quiet, reserved, a virtual recluse except for his best friend Benny down the street! He talked of the mind and the 4 quadrants of the brain, which I explained to the women listening to me all around the pod. The man had a head talk better than sex. But soon, months down the line, that too would fall into place for us and we would spend many nights of blissful passion together. At the time he infused my soul with such a fire and passion of wanting. But jail life went on, and the days began to pass slowly. There was little or no access to a clock or real mirror. My nights were virtually sleepless into my 3rd day. I still couldn’t believe this was all happening. It was impossible to get any real shut-eye in the steel bunk no matter what I did. More bruises appeared on my back and legs. The nights were the hardest and I sometimes asked my new comrades in crime how much a body could take with no sleep as I was doing. “Oh, you’d be surprised,” said Carole one morning as we munched our breakfast. “The body can take a lot. Don’t worry, you’ll sleep eventually. Look at me,” she said, pointing to her large frame, bedsores and all. She was a very nice lady and had always talked to me when I went to her bunk to chat. She was very positive and knew everything about what I was going through and why. I had told her privately and she’d sat in listening intently when I told my story one late evening to everyone in the pod. One evening on my 3rd night in jail I first noticed a large Ethiopian woman locked in a cell by herself. Magnetic red and black signs read “415 Med. Obvs”, “Bites”, “Spits”! “What’s 415 Med Obvs?” I asked one black girl also watching the Amazon lady locked away from everyone by herself. She wore a yellow jump suit and looked like a huge man standing there ready to pounce. “She goes into attack mode whenever a deputy walks by…that’s 415. In fact, she tries to attack anyone walking by. You don’t want to mess with her, Blondie.” I watched the girl behind the locked cell. Our eyes met, but not in a bad way. She must have been watching me, because most told me she was an observer and knew what was going on. She’d spend hours just standing as close to the glass door as possible. On occasion a deputy would walk by on count and she’d go nuts trying to break the door down. She’d go through a temper tantrum of spitting and clawing and throwing things around her cell. Next to her was a meek looking gal on “Suicide Watch”, as her magnetic sign stated. I walked by a few times and she was crying and screaming, sometimes pulling at her hair and scratching her body with her jagged, bitten fingernails. I could see her face clearly behind the glass. She had been crying and carrying on and was sweaty looking, washed out and wearing a blue prison gown rather than the garb the rest of us wore, including the 3 pregnant women housed with me. On the 3rd night, I as usual wasn’t sleeping and was just one bunk away from the girl kicking on methadone. Sometimes she’d bolt upright, bump her head and start talking in her sleep. I couldn’t sleep so dragged my mat and bedding to the floor and passed the “Suicide Watch” girl, next door to Amazon Lady. There was a large pylon that would hide me. I started doing Yoga like crazy which gave me energy. As I was doing the Yoga, and stretching myself into a pretzel again, no one bothered me. I, by chance, looked over to the girl on suicide watch. I moved my mat right up to her glass cell and knocked. She had been looking the other way, definitely not asleep, because I had heard her carrying on and crying the past 2 nights, no one helping her or coming to her aid. She turned and began frowning at me sitting by her door, waving me away easily, and squealing loudly. Instead of leaving or teasing her, I began doing the Yoga, rolling myself up into a ball right in front of her eyes. She sat up curiously looking out at me, but her whimpering stopped. I had her attention, that was for sure. I began rolling over and asking her questions whispered under her door. I made it a point to overdo my body gestures when I’d crawl up to the door crack and talk to her. “What’s up in there? “Hey, want to see me bark like a dog?” I nimbly jumped into lotus upside down, rolled up to the cell door and barked like a dog. “Hey, did you realize that the door has been unlocked all this time…? Try it. Open the door for me!” For a split second I could see the urge in her bright blue eyes to come to the door and see if it indeed open, which it wasn’t. She began chuckling lightly, still a bit wary of my intentions, but definitely distractedly interested and responding to what I was doing. I definitely had her full attention all the same. For almost 2 hours I entertained her by the door, only stopping long enough for the guard to come through and count us. As soon as he left, which took about 2 minutes, I’d be back at her door doing the funniest antics I could think of to make her laugh. Suddenly, I stood up and took her ‘Suicide Watch’ sign down and wrapped it around my own neck and pointed to it like I was hanging myself with it. “What’s this all about, Lady?” I asked sarcastically, pretending to be a deputy reprimanding her, hands on hips like I had seen them do many times. I smiled at her. She laughed crazily and had to sit down because of her giggling jag. The girl was laughing so hard and was getting out of breath as I pretended to be guarding her. I marched back and forth playing policeman, even imitating certain guards whose personalities stood out. Boldly I went over to Amazon Woman’s cell door and took down her “Bites” sign and showed it to the other girl. “I’m going to switch signs and see if they notice, is that okay with you?” I asked her, going into my under the door whispering-dog-mode. I put the sign on her door for a moment. We both cracked up and she cautiously came a bit closer to the window of the cell door. She reminded me then of Wendy from Peter Pan. I put her sign upside down and started pacing in front of her door like I was a husband waiting for his wife to deliver their first baby. I told her as much as I paced and paced, suddenly going into Yoga mode right before her eyes. I had been doing the stretching exercises as much as possible in the pod and realized I’d not been out of the room in days. She laughed at every thing I said and every antic I did, even a corny Jackie Gleason to the Moon, Alice number, which reminded me vaguely of Albert. She became my captive audience. In fact, everyone in this joint had become so as well. Maybe it was my sense of survival, maybe I really cared. All I knew was I had found a new calling. Maybe when I got out of jail I could look into some sort of physical therapy, helping patients get over injuries and such. I knew I could do it and I’d prove it again and again as the days passed in County. Little did I notice at the time, but Amazon Woman was up watching what I was doing with the girl on suicide watch. She stared openly into the dim hallway from her cell door, as always. She resembled a sad clown, not a violent girl at all, at least to me at the time. I went over to her door and cautiously sat down in lotus position. She looked back at me, but didn’t move to scare me or go crazy. I started jumping back and forth and grabbed her 415 sign and put it upside down on her door. I said, “Are you going to get in trouble for that?” She smiled brightly and nodded her head back and forth. She ominously pointed to me and wrote an invisible “T” against the cell door. I turned the sign back. Next I grabbed the “Spits” sign and held it up and took some water I had by my pad and began squirting it easily from my two front teeth. I became a fountain and got up on one knee and made a stream of water shoot 20 feet. She didn’t hesitate to smile brightly, which was a rare thing for her. “Hey, I could change this to “Sizzler”!” I pulled the sign down and pointed cartoonishly. She laughed again and squatted down to watch. I grabbed the “Bites” sign and said, “I could make this ‘Bidder’ I pantomimed placing bets at the racetrack and then pretending I’d won and was collecting my funds. Amazingly, she got the jokes and just stood there listening and watching me do my thing. I didn’t miss a beat and became good at gesturing jokes. I interchanged between both women until I had them literally rolling in their cells. It was then I noticed a few girls in the pod watching from their bunks. They were perplexed, but interested and some were sitting up and openly gawking. I doubted they were sleeping any better than I was, so I continued with my circus show for the two cell girls with others watching in the dim lighted pod. I tried to keep the jokes coming and was getting carried away and obsessed with thinking up something new to say to them. I was getting just a tad bit overwrought, but did more Yoga to soothe my soul. The girl on suicide watch no longer was crying and cowering in her bed, nor scratching her eyes out, or threatening to do it. Instead she was mimicking my moves. I kept using my hand gestures and whispering under her door, which added to the fun. She began following my lead; even doing a finger movement thing with me for a good 15 minutes, almost like the silent act the Marx Brother Harpo did with Lucille Ball. Amazon Woman also got my attention as she sat on the floor of her lonely cell and tried to put her legs behind her back like I could do. She got as far as her ear when I heard the familiar click of the lock, signaling the deputies count walk through our pod. I quickly ran to my pad and lay down pretending to be sleeping. I could feel the wind of the guard passing me. I cracked one eye and saw him look in at both girls I was working with. Both smiled at him as he causally stared inside. In fact, he looked twice just to be sure and shook his head when he spotted Ms. Suicide Watch sitting on her bed in a half lotus position trying to push herself up straight. He spotted Amazon Woman on the floor in lotus position trying to put one leg over her neck. He left without a back glance, but shook his head as if he’d seen it all. The weekend passed uneventful, more of the same routine. I was surprised at how accustom I was becoming to County. Other than not sleeping, I was coping quite well, making friends and moving through all color lines. I especially enjoyed the massages I was giving to the girls. It never became sexual, and it was surprising to me. Talking to my sister, and listening to her questions conjured up all sorts of sick things, but they never happened to me. Reading everyone and anyone’s palm helped elevate my status there as well. The evening before I was to go to court, they brought in a very young, pretty white girl. Everyone took her under their wing because she seemed so innocent. The girl was in for shooting up speed and was 3 months pregnant. She was only 18 and had a very feminine high-pitched voice that sounded like a little girl. As everyone pawed over her and played with her hair, I just became a bit jealous until someone suggested I read her palm, which I did. As they played with her smooth, brown, silky hair, I finished her palm and joined them. She didn’t seem to mind everyone’s hands stroking her hair and scalp. A lot of those woman had a motherly intuition and they were giving her everything they had. She seemed to enjoy it all, even when I started rubbing her back. A day later she was released as everyone waved goodbye like she was leaving on the Titanic. I was also learning how to be when the deputies were around. We all found out who the nice ones were and who the real baddies were, which was most of them. One particular nice female deputy seemed more like a first grade teacher because of the way she treated us. The male guards were mostly aloof. You did have some like Butt Boy who would slightly fraternize with us, usually asking what we did and if it was worth it. It was the way they asked us that drove the point of it all. I noticed that the whole flow of the jail revolved around demeaning us to such a degree in every possible way, no matter how small. I would see the scenario time and time again during my stint there. I would soon find this out when I made my first court appearance. It was Tuesday morning around 3:30 a.m. when my name was announced for court. I hadn’t been sleeping anyways, so I rose from my bunk and got ready. There wasn’t much to do except take a Mexican bath, quickly arrange my hair with my fingers, brush my teeth and wait for breakfast. Breakfast was the usual cereal, milk, hardboiled eggs and juice. I had learned to eat as much as I could, even though it was sub-fare! I had been in there since Friday evening … 4 days! But I was keeping my spirits up with the prayer sessions, palm reading and massage therapy that were growing popular around me. I sat eating with a few others who were going to court from our pod. We made small talk and woke ourselves up. I recognized and knew every single person in that pod, even the new faces. Sometimes they’d try to fool me into thinking I’d not read their palm and I would play along, but give the same interpretation as I’d first given. I even started understanding the woman on methadone, Anna. I also found out she was the same age as myself – 40. It was hard to believe. From day one she never got it out of her mind that I had a 9-year-old child with TJ, so I shouldn’t leave him, even though he put me in jail and was the cause of all this pain. “You have a child with this man, you can’t leave him. You gotta’ work it out,” she bantered, almost looking like she was talking into space. She wasn’t though. She was talking to me! No convincing whatsoever changed her stance on it. She really believed I had a child with TJ, which was ridiculous. After breakfast we were all led out and walked single file to a receiving area before getting to the holding cells downstairs. From there we would board a black and white jail bus and head to court, but that was hours from now. Once we departed from the freight elevator it was pure chaos in the multiple court holding cells downstairs. As I passed the various areas, women were recognizing me and calling out “Blondie, read my palm! There she is, the Palm Lady!” Women screamed from all corners. Hands of all colors and sizes waved furiously trying to get my attention. I felt like Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator as I walked down the long hallway to one of the many multiple holding cells. If the deputies noticed, they didn’t say a word. As long as I didn’t talk and kept my hands in my pockets that were now shredding, I was okay. I also, for the first time in there, thought about what Herb might have thought of all this. We reached my holding area and they deposited me and another Spanish girl in with at least 75 others waiting there for the buses. Long benches lined the walls and women were doing the usual things. A group of Latinos called out for me. I ended up reading their palms like clockwork. I’d gotten quite good at making a big production out of each reading. As I read one woman’s smooth, deep lined palm in English, it was interpreted into Spanish many times over all around me. My voice was very weak and it was hard to talk over the noise in the room. A few times I had to drink water from the fountain situated beside the open toilet, which I actually tried to use, but with little success. Other girls saw me from across the room and wanted me to read their palms. The clown-faced girl who laughed at everything I said was there with some new friends. I read their palms. Then talk of the Albert and TJ situation arose and I re-told the story to all that would listen. The Spanish girls edged in and the same gal interpreted my love story that had become so very popular, even in another language. As I told the story and heard it coming back at me in Spanish, it sounded even more fiery and intense than in English. I would catch the names “Albert” and “TJ” frequently mentioned, then a barrage of words strung together excitedly. It was truly fascinating and I took note. I also realized that there were many dialects of Spanish, different words meaning the same, but put in a certain way. Finally, after waiting for almost two hours, the deputies came and marched us out into the hallway. We were handcuffed and chained according to what court we were going to. I ended up chained to an older Mexican lady whose husband had put her in over domestic violence. It was amazing to me how many women were in there for that. We boarded the bus and took a seat in the front. Men were caged in the back. They wore orange or yellow jump suits, and stared at us curiously, but we pretended to ignore them. We rode the bus headed down the 110 freeway, stopping first at Van Nuys to deposit a few guys. The woman I was chained up with and I struck up an avid conversation. She didn’t mind talking like most did. It was a good idea to keep to yourself in jail, but that was not the case with me, because I needed to reach out to others, I thrived on it. It was no different with this lady. She seemed very nurturing and spoke good, clear English. She understood me as I explained what the lines meant on her palm. I also told her of my plight and she said God would lead me to the right man. I said that I saw them dropping the case and she would go free and be clear. We got close being chained to each other. Even when we finally reached the courthouse and were led into a small men’s bathroom converted into a holding cell with a broken payphone in it, she and I talked about everything under the sun. We prayed together and cried together, sharing our pain. She didn’t think her husband would follow through with the case either. I wished the same for my situation, but knew mine was a bit more complicated. It was 7:30 a.m. and we weren’t due in court until 3:00 that afternoon. We had a long time to chat and comfort each other. By 12:00 noon they opened the door and handed us baloney sandwiches and an orange. I tried to eat, but couldn’t. I did Yoga for a bit and continually tried the broken phone. It was frustrating. Finally, at around 1PM the steel door opened and my comrade was told that her case was dropped. She clapped her hands to her mouth and jumped for joy like a beauty queen winning the contest. I was genuinely happy for her. I asked about my case and the bald officer stared me down coldly. “We’re prosecuting you to the full extent of the law, Lady.” I almost cringed, but refrained. They shut the door again. The lady and I hugged tightly. She wrote down her phone number, took my booking number and waited eagerly to be released, which would happen soon. She promised to put $20 in my account so I’d have money. She never did, but wished me well and said that God will make everything okay with my case. I had enjoyed my time with her. She gave me added strength to go on and face the music. They came for her 30 minutes later and she was gone out of my life. The next time they came for me, it was to appear in court on some building charges and counts! When they put me in a locked cage by the courtroom and my public defender came to me, she read everything, including TJ’s statement, and the arrest up at Albert’s house, which still stung me like 100 queen bees hitting at once. In all the 5 days of my jail time, I still had not made any contact with him. I begged my sister to call his parents and explain and see what the feeling was, and she did call, but her answer back to me was vague and unfulfilling. I just wasn’t ready to face the fact that Albert had abandoned me and wasn’t able or willing to deal with it all. It saddened me. It made me feel hopeless and down. I was so upset that I took the poem I had labored over all week and ripped it up in that holding cell bathroom, flushing it down the toilet in little pieces. I had come to a turning point about what was going to happen with Albert and I. It didn’t look good. I misjudged him greatly and should have known. But we always cling onto something we cannot have and that’s what I was doing. It was still something that got me through and very good conversation with the inmates I was housed with. They had to call in a court psychologist to deal with me, because I was manic and upset about the multiple counts pending on me, counts that didn't make sense to me. My public defender thought it best to call the woman in. She sat with me trying to assess my sanity and insisted that I needed Paxil or Lithium. I declined so when she left I was alone except for one male inmate in the next cage waiting to see his public defender. I had heard the public defender say the guy broke his probation and has to answer to that. I looked at the guy and started talking to him and ended up reading his palm right there in the courtroom. He was so amazed at what I saw that it took awhile for him to put his hand down afterwards. Soon my public defender returned and I was led into the courtroom. She first tried to reduce my bail, which had zoomed up to $186,000! That went down to $40,000 right on the spot. I was also pleading not guilty to 9 counts (even though it was 30 and rising). It all seemed too surreal, like a bad movie. I'd done nothing illegal and should be vindicated. Everything happened in a matter of seconds, and I was put back into the holding cell to await return to Twin Towers. My house was literally 5 blocks from where I sat, and I had to go back to County. I wished to be free. It all seemed pointless and cruel. I didn’t murder anyone. I remembered what one deputy said to me a few days earlier in the pod when I made that statement. “Hey, you take a chance. You were caught. You do the crime, you do the time! But I have to say something to you. I looked you up and you were good, really, really good, Lady,” he said to me while doing his count a bit slower just to talk to me for a minute, which a lot of the deputies did on occasion. I was an oddity in the pod, some offbeat character. I didn’t feel good that he said I was good at whatever he thought I did. He probably meant that I was good because I got away with it for a long period of time, at least in his mind. I spared him the love story version and he continued his walk, or posing, depending on how you looked at it.
Donna & Gloria Wood, Leslie Siegel ksiegel61@yahoo.com original novel about two big band sisters. Time travel novel, lots of true adventure and finding lost love...
WHERE THE WOODS WERE, ORIGINAL NOVEL BY LESLIE SIEGEL
Leslie K. Siegel's novel WHERE THE WOODS WERE, DONNA & GLORIA WOOD, SINGERS, 1940's LESLIE K. SIEGEL, DONNA & GLORIA WOOD, SINGERS, 1940's --WHERE THE WOODS WERE NOVEL ON TIME TRAVEL AND BIG BAND SINGERS!
BY: LESLIE K. SIEGEL
WHERE THE WOODS WERE
This is a story connecting the physical world of reality to the spiritual universe beyond most people’s comprehension. It’s loosely based on a Massachusetts family, the Woods, mainly their two daughters Donna and Gloria, popular big band singers in their heyday. They left behind ageless photos that become one of the many links to them and their illustrious, yet ‘firefly’ past. Born to early Boston radio stars Robert and Gertrude, both Donna and younger sister Gloria showed musical ability at early ages. Life growing up for them must have been idyllic and carefree, even with the presence of the Great Depression, and World War II looming. Both had voices, talent and looks, at least from what they left behind --- Literally thousands of photos chronicling the different stages of their lives, especially the highpoints, from childhood to budding starlets, to the tragedy of Donna’s early 1947 death at the age of 29! Even their photo jaunts year after year at the same locations around Los Angeles held such significance. Gloria went on to become a 4-octave singing dynamo voice-over artist in her own right, and was married to Lee, the ailing elderly man who had called a Hollywood trade I worked for as an editorial assistant. He put it simply by saying that Diabetes claimed His Glo in March of 1995. I found that eerie because it was exactly 40 years after her parents passed away in March of 1955, at least from the information uncovered from the photos! “Perhaps there may be a story for the magazine to write about Gloria and her sister Donna Wood,” Lee prodded hopefully. By the first 30 seconds of our conversation, I sensed more than a story, something bigger! “The heck with the story, there was more here than that…” my racing mind blared before I did! But maybe my ‘prequel’ to the Wood Sisters and my true blood-love for the 1940’s must have started when working for and traveling with the songwriter who wrote UNFOREGTTABLE by Nat King Cole. Irv was in his 80’s by the time he and I met, but we traveled all over the world together. He’d written other songs like THROW MAMA FROM THE TRAIN, PRELUDE TO A KISS, and yes, ME, MYSELF & I … hundreds of other ditties that were famous back then and then, one day out of the blue, the Wood Family dropped into my life! Let’s start with eldest daughter Donna Wood. Didn’t know her in life, only after her early death at age 29 in April of 1947, as stated above. Born in Arlington, MA April 14, 1917, Donna’s birth marked the 5-year anniversary of Titanic, already a pall set upon a newborn’s first breath. That and the height of World War I always foreshadowed a ‘firefly’ lifespan. I know deep down inside, the moment after laying eyes on that first photograph taken ages ago, that their residue and essences reached out for something missed! Meeting the Woods in 1997, exactly 50 years after Donna’s passing, started out simple enough. To recap: A phone call from one of her forgotten ailing relatives, a trip to Beverly Hills, being introduced to them ... or at least what they were 50 years almost to the date after Donna died so suddenly, and so young. Suddenly, 6 cardboard boxes of their family mementos sprang into my possession. The photos date as far back as 1865 and range on up to the late 1950's of “Where The Woods Were” -- who Donna and Glo were, and whose loins they were borne from! In my present, most people seem intrigued with my fascination for the Wood Sisters. Then there are those piqued individuals that question my focus for the Woods, a family I’d never met in life. But I’m always still turning over some stone about this family, and have stumbled across some really great cases, some dead ends, others interesting, many coincidental, but all related to the photos proclaiming Where the Woods Were! (“We are the Woods!”) It seemed easy for them to rebuke my childlike views on what living life was, as well as what was the Great Beyond. But the Wood Sisters represent my child’s fantasy, an adventure into the Unknown after life, or at least a peek at best! The perky, free-spirited gal knew that the past was wide open for the percolating Wood family spirits springing forth, happy to be remembered, as they wanted to be recalled in the many pictures left behind by them. It's their life and times, and Kate often wondered if they subconsciously thought someone like herself would one day unearth their photos and think of them. Kate wondered if she were destined to spend her entire lifetime mooning over dead people, dead memories? Was that how it was going to be? Indulging her graveyard quick fix? Sometimes, especially lately, Kate had begun to secretly resent the new sensations and intuitions she was receiving. It was no longer simple gestures and actions people did. Now it encompassed the gestures and actions behind the gestures and actions people did -- What did it mean subconsciously? A simple phrase in a sentence said a certain way was revealing all sorts of innuendoes in Kate's mind. Could it be the new presence of the Woods? But aren’t the Woods passed on? That thought brings other strange thoughts to light about life and death. In a strange way, I learned from sitting around with Lee (and Irv), that the old seem to revert back to a childlike state. But Glo’s husband never ended up resenting my enthusiasm toward the end of his life as Mr. Unforgettable did. Flash back to when World War II broke out! Donna and Glo were out here in California filming a movie and singing with the Big Bands in town, going on War Bond tours, meeting Bob Hope, Donna even getting married in the thick of it all, mid-1943! She married the head army band conductor and Colonel! He was no lightweight either, and flew fighter planes on dangerous missions. His name was Lee! That said a lot about Gloria’s fascination when she met her Lee, the Lee I’d been hanging around with of late. During the time Donna was alive and married, Gloria could have had a thing for her sister’s tall, blond, blue-eyed, handsome hubby. I doubt it was by chance or ironic that 20 years later in 1963, Glo meets her sister-in-laws husband, also named Lee and falls for him (a blond, blue-eyed, cutie in his own right). And then came the controversial Family Blacksheeping it eventually caused, at least from what her later diaries shortly before her death in 1995 stated. And I’ve never been able to find any trace of Donna’s Lee (believe me, I’ve tried). The only thing that sheds any light on his being was that he once worked for a Beverly Hills newspaper called The Citizen. There was a small, almost missible article on James Roosevelt, son of the president, who produced POT O’ GOLD, the Jimmy Stewart movie Donna made her debut in. No mention of Donna’s Lee, but the tie-in was there, a small thread of his existence, especially with the information I was going on – small articles, clipped gossip columns, hometown newspaper clippings and obituaries mostly; and of course, the numerous pictures of them posing so handsomely candid. The question that started burning in Kate's brain was: What would Donna have become if she hadn't of passed away at age 29? Would she have surpassed Gloria's mini-stardom? Some photos reveal a friendly competition between the sisters. They were close, yes, but when Donna died, her sister passed the mark the older woman had achieved from the shots of Gloria at Donna's gravesite in the early 1950's. And something else was very strange. As mentioned earlier, Gloria ended up married to another Lee, who was blond and blue-eyed. In many pictures, even before the second Lee, you can see that Glo took the same pictures and poses as Donna did with her Lee. Year after year, until her death, there are tons of photos of her and Lee. Those photos were matched by Gloria with a different Lee, years later! Plus, from reading up on the diaries, Gloria mentions how sorry she was for any pain caused to Peggy, her brother’s wife’s sister. She is constantly apologizing throughout the diary for basically stealing away her brother’s wife’s sister’s husband (Lee #2). But, it was when Katie found a 1943 postcard sent to Gloria Wood at her small apartment - '9328' Olympic Blvd., Beverly Hills - that she realized how much of her own past really did parallel the Wood's. For many years, starting in 1983 (exactly 40 years after Gloria), Katie lived at '9328' Beverly Crest Drive, in Beverly Hills! Then she moved to 312 S. Elm Drive, finally ending her 12-year stint at 261 S. Reeves Drive, inner-city Beverly Hills, the two streets on either side of Donna Wood's 132 S. Canon Drive, and just up the street from Gloria's Beverwil house and first 9328 Olympic Blvd. address. And Kate did not miss the play on the number combos with Donna's address and hers on Reeves Drive in Beverly Hills, CA. This cleared the way for other coincidences. Kate has two older brothers and a younger sister as Donna did, her older brother is Robert, (same name as the Wood's older boy) younger sister is Diane, her mother and family were singers and entertainers like the Woods, and finally, she has an Aunt Gloria. And Donna was given Mercury to possibly jump-start her heart, ridding her body of any virus, just like Katie's Uncle Norman. But everything done and said, I’m constantly led back to the galore of pictures! It’s first obvious that the Wood Family didn't want to be forgotten, almost as if those musty lifeforce boxes were meant to fall into my hands because I am the sort of gal that reveries and preserves, making it part of my own cycle, although the Woods are not related to me by blood. I spend many hours going through those (Their) boxes like savoring Godiva Chocolates. They call out to me everyday. They say, “Oh, Kate, you are a true historian, thank you Kate!” Many think I’ve become obsessed (or maybe possessed by) with the Woods --- people who are dead, passed away, classified as ‘almost yesterday’s news’. Maybe that's true, but they are such special entities, and I sense them strongly entwined. I sometimes feel their oddly familiar essences, but blatantly. By the time 5 years had passed, I’d invite it, look for them everywhere, finding them in most obvious places. They manifest themselves (or I allow them --- maybe a bit of both) to become engrained in my life, like a new relationship. It started when I began matching up their photos with present day locations then going to those locations and taking present-day shots (as Gloria did). It is truly fascinating, like stirring up something longing to be let out again in some mystic and photographic way. I mimic the old shots of them, placing myself in the same spots, locations and stances, but 60 years apart. To me, it reflects a bond of sorts, maybe that time is the in the same continuum. Or perhaps doing that set up the time continuum? Who knows. But, I give the picture an effecting pose, while matching the family at Donna's gravestone year after year, mugging it up for the camera. At times it’s an odd space, especially when thinking of them while watching t.v. The channels come alive with their subtle messages, especially Donna and Gloria, whose pictures hang in the bedroom (over the t.v. stand) … And the highlights in their lives, so fleeting, but clear as if they happened but I forgot I was there, almost like I am old and of failing memory, so I remember them, but can’t recall spending time with them, but I did (procured by looking at the pictures). Like when a family member tells you something funny you did as a baby so many times, that you start to vaguely remember it, but can’t quite recall. As the months passed, Katie arranged numerous snapshots, starting at approximately 1880 and finishing with her own shots taken in 1997 in some of the same locations. She began feeling more confident in labeling names, activities and locations, which for the most part were accurate, as the woman would find out later when she would travel back to then! In the meantime, a blueprint (lately she had been thinking it had been there her whole life) formed in Katie's mind of Donna's life, times and death when snapshots of the singer's coffin, gravestone and funeral were seen. Although it was a sad occasion, family members smiled, as if they were having a party by the woman's grave. It's evident on their expressions, especially Gloria Wood's, in pictures taken at the site years later. Obituaries in '47, both from her hometown and Hollywood, stated 29 year old Donna Wood died mysteriously of some sort of heart disorder, but had married a musical conductor, Lee Hackler, (ironically the first name of Gloria's husband), and lived at 132 South Canon Drive in Beverly Hills, California for 7 years until her April 8, 1947, 11:00 p.m. untimely death! For some reason, it was all starting to sound like a story Kate had heard for years and years ... yarns spun by older relatives only visiting once every year. But she felt such kindred feelings radiating in and out of her airspace. Some of it came from within herself, but she could feel an underlying pull toward the Woods beaming their own sort of ghostly grace. She would follow this family and find out all she could, even trying to track down lost relatives. It’s admittable though; I’m hooked on the Woods. Following their photo paths to the places they were at, then snapping myself in the pictures where they once stood has given me a detective attitude, an almost strange free association connection path leading right to Where The Woods Were and After! After the photographs were in my possession, I pieced together the birth, life, death and actually became instrumental in the rebirth of them, especially Donna Wood, who got her first start from the once popular big band leader Horace Heidt while stuck in an elevator with him in Boston, around 1936. He saw Donna’s raw talent in that short amount of time and confining space, and eventually had in the campy Jimmy Stewart/Paulette Goddard movie POT O' GOLD lensed in 1941. Heidt easily encouraged United Artists to cast Donna as the silent sister to Goddard’s character (except during a few singing numbers), which they did. It was a hastily put together character bordering on featured extra and budding songbird. There are a few pictures of Donna taken on the set, plus many publicity shots made by the studio. She does a few chorus numbers, but it’s obvious that she was edged out, probably at Goddard’s insistence. I have the shots on the Pot O’ Gold set in my possession, even some negatives. Hunting down those studio photos in the collector shops strung along Hollywood Boulevard and actually finding a few, was a big thrill.
* * * CHAPTER I In March of '97, while working as an editorial assistant at a local Hollywood magazine Katie received a call from an old, ailing man, whose wife Gloria Wood, a 1950's commercial queen and orchestra singer, passed away. "My wife died a few years ago, and I've got some of her memorabilia," said the quiet, soft-spoken voice. "I think there may be a story here," he added. (Boy, he wasn't kidding!) "Why don't you give me your number and I'll call you back on it, okay?" "Okay, that sounds fine." He had boxes of mementos spanning 40 years before World War II. The writer took his phone number, stuffed it away and forgot about it, not realizing that this would be the beginning of a long, strange journey through time and space. It started with that one phone call, reaching across the far reaches of life and death itself! One day, by chance, she was sitting around the house she shared with her boyfriend PJ in Glendale, California. He resembled a cross between actors Jeff Bridges and Kurt Russell, with naturally curly hair like his girlfriend, people often mistaking them for siblings. As Kate stared at her boyfriend, something in the back of her mind recalled a certain phone conversation she had with the old timer who had called her a few weeks back about the Woods. It was then, for some reason the woman remembered the old man. "Hey, I almost forgot! This guy called up a few weeks back and said he had some 1940's memorabilia from his wife," she said happily. She had never taken an interest in that era, usually floating between a throw back from the Sixties to a folksy Janice Joplin look-a-like, but more attractive, of course. The 1940's seemed to reflect what Katie ran away from as a child - feminine glamour. People like Robert Taylor, Vivian Leigh, Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy were reminders of her own mother, an retired opera singer/concert pianist that could have been the next Female Liberace in her day in the sun as a would-be glamour queen that only teetered on the edge of fame. "Call him, it might be worth checking out," P.J. coaxed, while strumming a Martin acoustic guitar. His long fingers strummed an even original blues tune with ease. Katie phoned and spoke with Lee (#2), who invited the couple up to his house in Beverly Hills, on Beverwil Drive, two blocks from where Katie used to live for 12 years. They drove in P.J.'s ' Chevy truck, taking Coldwater Canyon to Kate's past Beverly Hills stomping grounds. The old territory loomed before her as P.J.'s lumbering Chevy chugged down Beverly Drive, the sunlight reflecting off the old truck into the green trees lining Kate's old haunt. They passed her ex-landlady's store - Beverly Hills Liquor Castle - the aging woman's bent, decrepit figure still reigning like a queen in her dusty, florescent-lighted store, unchanged in the years since Katie left the neighborhood. They made their way up to Beverwil Drive to an unassuming 1950's-looking house near Pico Blvd. "Wow, being back in my old neighbor is so strange," Kate reflected. "It almost feels like another country now," she marveled while gazing out the window at the sunny, bright sidewalks. "Yes, it must be weird being back, huh? Wonder who lives at your old place on Reeves Drive" P.J. drove up to the curb at Alcott Street and Beverwil. "I can't believe it's still standing, especially after that Northridge Earthquake. I thought for sure they would condemn it, but in a sad way I kind of miss being around here," said Kate, remembering the nuance of once dwelling in the City of Diamonds, Beverly Hills. People back East would always be gaping at the fact that Katie actually had an apartment there, behind the storefronts of Beverly Hills... "Oh, please, come on. That place was a hole." "I know, but I still have happy memories. I did spend 12 years here," she said nostalgically. She noted all the new stores and restaurants. "Wow, they finally got a Koo-Koo Roo Chicken! And look, they closed down the old Edison building. Vons Market is finally resurfacing their driveway." Life moved on. In a flash they were standing at the door of the house, ringing the bell. Lee's Russian companion Marlena greeted them, directing the couple into the garage where an old, thin man, his blue eyes dancing with excitement, sat in a chair just getting ready to light up. It seemed as if the garage doubled as a playroom, and they'd parked their cars on the street just to show them off at one time. It almost had the feel of that 'keepin' up with the Jones' flare of the early 1950's. All that was missing was the white picket fence, which was long gone by 1997! Quick introductions were made all around. The next thing Kate felt were the Wood Family's essences rising up, as if they'd anchored themselves there, waiting for that opportune moment to spring forth in that musty, hot room. She immediately sensed their restless souls calling out, "Don't' forget us, please don't forget the Woods! Help us not be forgotten!" "What an interesting family," Kate uttered while sitting down close to the find, beginning to sift through the well-preserved photos. "Gloria was quite something," said Lee, as he leaned against his walker. The man was definitely ailing, but proceeded to smoke his cig'. As the old man puffed, Katie could smell the old memories floating up like familiar scents invoking memories. It was then her impatient partner PJ, as if sensing the spiritual vibes, which sometimes could be oppressive, especially if you didn't usually dwell on such things, prompted the girl up 2 hours later. It didn't seem like more than 10 minutes to Katie, so engrossed she was with the photos and items in the boxes the Woods had left behind. They carried the 6 medium-sized cartons to PJ's antique truck, the old guy following them to the door, walker in hand, observing while lighting up another Marlboro and puffing away, as if not dying of emphysema, which he was. Marlena busied herself in the unorganized kitchen, except for tons of Vons shopping bags stacked neatly by the door. What Katie felt was another presence though --- Gloria Wood and especially from her sister Donna! As they drove away Katie said, "Maybe we can visit him again! I think he liked us a lot, PJ." She looked at the boxes tied securely with bungee cord. "I feel like we've caught the catch from the middle of the Century!" Clamoring over Coldwater, she looked back at the stuff from another era. "God, I hope it doesn't blow away in those creaky boxes." "Stop whining, we'll get them back in one piece," said P.J. while puffing on his favorite brand. Once home, they carried the boxes into their bedroom and placed them around a king-size bed, given to them by an 82-year-old songwriter who wrote Unforgettable, by Nat King Cole. Kate had spent a number of years as his companion, up until meeting P.J. in August of '93, when she made the decision to give that life up with Irv, and very easily too, because Old Man Irving was a Mean Old Fart. The woman was glad to get away from him, even though Irv and P.J. had forged a strong friendship, when she introduced them after the Northridge Earthquake in '94. He also is credited with penning the classic "Throw Mama From The Train", as well as a number of other tunes, but sometimes Kate wanted to throw someone else off that train! All her concentration during the next few hours focused on her newest find - those Wood Family boxes. Handling the Wood family photos and mementos carefully, as if they were ancient treasures, Katie sifted through mounds of pictures, literally hundreds of snapshots of 'Where the Woods Were'. Little did the lady know then that she'd be whisked into 1941 in just under a year. Katie's association with Lee became a direct divining rod headed straight for 'Where the Woods Were'. She and P.J. began making pilgrimages up to the Beverwil house in Beverly Hills almost every Sunday. It was the opposite of a Pandora's Box, instead filled with mementos of an era, rather than evil particles, jagged and angry! The couple had gotten into a pattern of spending hours milling around Gloria Woods' Beverwil house finding precious gems that held so many Wood family memories, as if they were laid out that way for them to discover.
***
Arlington, MA – 1931
14-year-old Donna Wood lay in bed cringing under the thin blanket. She'd been awakened by a nightmare, the same one over and over. "She's walking in a forest and suddenly feels pressure on her chest. She can't breathe without effort and everyone around her seemed oblivious. Then Donna lies in a white coffin, her whole family standing around her grave. She sees herself in the coffin as a young woman then starts running around trying to get her family's attention as they grieve for the grown-up Donna Wood lying in state. Then everything goes black and silent." She's softly crying as her mother, Gertrude comes in to comfort her oldest daughter, who was in distress. Donna always tried to hide the fact, but Mother always heard and came to hug and assure. Dreams were powerful tools in her family and that's why she was concerned with Donna's nightmares. They were coming on more frequently of late, but the doctor had said Gert's daughter might grow out of it eventually. If not, they were ready to administer a sedative to the teen at night. "Is it the dreams again, Darling?" Asked Gert, full of concern. Donna turned on her side, tears slipping down her porcelain face. "Yes, mom, it's horrible. I see my death, I see the future, something foreboding and scary." "What do you mean scary?" Gert sat on the edge of her daughter’s small bed. She always tried saying the word scary in a more soothing, clown like way. "I see you and Daddy standing around my grave, it's hard to breathe. Then this curly-haired woman is standing by my grave and I'm trying to speak to her but and it's almost like she's just about to respond, and then things get so jumbled and frightening!" Donna reached for her mother's arms, wanting comfort. "Mommy, why do I have to die? I don't want to? Don't let me die, Mommy, please," cried Donna as her mother took the girl in her strong sure arms and hugged her tears away. Gertrude knew there was something very special about her Donna. As a little girl she could sing, play notes on the piano, and carry a tune with the ease and maturity of a lounge singer. They encouraged Donna to sing and embrace radio. She was even now taking to both mediums with ease. Donna was born April 14, 1917, and the dreams were always with her, even when she was just an infant. Gert could tell right away, could see her baby become flushed and fidgety in sleep, where most children simply shook slightly when they dreamt. It was disheartening, but they dealt with it. The family resided in a roomy, Arlington, Massachusetts Colonial home that had been with the Wood's since their grandparents came to the United States in the 1880's. Gertrude's hope would be that her daughters would become a singing duo. Gloria, her youngest, was 8, so it was plausible to begin now. And it's okay that her older boy, Bobby wasn't into the music like her girls and Channie, her second oldest son. It was already apparent in dark-haired Donna, and the gifted blond Gloria as well. Her second oldest son had it as well, but not as strongly as her girls. "And God knows the boys are growing up fast too. It's hard to believe Bob would graduate high school this year, and Chandler would be a Junior already. Donna was a budding, 14-year-old flower," the troubled mother thought. "Lord, how she loved them all, especially her little Gloria. Gert would be there for them, and knew they'd be there for her, or their father Robert. It was unity that guided love, that made for stronger morals." Gert sat there holding her daughter, as the gifted girl drifted off. She kissed Donna's cheek and whispered, "don't worry, everything will be fine." Donna calmed immediately and her mother stroked her daughter's smooth, unblemished forehead and rearranged the bedding. As Gertrude left and gently closed the door, a burst of light shone through the window. An angel appeared whispering as Donna slept, "Dream sweet dreams now, for you will have good times before the dark days of death claim your young delicate soul."
* * *
1997
In the ensuing weeks, that turned into months, Robert Sr., Gertrude Anderson-Wood, Donna and Gloria Wood, as well as brothers Bob and Chandler Wood became as familiar to Kate as her own family and she was finding parallels between them. Robert and his wife Gertrude were singers on the early Boston radio circuit. They met, married and continued their careers, even after their children were born. Kate didn't really connect with the Wood brothers, and had found Gloria Wood's history interesting, but who she felt a special connection and kinship with was Donna Wood, the sister who died at the age of 29 in '47. Every time she'd run across Donna's picture, something inside of the sensitive girl identified with the good looking brunette whose short life reminded her of a firefly, a rapid spark compared to time and the universe. "Who was she? Why did she die? Where did she live? What were her thoughts? Why did I care?" But Katie became more obsessed as the days passed. Every picture of Donna Wood brought her closer to the singer's seemingly nurtured, carefree childhood in Massachusetts. She too, like Kate was the first-born daughter, third in line after Channie, Gloria the youngest. All her focus lately was on those Wood photos. Whether it be shots of a beachfront picnic, a nature hike, or maybe those first candid publicity shots when Donna sang with Horace Heidt's band in the 1940's, then landed a film called Pot 'O Gold in 1941, starring Jimmy Stewart, a klunker of-a-feature about a musical band's turmoil to get on a radio show, that Mr. Stewart quoted as 'being the worst film he ever did'. With the coming of World War II, Stewart soon enlisted in the armed forces, claiming not to be in the right frame of mind when agreeing to play the starring role in the movie produced by then-President Roosevelt's son James. Soon after filming of the flick, Stewart, of course, enlisted and went to fight for his country. It would be Donna Wood's film debut playing an extra beside co-starring actress Paulette Goddard as her sister. It was the only film Donna ever appeared in or did, and it's only 45 seconds. Still, to see this woman alive and breathing was such a treat for Katie, after looking at tons of the singer's photos from age 3 up until shortly before her death.
* * *
1931
The summer days turned out to be humid, but clear and bearable, not like most summers in Massachusetts. It was June, 1931. The Great Depression wasn't even in full swing yet and it had already been two years, but Donna never really felt the pinch like they all heard on the radio. Her father had told His Girl many times, that entertainment and radio would always be a constant medium, especially during bad times. "People need something when the chips are down. “Even Blue Chips,” quipped Gert. “They crave something that infuses them with hope and We Woods give it to 'em straight!" Robert had already sold most of his long-held stocks, including the Blue Chips. He'd come out better than even, and settled his affairs just as the bottom fell out in '29. Later, people marveled over his foresight and wanted to know who his tipster was, and if he knew someone on the Inside. It was baffling to them. Though he'd never admit it in public, it was one of his wife's dreams that led him to sell the stock and cash in, just like in the Bible where Joseph advises the Pharaoh of Egypt. Presently he owned part of a radio station in Downtown Boston, and was looking into other venues, he sometimes wondered if he was a bit too demanding, possibly expecting too much? The boys were growing up virtually normal, and Bob hadn't shown a great interest in musical entertaining. But his girls and Channie had something special that needed nurturing and direction, which he and Gert would give them. Robert noticed that his kids had something when the other day he observed Donna orchestrating a photo session with her neighborhood friends. It was how she handled one particular Sour-faced man, a nasty neighbor who was known to dislike children and the clamor they caused and created, that struck Robert like a lightning bolt. He considered His Donna a regular little director, and Charlie Chaplin couldn't have done better. Robert had a mind, more than once, to write Mr. Chaplin about his thoughts on the movie business in general, how music and movies should mesh. Again, with the establishment of 'Talkies' (and it's a long time coming already), Chaplin would be looking for new, fresh-faced talent, especially young ladies that could sing, and have experience on radio, as well as can talk properly, clearly and with substance. Why it took so long for radio and movies to come as one, is only the Lord's answer. Oh now he was starting to sound like his wife, but let's face it, Baby Peggy is all grown up and more upbeat, musical talent is needed like his Darling Donna and his Little Glo maybe even Chandler. Summer, 1931 The next day it was off to the beach, a magical place for Donna. She loved to sit on a sand mound watching the waves breaking shore, holding her breath until they crashed to the beachfront. Her brother Chandler sat beside her in the sand whittling a stick and watching the girls walk by. Once not too long ago, her brother would have been content building sand castles and catching crabs, but now his interest in girls was swimming around his brain, which made him more creative with music. Donna remembered when they were really young she'd wanted to join her brothers in idle play, but she knew deep down inside then, only being 8, that there was something within that wanted to burst forth in another way, mature feelings for a young child. Her parents understood and encouraged her. Gertrude would stare into her daughter's dark, wide eyes and see an old soul residing there. In a silent moment, Donna would become very serious, saying something profound, more like what an 18-year-old woman would utter. It was uncanny, almost frightening, and it foreshadowed a short life span for the budding woman. Only time would tell. In the meantime, the Wood's would give their family every opportunity in the world to embrace education, music and The Arts. Yes, there would be good times, wonderful times and of course, bad ones as well. All of a sudden right there on the beach, Donna and her brother went into a duet of present day medleys. By the end of the little music number the beach had become crowded with people listening to the brother and sister duet. At the end, everyone clapped, a few teenage gals swooning like Chan was Rudy Valee. Bob swam with his father as Gertrude sat on a blanket with 8-year-old Gloria. They seemed the ideal family that day on the beach. Robert Sr. looked up from body surfing with his oldest. He spotted his wife on the blanket with their youngest and thought how much he loved Gert's ingenuity and strength to keep the family together even during this hard financial time of the Great Depression. They both had strong family ties and loved the radio. He, as well as his wife, saw great things in their girls. Already Gloria was responding to piano notes and would join in with Mama and Donna as they sang standards together in the living room. And lately, Chandler was developing a late bloomer interest in singing too. He would, of course, encourage that.
* * *
1997 Also, with the help of PJ, Kate found "Where the Woods Were' buried at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale, literally blocks from their house, just by studying the 1947 photos of Donna's funeral procession. "Hey, that place looks familiar...it's Forest Lawn!" "Isn't it ironic how out of all the graveyards in Los Angeles, it just so happened that you worked at this particular one as an electrician in the mid-1980's," marveled Kate. Not only did P.J. know the terrain, but also the set-up of the place off San Fernando Road, a most interesting coincidence! "It's no big deal," said P.J. "The next step is to find those plots. We'll match up some of the shots taken at the Wood gravesite in the latter 1940's and 50's, then head up to Forest Lawn," Kate said excitedly, as if this were some sort of treasure hunt! "Now don't get all crazy on me now, okay?" "I won't. Come on, let's go," urged Kate, leading him out the door. "Man, I wish you were this way with sex!" Kate ignored the jibe. They drove the twisting roads of the graveyard searching reference points from the 50-year-old pictures the Woods shot. Something drove Katie onward, pictures in hand, gazing at hundreds of other graves wondering how they had died, and if they were loved enough for someone like her to bother searching for them at all. Recently, Katie had found out through a family friend that her Grandfather (her mother's father) loved to go to cemeteries, and visited with dead relatives a lot. That intrigued Kate, and got her thinking about the blueprint in the brain theory running through her own mind. It all seemed to fit. Grandpa David owned and operated a comic book publishing company in the 1930's on up until his death in 1969. He had been rumored to be listed in 'Ripley's Believe It Or Not' for strapping a torpedo on his back and swimming underwater to place those things in the line of fire. Kate sometimes fancied him to the first Navy Seals. He could have been a career man, until his wife said no more and also loved flying. Grandfather David was a pretty illustrious character of a guy. Kate was convinced that the reason they never gelled was because she wasn't the first-born son. If she had been, they may of had something, but as it stood, he took a shine to her oldest brother Robert. No matter though, for she had his blueprint fixed in her brain consciously, rather than in her Id! As she searched for the Woods, her thoughts matched the elements and weather. The day was breezy, swirling clouds moving above, casting billowing shadows on the wide-open, green grass. From Katie's vantage point, she spotted P.J. making his way around the next hill, head down, prodding casually along, looking for the Wood graves too It was at that moment the upbeat, high-spirited woman realized they couldn't give up until the graves were found. After one hour, suddenly Kate was magnetically pulled to an open spot, a beautiful view of San Fernando Road sprawling before her, right above the cemetery's Arlington Way. She stopped, gazed at the view of Los Angeles gleaming in the foreground, and then walked right up to 'Where The Woods Were', the Family's final resting place. If anyone saw the curly-headed, 30 year-old, Janice Joplin look-a-like yelling, "I found them, I've found the Woods," at the top of her lungs, nobody stirred. She sat down and stroked Donna's stone, murmuring, "I've found it, I found them! I found her!" It was like something out of a bad soap opera episode! P.J. immediately ambled over, quelling the girl's exuberance by hushing her. "Hey, this is a bone yard, not a park," he scolded. "Look P.J., they're all here! I can't believe it," Kate cried excitedly, actual tears rolling down her cheeks. "I knew we were linked up with them somehow," Kate added. She began an oral history. "Robert Sr. died in 1955. He was two years younger than his wife Gertrude, who also passed away in '55 at the age of 63. Gloria Wood, of course, died in March of '95, we knew that," said Kate. "The brother's graves are missing for some reason. I wonder where they are, or if they may be alive?" "Who knows what happened," answered PJ. He sounded a bit freaked, and trying to maintain his control, but he was effected as much as Kate was, but in a different way, of course. Could a part of him be jealous of dead people? "Doesn't Donna Wood's grave look as fresh as it did in the 1947 black and whites?" Katie bent down for closer inspection and held up the old shots. "In essence, Donna & Gloria Wood have literally lived beside me in their youth and death, and we've never met until those pictures and family history in an old musty garage gathering dust found their way into my life," she said reverently. "Go figure," added P.J. nonchalantly, which was standard for him. The couple snapped shots of themselves by the graves, imitating the same poses taken by the Wood's 50 years before, sitting and standing in the foreground, shooting the same landscape that had changed very little in all that time. Maybe someone looking at the couple from afar thought it strange, but to Katie, it was the most exciting find to date. It was when they'd finished photographing the scene that P.J. all of a sudden became restless, probably noticing Katie's growing attachment to the Wood's, like when they first went over to Lee's house. It was just plain strange, but you knew Katie like he did, you understood. "Okay, I think it's time to go now," he said, hustling away, literally having to tear his girlfriend from the spot. "Now that I had found Her, I didn't want to leave Her," cried Katie's mind, but P.J., being a sensitive man, felt the Wood Family spirits dwelling there strongly, and therefore, the jittery guy stood at the top of the road nervously lighting his 4th Merit Ultra Light in 15 minutes. He must have been pretty spooked by it all. Katie, on the other hand, felt rooted, not wanting to leave, and would have rather lingered after taking pictures, but reluctantly left the spot 'Where the Woods Were'. * * *
1931 The next day a little boy ran up to the Woods, who were sitting on the porch swing, and announced, "Donna's got a bunch of the neighborhood kids dressed up in funny party hats she made! Even Old Man Jones, who never smiles, is ear to ear now!" The boy pointed to a small crowd in the distance, and then quickly high-tailed it back to the commotion. When word spread about Jones, Donna soon had the whole neighborhood toting parasols and wearing her homemade hats. Robert was soon out in the thick of it, snapping picture after picture, not wanting to lose the moment to time, which thereafter changed the image of the neighborhood. They always had the trusty camera to record posterity. God knows they wouldn't want to forget this. Thank goodness for film. Even Donna's little cousin Virginia was in the thick of it too. She was darling, and sometimes was mistaken for the third sister of the Woods! Even as a baby she was sometimes mistaken for his little daughter Gloria. The next day, on a whim, Robert had taken the kids up to North Conway on the train, just for the sheer joy of doing it. He snapped pictures on the way. Mr. Wood wore his Sunday's best and a fashionable flat top hat. Donna wore a striped shirt, white slacks, and paten-leather shoes, looking slim and on the verge of puberty. Gloria was there feeling hot and fussy in her traveling suit. Chandler and his brother loved the excitement of riding the train, but Bob would rather be back home swimming at the lake, or rowing in the quiet of the family boat. On the other hand, Donna enjoyed traveling, especially by train. You could really see the world passing by, could sit back and enjoy the ride. She had dreams of one day growing up and traveling place to place singing for the crowds. The girl would suddenly awaken in the middle of the night feeling like she'd been sleeping on a train. Donna smiled to herself thinking, "My dreams on the Disoriented Express!" She sat next to her father talking about all sorts of interesting subjects, especially when the conversation drifted to music and the radio after the train had run into some trouble and was sitting on the tracks idle for hours. Dad knew everything there was to know, and even Bob, who usually got moody on these train rides, was listening to his father's yarns about the golden radio days with their mother, even quietly and simply explaining how radio worked. Bob tuned in during this part, loving to hear the specifics of Radio’s inner workings, not just a wooden box with a dial and people’s voices filtering out. And sometimes it was hard for them to imagine their mother a cool, suave singer, but she was and still performed, and was now performing through her children. But they all knew Donna had It, and pictured her immersed in it . "Be patient, for that time will come to pass too. Follow thy Father's hand and thy Mother's rules, imitate their successes," said a strange inner voice Donna had been hearing of late. It spoke again. "Your time will come Sweet Songbird, Donna Wood." Yes, Daddy Wood had a vast knowledge of radio and music, and Donna respected that with all her heart. As the train finally rolled along back from North Conway, she remembered the first time her parents took her to church. She stood in the pulpits watching them take center stage before their congregation and God. They sang from their hearts, sounding so beautiful and pure that Donna cried joyfully out of the sheer beauty and overwhelming grace her soul felt. It made the little girl, then only 4, grateful to God that she'd inherited those same talents, and took to them like a bird to chirping. Donna always felt much older. Especially today, for some reason. Not just because she was traveling with her father and family, all dressed up in a traveling outfit, but because she really was growing up, even when they all munched on maple sugar candies and giggled at the drunk old man stooped over the railing they made funny faces at him. She hoped they'd get back early. A few of her friends from school were coming by to go hiking early tomorrow morning. It would be Cousin Virginia and Janice, who asked if her brother Todd could join them. * * * 1997 After doing some quick talking, Katie got P.J. to drive into Beverly Hills, to Gloria's house. She incessantly begged him to stop at 132 S. Canon Drive, Donna's old place, which he reluctantly did, after her over-urgings. They passed Donna's apartment building. "Wow, it's still here and looks the same as it did in shots taken 60 years ago of Donna, Gloria, Mama and Papa Wood, with Donna's tall, handsome army captain looking somber and handsome in his uniform," said Kate wistfully. "And I noticed something, P.J.," she said holding up a picture of Lee Hackler. "You look a lot like him! The same hair, although Lee's curls are brushed straight back conservatively," she noted, touching P.J.'s adorable curls, him brushing her hand away. "But you both share the same brow and eyes, as well as brooding expressions." It was amazing to Katie as P.J. gunned the engine and barreled down Canon, swearing he "didn't look at all like Lee Hackler", how much he really did! They drove 4 blocks to the Beverwil house. Gloria's ailing widower's hospital bed was set-up in the living room where parties, jam sessions and neighborhood get-togethers once took precedence. "Hi Lee," Kate said, going up to his bed, CNN blasting in the background. "Hello, how are you two doing?" Asked Lee, while struggling to sit up. He reached for his cigarettes, as usual, offering her one. She took it eagerly, finding a strange identifying factor in the gesture, like when she first came to the house and was looking at those pictures. The smell of the smoke renewed her nostalgic Wood wonderings. "Where's Marlena?" Kate asked Lee. "She's at school," answered Lee. "She's taking English classes at Beverly Hills High." "That's great, Lee!" P.J. died his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray. It was then that Katie causally started walking around the house, seeing as Marlena wasn't around. Sometimes Lee's Russian companion would find Kate searching through boxes and drawers in the Lanai. The plump gal with the varicose veins, sometimes hidden by spandex, would ask Katie what she was doing, so it was good the companion wasn't there this particular day when the girl snooped about. But the bug had bitten Katie the moment she walked into the house. There wasn't anything of much value, just pictures, clippings, diaries and mementos of the past glory of the Wood family legacy. That's all there was to mark the birth, death and re-birth of them, at least the ones in the pictures. Katie still didn't know if there were living relatives, because Lee never mentioned any yet. She knew in time he would. Kate looked around, scrutinizing the remnants of the room. It seemed Gloria was the entertainer, as well as an excellent hostess, especially in the story told by the snapshots of family gatherings, Walt Disney functions, road trips and other such excursions captured and frozen on film. It proved beyond a doubt that the Wood's were an active, happy-go-lucky, close-knit family that wasn’t shut out of Donna and Gloria's singing stardom. It was strange and eerie, but Kate could almost hear Gloria singing in that 4-octave range, enabling the 5 foot singer to carry virtually any note with ease and abandon. As she thought about that, Kate spotted an old picture in a frame all dusty and moldy. She picked it up, dusted it off and just barely recognized Rock Hudson with a microphone along with Gloria and others frozen in some high note in this very lanai! Katie walked in front and snapped several shots of the roadside and exterior by the house. Once inside, she talked Lee into snapping shots of her in the same spots as Gloria was in her 1950's barrage of photos. Outside in the yard, on the patio she and P.J. matched and shot in the same spot that a young vibrant Gloria Wood sitting with her grandfather in 1950. That picture, as well as one from their cemetery trek, was to yield strange unexplainable feminine ghostly images. Yes, there were two distinct shadowy, ghostly figures. One captured at Gloria's house on the patio of a woman's face staring into the camera on the lower left portion of the picture. Also, at Donna Wood's plot at Forest Lawn - a strange face of a woman between Kate's hands as they rest on either side of Donna's plot, unmistakably well-defined eyes, nose and mouth can be seen with the naked eye. Most she showed were a bit skeptical. Others believed. They even submitted the photos with captions on the World Wide Web, and people as far away as Singapore were clamoring to know all about the Woods. Even an engineering student in India wanted to chat about Donna and Gloria Wood! Who were they? Why hadn't they ever heard of them? And Kate faithfully answered the long-awaited fan mail from people about the subject. Sometimes she pretended to be Donna, or sometimes Gloria, and whatever drove her onward with, had a strong hold. Was it the Wood Family's spirit calling out, refusing to be forgotten? Calling out their ongoing message of - "Keep our memory alive, please don’t forget us, the Woods!" The Wood family was big churchgoers, Robert and Gert singing in the choir, as well as other engagements around the Arlington and Boston areas, so there was a religious spiritual feeling to their souls. And souls were laced with electrical current, as well as the Internet. P.J. and Katie sat out on the patio in the hot sunshine. "It doesn't matter that Donna never achieved movie stardom," said Kate, taking a puff of a Marlboro cigarette Lee offered her when they first arrived that morning. "But if she had 3 blockbuster films under her belt, she would have been known as Lady-James Dean, I just know it!" "Hey, I hope you aren't taking this Wood thing too far," said PJ. "Don't go nuts on me, okay? And there may be family members alive who won't take kindly to us, you know..." "I've thought about that, but who cares. We're bringing so much happiness to Lee. He loves how I've embraced the Woods, I just feel it. I feel them too!" "Just don't get too crazy, okay? Other people connected to this family might not appreciate it," preached PJ. "And you know how high-strung you get! Just be careful and let the Woods have their place, that’s all I’m saying." Katie brushed his warning away, "Okay, I know, I know. Don't go off on me about it!" But, she had to agree with P.J., there must be relatives lurking about somewhere. And others, their friends and family may think her a bit “off”, so for now Kate would suffice with the photos of the past. After gazing closely at each and every picture of the Wood's at least a dozen times over, Kate began feeling even closer to them. So close in fact, that one late evening, her boyfriend heard the lady talking in her sleep distressfully calling the Wood family cat Tommy, whose picture appears in several photos with the Woods. It was the foreboding way Katie called out, when at the same instant she yelled in her sleep for Tommy, there were rapid footsteps outside their bedroom window. (The police term for gun is Tommy) These particular officers were chasing a suspect who ran in the yard and over the fence. The next thing Katie remembered was being jolted awake as P.J. stared at her wide-eyed and looking a bit freaked out himself, but maintaining his cool all the same. As they sat by the window watching six policemen with Tommy guns drawn searching the yard for the culprit, it seemed as if the Woods essence played a strange role. Finding no one, the cops left, leaving a half-spooked neighborhood back in silence. The couple marveled at the experience and timing of the event, which seemed eerie. After that 'cat' experience, Kate began calling their own feline Tommy instead of his real name of Berlin-Kiddi, but the cat always nipped at her, it's ears twitching at the sound of the name Tommy. Katie also started wondering if the Woods were trying to reach her, since her vibrations dripped of their essences. It would be great if she could travel back in time and meet them. Sometimes the girl fantasized about it, trying to take her mind there, but was usually interrupted by something, causing a connection breakdown. A few weeks after the police incident, Kate was sleeping in the living room because of P.J.'s snoring when all of a sudden a female arm reached from the darkness, shaking her then dissipating. A few days later, P.J. mentioned that he felt a female arm reach out and rouse him too. Kate told him of her experience, and he wanted to drop the subject entirely, which is what they did. * * *
1931 As Donna had hoped, they had made it back early, Gert even having dinner ready and hot on the table. A roast, veggies, mashed potatoes and gravy, plus fresh apple cider and all the fixings. The family ate heartily, while talking about the day. They were close and all knew that to get through the Great Depression, differences would have to be put aside, especially sibling rivalry, which shouldn't be left unchecked. After dinner, Donna stopped by Cousin Virginia's, who had already spoken with the others. They used the phone in the hall to call Janice and had arranged everything from that point. They giggled when Janice's brother Todd answered the telephone and confirmed everything with them. "Yes, we'll be there at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow," he said. "Okay, that's great. Hey, Donna wants to talk to you." Virginia handed the phone to her cousin. "Hi Toad, what's doing?" The pretty girl asked. She'd taken to calling him 'Toad', and he never seemed to mind, figuring Donna meant the nickname to imply he was a Prince Charming waiting for his princess to come and change him back. "Oh nothing, I just got through listening to Amos & Andy. "Your dad letting you listen to the radio more?" Asked Donna. "No, I'm not as lucky like you are, being able to listen anytime, even having more than one radio in your house! Now that's heaven to me. My folks figure that if they gave me a radio of my own, I'd never come down to dinner again!" "Well, they're probably right," she snipped at him playfully. "My parents know I won't abuse the privileges they set for me. So you going hiking with us tomorrow, or what, Chum?" "Yes, I already asked my dad, and he said I could. Virginia going to be there?" Donna didn't answer right away and felt a mixture of jealousy and protectiveness for her cousin. They were close. "Yeah, so what? You taking a shine to her, Toadie-boy?" "What if I was? You mad?" "No, not mad, just don't hurt her, okay? She's more than just my cousin, you know, she's my best friend! I look out for her. We look out for each other. She'd be doing the same as I was right now if the tables were turned." "I wasn't saying anything bad about it, Donna. And we'll be there around 7, okay?" "Make it 6:00 a.m. so we can get a good start." "I'll set my alarm." "Don't be late, or Virginia and I leave without you and your sister!" "I won't! Tell Virginia I said bye," said Todd. "Tell her yourself, Lover-Boy, maybe I should put on some romantic stuff in the background!" Donna handed the phone to her friend who stood waiting to talk to her new love. "Hi Todd....." Donna walked back into the living room and sat on the couch waiting for her cousin to finish with her telephone call. Lately, since he and Virginia started liking each other, Donna's view of the guy had changed. He was going from a runty, mussed-haired kid, to a tall, more reserved boy that she knew was deep inside his 15 year old body. Finally Virginia swooned into the living room and sat next to Donna looking dreamy. "Hey, your cheeks are really flushed, Virginia, I don't think you want your mom to see you this way, quick, let's go upstairs and put on some light powder to tone you down." The two tip-toed upstairs, applied the make-up. When the two launched into a cute ditty song, and had gotten the harmonies just right, Aunt Stella told Donna it was time for her to go home. "My, my, you two were rambunctious this evening," said the still striking woman. "There's a lot to be rambunctious about, Mom!" "You girls are just growing up, but I'll tell you something, I've got a mind to talk to your Uncle Earle about seeing if you can join in on Aunt Gert's music lessons. Virginia couldn't have been happier, and was Donna when she left to return to her own house. She immediately called her cousin up with the news. They sat and talked about boys for a bit, then retired for the evening. Donna said her goodnights to the family and went to bed. * * * Evening, 1931 Hours later, after retiring, Donna still lay awake thinking and drifting. She couldn't wait to see her friends and hoped Toad wouldn't act immature and tease them too much. Maybe she should drop the nickname Toad. Why were boys like that? She drifted into her usual restless sleep dreaming of that same girl with the curly, curly hair. But, as usual, the sun announced yet another morning out her window and Donna was relieved to see the same bluebird perched on her windowsill, signaling a new day. In the end, she was glad Todd had come along, because he did most of the picture taking. Her father had let Donna borrow the new camera he'd just bought. She treated it like gold, taking it out carefully from her lunch sack. "This might be one of the last nature walks we'll take together for awhile," said Donna, walking down the grassy path. "I guess once we start going to different schools next year, the chances of having the same schedule is at odds," said Janice, while munching on her ham and cheese sandwich, sipping Coca Cola from the bottle. "I wish you and Toad were going to Arlington," lamented Donna, stealing a sip from the Coke. "Well, in the meantime, we're all as close as ever," said Virginia, popping a potato stick into her mouth. As they walked slowly up the well-worn path to a small tree sanctuary at Whitcomb Summit Observation Tower, where they would do a bit of bird watching, no one missed Todd and Virginia holding hands and exchanging a hug once in a while. "Don't think going to separate schools is going to hurt those two, hey?" They laughed lightly. "My dad said we might see some rare colored birds, because a neighbor had lost his pet parrot, one of those exotic birds from overseas," explained Donna, scanning the horizon with the binoculars she'd also brought. Todd immediately said, "Donna, your dad is pulling our shoestrings! There aren't any strange colored birds in all of Massachusetts, except the ones in cages and in your brain!" Everyone laughed. But soon they entered an open copse of trees and heard a bird screeching, then a strange voice say, "Stop in the name of the law!" The group of friends then spotted a small blue and red bird fly to the highest tree, and into its recently forged nest. Its markings were very offbeat and colorful. "It's from India, I think," explained Donna. "That's so neat," said Virginia." "Won't that do something to the ecological chain?" Asked Todd kiddingly. "I don't think so." Todd snapped a few shots of the action. It was then Donna remembered the nickname her mother called Dad - 'Woodie', short for the woodpecker bird. Well, it was better than calling him 'Parrot'. Afterwards, when they returned from the hike, Gert invited everyone for dinner. They sat around the table talking about the bird they saw. Then out of the blue, Gloria started teasing her father, how he would look as a bird. Later on that evening, Gert carried the joke further when she compared her husband’s member to a woodpecker bird. They shared a good laugh, settled down, talked for a bit, hugged close and nestled in for the evening. The house was quiet, except for that mournful train whistle that always seemed to sound it's horn at just the right moment in time. * * * 1997 Lee finally gave the go ahead for Katie to call Virginia Wood, first cousin and band mate to the Wood sisters. She had finally gotten the number and it was like a key to some mysterious treasure from Gloria's husband Lee, one of many he would procure through the months. Of course by 1997, Virginia was well into her eighties, which was hard for Katie to first fathom because of looking at all the photos of Ginny as a little girl, even as a baby. The first thing the girl asked Ginny was about Lee Hackler, Donna's husband. "I don't know what happened to Lee. His family was from Kansas. Lord, he was very handsome and stern, focused. Donna had met him on one of her many War Bond tours with the Heidt band. He was, at that time, in the Army Air Corp., but also had the privilege of being his unit's official music conductor," explained the talkative, perky sounding Wood-link. "The couple most probably met at one of the big shows. From there they courted, then shortly married in 1943. He moved in with Donna at her place after the war, worked for the Beverly Hills Citizen in the newspaper's advertising department." "Wow, that's very interesting," egged on Kate. It was the first time she could put an event to a photo, and Lee's face was as clear as if she'd known him herself, which she probably did, or ‘would’! "My, my, you are bringing me way back! Shall I continue? "Please do," said Kate, lapping it all up like a can of Alpo to Lassie. "My husband and I spent time with them in 1942. That's when we married, and ended up going back east though. Lee was good looking, strong and tall, he had a wonderful sense of humor, but there was this very strict and prim side to him, especially in regards to his appearance. He was only a few years older than Donna, but definitely loved that woman more than anything in the world," said Virginia, her voice becoming far away as she went back to those days. Her voice still held that childlike quality, that flare for living. "By the way, I'm very much interested in what you are going to do with all this," she said so suddenly, that it startled Katie with its stark clarity. "Oh, yes, of course, I have plans. But I'm just enjoying your family like they're my own. I hope you don't mind," said Kate, wanting to hear more about the Wood's past. "Did I mention that my husband flew 54 missions overseas? He received the Distinguished Flying Cross, and many other medals," said Virginia, talking up her man. "He was a teacher at a high school, and even taught a class in ROTC. He is a wonderful man." "I'm sure he is," said Kate, noting that fact about the Woods. "I've taught dancing all of my life, and put on radio and singing shows, and I play piano and organ. And just for the record, I am teaching at the Cerebral Palsy Center." "You've sure done a lot, Virginia!" It was almost like talking to Donna and Gloria. For the same blueprint in their brains was certainly instilled in Ginny's. "Yes, we've done it all, really. Dick and I danced together all through 56 years of marriage until the loss of my son. But we still enjoy swinging to music together. We enjoy our grandchildren and daughter-in-law. She's an artist, just like my son was." "It's almost like her son represents Donna Wood, the same pattern, dying young like that," thought Kate. "It's so sad, and I'm really sorry about that, Virginia. How did he die?" "It was a brain aneurysm. He was taking medication, had a headache, went to sleep and just never woke up," said the woman sadly. “It was so sudden!” "Oh, that's terrible. I'm so sorry, Ginny." Katie didn't know what else to say, but secretly wondered where Virginia's son was buried, and if it was accessible. Months down the line, Ginny would send Kate a picture of she and her son dancing together in 1976. It would be at that moment that Katie would see the resemblance of the boy to her brother Neil. Putting a picture of her brother side by side with Ginny's son procured another parallel! Neil and the boy could have been twins! And to add more mystery to the saga, Ginny's son was adopted. The pictures of the two would speak for themselves, people would believe what they will. Katie knew the truth. "Yes, but we go on. I've got a lot of things happening," acknowledged the woman, her perky, young voice all of a sudden sounding stern and forlorn. "Getting back to Donna and Gloria, I noticed that in many of the pictures there might have been a friendly rivalry between them. You can clearly see their body language, which seemed to be a bit competitive," assumed Kate. "Yes, there was. Glo was the wildcat, Donna the lovely songbird!" said Virginia, still not seeing the full scope of Kate's Wood love. "But Hackler, oh, he was a wonderful musician, a conductor. They’re so exact, and have to take control. He was the type that laid down the law and expected a clean household and a tip-top wife to come home to," explained Virginia Wood. "He was over protective of my cousin." "Obviously, Donna adored him, judging from her expressions in the shots," said Kate. "Our family respected Lee Hackler, especially Uncle Earle," said Virginia, using Donna's father's middle name for some strange reason, rather than Robert. "Yes, it's clearly written on his face in many of the photos of them together in front of Donna's place and from what you say, Virginia." Katie had been to the apartment house on Canon Drive a few times and still felt Wood spirits wandering and meandering, still searching out ideal spots to take photos. There's also an attached sadness to the place. Nothing's really changed except the trees around the building had grown triple the size. The walkway, once an azul blue tile, was painted over many times, now an unappealing mauve. After all, it had been over 55 years. Even when Kate did live in that neighborhood for almost 12 years, she never ran across any Wood family visiting that apartment, nor ever noticed Gloria or Lee shopping at the market on Olympic. Now she felt like she'd known them all along and can draw inspiration and happiness from wondering 'Where the Woods Were'. More and more each day Kate felt what Donna might have felt on certain days and moments. "Virginia, I've taken a keen interest in the Woods' life in the 1930's and '40's, and I even understand that time a little better just from looking at all those old photos and clippings. I don't know what drives me to continue to take so much interest in your family, rather than putting energy into my own, but, as usual, I feel compelled to wonder about 'Where The Wood Were', and know there is more!" "It's okay, Dear. Those were golden days. You keep doing what you've been doing. Just know that my husband and I are with you in any way. We thank you for it. And thanks for remembering," said Virginia. "I feel like I've known you all my life," she added eerily. After Kate hung up, she had a premonition that something marvelous was going to happen. She knew at that second that once she was in the 1940's and had known Them! She didn't even realize how truly on the mark she was, because the woman had gone back in time, and returned, but had not come to that point yet! * * * 1931 Eric Anderson, Gert's brother, stopped in while everyone was out to drop off flyers for a singing engagement he was putting together. He knew the Wood's were all going to be there, of course. The first thing on Robert Wood's mind was how Donna and Gloria could figure into this dinner show. Although the Wood sisters were young, sometimes their parents couldn't help themselves, and got so obsessed! "It's the lure of the music. It does something to the spirit, and Gert says it's something akin to religious, like those pious preachers on the streets of Downtown Arlington. They shout The Word, and condemn damnation. It's the same with music, which drives the soul!" Explained Robert in the same way the preachers got all fired up in town. Robert asked his wife Gert to speak with Eric to see if Donna and Gloria could do a number at the show, but there was no need to ask, because Gert's brother already mentioned it and she accepted for the girls. Donna walked around the house starry-eyed, feeling what Virginia felt with Todd, but different, of course. Gloria imitated her older sister's gestures. This indeed would be a platform, a springboard of sorts, to see what the Wood sister's are all about, what they were made of! A week before the show a new addition was added! Cousin Virginia was the third leg that made them The Glo Vir Don Girls Trio. It happened so naturally, and all three of the girls were definitely naturals. They launched into rehearsing with Gertrude as their director/manager. She guided them through all the standards of the day and of her time. All 3 girls took to the songs, all 3 matching each other in poise and vocal range, but it was Donna that had that certain sparkling beauty that set her just a cut above the other two. Adding Virginia was a good move as well, because the girl was vibrant, a real beauty, and certainly just as star-dusted as the Wood sisters were. It was a certain sparkle that so many Hollywood hopefuls longed for. And all the girls wore it like a stamp on their foreheads. They possessed a special something, and resembled the prototype of a group who would follow that starry-eyed vision set for them. As the Wood's entered the small dinner theater in Downtown Orange, the first thing Donna noticed was the smell of heavy cologne and perfume from the many richly dressed patrons dining on the last of their filet mignon and lobster tails. "Yes, she was nervous, but it was a good nervous. This is what she always dreamt! - Singing for a crowd with her fellow Glo Vir Don's!" Gertrude came up beside her daughter and stroked her hair lovingly. Mother knew a good thing when she saw it, and the Glo Vir Dons were the first step for Donna. At that moment Donna turned to her mother and said, "We're going to get to the end of that rainbow, where there's a Pot O' Gold!" She said it as if on cue, as everyone took their seats then, when the lights flicked on and off. The show began as usual, with a women's trio singing a Concerto, then a mixed assortment of songs of the day sung by groups of singers, plus some of the newer standards. By the middle of the show, before the intermission, Eric Anderson came out singing in that deep Tenor way that set him apart from the other three men on stage with him. They sang mostly medley-type songs, even some barbershop quartet numbers, which got the older folks excited and on their feet. After the brief intermission the Glo Vir Dons were introduced. There was a murmur in the crowd of regulars who frequented the dinner club. Some sounded skeptical, mostly the 'groupies' of other performers, but as soon as the lights trained on the trio, those skeptical murmurs turned to amazement as the girls began an uplifting bluesy tune. The Wood sisters knew this was it. The moment they were led back stage and they quickly donned their costumes, almost vamp style, but with class and poise, they knew this was their destiny. And before their show they'd always say a chant between them -- "Hot spit, we've got secrets, mums the word, we won't tell!" It meant the secrets to success! It meant a lot of things! Now they took the stage together for the first time. The crowd, who were slowly raising the conversation din during the show, soon hushed to a light whisper. It was amazing to see these three girls light up the stage, and singing all sorts of musical selections and light tunes. They warbled lightheartedly and upbeat, even leaning toward gospel, thanks to Robert & Gert's church influence, which was obvious. By the third song, no one wanted the girls to get off the stage. They ended after a beautiful medley of swing tunes, with Gloria & Virginia hitting the high notes, and 14 year old Donna bringing the house down with a cool rendition of a most-bopping blues tune, sang like the lead in a Broadway show, even though the girl was young. It was assured that no one in that audience would soon forget 'Donna Wood and her Glo Vir Dons'. Afterward, in the lobby, people came up to the Wood's and praised their performance. "Such potential, such poise, such delivery! And Donna, wow, what a set of chops! She sounds like a grown-up, mature singer. How old did you say they were? Donna's 14? And Gloria is only 9? Virginia 12?" If Eric Anderson felt any jealousy, he kept a cool mask of it as the stout man took each Glo Vir Don in his arms and swung them around, hugging all of them equally. Many had come up to congratulate him, saying he had a such a voice, not even commenting on the Glo Vir Dons at all, which surprised him about other people's loyalties. Many in society's music circles knew his name, or at least that of his family's, so he had no doubt that the girls would soon be generating a whole new Anderson-Wood scrapbook. Afterwards they all went to dinner at Tilly's. From the moment the Wood's walked into the restaurant to the second they got up to leave, people kept breezing by their table compliment them, for most had already heard what a smash The Glo-Vir-Dons were, bringing the house down at the old supper club. The girls pulled off a solid performance. In most people's opinion, they're on their way. Even Bobby and Channie got compliments. The Wood family as a whole looked so ideal and centered. Who knew what lucked in their futures. 1997 One Sunday morning, out of the blue, Lee led P.J. (whom he'd become more friendlier with in the last few month's since March) out back in the yard to an aluminum shed that held more personal items of the Wood family's past. Kate’s masculine side felt like Howard Carter opening Tut's tomb! There were recording machines from the 50's, microphone stands, old books stuffed with family pressed flowers and other mementos. There were even items from another family, The Becthel's, a woman Gloria Wood nicknamed 'Bee', whom she had a close association with in the 60's and up until the older lady's death in 1990 at the age of 92! There was Donna's diary from before and near her death in 1947, which Kate began reading as soon as she found it in that hot shed. It dawned on Kate that entries written by the ailing singer during her illness coincided with the Roswell alien incident, setting the tone for Kate's fly back in time. Donna wrote sporadically and furiously for months, abruptly stopping in the beginning of April of '47, presumably when she passed away. February 21, 1947: Today is the day I try some new treatment. Dr. Bilon examined me and my pressure and blood flow are weak. Went to see Dr. Skepner next door at 6255 Hollywood Blvd. His wife was at the desk. We had a nice visit. We made a date for dinner with his mother and wife. Lee called Dr.Bilon. I guess they talked in length about my condition. Because I got a call the next day. I was disappointed. I was all set up for some good news. There was none, but I'm hanging in there as best as I can. I guess all my antics on the road are coming back to haunt me now. February 23, 1947: Today is the day of my new appointment with a referral from Dr. Bilon's office, a Dr. Levine at 2:30. Dr. Bilon gave Lee 7 shots for any pain I might experience! Afterwards, we went to visit Aunt Stella, who was home. She took me out for a bite, but it was hard to eat. I was dizzy. They gave me something before I left the doctor's office. God, my arm is sore. You know, as I think back, maybe I shouldn't of used those diet aids, they may have weakened my heart. At least that's the impression I'm getting from the doctor. Who knows at this point? I'm so frustrated, but trying to keep up. Mama and Papa have been staying with us, and they are a blessing. And, guess what happened yesterday morning! There was a huge explosion over on Pico and Sanborn, some aluminum factory. The whole neighborhood heard it. It's been on the radio all day, and my next door neighbor, the only one with something called television, let us watch it. A few workers were killed and it's really making news. Just wishing to feel better. February 29, 1947: Today is the date of our income tax board for 1946! Lee picked my parents up at 2:30, went and did shopping and to his bank. We went to Five and Dime store and The Broadway, across the street from Dr. Bilon's office in Hollywood. We went to the appointment, although I'm a bit fatigued. They came over and we actually made it to Websters Steak House. Was home at 8:00 p.m. Lee and I actually made love and I didn't feel that fatigued. A man needs the release and so did I. I cherish every moment I get to spend healthy and happy with Lee. He's my life, even in death. I'm being facetious, of course, but I relish to feel good! It' weird, but afterwards, Lee and I had a little argument today. I said I won't take this sick feeling anymore" and he knows it. It got him miffed and brooding, because I think for the first time he realizes our time is short. I didn't mean to hurt him, just want to love. I said, "I can't say anything negative anymore?" and he said, "You do pretty well, and I said you'd like me to be timid and accepting of all this?" Oh, everything seems so petty lately. We finished at 11:30 and went to bed. Still trying to be upbeat about my declining condition. I can feel it! It's scary, and brings back those dreams I had as a child. It's all coming in picture perfect lately. I'm scared. I've stopped the diet pills, or 'Pep' Pills, as Gloria calls them. March 5, 1947: Today is the Birthday of Lee, my Darling! His day off. We'll also celebrate his birthday with a drive to Big Bear because, for once, I feel so much better all of a sudden. The doctor said it would be up and down. Lee and I just want to take advantage of my health and live everyday to the fullest. I'm sure if we weathered through World War II, we can certainly weather this too. God is with us. Have my parents staying over. I gave Lee a dinner party at Fog Cutters and sang 'Blue Heaven' for him. I wore an emerald-colored suit. We all had Fillets with sauce and mushrooms and liver, and two barcardis. Delicious! Lee had New York steak. We all had salads. Took our friends home at 12:30. Lee and I went home and listened to the radio together. Although both of us have our moments and Lee his moods, we do enjoy being together, even when we're doing nothing. Wish I was better. Again, all I want to do is feel well again. I'm really suffering with this ill-health thing. The doctor said it's my heart, and I can put any strain on it. That's very hard for me. I wonder if he also means making love. Oh, how I would miss that. I've also noticed that my dreaming pattern has slowed, which means my medication is affecting it. Maybe now that I'm involved with the Christian Science church, I can find strength in fighting this off. Oh, how I want to live! My sister Glo is doing so well these days playing with Kay Kaiser. And Horace Heidt stopped in last week, on his way to Santa Barbara with the Musical Knights. I've been missing singing like that. I wish I could just do it one more time, one more whirl. Maybe in my next life, right?
It was February of '97, 50 years later, that Kate began inserting entries of her own on blank pages between Donna's 1947 scribblings. The diary began taking on a new life! February 21, 1997: Hi I'm Katie, a friend of Lee, Gloria Wood's husband! I found this diary at their house in Beverly Hills. It belonged to Donna Wood before she passed away. Today is my old flame Brad Boyers' birthday. Boy was I crazy about him. Knew him at Salem College in West Virginia. Hard to believe that this day marks almost 19 years after my father died in 1978, committing suicide by swallowing pills and vodka. We came home to find the phone off the hook and my father lying on his bed dressed in full tuxedo. He'd had it all planned out even to the last detail, leaving lengthy, amorous, 'at-peace-with-himself' notes to each of us, including the family attorney. August 15, 1997: Today is the birthday of me, Katie, plus the anniversary of when I met P.J., just like on Gloria’s birthday when she met Lee! Well, today is my 35th. They gave me a cake and flowers at work, only after an agent over at William Morris Agency sent me flowers. Then, the Film Beat staff reporters got me flowers, as a cake was rolled out into the newsroom, and I found out later that a girl working at my job had said some things. She was mad because she had to pick up the cake. Robert in the library told me via E-mail messages on my computer where I work as an Editorial Assistant. In '47 my mother was sick with polio in Brooklyn, NY.. She told me that on her birthday she heard all the nurses and doctors singing Happy Birthday day from the dining room. She was so ill! My mother was 16 years old then! Donna Wood died, my mother lived. It's P.J.'s and my 3rd anniversary. P.J. doesn't think it's any biggie. He never was very nostalgic or sentimental, at least not like Donna or Gloria Wood and their husbands - both named Lee! Sad at times, lost moments, unfelt feelings. Sept. 5th, 1997: Today is the birthday of P.J. Hinman. This is Kate Siegel writing. That's right, my boyfriend Philip John! He's in Palm Springs right now doing a job for one of my mother's friends - Hope Holiday. It's nice space for me spending more time alone. Came home from work, settled in, cooked a nice little dinner, watched t.v., wrote, did my art and slept. At least P.J. is making money! For some strange reason I've been thinking about 1969 when I was in second grade, hanging out with Roland Dubilier, this German kid who moved back there in 1970. Never saw him again. Now, to this day, I wonder about him. (Note: 11/4/97 --- I found Roland when we got hooked up to the Internet and I looked him up in a German white pages. Found Roland and now we correspond almost daily. He lives in Cologne and is a landscaper, married with two autistic kids. Right now he's vacationing on the North Sea.)
There were more of Donna's Entries in some dates, so that Kate could not
write in there. They were dated a year before her death.
April 14th, 1946: Today is my birthday. It's Lee's day off. Going to Big Bear for a 1 week honeymoon. Lee and I alone at Castaways Hotel for 3 to 5 days! We'll celebrate my birthday there. Went to pick up Mom, Dad and Gloria. Ended at Websters and had porter house steak. They did too. Mine was tender and theirs were tough. Got a cake for my birthday. I opened my presents from everyone. Gloria got me some Blue gloves and a table cloth with matching napkins and two cards and then we had coffee. Lately I've been feeling a bit tired. I did lose 4 pounds, and have been taking those diet wonder pills everyone in Hollywood has been raving about. But now that I've lost that weight, I stopped taking them, and have been feeling poorly, especially in the morning. Lee has been disappointed more than once lately because I've not felt like making love, nor have the strength for it of late. I've been falling into deep sleeps with no dreaming, and I think maybe I'll go see the specialist again.
A few weeks later, Kate actually found Gloria Wood's diaries in a bedroom drawer, dated 1990-1991, and they were a bit more descriptive due to her old age. She talks candidly about health problems and bowel movement schedules. It was amazing to have found both sister's scribblings. The next items the couple found were reel to reels of Gloria's commercials on radio and TV. It was eerie listening to them on the two-track recorder she used in the 1950's. It brought them back to a time when cars, cigarettes and beer were the exciting rages of the day! "Did you know that My Gloria sang the theme song from the Woody Woodpecker cartoon, but was best known for that 'Rice A Roni, San Francisco Treat' commercial. She was the voice of Lady Fish in 'The Incredible Mr. Limpet,' starring Don Knotts." That was one of the longest sentences Lee had said and it was awesome to see the transformation of the guy since Kate and P.J. entered his life. "I know that she did a stint as doing the noises that Tinkerbell in Walt Disney's Peter Pan did, and dozens of other offbeat background work," acknowledged Kate in appreciation. At that moment Kate was going through the older man's mail. "Yes, I got a rundown of Gloria's voice-over career by all the residual checks she's still receiving. It's amazing, Lee," said Kate, picking up one particular check from Warner Bros., for the movie Showboat. She even sang the voice of the little boy Lucille ball sang with in "Mame", the motion picture. Katie was amazed. Glo did a backgrounds for one of the twins in the Parent Trap, and even babysat for Mike Douglas' (talk show host) twins, because of her association with that particular movie. Blackballing would come much later for Gloria. In fact, Katie had found a video of Glo's performance on ABC's Music Is My Beat, and Glo sang her latest commercial of that day, breaking a taboo in t.v. advertising for 1959, by doing a medley of her past commercials for Miller Beer, Marlboro and Hamms Beer. She even sang the 'Grow, grow, grow' little boy voice her latest bread commercial. What a voice she had. Too bad she broke tradition by singing other sponsor's jingles. Then there was that Bridgett Bardot - Explosive Music album that was plugged with Glo's album, 'Wood By The Fire', plus she sang her racy tune "Hey Bellboy!". Another barrage of unfortunate incidents happened to Glo in 1960, 1969, and 1990 – she broke her foot on those three separate occasions, which spelled disaster for anyone with a Diabetes history like Glo was headed for. Plus, falling down may have contributed to her weight problems she suffered around those times. * * * 1931 Donna could hardly sleep that night, even after having hot chocolate with the family. Everyone was so happy and jovial, and it was all because of her, Gloria and Cousin Virginia! She was totally elated and didn't want the feeling to pass. Donna compared the feeling to the same way she felt when those waves came crashing against the shore. Could it be exhilaration? "Yes, it must be that!" Gert and Robert were beaming. Words weren't needed to express the pride they shared in creating such talented offspring. When all the children were put to bed, the couple retired to their large bedroom with the brass bed. Nothing could have broken the spell that fell over them when they shut the big mahogany door. Gert sat in a large love seat brushing her hair, while Robert watched her from their bower, shirtless, only in his boxers. Finally he got up and carried his wife over and tenderly laid her beneath him. They shut out the world, making quiet, intense love, never seeming to tire of each other's company or sharing of bodies. It was their closeness that kept things in order. After her adequate release, she began thinking that the last thing needed right now was another child. She'd bore 4 already and who knew how long the Depression would last. But once they were making love, her mind did little to quell the desire and passion behind the act. But all of a sudden, her husband, as if knowing, pulled out and released beyond the reach of those magical eggs! Gert sighed with relief and fulfillment and drew him closer to nuzzle on her breasts. They washed and retired for the evening, never noticing Donna up and about in the house as they soon fell fast asleep in each other's arms after quietly enjoying some afterplay. Donna crept into their bedroom watching them closely. She had a dream and was a little spooked by its clarity. But when she saw her parents sleeping so tenderly, the girl didn't have the heart to wake them. It was about time she dealt with her visions on a mature level. Enough with the baby stuff already! If she wanted to be treated as an adult, and she could most certainly sing like one, then she must act like one. It would take a lot of pretending that she was in control of herself, not afraid, but she was going to be an actress anyway, so what the heck, good practice. Donna crept back out, checking on her sister again for the third time that evening. She got a strange satisfaction from doing it, a certain motherly flutter. Gloria was, of course, fast asleep, as were her two brothers. Chandler stirred ever so slightly when Donna lightly blew on his face, but Slumberland seemed to tug harder. Donna loved when the house was quiet and still. At that moment a mournful train whistle sounded in the distance. Donna especially loved the sound of the train. It made her yearn for wide-open country, chugging along. She walked through the entire place noticing things for the very first time, and imagining she was someone else looking in on her family after they were sleeping or buried forever, which brought attention back to the dream. There's a colorful field, a girl with curly hair bent down looking at some graves. Donna came closer and saw it was her family's name on the plots. She even recognized her father's nickname "Woodie" etched in the stone, and her mother's nickname 'Ma' It was scary to look upon her own and something held her back from gazing at it in the dream. Frustration came next. She's screaming and yelling, and suddenly wakes up afraid, because it's not normal, but rather a foreshadowing of images of things to come. Was she talking to that strange inner voice? Definitely not run-of-the-mill kid dreams, that's for sure. Her friends at school never dreamt like that, nor were theirs as vividly prolific. She tried sharing some of the dreams with her school chums, but they didn't take to it, usually brushing it off. Even Virginia shied away from such talk about Donna Wood's eerie dreams. Still not being able to sleep, Donna went to the living room and pulled out the family Bible, which she began reading on the large, comfortable sofa. After the Tower of Babel fell, the young girl flipped to the plight of Joseph when he was in Egypt and interpreted Pharaoh's dreams. Finally, Donna fell asleep comforted by Gideon's. A few hours later Robert Sr. rose and went to the kitchen. On his way in he spotted his daughter sleeping with the Bible beside her open to The Old Testament. She stirred then, but turned over on the plush colonial couch. He went to the closet and pulled out a flannel blanket, gently covering His Girl, kissing her lightly on the forehead. On his way back he put the hall light on the lowest dimmer so his daughter could find her way to the bathroom. And also to fight off any lingering bad dreams. Oh, how he hated those blasted nightmares. The doctor's could only say that it was something Donna might grow out of. If it were treated as a disorder, they'd give her medication to calm her at night. Robert couldn't allow it, and neither would Gert. It would most probably render their Donna of her loving, talented spirit that drove their oldest, plus, how would it effect her performance and singing career? No Laudanum for My Girl. God must have had some reason for her to be that way. As Robert climbed the stairs, thoughts of his daughter's dreaming troubled him. The condition could not be ignored, so the Woods turned to God and their faith to heal their daughter, and get them through the crisis. He prayed she would be okay, and asked God to give them all strength. He also prayed not to favor one child over another, promising to do more with his boys, especially his oldest. After looking in on his Boys, he returned to the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. Gert, as he surmised, was wide-awake, looking at him, knowing his exact thoughts. "She's sleeping in the living room again," said Gert. "Our daughter had no doubt come in when we had just fallen asleep. "Gert, why don't you let things be for now," said Robert. "Soon we're going to have a hard to hard talk with our daughter about privacy after hours. She's 14 and old enough now to understand that we won't tolerate that sort of behavior of sneaking around the house poking noses into business best left in private any longer. When the door is closed it should remain so," said Gert. "Of course she means no harm, but Donna must sleep through the night in her own bed from now on. We've let her get into a bad habit of depending on our strength, when it was time for the girl to draw from her own," agreed Robert, fluffing his pillows and lying down. "We'll talk about it in the morning and she would understand and obey," said Gert, turning to flick off the lamp. "Good night my sweet Woodie!" "Sweet dreams, Ma!" They kissed deeply before turning over to sleep. Soon a beautiful morning rose bright and clear, birds singing, sunshine trickling in Donna's room. She had went back upstairs around 3:00 a.m., climbing into her own bed. The same bluebird landed on her windowsill every morning. She became used to remaining as still as possible, for that creature was so alert and timid that even though the window was closed, he flew away when she looked up quickly. Soon Donna was up and playing the Songbird herself, humming one of the songs from Uncle Eric's show. The cheerful girl washed then dressed in a simple blue-print calico dress and button down shoes. After fixing her hair and adding a touch of powder to her cheeks, a dash of perfume, Donna went downstairs to breakfast, her family already seated at the dining room table. Gert was serving eggs with bacon and motioned for her daughter to sit. There was fresh squeezed orange juice, a tall glass of cold milk, buttered toast and jelly. Donna chewed on a piece of toast and sipped her orange juice, wanting so very badly to taste Dad's coffee. It smelled so wonderful. She would try it one day. Once served, she began eating as conversation drifted to the prospective day ahead. Bob and Chandler were going to the lake to swim and do some boating. Gert was taking little Gloria, who sat across from Chandler eating oatmeal, for a haircut. So that left Donna to take pictures with Grandpa's camera. In fact, Grandpa was visiting and would love nothing more than to go on a photo excursion with his son-in-law, Shutter-Bug Wood and granddaughter around the same property he courted his now deceased wife, Constance. Bob sat at the table finishing his country breakfast, wanting so badly to race to the lake where he could be outside. The oldest boy relished the outdoors so much, that he'd always wished to be like the American Indians. There were some left too! He read about it in an outdoors magazine put out by the Sierra Club. Maybe not around here, but they're still out West, which is where the boy had his sights set. The oldest son watched his father fiddle with his latest film gadget. As far back as Bob could remember crawling, he recalled how his father was so bug-eyed about cameras. They still had Grandpa's outdated camera from 1910! He wasn't a performer, just didn't sing that well, and he'd accepted it. But once in awhile it would have been nice if Mom and Dad paid him as much attention in their hobbies as they were doing for their sister's talents and Channie's interest in a singing career. Bob found himself turning to other family relatives for that support. His Aunt Stella had been telling him to follow his dream to be a forest ranger, just like Donna and Gloria were doing with their singing and performing. He stared long and hard at his sister Donna sitting across from him picking at her food. She should eat more, that he knew. Once he'd overheard a conversation his parents were having about Donna's dreaming. She was so different from the girls he knew at school. Sometimes he felt a cross between jealously and sadness for his sister, but they got a long very well. She seemed to favor Channie though. He'd noticed when she came into their bedroom in the middle of the night sometimes. He feigned sleep most times, just to observe her. After breakfast everyone started their day. Gert and Robert took Donna aside and explained about the privacy act that was now in effect. "As long as the door was closed, you aren't to enter or knock unless it's an extreme emergency, like the house was on fire or you didn't feel well," said Gert evenly. "Otherwise keep that door shut and mind your privacy. And no more getting up at night and roaming around," added her father sternly. "You're at an age where it was better to steel yourself, and try going back to sleep," said Gert. "Of course, if you have to relieve yourself, that's fine." "If you still can't sleep, you have permission to leave your bedroom light onto read. Take the Bible with you to keep at night." Donna tried to be accepting, but that little girl part of her felt abandoned and sad. She loved sleeping in her parent's bed, loved the smell, the comfort, the security of lying between them, the enjoyment of their conversations and discussions that sometimes drifted far into the night as she fell asleep again. The girl would sorely miss that. Although she thought her parents a trite harsh, Donna seemed to understand their reasoning, and from then on would respect their wishes. She would adhere and have that acting strength because one day Donna Wood was going to be a famous movie star, that she was sure of. She was also sure her parents were sure. * * * It was two months later, Donna's first day at Arlington High School, that her dreaming disorder took a turn for the worse. She had fallen asleep during history class. When the teacher tried to wake her, she began screaming. They said she was zonked when some boys carried her to the nurse's office. Her parents were called and came right away. Gert was at a radio rehearsal and Robert in a board meeting, but they immediately sprung into action when both had received word of the nightmare in class. They rushed to the school as Donna was just getting off the infirmary cot. She looked pale and drawn, but was stable and getting color back in her cheeks. Donna's face lit up when she spotted her parents racing up the steps. She was scared, but knew this would happen due, of course, to yet another vivid vision of her future death. As soon as word spread in Arlington about Donna Wood, the congregation at their church began a 24-hour prayer vigil, non-stop, all day and night. Gert and Robert, as well as the entire Wood family attended services and sang in their daughter's behalf. By mid-week there was marked improvement in Donna, nothing short of a miracle. The pretty, bright-eyed girl became much closer to God, and began studying His Word more intensely. She attended Sunday school regularly, as well as mass and services, which made her dreams fade by the time she awoke. She began taking long slow walks on the property, even accompanying Bob to his favorite place, the lake, for a boating expedition. As Bob rowed rhythmically, both brother and sister enjoyed the quiet and solitude the lake lended. They grew up there and were as comfortable as kittens in a litter. Donna was feeling much better, stronger and not so scared to sleep. She must have faith! Bob asked, "What do you see in those dreams? He was very curious. Donna tried to recall where her mind went after she slept, and explained that "...everything goes in slow motion until little by little, gray clouds consumed my vision, then I felt myself falling. The next I remembered was waking up in the future looking at my final resting place. Sometimes it's so scary and full of clarity," explained Donna easily. But specifically Bob wanted to know such thing as - Did her spirit go out of her body? Did she go to heaven, but God said it wasn't time? Bob wondered. Donna knew the answer. "It's my strong will to live that keeps the Grim Reaper at bay, my youth and strength. But, also a strong faith in the Lord." "Will you eventually succumb? "Yes, I will, but not quite yet. Bob, I've grown to accept it for there was not much I can do except keep the faith, know God is alive within me, and try achieving the goals set for myself. But still, similar questions nagged at her brain lately. It was becoming harder and harder to put them to the back of her mind and get on with the life she envisioned of stardom, singing and making movies, as opposed to making babies, or dying?!?! Something deep down inside Donna knew there was little time in her lifespan, so she started to learn acceptance of her fate. Let it take her where it will, she will fight tooth and nail! At the thought of making babies, she thought of the conversation with her parents and understood that it had something to do with a private intimacy between man and woman, something that was just dawning on her. Virginia told her about having a crush on Todd, even admitting to exchanging kisses on that bird-walking hike. It had been a private thing between the couple. At the same time, Donna thought about her parents and how close they were. But why was love so hidden and private? Wouldn't their joy in each other be better out in the open? Why all the big secret fuss? She could understand not allowing the boys or Gloria in, but her? What had she done to get shut out, when in the past there were no problems with her sleeping in there? It must have something to do with her age. She was almost 15 and would show them she could obey and respect their wishes. 1997 Katie, PJ and Lee uncovered a record/stereo player from 1956, encased in wood paneling, made by Columbia, with an attachment speaker in excellent shape. Kate picked various bundles of photos of the Wood family and pasted them on the stereo using special art glue that sealed the old photos into a smooth, clear surface. "It truly shows 'Where the Woods Where', their past jumping out at you in a jumble of highlights," Katie said to PJ. But, before P.J. had a chance to repair the heirloom, sometimes they would hear, or think they'd heard eerie 1940's big band music, maybe Horace Heidt's popular numbers blaring in the middle of the night, but when the light sleeper couple would awaken and walk into the living room, they were met only by silence. It was back to bed until the music started again. Sometimes Kate would have to sleep in the living room to make the music stop playing (and to get away from PJ's snoring). It only happened on certain nights, then not for a long while, suddenly occurring again for no apparent reason. The scientist in Katie told her that it was her own mind playing tricks, but she still loved a good haunting. It became a game to Katie, as she stopped trying to distinguish every sound, usually attributing it to the Woods. It was when Kate found Donna Wood's bible she read and held close to her before dying 50 years before, that the woman felt another piece of the puzzle falling into place. As she turned the pages of the half-a-century-old Bible, a doctor's prescription fell out. It was dated April 6, 1947, two days before the young singer passed away. The paper was well preserved, modern-looking except for the 5-digit phone number of a medical office at 6253 Hollywood Boulevard. You can barely read the signature of the physician, as well as what the medicine it was, which finally looked as if it may of been a form of hypo-Mercury that in those days they thought would stimulate the heart and kill any virus. In other words, they didn't really know what was wrong with Ms. Wood, and that's the sort of medication they doled out as a last resort! Soon Kate would be getting off the bus there, on that corner, at that address because her job selling Internet Advertising for the phone company was actually in that same building directly across the street from the old Howard Hughes/Broadway building. It was hard to believe that 6253 still stood on the corner of Vine and Hollywood Blvd. She went in the building and up to the directory, scanning it, looking for Dr. Bilon, the name of the physician who last treated Donna. Amazingly enough, Kate came across a T. Balal, almost similar to Donna's doc. Could it be yet another coincidence added to the long list growing? How very strange. What really caught Kate's attention about Donna were the numerous hometown newspaper clippings about her, obviously through some mysterious P.R. ploy in hyped-up fashion. A picture is painted of a woman on the verge of stardom, a 'Cinderella in Hollywood,' engaged to a jeweler to the stars, doing her part for the war effort by going on coast to coast singing tours for radio and live shows, then meeting her future husband in '43 and settling in Beverly Hills, California. In Donna's own words, "A lot of things have happened to me since I arrived in Hollywood last week. For one thing, I'm in the movies, something I had never imagined even in my wildest dreams!" There were articles date-lined Hollywood - "Because an elevator stalled in Boston, a motion picture career opened in Hollywood for Donna Wood, 24-year old Boston singer. With no acting experience at all, she finds herself playing the part of Paulette Goddard's sister in "Pot O' Gold," James Roosevelt's first picture for United Artists. Katie's first inspiration was to take all of it - pictures, dinner theater calling cards, ads, flyers and other such things - and create an impressive collage, which is what the creative woman ended up doing with some of it. She added 2 butterflies to the collage, as well as family photos at the gravesite, the obits written about Donna, including a typewritten poem by her Aunt Stella entitled "A Songbird in Heaven." It hangs on the bedroom wall in a large plastic-covered frame, looking like a piece belonging in a mod museum on Melrose Avenue. The second collage of Gloria's history sits on the fireplace mantel at the Beverwil house. Kate gave it to Lee, who adores it, even though he's ailing. But Donna's collage holds much more significance for Kate. She gazes at headlines that ring, "Hub Star In Movie Romance! ... Stepping from airplane at East Boston as easily as she stepped into the role of Hollywood's 'Cinderella Girl', pretty Donna Wood of Arlington who reached fame in pictures in a few short months, revealed yesterday that she almost eloped one week after her arrival in the film capital." "The now glamorous former Arlington High School girl is Donna of 'Donna and her Don Juans' featured with Jimmy Stewart and Paulette Goddard in the soon to be released 'Pot 'o Gold' movie." "Yesterday at her parent's Arlington home, she recalled that she and Ralph Deitz, Hollywood jeweler, were on their way to buy plane tickets for a Las Vegas elopement when suddenly - like a woman - she changed her mind." "But it was a change of mind and not of heart," she quickly added, explaining that she was afraid marriage might spoil the chance of her 'Don Juans' to reach the success for which they worked so hard. "The Don Juans are George Jackson, Eddie Jones and Art Carney, all South Boston boys who sang over Boston radio stations for several years before Hollywood and fame beckoned to them almost overnight success." "But Ralph and I correspond regularly," she smiled, and added, "Maybe soon there won't be any hitch when we start out to buy those plane tickets again." "James Roosevelt, son of the President, who produced the 'Pot o' Gold' movie, is probably the most charming man in Hollywood, even more charming than most of the stars - in Donna's opinion." She said, "He and Romelle Schneider, the nurse who brought him back to health following a serious operation, are really in love and were the most attractive couple on the set during the filming of the feature." Donna's opinion about Hollywood glamour ... "It's strictly the bunk because all the stars are as nice and as down-to-earth as our next door neighbors." "The fans glamorize the stars, and Hollywood simply picks up the cue from there on," she said boldly. And as for her P.R. ploy to propel her into at the regular, Middle Class, American market, articles such as this one appeared to tone down the image ... "Orange relatives of Miss Wood have known of her engagement to Mr. Dietz, who is described in the Purcell story as the 'well known jeweler to Hollywood movie stars,' as well as being a 'handsome, six-foot two athlete.' It is assumed here that the church in which the couple alleged to have become acquainted is a Hollywood Christian Science church, since both Miss Wood and Mr. Dietz are Scientists. Miss Wood is 23 and Mr. Dietz' age is given as 26." But of course, even the Hollywood of then made a woman's head turn toward the mirror, and sometimes that image didn't suit, so other measures would suffice in the age of no such thing as plastic surgery. Donna may have dabbled in diet pills, a deadly combo with her already weakened heart. She'd pop them on the road mostly to keep her going. It was very strenuous, and most of her friends encouraged it, just to give her that added pep and figure. It might have led to her death, and that was something Katie could not prevent, plus the fact that Donna was a Scientist, and most know what their beliefs in medicine are. * * * 1931 It was one month into the new school year when the Sadie Hawkins dance was announced. As a joke, Virginia dared Donna to ask Rich Roberts, a new boy in their class. Donna stared over at the cute-as-apple-pie blond boy sitting in the lunchroom eating a sandwich. His nose was buried in the latest Horatio Algers series that boys relished, so he didn't at first notice the pretty, dark-haired beauty standing over his shoulder. When he did, Donna smiled and almost curtsied, but instead looked him square in the eye, introduced herself and asked him to the dance while handing him a fresh milk from her tray, a gesture, a gift. Richard, a heavy mottled blush spreading on his face and neck, was taken totally off guard. He was shy and quiet, and never in a million years thought a girl like Donna Wood would ask him to the dance, so for a second he was rendered speechless, dumb struck. At first Donna thought he was going to turn her down. Finally, Rich found his voice and stammered a bit, but gratefully accepting. "Well, ahhhh, ummm, I, I, I guess so. I mean, yes, I'll go!" He was so bashful, but Donna still sat down beside him. "What are you reading? I love reading too, mostly music sheets and lyrics." As they talked, he thought to himself that Donna Wood seemed like a gal who would go places. He liked her, wanted to go with her to the dance, get really close, and maybe even hold her hand. It was the beginning of a long friendship that would last way into their twenties, up until Donna left for California in 1940. The day of the dance arrived quickly. Donna's father would drive the kids. Mrs. Roberts had deposited her son at 6:00 so he could dine with the Woods. Right away Rich felt comfortable, maybe because Bob Jr. was there. They'd known each other since track team in junior high. Now Bob was getting ready to graduate! "So, Bob, you going to be running track at college?" Asked Rich. After swallowing his food, Bob answered, "I'm not sure yet, but sure's hell I'm going to get a lot of exercise." Donna looked over at Rich. A blush went across her cheeks as well as his. Everyone pretended not to notice. Rich sat tall and proud and exhibited his finest table manners for a boy his age. He was glad Donna had asked him, and still in awe that he was at the Wood dinner table. They had a fine reputation in this town as well as the surrounding Boston area. After all, he was no Douglas Fairbanks, so it was such a shock to him to be asked to the dance. He was sure that Thelma Korenman was going to get to him first. But Donna was quicker, thank God. Of course her Daddy took a ton of photos with their Grandpa's old camera, as well as a brand new one he purchased at the store in town. Donna and Richard posed for photos that were eventually blown up 8 x 10 and added to the growing collection of family mementos that Grandpa and Gert kept in order. They would pass it to one of their daughters, who would preserve it for their own families, and who knows after that! Once safely deposited at the dance the two strode up the steps of Arlington High and into the gym for the festivities. As soon as they walked in, Virginia and her date Todd came over just as the band went into a Glenn Miller tune. They all stood together by the punch table and it was obvious that Rich couldn't dance or was too shy to ask Donna. So, as usual, the perky, petite gal took the gumshoe during an upbeat Dorsey number to pull him to the dance floor. They danced through the next Benny Goodman song. Once on the floor they fell in step with the rest of the crowd at Arlington who were doing the Lindy Hop, an original swing dance number that started in the late 1920's. The band was very good, and Donna could imagine her parents standing around critiquing the poor fellows and Rich's dancing as well. She smiled. It was at that moment that Donna looked over in the direction of the band and began a slow saunter in that direction, almost forgetting she was dancing with Rich. The shy, tall, handsome young man followed her lead and danced over with her. Donna, as if entranced, stared wide-eyed at the band as they played a familiar Cab Callaway tune. She was just so taken with the music and wanted to jump on stage, grab the mike and sing right along with the band. The dancing only brought out her deeper, stronger feelings for singing. It was at that moment she recalled her latest dream of being in the spotlight. The lights turned into movie cameras and then she's whisked off on a cloud, but it feels like a train ride. So strange that she would think of it here, but at least it wasn't a nightmare. Finally, the feeling passed and she turned to Rich, who was about to run and get her some punch to snap her out of it. At first he became alarmed, thinking she was going to pass out like at school, but he could see now she was fine. The band began a slow blues tune that made for closer dancing. They came together then, both a bit sweaty from the past few dance numbers. After doing the Lindy, their hearts were fluttering butterflies. Donna could smell him, a deep musky, yet fragrant outdoorsy smell, almost like her brother Bob, but different all the same. He was wearing some kind of cologne and that added to her feelings of wanting to hold him close and make him come out of that shell he'd built up around him from having an overbearing mother. As they danced, all of a sudden his shyness left him and he led her toward the outskirts of the dance ring where bolder couples hid in momentary darkness to exchange a kiss or even cop-a-feel. Richard led the way to the dark corners of the room giving Donna a clear signal that he wanted to hold her close and kiss. "You are so pretty, Donna," said Rich, almost awkwardly. He fought off his shyness like a bad demon as they began slowly, almost haltingly exploring each other's lips. Both were soft and pliant as they lingered there. Finally, they ducked behind a wall where they hugged and kissed, exploring new feelings of growing up. As they kissed, Donna wanted to get closer, needed to experience the feelings. For the slightest fraction of a second she imagined Rich was her father, but quickly repressed it. Richard realized that it took little time to brush his shyness and confusion to the back of his mind. In his nervousness he talked softly to her. "You feel so good, so soft and smell wonderful." As he slowly drifted his hand to her soft bosom, he marveled at the texture of it through her clothing. He touched her lightly, holding her breast long enough to draw heat from it! But they had to stop, right? Why wasn't she stopping him? As he thought that, she did stop him and whispered in his ear, "I want to sing a few numbers with the band. Will you help me?" As she asked, Donna nuzzled against his cheek, which brought on goose bumps. "We better go before someone sees us." It was she that led him away from the darkness just as their principal was coming down the hallway to the men's room. They had to stifle their giggling when Principal Mack started talking to himself, thinking no one could hear. They shared one more passionate kiss before quietly making their way back to the dance. They had great timing, because a few couples, Virginia and Toad included, were caught by the chaperones and were being written up. The last thing Donna needed was to have her parents know she was making out too, and they wouldn't approve of that! She thought back to the reasons behind them not allowing her into their bedroom at night. She finally understood it all and wanted to experience this thing between man and woman. It seemed forbidden and wrong, but only when taken public. She wanted more than ever to experience it, but only with the blessing of marriage. "Donna, you sure must be psychic! You are really something," said Rich. "I'm just in tune with things. I get vibrations, feelings most don't have, especially girls my age. Most kids can't handle it. Sometimes I can't take it," said Donna, thinking of her dreams of late. "You're different, not like anyone I've ever met," gushed Rich. "You make me want to be exciting and fun," admitted Donna. "And God knows I can handle it, and would just sooner hold you and make you feel safe," said Rich. "I've never had these feelings." "Oh yeah, I've had crushes on some girls, but nothing like this," breathed Rich, taking a risk and hugging her close to him. At that moment there was something else she wanted to do. "Listen, Rich," she said, pulling him closer to her. "I want to sing a few numbers. I feel compelled. It's extremely important to me." "Okay, Donna, anything you say. The couple made their way back to the band, who were at that moment taking a break out in the alley. They found the manager and musical conductor smoking cigarettes, a cool veil of smoke slowly ebbing into nothingness. Richard spoke with the orchestra leader, "She's good, and has been practicing for years with her mother, who's a known radio star up in the Boston area." He had to admit that he was a bit nervous, and hoped his voice wouldn’t crack. "Okay, if it's all right with my manager, then she goes on." The manager, who hadn't spoken a word, coolly turned to the blond kid and his date, who he'd spotted standing in the wings. He turned to Donna looking down at the petite pixy. "You make quite a picture and fit the bill pretty good, Missy, so I'll agree, that is if it's okay with the rest of the band." Once the band got word, they gave their okay for the girl do two numbers. "If she stunk, then she was outta' there." As the stage was geared up to accommodate one more person, the manager had a feeling from the start, when he first saw her staring up from the dance floor, that this one would be a real show stopper. He wished he was getting more for this gig, for his keen intuition said this girl was a gold mine. He could already feel the energy of the crowd as they stood around wondering what was going on. If this Songbird flew, he'd sign her to a band in no time! Donna hoped she timed it right. Her father was coming back at 10:00 p.m. sharp to check out the band and maybe interview them for his radio program, so she wanted to be on stage when he came in. Her wish was to be granted, thanks to her father's prompt attendance due to working the radio circuit for years, for as soon as she stepped up to the mike and the band leader was introducing her first number, Mr. Wood was walking up the steps of the school with Gert, Channie and Bob. When the first few notes of Donna's mature, perky voice hit, the Woods knew! Gert was glad her husband had brought his camera. "Oh, I wish Aunt Stella could be here to see this," said Gert of her sister who was babysitting for Little Glo. They entered the school and raced to the gym, not wanting to miss a drop of their daughter singing on stage with an audience of her peers. It was obvious from the first moment she got on stage that the crowd was excited and wanted to hear her. Most were students in her class who had heard about the dinner club extravaganza. So they were eager to hear for themselves. And Donna did not disappoint them. She belted out two songs, then three, then finally after six songs when her father climbed on stage, thanking the crowd and leading Donna off, to shouts of "more, more, more" fading when the band started an instrumental. Even Cousin Virginia, who felt just a twinge of jealousy, ended up clapping the hardest for her kin. Donna was sweaty and elated as her parents flanked her on either side, Bob and Rich bringing up the rear, Channie not far behind them. "Donna, you were great," said Rich. "Didn't she have a nice feel for the band’s music set-up?" Asked Gert "I'd overheard several of the road crew remarking that Donna Wood had the makings of a star," announced Rich proudly. Bob was happy for his sister, but felt that usual cross between jealousy and respect for his her, because he understood wanting recognition for dreams achieved too. He had heard from University of Montana, which had an excellent outdoors program, but he hadn't told his parents and had intercepted the mailman. He would tell them when the time was right. On their way home Donna chatted freely about the dance, minus that she and Rich had hung in the shadows. "The music was great and so was the punch," said Donna. "I wished Virginia could have come up and sang, but everything happened so quick.” “There just wasn't time," added Rich. "The band was much better when Donna was singing. "Now Donna, you're still at a tender age, and I don't want to spoil things, but your father and I feel that you need more direction and focus, otherwise you'll go on emotion and feeling to sing, rather than the regiment of formal training." Gert had spoken with the sleazy manager, who wanted to, as he put it, "hook Donna up with some musicians, some real hot players!" The older woman turned down the offer, saying her daughter was too young, but maybe in a few years, and I'm sure she'll be flattered. "But Mama, it was so appealing and fun. I want to sing like that all the time." "Donna, you mustn't forget the standards by falling into this rash, wild big band thing that's just the latest rage. Stick with the old style for now. There's plenty of time for that other stuff later," coached Gert. The manager had persisted, and she didn't trust him, or any of his kind. She remembered her own career, back in the early Twenties when men like him roamed the small, early radio stations beaming out music. They reminded her of the Hyenas roaming on the outskirts of a Lion’s hunt. But Donna was starting to chomp-at-the-bit, seeking out other influences, which was totally normal for a teenager to be doing. As usual the family sat in the parlor sipping hot chocolate, and then everyone retired. Donna could barely sit long enough for Gert to take the pins out of her hair and unbutton her gown. Finally, after washing up and saying her prayers aloud, Donna settled in and her mother kissed her and left. For the first time as far she could recall, Donna fell asleep fast, as if a lot of curiosity was satisfied this evening. She was making the step from child to woman. Singing up there really helped her along. This night she dreamt sweet dreams of being in the arms of an army man, tall, blue eyed and handsome. It wasn't Richard Roberts that's for sure. * * * 1997 Katie also observed a humorous, cynical side to Glo from her expressions. There's a look on the voice-over artist's face that seems to emulate self-satisfaction in that sly, smirk. And later on, Kate read Glo's apology pages to Lee, her husband... March 7th, 1990 "Lee Darling. I love you with all my heart and soul and body. I don't want anything to happen to you, my Dearest! If anything happened to you now or in the near future, I would die of a broken heart and I wouldn't want to live any longer. I won't be alive without you. I also love Barbara like a sister and I wish I was as strong when Chandler was here and she now does everything for Steven and family! I know I'm a burden to you. I'm going to try to walk again, though it will take time and patience. I'm sorry I left you for so many months, especially when I didn't remember anything I did or said. I love you so much. I know I say it so many times, but I can't stop myself! I wish you would talk to me and tell me your troubles and the way you really feel healthwise. I want to be here for you like you were for me, all those months! I'm also very sorry, very sorry, when I bring up your smoking. I know it drives you crazy and you hate when I do, but if I didn't really love you like I do, I wouldn’t say anything, at anytime. It's just that I hear so many bad things about it and what it can do for your health and well being! I try to shut my mouth about it for I know you hate me doing it, so I'm going to try not to make you unhappy when I mention your smoking. I know now you'll never stop even for me! I just hope and pray that Dr. Levy can help you and get your strength back and really help you and I do hope he puts weight on you. I would tell him that Ensure makes you get pains in your stomach. I know you've been through so many operations and your heart attack. If I could take it away, I would, but I can't and I know you've suffered so much, and now your suffering again and your so thin! I'm heart broken, I wish I could be strong for you and say and do all the right things, but I guess I don't know how to be everything you want to be. In closing, I hope you will understand my feelings for you, but my heart breaks when I see you suffering and I can't do anything about it! I want to thank you for all you do for me. You’re the only one in the world that cares about what happens to me. If you have anything to say to me, from your heart, I wish you'd write to me and open your heart to me. I know you hate for anyone to repeat themselves but I can't help it, for I love you more than life itself! I will write more after you tell me how you really feel! Your Angel Baby, Gloria (XXXX0000). PS: I will try to make things easier for you by doing some things for myself and maybe take Meals on Wheels so you won't have to cook for me. I just want you to be with me for a long time and I'll give up Bingo if you're that sick! I don't want you to have to 'go' when you don't want to. I hate to see you sick, I pray to God you will get your strength back and your health back. My wish is for you to recover and get well and that Dr. Levy can do everything for you so we can live once again. No one really cares for me, only you, so tell me what you want me to do to make you happier! Again with love, Glo..... * * * Kate and her partner built a regular routine of seeing Lee every Sunday. The rail-thin, white-haired, blue-eyed Wood link was paying the woman to plow through his mail, quite a pile of junk advertising, sweepstakes, utility bills, hospital invoices, as well as residual checks for Gloria's appearances and shop-by-mail jewelry Lee bought for Marlena. Things changed one day when Kate showed up with her friend Kristi. Lee took one look at the brassy, tall, leggy, bleached blond bass-player-chick, and proceeded to write a one-hundred dollar check made out to cash, handing it to Kristi. The girl almost pockets it, until Katie nudged the other woman to 'hand it over', which she did! After that incident, Lee called one day, lamely explaining that someone else was doing his mail and he didn't need Kate’s help. The old guy became distant, usually wanting to talk to P.J. when he phoned. Kate wrote in Donna's diary – "Let's face it, Lee changed September 8th, 1996, when I enthusiastically showed up with a cake and card on what would have been Gloria's 74th birthday, and their 33rd anniversary. He took one look at the little cake that said, 'Happy Birthday Gloria, Happy anniversary to Lee And His Sweetie,' got up using the walker, which is something he'd stopped using for a bit when we came into his life, retreating to the bathroom. After 30 minutes, I finally called out, "Lee?" "I'm fine, just constipated, that's all," he answered from the Jon. His tone sounded wounded, haunted and definitely not infused with energy and happiness even in his constant pain of laying in that hospital bed. It was then I realized that I’d dredged up memories that hurt Lee. Finally, he came back, sat down, and fiddled with the t.v., obviously not wanting to look at the now melting cake. Like his wife of 30 years, who watched the tube 24-hours a day before finally passing away of Diabetes at age 72, Lee carries on that tradition, the t.v. always on, never silent, lest he stop breathing and be silent too! In all my most selfish-abandonment, I didn't take into account Lee's feelings, because he's all alone now, save for Marlena, his Russian companion who barely spoke English.
* * * The woman had also found out that Gloria Wood left the Beverwil House to the Motion Picture Television Fund, which catered to old time movie hounds put out-to-pasture. When Lee passes away, The Fund will take the home and property. Lee receives Gloria's pension from them because of her close affiliation with the organization when she was alive and spry. P.J. even tried getting the Fund to make some repairs on the house, especially in the Lanai and on the roof, but ended up doing most of the work for free, which abruptly ended their relationship with the Television & Motion Picture Fund. But the following Sunday, as usual, they spent another sunny, hot afternoon at the Beverwil house. Lee lies on his hospital bed as Susan the day nurse administers a shot of some painkiller Lee claims is only vitamin B injections. She's full of perk and compassion smiling over at P.J. while doing her thing. Finally, she departs, scolding, "Lee, if you're smoking, which I'm sure you are, move the oxygen tank into the Lanai immediately." She turned to P.J. and said, "Move it for him, will you, Dear." When the nurse left, Kate put a fresh plastic nodule against her own nostrils, breathing in pure oxygen while reclining on the couch Gloria Wood passed away on. P.J. wheeled the tank into the Lanai, as Susan instructed. Lee lights up, as does P.J., who is sitting on the other couch across the room. While they puff away, Kate breathes as much O2 as possible. In between cig breaks, O2 and t.v. commercials, Lee tells about his past, a capsulated history of his wives and times, leading up to when Gloria Wood came to his world. It draws Kate closer to 'Where the Woods Were'.
In Lee own words, "My First and I had a funny deal. I knew her uncle and that's how we met. She was only, well, … she told me she was only 17. I was in the Navy when her Uncle introduced us one day before my unit sailed out of port. Next thing I know, Beverly followed me to San Diego, so I eventually married her and settled in Los Angeles. We were together six years until she left me for a bus driver while I was attending Los Angeles University. Had to quit school because we had two kids. At first I didn't know what to do, so went to my mother's place. She was none too happy and wondered what the heck was going on. So I brought them to my sister's place in Ohio. She agreed to take Julie and Lee Jr. in until I returned to L.A. and got myself a profession, which is what I was shooting for. Once I got a job, I could bring the kids back. My first place was a rented flat Downtown, near the bus depot. It turned out to be a blessing, because I ended up working as a bus driver for Los Angeles Transit Company. I drove L.A. bus lines for about 5 years, in the early Forties. Whether it was to the beaches, Hollywood, Downtown, I was all over the place. Then I met Peggy, this pleasant and level- headed waitress at a drugstore on Crenshaw and Manchester. She was only 17! Yes, Crenshaw and Manchester was a turning point for me in more ways than one! It was the end of my bus route, the haven for a cup of 'Joe' at the end of my bus route. Peggy used to ride my line to and from work and school, which turned out positive for both my little ones and myself. By that point, my kids and I graduated to a small 2-bedroom bungalow. I remember thinking then that if my kids didn't like her, then to hell with her. Turns out she passed the test and four months later, when she turned 18, I married her. Back then we'd take walks down by the racetrack, which isn't there any longer. We'd see people coming and going to the races. It was exciting, a real hustle-bustle, especially for the kids. I made a few bets, won, lost, but had fun most of all. I was never a drinker though, just a once in a while jigger of bourbon and 7. My dad and brothers were the real ' booze hounds'. They drank the hard stuff, whiskey-sours. My mother died in her 90s. Dad was a real ladies man, that's who I took after (laughs). It was in the Fifties I met a guy named Bill Morris, a used car salesman for Chevrolet. I kept bugging him to let me sell cars and finally got an opening there. Also went to work for a Lincoln dealership in Hollywood, but was with Chevrolet on La Brea for quite a bit. Made good money. Then I came to a point in my life where I needed a change so got into the latest rage of selling insurance. That's how I eventually met Gloria. By then it was 1964. Peggy’s sister Barbara was married to Gloria's brother Chandler. One evening Peg and I went to a party where I was introduced to Gloria when someone mentioned life insurance. She and I took the bait. And boy, you should have seen the sparks fly when we laid eyes on each other! When we first met, she seriously was contemplating buying insurance. I was selling many types during that time. She asked for my number and called me up the next day. Fire, car, life, even homeowner’s back then. I picked her up and went to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. We stayed until 4 a.m. talking and meeting all the people she knew in the business. We just sat around drinking coffee and the showbiz crowd would sidle up to our table. Gloria would make a big fanfare about introducing me to Bing Crosby, Rock Hudson and even Walt Disney. They all liked her, especially Rock Hudson, who had a secret fantasy to be a singer. He'd come up to the house and they'd disappear in the Lanai and listen to Glo's records (laughs). He thought he could be a regular crooner one day, that's for sure. But let me backtrack for just a sec' here … I sent her insurance paperwork to our main branch in Nashville, Tennessee. When they sent it back, I called her and we met at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel again. That place became our haunt. We sat at our usual table realizing we were in love, decided right then and there that togetherness is what we wanted. Next thing, I'm off to Mexico getting a quickie divorce and moving in with Glo! I don't condone what I did, but it was just something. I met her in '64, married her in '66. By the time Glo and I met, my kids were out on their own. Once things were settled, I moved into her house. We'd go to Vegas where she had singing engagements, and I would sometimes drive her to the studios here … one studio after another. I remember taking her to CBS to do The Lucy Show (laughs). Gloria and Lucille clicked right away, so she did 15 shows. She also sang voice-over for Lucy's screen son in the movie "Mame” when the boy and Lucy did a singing duet together in the film. Glo did a lot of kid voice-overs. Sometimes Gloria had 6 or 7 singing jobs a day. All she ever did was sing. She wasn't a movie star, or into heavy acting like her sister Donna tried to be. Glo was more of an entertainer. She even sang at President Kennedy's campaign, andyou know how Kennedy had a penchant for 'blondes'. She had a wonderful personality, so wonderful. Once she even took care of the talk show host Mike Douglas' twins while he did a year on the road. She had those kids happy and fun-loving, just like she was their own mother. My Gloria was a commercial queen. She did thousands of singing commercials, jingles and voice-overs. Rice A Roni was recorded in '62 and they still use it, at least up until recently. Most of her stuff was singing backgrounds. Voice-overs, she did a lot of voice-overs, and even did singing for Marilyn Monroe in "7 Year Itch. She performed a lot in Vegas, did shows and revues and what a woman she was! She was a good friend with Walt Disney and his bunch. They were very close. Glo sang at his studio in Burbank. and did the voices of Minnie Mouse, Donald Duck's nephews, Hewey, Louie and Dewey as well as singing all those little children voices they had of different characters for Disneyland when it first opened. She could imitate anything or anyone and could hear someone sing then sound like them right on the spot. It was amazing. One thing I remember was all the poodles she had. She just loved toy poodles!
When Kate began reading Gloria Wood's diary, she came across the number of one of Lee's sons in Utah, and called it. She spoke with his wife, who explained that Peggy, Lee's first wife, fainted on a bus because she was working too hard after giving birth. By the time she awoke, Lee presumed she'd run off and put his kids up for adoption. It was only a communication mishap that occurred, breaking up the marriage, throwing them into other people's arms. * * * 1997 The day was October 23, 1997. Kate arrived at Beverwil House around 9:45 a.m. Lee left a hastily written note saying they were at the medical center to get his hand checked. His companion Marlena thought it might be broken. Kate sat on the steps in the foggy sunshine flipping through the photo album she'd made of the Woods, feeling a bit down knowing Lee is withdrawing from her more and more lately since the cake incident a month before. "I guess that's how it goes with illness and being old," said Kate aloud. At 10:00 a.m. she decided on walk to 132 S. Canon Drive, which is a stone's throw from Lee's. She can't get Donna Wood off her mind, especially lately. P.J. was with Irving, the songwriter they knew. Irv isn't well either and was getting yet another blood transfusion later this week because of bone cancer. Kate walks down Olympic to Canon Drive, passing 9328 Olympic Blvd., Gloria's old apartment in 1943. It was a hot, humid day while ambling in the frustrating heat over to Donna's place. As she walked down the well-kept street, it was eerily deserted. It seemed a much longer distance than first anticipated to Donna's old building, but the girl trekked on, driven of course, by the thought of another inspirational moment to meditate on "Where the Woods Were". Kate found it all right, and stood at the doorway of the dwelling where Donna Wood drew her last breath. The die-hard fan walked around the exterior of the place wondering which apartment was the singer's. Walking to the back, it occurred to Les that when she lived on Reeves Drive, an overly friendly neighbor said he knew a place where laundry could be done for free. That was in 1987. It was here at 132 S. Canon that same neighbor hid behind the washing machine and scared the living hell out of Kate one night in the utility room of the Donna's old apartment house. Now she stood there almost ten years later for different reasons. The woman strode through the building several times, putting her hand on all the doorknobs in the 8 apartments. It seemed crazy, maybe a bit uncouth. But, it was the awe of the whole association there. Thankfully no one, neither tenant nor manager seemed at the moment to be around. Kate would imagine they'd think her a bit touched if she started knocking on doors asking questions about a past tenant dead for 50 years, so she sat out front by the shade of a palm tree right where Donna was standing in photos with her husband and family. She sang Aunt Stella's poem out loud hoping no one would come by thinking she was nuts. Walking the perimeter of the last apartment building on Earth of Donna's, Kate felt the dead singer's spiritual sadness lingering at not being able to have finished life. For whatever reason God had for Donna Wood, Kate sensed that the woman did not want to leave. It's amazing how someone's life stops dead when they pass-on suddenly. But a part of them lives on, especially when there's tons of pictures of them in their heydays. It becomes this great mystery to be solved by some future person like Kate. At that moment, Kate started a habit of going back there year after year, until one strange day when she arrived and the doors were flung wide open. She walked inside and upstairs and stood in front of Apt. 6. The door was also flung wide open and plumbers were at work in the bathroom. Kate walked in slowly and realized it was Donna’s apartment because of the two windows. She had shots of Christmas at Donna’s and although the heater was gone, it was the same scheme and placement! It was truly amazing to be standing there in the present. A few more seconds and Kate was backing out and wishing Donna a hello. Kate walked back downstairs in awe. Just then, an old woman walked by and into the apartment building, disappearing into it. Kate quickly followed and knocked on the door she spotted the lady going into. The older woman answered, staring at Kate curiously, almost suspiciously. "Yes?" "Hello, my name is Kate Siegel," said the girl a bit nervously. "I'm writing a novel about a woman that lived here in the Forties. Her name was Donna Wood. How long have you been here?" The graying, petite, wrinkled landlady squinted and put her hand to her head. "Now let me see, I've been here since January of 1947. My sister and I bought the building. Been here ever since." "Do you remember a couple who lived in this building? Donna and Lee Hackler?" Asked Kate, while reaching into her knapsack and pulling out the Wood photo album. "I have their pictures right here." Kate opened to shots of Lee, Donna and Gloria. The woman took the album, then said, "I have to get my glasses, hang on." She handed the album back to Kate, not bothering to invite the girl in. Soon she returned with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. She put them on and gazed half-heartedly at the shots. "No, I don't remember them. Pretty girl though. She looks to be around 25, but I was just too busy flitting here and there, that maybe I just didn't notice them. Sorry." "Are you sure? I mean, it's sort of important to me," said Kate, taking the album looking at the shots. "They lived right here and moved here in 1941. If you came here in January of 1947, do you remember a sick woman in one of the apartments, maybe an ambulance, or the family or some kind of commotion over there?" "I'm sorry, Lady, but that's almost 60 years ago, and I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Sometimes when you get as old as me, you can only remember so much. It bogs you down after awhile, so I put it to the back of my mind," she explained. "Well, thanks anyhow. At least I tried." Kate was about to turn and go down the steps, when the woman seemed to recall something. "Hey, my sister! She'd want to see those pictures. She's bedridden now, but she might remember. Celia's more of a details person than me, but she's in poor health." Kate felt the Wood spirits lurking around, maybe changing this woman's psychic kinetic energy. "Thanks so much. What's your name?" "Name's Ruth Jones. I've run this building for over 50 years with my sister," she said. "Now come in and wait in the living room while I talk to her. "Okay, I will," promised Kate, entering the small abode. There was a cosmic energy flowing here as well, but much different vibes, more along the lines of spiritual essences and memories that ran parallel with the Wood's, especially since they were sisters too and still kicking. Ruth walked out of the room and into a small bedroom. Kate looked around the apartment at all the family pictures, not much different from the Wood photos, except there were less of them, whereas literally hundreds existed for the other family. Soon Ruth returned and beckoned her inside the little room, where she found a white-haired lady sitting on a well-made bed. She was cramped up from arthritis, but smiled at Kate and motioned her to sit down on the chair. Kate sat down and handed the older woman the album. She turned the pages slowly, gazing intently at the photos of the Woods, more than her sister had. When Celia came to the specific shot of Lee and Donna, Kate sat close to the lady and pointed out reference points. This woman was much more astute than Ruth was, and acknowledged at least vaguely remembering the Woods. Finally she spoke, Kate hanging on her every word. "Yes, I faintly remember them. Ruthie and I hadn't been here too long when I did catch sight of them. She was a thin, beautiful girl and he so good looking. Once she came to the balcony up there," reminisced the older sister. "But I could tell then that she wasn't well." I'm totally blown away," said Kate excitedly. Then the old lady's mottled face broke into a smile, making her look angelic. "Guess she would of been about 80 by now. A shame, she was such a pretty, up-and-coming woman." "I'm writing a book about them." "Sorry, but I don't remember much more, because she passed away soon after we moved in and I was kinda' busy during those days. I can understand Ruth not remembering. She doesn't notice much. Takes a lot to excite her, get her talking, but when you're our age, your time's not wasted trying to take in everything like when you was young, although, Ruthie never did notice much then either." Her face cracked another wide smile. "But what do you remember?" "I remember enough to know they were very much in love and she seemed like a nice woman, but I recall her being very sick in the month of March. Now that we're talking about it, I heard her weeping from my window." It was then Celia seemed to go into a trance. She said, "Sometimes I can still hear her crying on a clear, crisp night." The woman suddenly came out of it and laughed loudly, almost crazed. Ruthie abruptly butt in, "Hey, enough talk about that shit! I don't want the dead talked about in this house, you understand! Enough on all this. Lady, you’ve got to go now!" Kate rose, heading for the door, "Oh, no problem. I have to leave anyway. It was nice meeting you." "Nice meeting you too, Kid," said Celia, re-adjusting herself on the bed. "I'll show you out," said Ruthie. "Thanks for talking to me. I know it's not easy dredging up the past. I didn't mean to intrude, but I'm driven." "I can see that clear enough, Missy," said Ruthie. "When you have medical problems, time ain't spent dwelling on when you was young. But I found meeting you interesting. You brought back a lot of fun memories for Celia. I hope it helps your writing." "Oh, yes, you were of great help, and only brought me closer to my goal of finding out more." "Well, good luck to you Kate. Nice meeting you. Take care." Ruthie formally closed the door. Kate walked downstairs and back outside in front of Donna's apartment building. She pulled out Donna's diary notebook and began writing in it: "As I sat by the entrance, I wondered what had happened to Donna's handsome, blond, blue eyed husband Lee Hackler. Did he move away afterwards? Marry someone else? What happened to him after Donna died? And what about Donna's first fiancé, Ralph Dietz, Jeweler to the stars? And why did I even bother to care? It must be that I was drawn in to this because of my own free spirit and openness to such things, plus I wanted something my own family could never give me. It was also like a private investigator trying to find answers to a big mysteries about how and why people disappeared, and where they went. I contemplated all of this on my way back to the Beverwil place. May 31, 1997: Marlena and I became good friends today. She came home with Lee and at first was a bit standoffish, but warmed to me when I started helping her with English words and sentences. She's only been in this country for 2 years, so it was interesting. It was at that moment that Marlena told me in her broken English that Lee had asked her to marry him! It seems unreal, but wasn't something the Wood spirits took lightly. I doubt it would happen, because I explained to Lee that he may lose his benefits from Gloria if he got hitched to his companion. In the end, I'm sure the idea would be nixed, and only materialized because the old guy missed Gloria. The idea was absolutely ridiculous and only proved Lee's declining condition, plus Marlena's position in that household that held two ghosts, Lee and his Russian companion. We ended up out back on the patio smoking Capri Cigarettes and talking generally. P.J. returned from Irv Gordon's and had driven Lee's convertible Caddy Seville to the store to get the old guy more cigarettes. It was today that I asked Lee why he smokes even though he's ailing. He says, "It was the thing to do 60 years ago, fashionable and sociable." Experiencing his first drag at 15, Lee got hooked by all the promoting of the nasty habit back then. "I remember when cigarettes were 3 cents a pack. Gloria did a lot of singing/jingle work for Philip Morris, Marlboro and Camel, but the funny thing is that she never smoked," the old guy joked.
* * *
There is a morbid social fascination that arises in Kate when Lee lights up a cigarette. She wants to join him for the habit of his enjoyment of that cigarette after years of conditioning from commercials, social functions and happy moments of his youth when smoking seemed to bring Lee back to the days when his body was strong and could take the heavy smoke inhalation. Now he was wasting away and there Kate was sharing one with the man, to hell with oral fascination! The kitchen table is filled with ads and questionnaires ready to be mailed out for points toward prizes from side panels of Marlboro's. Neatly counted and stacked in rubber band holders, they're ready to be sent. Marlena asked Kate to fill out the questionnaire and settles on a snazzy lighter with a leather case. It was during one of those smoke breaks from the oxygen machine, that Lee called Cousin Virginia Wood again. She sang with Donna and Gloria when they were teenagers, when they were called the Glo Vir Don Girls - Gloria, Virginia and Donna Wood. Donna's mother Gertrude was their manager and set them up with gigs from her contacts with the Boston radio crowd. She orchestrated a group called The Harmony Sisters in the late 1920's, before The Great Depression and brought live radio shows to the Boston area with her husband Robert Wood. Now, in 1997, Virginia and her husband live in Panama City, Florida. She possesses that certain sparkle and spunk of her youth. Her husband still lives and the grandchildren are there to spoil, so something still exists for her to keep on living that zest for life. They were all very close. Of Donna she said, "not a more nicer, poised, elegant woman existed. But there's a side to Donna not many know, and I'm sure you want to hear about that," said Virginia. "Donna and I had a saying that went, 'Hot spit, we've got secrets, okay, mums the word.' It was our calling card. Those girls were fun. Donna was more reserved, Gloria, the wildcat, but boy we had a lot of great times. Things really took off when my cousins moved out here. They worked at a lot of the major recording studios. And Donna was really celebrity crazy, she introduced me to all the them. She almost married a jeweler to the stars." "She became very glamorous. Everything was very glamorous back then. We wouldn't dream of walking down the street with what I have on now! Oh no, we dressed in Lilly Ann suits, which were my favorites, she was my idol! Wide shoulder pads, and pecklums ... little cinched-in waists, we were all waist cinchers, and our jackets were very fitted, and you took your skirt in until you could feel it on both sides when you walked. You had to feel the skirt. If you didn't' feel it, it was too loose on the bottom. We all wore four inch heels ... Spring-A-Laters. They had no back, four inch heels and just a piece that went across ... and they had a glued in elastic inside so that it held it on to your foot, spring-a-laters." "In the late Forties it was very Joan Crawford! Big shoulder pads. The bigger the shoulder pads, the better! Oh Yeah, like a football player. I remember when Donna invited us out there for a week. My father said to me, "If they start bombing, I want you to turn right around and come home!' I never forgot that. The only way I could get off the train was to grab some soldier or sailor by the arm. We were traveling during wartime, you couldn't get a reservation! It took us five days. We even beat the President, I think by one day. It took him 6!" "One of the first things I recall was when Donna took us up to a house on Cahuenga Terrace, a great big white house that Rudolph Valentino built for Pola Negre. That's the first place in Hollywood I got to see. It was a boarding house then. It was where her friend, another actress was living. And a guy named Bernie Williams, who was a songwriter, owned it. He wrote 'Somebody Stole My Gal'. It was just one of the men that wanted to marry Donna. Even Bob Ramsey, head of Republic Studios wanted to. And especially the cowboy actors ... Sunset Carson, Monty Hale..." Kate was floored talking to someone who knew the Woods when they were alive and kicking. Virginia was all talk, talk, talk, up until Les edged the conversation toward ghostly images of Donna and Gloria on photos. Then the '2nd Wood Link' clamed up, wanting to fly away! By this time Kate was becoming restless at the Beverwil house. Lee was closing off on her more often than not, and Marlena kept dragging the girl out into the garage for a smoke, having fallen prey to that same morbid fascination as Kate had with cigarettes at Lee's. After the Wood mementos were out of the house, the place had lost its last bit of luster. There was no more treasure at the Beverwil house in Beverly Hills, it had been picked clean, Sutter's Mill dried up, the last find being Gloria's Diabetic blood sugar counter with her last readings still registering, but spelling out 'LES' (537) backward, by the way, a very high reading. Kate had exhausted every nook and cranny. It was when P.J. mentioned that other people snagged most of the plum items before them, that the house seemed more run down, especially in the Lanai, where Rock Hudson fantasized about Frank Sinatra and Gloria was Mr. Hudson's divining rod straight to a Crooner's bed masked by a desire to sing! P.J. and Marlena had exchanged some harsh words and it seemed that Kate's partner was becoming bitter that Lee didn't pay for fixing things like before, nor did he really converse with the couple like in the beginning, which is totally normal for a relationship built on dead people. After P.J. and the Russian had their blowout, it was hard to feel comfortable in the house any longer. In other words, this scenario had been played-out in a whirlwind. By that time, animosity was setting in due to the crashed marriage plans that Marlena most probably blamed on the couple. She was starting to resent the whole association and wanted them to stop coming by. The woman started using her influence over Lee to get the man to agree with her somewhat. Kate and P.J. would stop in, Marlena ignoring the two, Lee pretending to fall asleep in his hospital bed, and the couple simply left after pacing around. Things further soured after Lee's son from his marriage with Beverly, came to visit from Arizona. He didn't have nice things to say about his father and Gloria. He said, "They were both selfish, always expecting the best from people, especially attention. Towards the end, Gloria became mean, possessive and bitter." It was around that time Kate was told by a family member that Gloria Wood was eventually blackballed because of a controversial song she sang called 'Bellboy', which did make a small chart passing on the Hit Parade list, but hard nosed t.v. sponsors of that day (1960) did not take the sexual connotation lightly. It was when Gloria appeared on the Larry Findley Show for ABC, when her album 'Wood By The Fire' was coupled with an equally sexually explosive record called 'Behind Bridgett Bardot', a collection of instrumental songs from her movies. After that, music work seemed to dwindle for the singer, so she was resigned to mostly voice-over/commercial work where her face wasn't even seen, forced to live a life of obscurity, which accounted for her bitterness and bad tempered feelings. Kate sometimes wondered if Donna Wood became the same way at the end of her life. There's an air of mystery about that lady. "Why did she pop into my world now, rather when I was younger? I could have used her as a role model even more back then, and maybe would have better identified with my flamboyant mother, who had a singing history chock full of experience that never bent my way socially," wondered Kate to herself. Then she said out loud, "I can only imagine, from those family photos, what Donna was like. I know I'm pretty darn close to that mark." Soon Kate would be even closer to her mark when time whisks her back to 1941! But as for the negative things rising about the Woods ... no family is perfect. I’m sure even after Donna died, Gloria held that same sense of envy and love, maybe awe. With good you must have bad, lest you don't have the good. Kate accepted everything about them, including the negatives, one being what Gloria and Lee did to his second wife Peggy. Karma isn’t very kind. * * *
PART II -mk BACK IN TIME 1997 It was a few weeks after the couple had gone to the Wood graves, that she noticed the first subtle changes in P.J. Kate mused that possibly the Wood Sisters were permeating her living space, thus prodding their influences on her intuition. The pattern began when the woman's good looking, curly, blond musician boyfriend struck up a friendship with the 70 year old niece of famous, well-known brothers who were composers, a singer named Alegra. He had been doing electrical work at Alegra's condo, across the street from where the old songwriter Irving had lived at the esteemed Marie Antoinette Apartments on Wilshire Blvd. in progressive Westwood, California. Irv had passed away, but the building still utilized P.J. as a its trouble-shooting general contractor. It was also within close proximity of Gloria Wood's old place on Beverwil, so Kate thought nothing of it when P.J. mentioned he'd been there after work visiting her husband Lee. She was to find out otherwise. Whether it be a strong, but long buried feminine hunch or those Wood sisters sending messages from the Great Beyond, Kate kept getting heavy feelings that P.J. was spending newborn quality time with this Alegra woman, more than he was letting on. It was confirmed, like clockwork, when Lee phoned out of the blue one day. "Say, it's been a long time since I've seen you guys, especially your other half. Where's he been keeping himself lately?" Kate knew the answer, recalling with pain how P.J. said he'd seen the old guy just yesterday. More subtle hints and intuitions would soon unravel. The next indications of Kate's suspicions of his meetings with Alegra were further solidified when her partner avoided his telephone, even shutting the ringer off when they were together. But, soon the whole Alegra mystery-story tumbled out as the couple sat on their bed under the collage of Donna Wood, like the Virgin Mary staring down at them, pointing a silent finger at a guilty-looking man. "Alegra invited me to a wedding and I have to fly up to Carmel with her. We'll be staying over night in separate rooms. We're just friends," he spoke of the 70 year-old singer nervously casual, actually trying to shrug it off, but failing badly. It was Donna's beautiful angel face, so serene, that kept Kate from screaming rage and distrust more aptly than she did. "I knew it! The story about going fishing was a lie, right?" "Yes, but I was going to tell you! This whole thing is so weird for me. I've never had a friend like her," P.J. blurted, giving Kate one of Donna Wood's husband's famous boyish glances. "I just didn't know how to exactly break it to you, especially when you flipped out last week about her." "Why didn't you tell me sooner! It's so upsetting, because all along I knew. You actually lied to me," spouted Kate. "And the only reason I was flipping out was because when I checked your machine there was a message from Alegra saying that you two were on for tonight, and I asked where you were going and you said to your Aunt's place in Carson, which is lying, so I freaked!" "I don't know why I lied," he said charmingly sheepishly. "It was really hard to tell you. I didn't know how to explain it," he fumbled, hot under the collar. "But you shouldn't have even been listening to my messages. Believe me, I was going to tell you. Do you think I'd just go off to Carmel like that and deliberately hurt you?" "So you're going then?" "Come on, don't be like this. It's no big deal," he countered, trying to put his guitar-playing hand on top of hers, a gesture he never used, which told of the impact his friendship with the singer was becoming. "I can't believe this is happening!" She pulled away from his grasp. The first thing that crossed Kate's mind was, 'What would Donna Wood do in a case like this! Cry, like she felt like doing?' Feelings of betrayal and deceit surfaced, coming out angry and mean. The couple argued, receded, than bickered again, until finally Kate had to accept the fact that P.J. was going off with the woman, even if both of them cried 'platonic'! It may very well be platonic now, but who knew what would happen as things progressed. It only made his friendship with the older woman that much more forbidden, at the same time inviting for both of them, especially Alegra. It was the Fourth of July, Friday afternoon when P.J.'s phone rang. Kate had turned his phone on earlier that morning after the man left on an electrical job. As it rang, Kate knew who it was - Alegra! She just knew. The girl picked up the phone calmly. "Hello." A female voice with the slight hint of hesitation asked, "Is P.J. there?" "Who's calling?" Kate's heart picked up the beat, knowing even before the woman answered. "Alegra," she said firmly. The two women began a conversation that would soon put Kate's fears at ease for the moment as she poured her heart out to the woman who might spiritually be stealing her boyfriend's heart. Kate had to keep reminding herself that this relic was alive, well and breathing, not laying in a cold, dark grave for the past 50 years! "I'm a writer and singer myself, and I really care for P.J., so what I'm getting at is, what are your intentions? P.J. told me you are a singer too." "I can totally relate and I respect your frankness and niceness about it, but I assure you that we're just friends. It's totally platonic," said Alegra evenly. "And yes, I'm a singer." "There was that word again," thought Kate. "It's just hard for me to believe that platonic thing," she plainly stated to the other lady. "There's nothing sexual between us. He told me he has a girlfriend. Do you live with him?" "Yes, I've lived with him 4 years." Again, the slightly British-accented voice hesitated, as if taken off guard again to P.J.'s total situation. "Oh, I see." As Kate spoke with Alegra she wandered over to the stereo player of Gloria's from 1956. It seemed something was different. She came up to it and gazed at snapshots of the Woods through the Century, noticing a small sign in one particular picture of Donna and her father. It was slightly blurry, but it looked as if it spelled out 'P.J. is OK.' Were the girl's eyes playing tricks or did her subconscious mind want so badly to believe that statement? It was hard to be calm when your Little Boy Adonis fits the prototype of needing a woman like Alegra to be his father! There was also a dark side to P.J., and surely this woman would find out, but maybe that wouldn't happen until a go between the sheets came up! As her imagination ran rampant, Kate continued talking with the older singer, but soon returned to the record player decorated with the Wood family. Kate gazed at the picture again and saw that the lettering was becoming much clearer. She could make out the words 'P.J. is OK.' It was a message from the Woods, letting their mortal fan know that everything would be all right, but to watch out for Alegra. After her conversation with the older singer, Kate nervously phoned her own mother, a singing star herself back in the Forties and Fifties. Before Kate knew it, her mom was calling up her best friend Tina Louise, Ginger on Gilligan's Island. The actress used to baby-sit for the Seagal children on occasion, due to the fact that Kate's mother and Miss Louise go way back to the mid-1950's when they were roommates in college and performed together. Kate's mother told Tina about this new association. It just so happens that the woman who played 'The Movie Star' was acquainted with Alegra, which surprised Kate and her mother. "I spoke to Tina today," said Lenore over the phone to her daughter. "She told me this Alegra-woman is obsessed with age and only hangs around with young men!" "Really?" "Yes. Now what is your boyfriend doing with that woman? Tina couldn't believe it when I told her. She said you should dump him right away. P.J. has no right to do that to you. It's like a slap in the face," ranted Lenore. "I know, Mom, but what can I do?" "You need to get out of there." "I just can't leave off the bat, you don't understand!" "Look, you do what you want. You're past 30," said Lenore, wanting to totally control her daughter, maybe entice her to move to Florida where she could be under her mother's thumb like her brothers and sister were. Kate had become in tune with her own intuition in being able to sense P.J.'s new world, just as he had seemed to of found at least a partial feminine side to himself when he said plainly, "I just want to be loved." That was a sentence he never used, and it's usage now spelled out a very interesting relationship with Alegra indeed. The woman had brought out a small part of him that seemed buried and moldy - sentiment, even if it was slightly self-centered. At that moment she recalled three weeks ago when P.J. first mentioned his supposed fishing trip. In a flash, Kate's sharpened vibe-feelers, through some sort of phenomena, knew there was no such excursion planned, but something with Alegra that was brewing. She knew that right away from the start. And the sign didn't say 'Alegra is OK', which lends a double message coming from the spiritual Barrier Wood Reef. On the day P.J. left with the seasoned, classy, wealthy singer, flying first class to Carmel, Kate decided to visit the Woods. As usual, she made her way up to Forest Lawn in Glendale, and found the spot very quickly. For awhile she wandered the place, passing stone after stone, finding two with her first name listed. There were other Donna's and Gloria's peppered throughout, and a ton of Robert's. She even ran across another family named 'Woods', 4 neat spots just like her Wood family with no 's', of course. As she walked among the dead, Kate imagined P.J. in Carmel with Alegra, who was obsessed with her age and was rumored to like the company of young studs, probably infusing her soul with a strange satisfaction that she's got one over on the mates of those handsome young men. P.J. made very light of his relationship with her, even if there was no sexual activity as they both claimed. It would be obvious that when P.J. and Alegra were seen together, most in that polite society would think they were a couple, which is what bothered Kate the most as she walked through the graveyard and thought of them together. The woman strolled by a huge, oversized headstone ironically inscribed to, 'Our Beloved Alegra'! So very strange! Their whole association was unusual and totally unnerved the already jittery lady. Kate came up to the Wood plots and sat down, like clockwork, by Donna's. Due to the stress and turmoil with P.J., tears welled up and Kate had a good cry, trying to sort out her emotions about this new development with her man of 4 years. There always seemed to be a slight breeze blowing at that spot and soon those tears dried. The girl then pulled out her diary and began writing in past tense for some strange reason. July 5, 1997: They're plots were so warm today. The green grass kept sticking me and leaving weird wavy indents on my skin. This whole Alegra/P.J. situation has me very upset so I settled between Robert and Gertrude and shut my eyes, pretending to feel what Donna might of felt when she went into her parents bedroom to be comforted. I had my crying session and spoke with them, but really was speaking with myself, using their essences as a tool to get in touch with my own emotions. It worked, of course. As I reclined between 'Ma and Woodie', the sun beat down, I all of a sudden felt a cool wind on my face even though the air was still. Opening my eyes and sitting up, a strange feeling passed before it dissipated because I noticed too fast, probably chasing its delicate spirit away. I wasn't spooked, but rather intrigued. There was definitely something there, not just dead bodies in 50 year old graves! I sensed the others who once came to this sight too, but realized no one had in many years. The Woods felt lonely and useless. Their spirits were dormant, that is up until I came into the picture. After about an hour or so, I had a good solid cry, wiping my tears on Donna's plot and kissing each one in turn, starting with Robert's, on down to Gloria's. I'd come to the conclusion that it was Robert and Donna whom I'd felt closest too. She was 'Daddy's Little Girl', and Gloria was Mom's. Chandler and Bob are not there. I wondered at that second if anyone in the family had trekked to the graves lately, at least on a regular basis like I was doing. Another mystery to solve in "Where the Woods Were".
It was amazing how all of a sudden, after writing down her feelings on paper, she became calm and collected, as if her own spiritual senses locked onto to something that was feeding her strength to overcome the despair of losing a large part of P.J.'s emotional love, what little there was, to Alegra, if she hadn't already. The Wood family's bond reached out because Kate had taken the time to find their graves and remember them, even if it was mostly through imagination and photographs. In Kate's keen, sharp mind, she perceived the Woods as rallying to her side, or at least spurring Kate to use the energy spent on them for good direction. Then a foggy vision appeared in Kate's mind. What would happen with Alegra and P.J. is obvious now. It would fizzle out, because P.J. would become stifled by the older woman's constant control and domination. It was when Kate abruptly stood up, lost her balance and fell back down, hitting her head against Donna's stone, that nothing would ever be the same. * * * 1941 The next thing she knew, blackness enveloped. It looked like stars were shining, but it was still daylight. Basically, Kate was out like a light. When she awoke it felt cooler, fresher and somehow different. She opened her eyes to a cloudy afternoon but something was definitely altered. When she turned around to see the Wood graves, they weren't there! "Perhaps I was in a fog and wandered away from the site, " she wondered. But everything looked the same, except, no, there was something else strange. Kate tried to clear her muddled thoughts. There were missing gravestones she distinctly remembered each time the girl passed by them when visiting the Woods. Kate began to really look around at that point, noticing how barren of headstones the place was, how certain buildings were just not there. It was definitely Forest Lawn Cemetery though, that much she could tell. Kate's mind went into a panic when realization took hold. "It couldn't be!" She began racing around looking at the plots that were there, which were dated before 1940, every single one of them! The girl tripped, bruising herself. She felt oppressed, her body going into slight shock over the trip back through time. She even slipped over a few more graves, drawing blood. The woman felt all pins and needles, even feeling nauseous, sick to her stomach. Trying to compose herself was an understatement, but she did the best under the circumstances and sat on the grass taking gulps of cool air. Kate spotted a faucet by a water shed and headed to it, not noticing a parked car in the road. She drank right from it, pouring water over her skinned knee. The old Packard slowly drove by, its occupants gazing at the distressed lady drinking from that spigot in the graveyard. Kate was wearing the clothes she'd worn that morning, a simple tee shirt with Geronimo, the Apache chief emblazed on it, cut-off shorts, moccasins, even a Indian-bone necklace. She didn't fit with the times, if Kate really was where it seemed like she was. "Excuse me," yelled Kate to the couple in the car. "Do you know what time it is?" The old man looked at his watch, then curiously back at Kate. "Almost 2:00." The woman spoke up, "Are you in trouble?" A young man's face appeared in the back seat window. The tall, handsome, 1940's dressed guy got out and walked toward Kate. He was young and dashing looking, untouched, almost perfect features, good breeding. At first Kate wanted to dash away, because of the fear inside about where she really could be. "My grandparents and I thought you might be in distress. Do you need help? Have you been robbed? Hurt?" Concern shone in his even-set, deep blue eyes. The wind blew his dark, wavy hair around. Kate thought quickly. "I was checking out some of the celebrities buried here for a book on Los Angeles I'm writing. I was searching for Jean Harlowe's grave," explained Kate, remembering that the actress had died years before. "Then this strange man jumped out and chased me. He stole my purse, money, and identification! I fell down, got disoriented and felt dizzy and strange." She staggered, but he caught her in his grip. She smelled the distinct odor of Old Spice and red wine. It was very appealing. When she came to her senses, Kate felt like she did when arriving at summer camp, everything feeling foreign, unfamiliar and stark. What would she say to these people? Where would she go? To Donna's place? To a shelter perhaps? A church? All she needed to do was sit down and tell these people her situation without seeming to them as going crazy. She'd already had her cover, the grad student from back East, leaving family and friends, starting a new life here in L.A., writing her first book. She just had to gain this family's confidence, maybe convince them that she really was writing something on life in Los Angeles. "Thanks for your help," the muddled woman said to the man. "I can really use it!" "I'm Bradford St. John and those are my grandparents, Cliff and Sara St. John." "My name's Katie. I'm an author writing a book on life in L.A.," she said while Brad led her to the Packard. They shook hands. "Really, how interesting. Please don't think that we do this sort of thing every day," he said. "It's not often we meet people in a cemetery like this. We actually came here to see my parents," he admitted sadly, saying no more about the subject, which obviously pained him. They got into the car and drove out of Forest Lawn. Kate quickly filled them in one who she was, what she was trying to achieve and why. It took about 10 minutes of driving for things to be put on the table. "As I told you, I'm a writer working on a new book about life in Los Angeles," she said trying to put them at ease. "I just came out here blindly, not knowing a soul. That's the best way to make it grow wings and fly," she said. "Interesting, Kate, I never heard of anyone writing a book like that. It sounds sort of strange, if you ask me," said Grandpa Cliff. "Land sakes, Cliff, what's so strange about that?" Asked Grandma Sara. She liked this girl Kate immediately. There was a certain part of her that wanted to nurture the granddaughter she never had, and it was odd how the old woman felt about it. Sara wanted to say that everything would be fine now that they'd met, even though she only just met the woman literally minutes earlier! Grandpa drove down San Fernando Road wondering where this lady wanted to go. "So where to, folks," he spoke up, startling Kate, who was still recovering from her trip through time. After a healthy silence, Kate finally admitted, "I don't have any place to stay. I don't know anyone out here. So I planned all my funds very carefully until that man stole my purse and satchels with everything I owned in it!" "Except your knapsack, thank God," said Brad. "That includes my identification and other daily accruements." She cried, a bit shaken. Can't blame you folks if you dropped me at a shelter. It would probably be more convenient, because I don't have any money, but can fend for myself if the need arose, which was the premise of my story in the first place," she sobbed uncontrollably, mostly due to her trip through time. They had met the girl for literally a few minutes, so no one spoke up to offer her anything right away. The St. Johns must of been in shock, because all three of them were thinking that if this girl needed a place to stay, then they'd open their home to her. It was only that they didn't know who she was, not usually making it a habit of inviting strangers in to the nucleus of their family, especially making lightning quick decisions. They were a laid back lot. Kate sensing this, started to tell them about herself. "I'm from New York. My mother is a concert pianist and my dad was a fabric designer, he's passed on. I have two older brothers, who live in Florida. One is a property officer at the Palm Beach County Jail. The other is a bit slow so lives with my other brother. My sister Diane is with a doctor and has a child, divorced from her first husband, a burlesque club manager," Kate explained as casually as she could under the extreme conditions. The St. Johns' eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their heads. The woman from the future forged onward, trying to ignore their expressions. "I'm out here trying to make it as a writer. Then there's my mother, she's real character, let me tell you. If they could see me now!" She cried harder, but mostly for show, feigning it. "Why don't you just call them," suggested Sara, breaking the shaky silence. "No, not until I get settled here," said Kate. She actually could call her mother, who would be in Flatbush, Brooklyn living the life of a pampered Jewish 11 year old music prodigy. Her brother Norman, who would die of intestinal disease in 1945, after he'd been injected with Mercury, would still be alive too! Imagine if she could actually meet them? What a thought. Kate had landed years before her Uncle Norman died at age 18. Soon afterwards, Kate's mother Lenore would be steeling herself against Polio in an iron lung. But two years later she was out of the house, married, divorced and on the road singing with Eartha Kitt and the blackballed black folk singer Josh White, up until Kate's father married the sparky singer in 1956, and they settled in Teaneck New Jersey, then Providence, Rhode Island, and soon New York City, and back to New England where Irwin took his own life in the town of Barrington, R.I. "Now don't worry darlin', it's going to be okay," said Cliff reassuringly. "And did you say that your sister's ex is a burlesque manger?" Kate breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, it's very lucrative. Believe it or now, my sister is well taken care of, not wanting for anything, but that pampered life isn't for me. I see more for myself." And soon Sara took the weeping girl in her arms and comforted her as they pulled into a coffee shop. "Is that curly hair natural?" Asked Sara, trying to distract Kate like one might a child. She touched the curls. "Oh yes, it's a permanent-perm from God!" Said Kate through fresh tears, but perking up when she saw they were parked at a restaurant. "My, my you look like Shirley Temple with those curls," said Grandpa, lowering his suspicions and accepting Kate finally. He was always a sucker for tears. Together, looking like they'd never been apart, the 4 headed for the quaint coffee shop. They were seated at a big booth in the back. The St. Johns accepted Kate un-conditionally, and she would not want to jeopardize her living situation by telling them crazy notions about being from the future. At that moment her masculine side felt like Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future! She couldn't believe it was happening, but as she gazed out the window, it was obviously 1941. It certainly wasn't the Glendale she remembered from one hour ago while agonizing over P.J. flying to Carmel with Alegra. It was funny to think that the older singer would be barely 8 years old in this time zone! My God, what a thought. And what about what was going on in her time? Would they miss her? Did she really exist while being here in the 1940's? Was time passing normally, or when she eventually went back, would everything be changed? She hoped everything worked out. When the waiter took their orders, Kate excused herself to the ladies room. Once inside she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The girl was so keyed up over this time traveling that she couldn't relax enough to relieve herself. The girl panicked for a split second, then composed herself just as fast. Kate felt the bump on her forehead where she'd fallen against Donna Wood's plot. It only solidified her story that she was robbed and made it an easier transition for the St. John's to accept her. Things happened for reasons. She quickly calmed herself and returned to the table. After that, something kicked in and Kate tempered out evenly. She and the St. Johns started talking, becoming very close, the four of them, all at once, as if they'd known each other in another lifetime. Even Brad, who didn't take to strange women easily, felt at ease and happy around Kate. He couldn't explain it, but when he saw the woman drinking water out of that graveyard faucet, her naturally curly brown hair and earthy clothing, he began to become attached to her. It wasn't natural as the minutes ticked by in the car and now in the coffee shop, and he started hearing Kate's voice, the shy man was hooked. He didn't know why or how, but his own male intuition went with it. His grandparents felt the same way, although no one spoke of it, because everyone carries their own guilty fears. And he noticed that even the strangers in the restaurant were staring every now and then at the group, as if some energy ranged around them, all since Kate came into the picture. When the most delicious strawberry cream cake was served, Grandpa Cliff made an announcement. "While you were in the powder room, we decided that you can stay with us until you finish that book. We've got a decent house over in Beverly Hills on Elm Drive." "Now it's nothing too fancy, but we all agree that you are charming, and it was only circumstance that dealt you this most unfortunate luck." Grandma Sara put her aged hand on top of Kate's, as if she'd known the woman forever. "Are you sure it's no trouble?" Asked Kate. She couldn't believe they lived on Elm Drive! Kate had lived on that same street, across from the junior high school in 1986. It would be instantaneously familiar territory, even if she did live there in the future. "I have a flat over in Hollywood, but spend a lot of time at my grandparents'. Do you have any clothes or a suitcase?" Kate looked sheepish, "This whole idea about how I'd write the book really is falling apart all around me. Did you guys ever see that movie about the famous director that rides the rails looking for inspiration?" "No, can't say that I have seen that one." Grandpa sipped his coffee, eyeing Kate suspiciously for a split second. "Well, it starred Robert Taylor," Kate said. "That's what gave me the idea. Maybe it's playing at some movie house, we should all see it. It would certainly explain a lot of things." "I know Robert Taylor, but not that film," said Sara honestly. Grandpa sipped his coffee a bit more, then eyed the woman strangely again. "How come you decided to do such a fool thing? What's your family think?" "Can they help you?" Asked Brad. "Yes, they can, but they live in Florida, near Miami, we're like oil and water and they don't approve of what I do nor how I do it. I've always been a rebel. It's my sister that's the apple of the family's eye. I'm the black sheep." "Even though your sister's husband was in Burlesque and she's with that doctor, how ironic and sad," said Brad. "Sure you ain't running from the law? I mean, you don't have any identification, bags or luggage to speak of. We're just a little concerned, that's all. Seems as my wife's taken a shine to you though, so I guess that's a good indicator, but Miss, you've gotta' have something to call your own." "We have no right to pry," said Sara. "But it's like you popped into that cemetery out of thin air," added Cliff, not realizing how close to the mark he was in that statement. "Grandpa, why are you questioning this girl? She's not on trial for God-sakes. She's a victim!" Brad spoke up. "Well, I just...." "She already explained. The woman was robbed and the only one running from the law is the bum that got her stuff!" Brad frowned at his grandfather, making his handsome features obscure a bit. "Now son, don't get up in a dander, I'm just looking out for things," said Cliff. "Clifford St. John, I'm surprised at you," scolded Sara. "How can you be so suspicious? "Her story makes sense, Grandpa. I have a good feeling about her, and so does Grandma." Kate spoke up, "Please, believe me, I know it sounds strange, maybe even mysterious, but it was the only way at that time, that I would be able to write this book. I have tried detaching myself from things and luxuries. But be assured that I come from a good family. We lived in New York City for a long time, then I went to college in West Virginia for a few years." "West Virginia? What college is there?" Asked Cliff. "It's a small college called Salem." "You mean where they burned witches?" Asked Sara, the statement only adding to the confused emotional situation. "No, that's Salem, Massachusetts." When Kate said Massachusetts, her thoughts flew to the Woods and her excitement grew. "I have a degree in Journalism too." "Oh, that's wonderful." Brad stared at the brown haired beauty that was already working her way to his heart. He'd fallen in love with her the moment he spotted the girl. There was something exotic and different about Kate. She was down-to-earth and very intelligent, but there was a little girl side to her that he wanted to take under his wing and protect. He was glad he'd talked his grandparents into putting the girl up at their house, and wished she could stay with him, but that was unethical. He wanted to get to know her, figure out some secret, and could easily look beyond her shabby appearance, wearing pants that were cut strangely showing her knees. There was something just underneath the surface and he swore he'd get to the bottom of it. Brad turned to Kate and said, "You should be an actress! I thought you were when I first saw you." At first Kate thought he'd meant it because he sensed she was lying, but then Brad smiled and continued, "You've got the look, that's for sure." The group piled into the Packard and drove toward what would be a bigger downtown using old Route 99. The road was paved, but not tarred. They traveled at a leisurely pace, Kate immediately noticing the surroundings, how the neighborhoods didn't look rundown. There were stretches of open spaces and parks, even a few mini-ranches and farms. Little bungalows dotted the roadside, and there were the beginnings of communities popping up. The girl saw buildings in great art-deco shape here, that in her time were dilapidated. Finally, the 99 turned into the spanking new 110 freeway. Now, in '41, it seemed, very small, not at all menacing. In fact, due to the coming war, in a few months to be exact, it seemed almost deserted. It was 1941, so the population of just under 1,000,000 people from a census book Kate had read back in her time, seemed to be holding their breath, as if waiting for some big event to shake up their lives. "Bet it's different here than back East where you came from, Kate," spoke up Sara, above the din of the engine. Cliff turned the radio on, some big band tune blaring. "God, she wouldn't even know the half of that," thought Kate. "It's different in some ways, but mostly the same, except there's less people here," said Kate, truly not lying, because there was less of a population in 1941 than in 1997. It was times like these, since she'd landed here, that Kate would feel a funny panic in the pit of her stomach. What if she was stuck here for the rest of her life? Would it be so bad? What was happening in her time? Did P.J. wonder where she was? Was he still in Carmel with Alegra, maybe even right this second improvising some of her Uncle's standards? She imagined the two sitting by the Ocean, P.J. strumming his Martin, the singer trying to set off some passion, sensing the lack of it in his relationship with Kate. Did time pass there as it did here? Those were questions Kate could only fathom and not answer. Eventually she'd have to tell someone about this. They conversed easily about a lot of subjects as the car made its way toward Olympic Blvd, traveling west. It was cleaner, the sky bluer, the air crisper. In fact, the sun was so bright due to lack of pollution that Kate had to borrow Brad's sunglasses when he noticed the woman squinting. Finally, they came to the outskirts of Beverly Hills, actually heading toward Elm Drive, less than two blocks from Donna's apartment, and even her sister Gloria's in a few years. Once Kate did make money in this time, she'd find her own place somewhere around here again, and she told the St. Johns so. "By the way, I'm a fast typist, I won't have trouble finding secretarial work." Her old neighborhood had not changed much, just less buildings and no highrises, or Bank of America Building, which was like the beacon of Beverly Hills in 1997. They drove down Elm Drive. Kate's first apartment was standing, and seemed the same as they passed it. There was no Beverly Vista Junior High, but rather an open field that Kate could see children playing stick ball in, such an ironic touch. Cliff pulled into the soon-to-be-familiar small yellow home closer to Olympic Blvd., very close to Gloria Wood's future Beverwil house. When they finally drove up to a quaint home on Elm Drive, Kate could not get over how close it was to 'Where The Woods Were'. It was also very close to where Kate used to live starting in 1983 until 1994 when she moved to Glendale, right down the street from 'Where The Woods Were'! Kate would be most curious, once she was settled, to explore this area, maybe take some pictures. Grandpa got out first, opening the door for his wife, Brad doing the same with Kate. The gesture alone, conjured up such a romantic candor. "Thank you, Brad," said Kate, daintily stepping on to the curve. She liked the whole motion, and thought to herself how interesting it was becoming. She had now doubt that this was real. Then again, it could that she was knocked cold and was unconscious, although it feels like a dream, and she knew she was dreaming, and not waking up. They walked up the paved red brick driveway. Once inside, Kate was taken on an impromptu tour of the place. It boasted 3 bedrooms, living room, Cliff's den, an enclosed porch and quaint yard with roses growing, whose trellis gave a air of privacy. There was even a small wading pool, turned off and covered. Kate's first thoughts were if P.J. were here he'd know how to fix it in 1941. She wondered where he was right now. Was he living in real time, or was it frozen at this exact moment? She'd find out soon. But for now, the girl would make the best of it. She had already managed to get these people to help, had not ended up in a shelter, maybe jailed. Next she would find a job and start making a 1940's salary. Kate, for a split second, entertained the idea that with the knowledge she possessed, maybe she'd write songs and make them hits before they were hits! If the lady wanted to meet Donna and Gloria Wood, she'd have to do something in the music field. Entertainment was hot and Kate was about to ingrain herself in it here. People were going to have to be made to think that this girl had an uncanny intuition. They must never find out about her time travel secret. She may tell Brad eventually, but not quite yet. First Kate had to adapt to this new and strange place. It was her stomping ground in 1997, but so unfamiliar now. She'd find her way. Kate had to get a guitar. "I'm sure they have pawn shops in 1941. I'll pick up one soon. I could rule the world," she mused to herself as they climbed the steps to the second floor. They showed her upstairs. The St. John's master bedroom was quaint and cozy. It was done in beige and had a rocking chair by the window, knitting sitting by it, and a white cage with two love birds in it, a mahogany dresser with pictures of their family on it in silver frames. The walked down a hallway, then around to the left. "This is your room, Dear," said Sara walking into the cheery looking, bright powder blue bedroom. Already Kate knew where the guest bathroom and other bedrooms were situated. Sara had stopped at the linen closet, got fresh sheets, pillow cases and quilts for Kate. It was simple and plain with a white bedspread and small wooden makeup table that had three drawers to hold clothing. Kate thought about that, and wondered how she would get clothes. Maybe she could cash in on the conversation she'd had with Virginia Wood, talking about the latest rage in fashion during the next few years. Big shoulder pads, the bigger the better! She couldn't wait to buy her first pair of Spring-A-Laters! It was at that moment that Sara left the room and soon returned with a simple powder blue dress, as if reading Kate's thoughts. Although it was a bit conservative, Kate welcomed it, wanting to shed her dirty clothes of the future. The window was open and lace curtains fluttered in the breeze with the slight scent of jasmine. Kate strolled up top the lace curtains thinking of her father and how he really did invent lace patterns, just not for another 25 years! Gazing intently at the patterns, she used it to her advantage. "These may be my father's patterns! I'm sure of it." "How do you know," asked Grandpa, the whole family coming up close. "I know his designs ... flat rose link patterns. In fact, he was working on a new fabric invention called 'fish net' stockings before he died!" "What's that? Don't think I'd want to wear fish net on my legs," laughed Grandma as she fluffed up the pillow and fixed the bed up. "It's not fish net stockings literally, it's made of the same stuff stockings are, except the design looks like a fish net. It's going to be the latest rage, you'll see!" It was then that Kate stopped and noticed the faces of her new family. Their jaws were dropped open like little kids watching a side show. An eerie feeling came over the room, like whatever was controlling time wasn't letting Kate talk about the future freely. It caused a strain and set many molecules in motion, too many, until Sara got up and said she'd get some towels and could Cliff come help. He was rooted the floor, the older, sweet-faced woman having to nudge her husband of 45 years a few times to make him go with her. "We'll see you downstairs, Dear." They left the room, leaving the couple alone. Brad smiled and said, "Again, don't take offense, but I guess we're trying to figure you out, Kate. We've never met anyone quite like you...Fish net stockings ... wow, where did your father come up with that one? I mean, it sounds like a good idea, but nothing I've ever heard before. Amazing, truly amazing," he marveled, absentmindedly stroking his slender fingers against his clean shaven chin. "We'll have to go to dinner some night soon and you can explain it all to me. When I first saw you, it seemed you needed a friend, and I elected myself for it right then and there!" It looked like he wanted to take her in his arms, but felt too awkward, especially being in his parent's house. So he refrained, backing away slightly, not taking those baby blues off her. It wasn't the right moment, that's for sure. "My parents are brilliant people," said Kate. She thought, "I could call my father in this time. Let's see, right now he'd be in high school." Kate wished she could tell Brad the real reasons behind her appearance, but knew now wasn't the moment, and would wait until they got to know each other better. She could tell already that they seemed well matched and his grandparents liked her, but the woman was worried about Grandpa Cliff. He'd have to, at least in his own time, accept her. She would earn her keep, and really start writing the book. This was a great opportunity. Kate would ask Brad to take her around town, especially to any 'Where The Wood's Were'. Kate would try to befriend them somehow. She'd been thinking on that for some time and thought the best way to approach it would be to settle in and wait. Kate had a feeling that their path's would cross soon. Right now the woman wouldn't rustle things up and must get these people to relax. "I'll join my grandparents." Brad turned and left, sensing the lady wanted to have some privacy. "See you downstairs." Kate went into the bathroom, washed up a bit and changed into the outfit. She had to wear her moccasins and she re-tied her bone necklace on. Her masculine side felt like Bobby Van in the Movie Lost Horizon, the remake she and her family saw at Radio City Music Hall in New York City in 1974. After she changed into the new attire, the girl actually sang Bobby's tune in the feature ... "Question me an answer bright and clear. Question me an answer. Answer me a question!" She even danced around the room as the actor/singer did in the motion picture. "It's funny, but Bobby Van is alive," she said to herself, while doing the cute little jig Van did in the film. After that she silently stared at the bed that would be hers, and struggled with herself, wondering if sleeping meant waking up back in 1997. Would that be her fate? Instead she shrugged it off and went downstairs, joining the family in the living room. It was then the woman looked down at herself and thought how the dress really had brightened her up. Soon they were all chatting and joking around. This was very exciting for her, something really special. She liked the St. Johns, but especially Brad. He sat across from her on the sofa as Sara and Cliff told Kate stories of how they got to Beverly Hills from Arkansas. "I remember when the only people here were Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks," joked Sara. "It's really growing now!" "Don't forget Harold Lloyd," said Kate, laughing, pretending to hang onto a grandfather clock in their living room. Everyone cracked up at her antics. Already it was easy to play the role of the offbeat, slightly beatniky 1940's woman. Kate thought what a neat, cozy, well lived in home it was and could tell Sara was proud to maintain it. The living room had doilies on tables, a colonial brown couch with throw rugs. There was a sewing room off the left of the living room where Kate presumed Sara spent much time in. Kate remembered each room in detail, especially the kitchen, modern by 1940's standards. The place was neat, everything in its place. Beyond the kitchen was Grandpa Cliff's den, and a small enclosed porch, that was Sara's laurel. Kate never felt more feminine than she did at that moment. It was something about the Forties that brought it out of her, something 1997 could never offer. "Are you thirsty?" Asked Grandma Sara, already going into action. She poured lemonade into four tall glasses. The future lady never tasted anything so good. It made her pucker, but had just the right amount of sugar to temper it. Food and drink of the Forties tasted fresher and clearer, like the air -- crispier! In the last few minutes, Kate had caught both Sara and Cliff staring when they thought she wasn't looking. Brad remained quiet for awhile, probably assessing the young woman too. He must have been observing his new friend. Kate hoped these were not judging people. Once she got into the swing of things in this time, the woman hoped and prayed that this family would settle down. She just had to be accepted as a woman in their time. Then like clockwork, after her thought, Sara announced, "Now, Honey, from what you explained to us, we realize you have no clothes or funds, so Cliff and I want to extend a small loan to you so you can replenish your wardrobe and extras, okay?" "You can pay us back when you get settled and get a job, like you said Kate," explained Cliff evenly. "And when you sell that book," said Brad, winking playfully, easily falling into the role of her biggest fan. "I can help you there," spoke up Brad. "I'll ask around at my firm, plus I can secure you a typewriter. Kate was bowled over! "Thank you so much for trusting me and caring enough about my welfare. I could just as easily find a shelter at a church or even go back home." "Think nothing of it. We have a good feeling about you, and don't mind Cliff, he's naturally suspicious," said Sara getting up. "I have to start dinner." Before Kate could offer anything, Sara left the living room, and was in the kitchen in record time. Soon the older woman was setting the table and pulling pots from the cupboards. It's what she lived for! It was then Cliff took his cue and retired into his domain, the den, to have a pre-dinner pipe smoke. "It's been a long time since my grandparents have had this kind of company. I think my grandma thinks of you as her long lost granddaughter," said Brad. "Really?" That comment scared Kate a bit, but she could understand. "Sara will have dinner ready in about an hour. Brad, you staying?" Asked Cliff from his den. "Yes, I am," said Brad looking over at Kate staring out the picture window. Brad wondered why he was becoming so attached to this lady. He'd been seeing someone at his firm, but when he met Kate, the other woman paled in comparison to Kate's energy and vibrations, even though it had been literally 2 hours since he first set eyes on Kate. Christine was basic, typical, not boring, but definitely run-of-the-mill. She had been his safe base, but now something had changed. Since he'd come in contact with the curly-headed stranger, Christine faded to the back of his mind. He doubted he'd ever be the same, even if this girl moved out of his life tomorrow. The man vowed to get to know her! Brad's male intuition screamed that he'd better take advantage of her presence, because she may one day be gone forever, as if she never existed! It was a scary thought, and put his male ego in a tailspin. He'd always maintained control over emotional issues, especially women. Those he dated were proper and shy, allowing for his own control over the relationship. Brad had a feeling that he and Kate would make a great match and one day soon maybe even a couple, an item. Brad hoped fate went in that direction, the same fate that drew them together in that cemetery. What a chance encounter. He was glad for it, needed the infusion Then he got a thought. "I'll be right back." He raced down the steps and out the door, before anyone could utter a word, almost like his grandmother did earlier. So, Kate sat in the living room reading the latest Life Magazine, trying to learn a bit more about 'now'! At that moment Kate's masculine side felt like 'A Man Without A Country'! About 25 minutes later when Kate felt refreshed and calmer, dinner smells permeated the area. Cliff came back in the living room and got into a deep discussion with Katie about possible oil off the coast of Northern California. They sat in the living room chatting, waiting for dinner to start, Brad returned with a box. "Here, this is for you, Kate," he said handing the box to her. She opened it and found two cotton dresses and one simple brown pants suit, as well as a pair of stockings. "You'll have to shop for your own underthings, because I really didn't want to guess sizes," he said sheepishly, a slight blush rising on his tanned cheeks. Kate got up and hugged her new friend, thanking him and the St. John's for everything. "I'm not going to forget your kindness." "Think nothing of it," said Cliff, taking out his pipe and loading it up with cherry tobacco, but not lighting it, out of hidden courtesy. "There's a small clothes store up on Beverly Drive and I just felt the need to splurge in your behalf. For Beverly Hills, it's pretty inexpensive. All the women around here go there to buy the discounts and bargains. "I want to try them all on," said Kate, getting up and running upstairs, catching the same fever, again like Sara did prior, when making dinner. In her own time, these clothes would be vintage. "Brad, that was a very nice thing to do," praised Sara. "Cliff and I will certainly reimburse you." Bradford held up his hand. "You will do no such thing. It was my idea to have her come here so I don't want a cent. I really wanted to do it for her. You should of seen the expression on the sales clerk's face, it was a riot," said Brad excitedly, like a high school boy's first crush. "You takin' a shine to her, Brad?" Asked Cliff, now going through the motions of lighting his pipe, but still holding back. "Maybe," he answered coyly. "And what if I was?" "Well, what about that Daniels gal?" "What about her?" That's just it - What about her? "I'm so intrigued with Kate. She's so different and out of this world." "I think you and our new house guest make a nice couple," said Sara with a twinkle in her eyes. Brad blushed beet red. "Now Grandma stop it. You are embarrassing me!" "Sara, stop pestering the lad. We can't help it if he's got a school boy crush on our new house guest." "I'm sure interested in more than that book she's writing," said Brad. "Listen you two, please don't press the girl." "I still say there's something more to what she's saying, so I don't know. But she is special, I'll have to give the gal that," commented Cliff. "She's down to earth and very natural," said Brad. "I can't wait to get to know her better. In fact, I feel like I've known her before...Anyhow, whatever the facts, I'm glad for her presence." "Didn't have a stick of makeup on when we found her," added Sara. "That's what I like about her, Grandpa. She's so natural and earthy. I've never met anyone like her, and I've only known her a few hours." "The soul knows over and over, Brad," said Sara. At that moment Kate came back. Six pairs of eyes stared at the girl as she walked down the stairs. "My, my, now you look even more presentable," said Cliff. Kate was wearing the brown pants suit. She really looked wonderfully full-figured and just the right about of buxomness. Brad couldn't take his eyes off her. Before they sat down to dinner, Sara went upstairs and took Kate's clothes to the washing room in the cellar. Before she added them to the old-fashioned washer, she checked the pockets and found something very strange. "Land sakes, what's this?" She said aloud, holding up a color picture of Kate sitting by a grave in the cemetery they'd found her. The picture didn't look like any photo she'd seen, because Sara scrutinized it, wondering at the quality, so clear, so colorful. It was just last year that they had gone to see 'Wizard of Oz' at the Hippodrome and that's what these photos resembled, when Dorothy went to the Land of Oz! The colors were sharp. And another thing she noticed was Kate's clothing in the photos, which was different than what she was attired in. The girl was wearing an American Indian jacket like Davy Crockett's, fringe and all. She checked the front pockets and came up with something even more curious. It was a 25 cent piece, but the date on it didn't seem right. Maybe Kate had it made at an amusement park, because it read 1995, and that wasn't for almost 53 years. Sara's heart did a strange flip-flop. But her 1940's mind wouldn't budge to the fact that Kate could be from the future. To remain sane, she could not believe it, and thought of it only as an illusion or maybe part of that book Kate was intending to write. She'd say nothing about it, and put the picture and money behind a tin jar in the room. She'd slip it back in the pants when the wash was done. Sara was shaken as she climbed the steps and prepared to serve a dinner of lamb chops, peas and potatoes, with gravy and greens. They sat at the table, talking about all subjects, especially Kate and Brad. It was obvious they were a bit taken with each other. Brad stole glances toward Kate when he thought she wasn't looking. Kate looked his way and always smiled at him warmly. Sara remained unusually quiet throughout the meal, afraid to bring up anything to spoil it. She especially didn't want to tell Cliff what she'd discovered, lest he'd reject Kate thinking the girl was odd, not to mention how he'd be angry with Sara for suggesting such a thing in the first place. Kate was starting to like Brad St. John. She was growing attached to him and wanted to know him, would like to learn to appreciate him. Tonight Kate would not stray from her new home in 1941. She'd remain here and get settled, and catch some much needed rest. Then she noticed Sara staring at her curiously. It was as if the older woman wanted to ask her something, but was reluctant, wrestling with something. Maybe she realized something. Kate hoped not. For now the woman was closed mouth. Eventually it would all come out though. * * * 1941 Katie had been living in the 1940's for a little over five months. It was December 1. She noticed that it was not hard to become accustomed to the new surroundings and pace. She had lived in that neighborhood (Beverly Hills) on and off since 1983, so the transition was that much easier to bear. Kate noticed she was tuning in to the new atmosphere and sometimes the girl would wake up drenched in a cold sweat, her body's chemicals leveling off. At first she panicked, thinking that illness may be setting in. God forbid she'd get sick here in the past and would have to resort to 1940's medical care! She also debated with herself for hours, wondering about dropping a hint about Pearl Harbor. Every time Kate tried bringing the subject up, something happened, preventing it. She didn't want to start making comments about things to come in the future, lest people would become suspicious. Other times she'd forget completely about the urgency and would go about her daily grind, which had become a bit more placid and simpler than the life she'd led in 1997. She felt much more feminine here in the past, tapping into a whole new side of herself. Sometimes she got flashbacks of how she arrived here, but even those episodes were fading some. To most, especially Brad St. John, she was an exotic flower, especially because of that curly hair and retro-deco attitude. He had met her in a cemetery of all places! But it changed his life. So far all the people in the St. John social circle had for the most part, accepted her. There were only a few women, who obviously had silent dibs on Bradford St. John, that didn't particularly take to the free spirited girl. The rest picked up on her thirst for knowledge about them, their lifestyle and ways, so gave freely of advice, history and commentaries, thinking she'd mention them in a book the girl said she was writing about Los Angeles. This had spurred Kate to actually start a tome on Los Angeles, which the woman had begun rough drafts on an old 1940 model typewriter Sara had given her, although not old compared to her standards. If she became stuck here in the Forties, then Kate would get the book published. If she was sent back to 1997, she'd at least have a manuscript, so in a strange twist she was killing two birds with one stone. Kate even imagined her book tailored after the readings of Nostradamus, predicting the future of Los Angeles, and it wouldn't be all rosy and serene either! It was at that moment Kate intended to write about the future Los Angeles Riots, earthquakes and what the future L.A. would be like, plus more. Some would eat it up, others shun it. She'd found work immediately, right up on Beverly Drive for a publicist, no doubt! Ironically, the girl found it through a client of Brad St. John's, a man at the Beverly Hills Citizen, the same newspaper Donna Wood's husband would eventually work at in a few years. Having the job made it easier to track the up-and-coming starlet Donna Wood. Kate had access to all the newspaper clippings and media resources of the day, so it was a match made in heaven when she walked into 228 S. Beverly Drive, which in her time was Larry Parker's Diner, next door to her ex-landlady's store. Beverly Hills Liquor Castle was just an extension of the building Kate now worked in. She answered the telephone, maintained the front office, mail, plus greeted clients, usually young future actresses and male models sent there by their agents or studio handlers. It was one afternoon that would prove the most heightened excitement for Kate since coming back in time. She was sitting at the front desk of the storefront office, typing letters, marveling to herself how she was working where Larry Parker's Diner would boom in the 1990's, when none other than Donna Wood walked through the brown doors. Kate looked up and felt her cheeks redden. She tried to say something, but the words would not come! In all her turmoil of getting used to this new cycle, she'd almost forgotten why she was there and the reason stood in front of her that second! Kate surmised that her forgetfulness was because the trip through time rendered her mind of certain impulse-related memories. She supposed it was some kind of mental safeguard so that her psyche's stamina wouldn't go crazy, would rather accept it. Sometimes the woman would recall the fact that she was in the past. It hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd think about the future, wanting to tell someone, but it was very fleeting and wasn't happening as much of late. In the next second, something would come up to lead her mind away and the thought passed. But this time nothing could stop her reaction and nothing would block out the woman standing at her desk in the flesh and breathing!. The whole room turned electric, the vibes thick and crazy. Kate felt lightheaded, struggling with her emotions, wanting to blurt out everything, a bundle of nervous energy. Then her mind, in a split second, talked her psyche into thinking maybe this woman only resembled Donna Wood. That calmed her enough to gain decent composure. "May I help you," she asked in her most calmest voice. "My agent sent me over for a meeting with June Landers, the publicist. Kate could only stare, speechless, unable to believe her whole reason for being in the past stood in the flesh right in front of her eyes. "I've already started shooting a movie called Pot O' Gold with Jimmy Stewart and the band leader Horace Heidt," Donna said excitedly, thinking those two names would spur this woman into reality. She was pretty as a picture, and the first thing Kate remembered was the collage back at her house in Glendale plastered with Donna's clippings and pictures. For the longest time Kate wondered what Donna's speaking voice sounded like. Now she knew. It was silken, with a slight hint of a Massachusetts accent attached, but with refinement and annunciation going way beyond the small town cultured types that landed on Plymouth Rock. Finally, Kate regained her own husky, Demi Moore voice, a definite plus in 1941, due to actresses like Betty Davis and Lauren Becall. And of course, Joan Crawford! It was difficult, but she stated, "Oh, I read about that in the trades. It's starring Paulette Goddard. A musical comedy about a kid who wants a band to sing on his uncle's radio show. Mr. Smith saves the day again!" Joked Kate. Donna's eyes lit up at the words. "Wow, you've already heard? How exciting. It's my first movie." "The studio honchos send us the stuff long before they start shooting. It's all planned in advance," bantered Kate, still not quite believing she was talking to Donna so matter-of-fact. Kate was also glad Donna fell for the explanation of why she knew so much. Working for a publicist was turning out to be a perfect smoke screen. "The special gimmick about this feature is it's being produced by President Roosevelt's son!" "Yes, I know." Donna immediately liked this curly headed young lady. She was smart and knew what was going on, definitely sharp. There was something vaguely familiar about her too. She couldn't quite place the face, but it was there, something in the recesses of her mind. "What's your name?" "Kate Seagal. I started working here a few months ago, but it's a total resource of information on the entertainment industry and its rising stars. If I'm not mistaken, you will have a featured credit in this picture. That's wonderful. Actually, I know who you are. I remember Donna and Her Don Juans over at MCA. How's Art Carney doing in the film?" It was Donna's turn to be speechless. This woman knew a lot about her. That meant the singer was on her way up, hopefully. There was always a fine streak of doubt in Donna's mind for obvious reasons. Your friends here could turn on you with a vengeance, yet, on the other hand, those at the Scientist Church were different, even with their stardom and notoriety. Well, at least clippings about her were circulating around Hollywood. "I'm the same Donna from the Don Juans, but I sing with The Musical Knights now. I think Art is doing quite well for himself, he's holding his own." Kate was on a roll now! "And if I'm not mistaken, from what I found out, your parents are involved in the Boston radio circuit. At that second Kate remembered the Wood photo album she'd made, lying under the bed, tucked away in her knapsack. She wondered if maybe the best thing to do was hide it, because if anyone stumbled across it, things would be hard to explain away easily as they were now. "Why yes, they do. You're very crafty in digging up all that stuff about me. How did you find out so much? You must have known I was coming.” "First off, let me tell June you're here, get you some coffee and you can have a seat, okay?" "Yes, of course. But we must talk, you and I, okay?" "But remember," said Kate coyly. "Hot spit, we've got secret, mums the word, I won't tell!" She put her finger to her lips and winked across to Donna, who sat transfixed and shocked, color actually draining from her dainty face when she heard the ditty uttered by her cousin Virginia, reciting it even as children, and before every show they did together. Kate went into the adjoining office that would one day be Beverly Hills Liquor Castle. June Landers sat at her large brown desk plowing through the latest studio break-downs and info packets sent by the brass of Hollywood for her peruse. "Hey, you want two invites up to Hedda Hopper’s big bash?" June glanced up. "Okay. Donna Wood is here," announced Kate formally, liking the sound of it. June removed her specs and rummaged through a drawer, retrieving her makeup bag. "Stall her until I can put on my face, will you Dear? God, how I hate when they just drop in like this." "Of course, Mrs. Landers." "And please don't disturb us, hold all my calls," dictated the older woman, resembling an aging Candice Bergen. "I will," said Kate. "Would you like some coffee, Ma'am?" "Yes, make it strong and black this time. No sugar or cream. A bit stiff, okay Dear?" "Yes, Miss Landers." Kate exited the office and went to her desk. "Mrs. Landers will be right with you, Donna. I'm going to make coffee now. What do you like in yours?" "I'd think you'd know that," she answered coyly, a sparkle in her dark eyes! Both women broke out in light nervous laughter, until Donna turned to the other woman and put her delicate hand on the other's shoulder. Kate immediately noticed the jazzy checkered-designed ring. "First off, how did you know that saying my cousin and I had? No one really knows that, you do though! It scared me when you said it so easily, so practiced," said the astute Donna. "And you do look familiar, I know your face, that hair. Something about you is close to me. Just can't explain it, but I will. What are you doing later on.? Perhaps we could get together after work" "I rent a room in a house on Elm Drive. A nice older couple, the St. Johns, live there too," said Kate. "Wow, I live on Canon Drive! Kate phrased the next words very carefully. "It is funny, isn't it?" Those were the same words written by Donna on a photograph taken just this year and sent to her family. The woman recalled it from the Wood photo album. Donna again looked like she was about to faint dead away. Kate had definitely unbalanced this delicate flower. "I can't get over this? You know someone in my family, came in contact with them somehow, right? You did a little checking, maybe a ploy to get my future publicity business, right? Well, you sold me," said the vivacious, petite woman as she walked around the room. "I'll tell you what, let's discuss it over dinner tonight. I can be an intricate part of the process if your agent decides to go with our agency, I can tell you that," said Kate casually. "Well, I guess that's fine," Donna agreed, looking up close at Kate's desk. "Why are you sweating, and you're so flushed?" "To tell you the truth, I'm a big fan of yours." "I could tell that right off the bat," said Donna, seeming to enjoy the funny way Kate reacted to her presence, almost like the other woman was seeing a ghost. "So, we'll get together tonight?" "Yes, meet me at my apartment around seven." "It's 132 South Canon," said Kate. "Apartment 1. We'll walk up the street and pick a nice cafe." "Okay." It was then June Landers came out of her plush office and greeted Donna Wood. They chatted and went into the office, closing the door behind them, but not before Kate caught the look on June's face. But she still sat there shocked and excited. Who knew it would happen like this? It was almost as if fate and time worked together, and made her fit right with the scheme of things in the past. Was it destiny that she landed this job, or was this Time's way of making her presence more acceptable to her and the Continuum? Then, just as easily, she went back to typing the letters on the age-old typewriter, marveling at how the situation had fallen into place, everything in focus! But she'd give an arm and leg for an electric typewriter, or even a laptop. At that moment, she'd be at a loss to explain those things away. It went back to why things seemed to be in normalcy and flowing here. Whatever propelled her back in time was making sure things stayed level and even. There was a fine line between upsetting the balance and rearranging the moments! She'd found that out while writing her book on L.A. She would go with the flow, as they said in her future!
1941 – DECEMBER 7TH The sun was warm for December. There was a slight breeze hovering, making Christmas decorations dotting lamp posts and street shudder like forest trees. Kate's thoughts flew back to the future when she lived in this same neighborhood in the late 1980's. It hadn't changed much, just the people. The 1940's crowd was much nicer than in '97. It was early morning. Brad had driven to Beverly Hills to jog like always. He was running by the park and saw Kate there strumming her guitar. He had stood silently watching his love, suddenly overcome with some weird emotion he couldn't identify, but it was there, there's no mistaking that! Finally he'd come up to her and there was no stopping their passions any longer. On the day of Pearl Harbor, Kate and Brad were in the throes of a passionate embrace in the park down the street from the St. John home. It hadn't taken Kate long to become used to his kisses and caresses. At that moment he moved his slender, smooth hands up and down the nape of her neck. The man expertly could raise the passion level with a of his sure fingers. Kate finally admitted to herself that Brad St. John was growing on her. She had come to love his ways, his demeanor, his smell, his presence, his soul. She was starting to feel her libido rising, and realized Brad must feel the same, for lately their petting had become almost furious. The girl strummed her guitar again for him, even singing her now familiar standards about Burbank, Beverly Hills and even one about Princess Diana, who wouldn't be born for another 20 years!. It all amused and charmed the usually serious-minded Brad. "Brad, why don't we go to your place," breathed Kate in his ear. She began nibbling his neck, loving the feel of his smooth, just shaven skin. The woman reached around and grabbed his slim buttocks, wanting to see and feel so much more. Her feelings had come on suddenly, her body chemicals in full swing, and the fact that Brad held himself at bay really turned the woman on. "Are you sure, Honey? I mean, I don't want you to feel pressured," said Brad pulling her closer to him. He loved to hold her, feeling ample bosom against his chest. Their fire was building each day since they'd met, and it had been only five months. "The only pressure is being in this park. I want some privacy with you," said Kate, suddenly breaking away from his embrace and getting up a bit frustrated. At first it sounded shocking, but as the months passed, he had grown more accepting to their storm. People noticed the difference right away. Some shied away from the couple altogether. Kate undersood why. But Brad had been drawn to her right from the start! Somehow their combined electrical current was too much for some in 1941. Kate got a thought. "Hey, your grandparents went to Big Bear. The house is empty." She put her guitar away in a case. "I don't know. I'd feel kind of strange," said Brad, placing his well toned arm around her shoulders. She got a mischievous look. "Oh, come on, Brad. I don't want to drive all the way to Hollywood, making it so planned and on schedule. Let's do something bold and free! They'll never know!" Kate took his hand to her rose colored lips. She'd finally mastered the lipstick arching technique that the girl admired in Donna Wood. In fact, the singer had shown Kate how to do it. "I'm going to be honest with you, Brad. I want you. It's been growing for weeks. Yes, we've kissed and petted, but ... well...." He turned her toward him and hugged her tightly. "Okay, let's go. But are you sure they won't be coming home?" "I told you. They went up to Big Bear. They won't be back until tonight." "Okay," he said, wanting so much not to be labelled a non-progressive prude in her eyes. They walked to his car, a 1939 Chevy coupe, business-man's 2-door. It was olive with brown trim, yellow pin-stripping, black fenders. The three-speed floor shift ran great. It was sort of cute, made and driven to be enjoyed. They held hands while driving down Beverly Drive, bringing Kate's memory back to 1997, when she and P.J. visited with Gloria's husband, the man who had given Kate all the memorabilia, which helped put the woman where she was now, in the arms of a man who loved her as deeply as Glo's guy loved his counterpart. The ailing guy of '97 would be barely in his twenties now, maybe just starting out as a bus driver for Los Angeles Transit, like he told her almost 60 years from where she was now. Sometimes Kate got an urge to find him to warn the man of losing his first wife because of a communication breakdown, but it would jepardize him meeting Gloria and the memorabilia. Who knew what would happen! It didn't take long to pull into the St. John driveway, something that had become familiar to Kate as the months swung by here in the Forties. Brad looked around, making sure no one was watching them. He knew the neighbors were a nosey lot. Finally they reached the doorstep. Kate put her key in, and soon they were inside. "You look so nervous, Brad, come on, loosen up will you?" Kate walked into the kitchen and brought out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. She poured each of them a small shot. "This will calm you down." "It's not you, Hon, it's just that being here puts me in an awkward position," he said, casing the joint, making doubly sure his grandparents weren't around." "Brad, it's okay, don't feel guilty. Who are we hurting? We're not even doing anything yet." She coaxed him around and they started kissing, the silence only igniting their passions for each other. "Let's go upstairs to my room." Kate led the way as they climbed the steps, Brad resembling a sheepish little boy about to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar. They entered her room. He always liked smell -- a mixture of jasmine perfume with just a hint of down to earthiness to it. My, how she'd changed from that Little Orphan Annie he'd met in the graveyard, but he looked beyond physical beauty, and truly connected with her soul, even on that day, 5 months past now. Hard to believe. The woman shut the door and locked it, going over to the dresser. Brad came up behind her, feeling a bit more secure now that they weren't in his grandparents' domain. He was soon entangling himself in her, wrapping his fingers around her curly hair. As she nudged him, tugged at his pasion, Brad felt engulfed within her presence and could never fully explain the strange magnetism that existed between them. They ignored it for too long now. Whatever was deemed proper fell away instantly. It was times like this that he felt the woman in his arms was not from this world! They stood by the bed slowly undressing. Kate came to him pulling a bit awkwardly at his shirt tail and socks. Soon they were in their underwear. Kate turned down the bed, both jumping between the sheets of security. The sun was just now rising, and it cast an orange ray through the blinds. Once under the covers, their bodies took over from there. Brad had never known such pleasure with a woman. Something clicked and he was glad they hadn't rushed this moment. God knows he'd been fantasizing about it for months now. That was not like him at all. They stayed in foreplay for almost an hour, until finally they were naked flesh against each other. They kissed, fondled and nipped at each other, teasing one another until something began to flare within. Both were sweaty and slick to the touch. It was as if each delayed and denied the other only raising the passion level, which was starting to do its job. "I've got to have you," moaned Brad, as he moved on top of her and entered. Both moved together, easily taking on a steady rhythm. They whispered things to each other, cried out and groaned, totally into each other, the rest of the world fading, even the radio they had turned on to block out the noise they knew would seep out during their wonderful union. Kate hadn't been totally intimate like this since P.J. left for Carmel with Alegra Hirsch. She felt just a twinge of guilt being with another guy, knowing P.J. was in his time at that moment, maybe wondering where she was. It was fleeting though, as she became lost with Brad St. John, memories and hurts of P.J. quickly receeding to the recesses of her mind where they would have to stay for now. Brad's body was near perfect, at least in Kate's eyes. Everything about him was so sculptured and toned. He jogged every morning, stayed in shape. The man held her very close to him even after both reached that ultimate pleasure point and beyond. They still moved in sync. Both were so engrossed in the act, that they failed to hear the first bulletin on the radio. When they were both at their pinnacle of release, the announcement repeated, but the couple still didn't quite hear it again. Finally, after they had both been sated and pleasured, the cool wind blowing through the window drying their bodies, the news flash came again ... "Pearl Harbor has been attacked, stay tuned for a message from the President of the United States, Franklin D. Roosevelt...This is not a test, repeat, this is not a test!" Kate was just lighting up a cigarette when it dawned on her! She'd almost forgotten about Pearl Harbor. Her thought impulses and processes had gone into that mode more frequently for the last three months or so. She'd want to tell someone, but would forget, continuing with her life here in the Forties. The announcement reminded Kate of her talk with Sara 5 months back, the night she had dinner with Donna Wood. For the first time Kate remembered pleading The 5th, not coming right out and saying the truth, but finally had come clean, especially about the photo album, which held the most mystery and fascination. Kate told Grandma Sara everything until the old woman held up her hand and said, "Okay, I accept it. I love you like a daughter, you could of been my own!" "Please don't make me tell you anymore, Sara." "Just go one with life like nothing is wrong?" "Yes, just that," answered Kate. The moment came back starkly clear to Kate when she finally broke down and told Sara...There was a light on in the living room, Sara's white head sitting at the sofa pretending to knit. Kate knew she was waiting up for something, someone. They had to talk. The woman nervously fitted her key in the door and walked in, pretending not to see Sara, trying to put the woman at ease. "Hello, Dear," said Sara, putting down her knitting. "Do you think we can sit and talk for a bit?" "Of course, Sara, just let me go upstairs and change, and get a glass of soda water, okay?" "That's fine," said Sara. "Bring me one with a dash of lemon juice, will you Dear." Kate went upstairs and changed, took off her makeup, brushed her teeth and went to the kitchen. She got a glass of her favorite 1940's drink, getting one for Sara, not forgetting to spray it with lemon which was already cut and in the ice box. Kate sat down right next to the older woman. "What's up?" "I'll get right to it. I saw the photo album. It has me concerned. What's it all about? Who are you?" "Sara, what I'm going to tell you is going to shock you, but please hear me out first. I'll do whatever you say, but just let me say my piece and explain." The woman sipped her water for strength. "Please, explain. I'll listen and won't stop you," Sara said, clasping her delicate, lily-white hands in her lap. "I'm ready." "Try to remain open-minded." Kate began explaining everything to Sara, leaving nothing out. Sara asked questions and Kate answered them honestly until after about one hour, Sara got the picture. She put her hand to her mouth and looked totally ready to faint. Kate spoke more about things and little by little Sara understood and actually believed the other woman. Kate even went up and brought the photo album down and they both went through it. Future Woman explained everything in great detail and Sara listened with great interest, in total awe and a little bit in fear of it. "You know what the future holds then. How do you sleep at night?" "Believe me, at first it wasn't easy, but I'm adjusting." "So Donna Wood is going to die in 1947. What about us?" "I don't know, because I've never seen anything about you guys. The first time I ever met or heard about you was in the cemetery where we first met. I had just popped in a few minutes before. I guess you're Father Time's Liaison!" "My, my, Cliff will never accept this! We can never tell him. I hope to God you weren't planning on telling him or Brad, or anyone else for that matter. If this got out, it would break us all, I know it! People will think the worst, maybe say you're crazy, take you away to the funny farm, maybe us as well." "Now, Sara, don't panic! I haven't told anyone about it, although sometimes I've had to bite my tongue. I don't plan on letting this get out. What about you, can you keep silent?" "Yes, but already Cliff is asking me what's the matter. He sees me worrying and stressing about something." Sara fidgeted. "Well, you've got to get over that and get back to normal. As long as I'm here, we've got to make the best of it. Don't ask me any more questions. Let's just Let's just move on and pretend we never had this conversation. I've got a lot at stake here too, you know." "No, I won't tell a soul, Darling. It's just going to take some getting used to. I'm plain scared." "And you probably know that we're going into World War II, right?" "Yes, I saw the pictures. Hard to believe. When?" "In two or three days! The Japanese are going to bomb Pearl Harbor in Hawaii! Please don't say a word. We'll hear it on the radio. FDR is going to make a big speech. And the war will last at least 4 years." "My Lord," said Sara, putting her hand to her heavily beating heart. "You've got to get a grip on yourself. You can do it, Sara. Please do it for Brad, if anything else. He's in love with me, and I don't want to hurt him. I could be sent back to my time in a second, so let's make the best of it. Being here in your house has drawn me even closer to the Woods. You guys have become very intimate to my heart. I love you all so much!" Sara leaned forward and the two women hugged and cried. At that moment Cliff appeared in the doorway. "What the hell are you two women doing up and why are you crying? Are you sick?" Concern showed in his sharp eyes, that usually missed nothing. "No, Cliff, we're not sick. Kate told me a very sad story about her father and we just started crying. Go back to bed. I'll be up in a second." "Are you sure everything's all right? Don't hide nothing from me!" "Really, Mr. St. John, we're fine. We just connected, that's all!" "Well, I prefer you connecting while laughing, not boo-hooing." Cliff left the room and went back upstairs. "Guess we better turn in. Don't worry, you're secret is safe with me. Just don't keep anything from me. I know what's happening and want to be there for you, Kate. You're special. I knew that the moment we met." "Thanks. You are the best. Don't worry, you're going to live for long time, okay?" Both women wiped their tears, hugged and walked up to bed. Kate lay awake, sort of relieved that Sara knew and wouldn't spill the beans. She would be ready for anything, but she was definitely ready to start Donna Wood's P.R. campaigning. Sara accepted it because of the love she held for the lady. Mrs. St. John had gone on with life and never brought it up nor snooped again. She was still curious, but had lost her gusto, mostly because of the emotional upheaval caused by the whole subject, which took its toll... Now they sat up in bed listening to the President's speech. She was relieved Brad was beyond the draft age. "You know, I think we should get up, get dressed and find out more about what's going on. My grandparents will most probably be home earlier, especially when they hear this." "Yes, you're right, Brad," agreed Kate, getting up and picking up her clothes. "I'd hate for them to catch us now, especially with news of war." It was then Kate realized she'd not reacted to the news accordingly. All of a sudden she broke down and cried, "Oh, Brad, I can't believe this is happening...My God, war!" The woman cried harder, thinking of the day she'd have to leave this time. It was devastating to dwell on that, so it brought the tears on, Kate simply redirecting it. Brad came up beside her and cradled Kate in his arms. "Don't worry, we'll get through this. Don't cry, Honey, please don't." He held and rocked her, until they found each other's lips again and re-ignited the fire between them. There was an urgency to the intensely heavy lovemaking this time, like at any minute it would all be over and they'd be lost to one another. It was a scary thought that brought on more tears for Kate as Brad and her did the sexual dance that felt the same in any century! Once again, everything momentarily faded out as the couple became engrossed in only one another. There was no pretensious chivalry the second time around. They wanted each other plain and simple, both wishing the moment would last longer, but realizing they were bonded body and soul. Nothing, not even the hailing of World War II, could stop their release, which to sex was powerful as the future A-Bomb. As they achieved the ultimate, Kate mused that a mushroom cloud spread around 'Ground Zero', her G-Spot, which wouldn't be discovered for another 15 years! Finally Brad came to his senses. "Really, Kate, we've got to get moving here." He still held her close and they kissed for a bit longer, relishing in the feelings and emotions swirling. "Why don't we freshen up." He got up, heading to the small bathroom, Kate gazing intesensely at his firm backside and taking his cue. She took a warm washcloth and started rubbing Brad with it as he followed suit, soaping up his hand, running them up and down her her body. He thought at that moment how well built Kate was, with shoulders like a man, but beautiful large bosoms. She wasn't fat, and had recently been exercising, sometimes even jogging with him, which toned her. She did have a few more pounds to go, but for the most part was well put together, at least in his opinion. As they washed, the pair petted like high school kids kissing like mating fish. Obviously, it would be very hard mainatinaing the polite social space between them when Cliff and Sara were around. When they dressed and composed themselves, the two went downstairs, still touching each other teasingly. Spurts of their sexual activity came to the surface in the living room while waiting for the older couple and listening to reports on the radio, which were coming in more frequently. Brad chanced one last close embrace and laid on top of her. They petted and rubbed against each other, already missing their naked bodies, longing for their next encounter. "You feel so good, I could do this all day," said Kate, kissing his chest, grabbing his hand and suckling each finger like a baby. "Well, we better sober up, my friend! I just know they're on the way back," coaxed Brad. "They must of heard by now, about the war," affirmed Kate. "Take my word for it, my grandparents are driving back right now as we speak." "...and kiss," added Lesling, finsihing Brad's sentence. They kissed trying to break the spell over them. "I haven't finished with you yet!" Brad sat up and rubbed her shoulders. "Oh, neither have I, my Love," said Kate. Brad put his hands on hers. "The same goes for me. I love you very much. Probably from the moment I saw you that day," he admitted. "I sensed your feelings when we first met. I left a relationship with a man I'd been living with." "You lived with someone!" Kate had forgotten that in 1941, that wasn't the best thing to say. "You must understand, I've been traveling, and haven't spoken with him since I met you." "How did you meet him?" "I was introduced to him by my best friend Kristi. He's very talented at wiring and electronics, as well as a musician too. Sometimes we'd be mistaken for brother and sister. It was odd, though, certainly not like what we share," said Kate. "Were you close?" "Yes, but not like you and I. That relationship seems foreign and faraway to me now," conceded Kate. "When I came here, he was with an older woman, a singer named Alegra." "Really?" "They claimed it was purely friendship," said Kate. "Plutonic?" "If I hear that word again, I'm going to scream!" She hugged him tightly in frustration. "I guess it's all the stress of this war coming up, it's making me nuts. "You're just more sensitive, I guess," acknowledged Kate, trying to shift things back to him. "And being with you is like setting off firecrackers at close range," he said. "I know, it's overwhelming, but so right, at least in my opinion," she said. "I suppose so," he agreed, losing some of his anger and jealousy over finding out she once had a lover. It only slightly tugged at his ego. "I love you though," he finally said. "Please, Brad, don't ask me to tell you so much about my past all at once," pleaded Kate. She thought to herself, "Because it's really the future, and I'm in the past." "I won't do that and certainly don't want to scare you away either," said Brad, kissing her then. "But you must understand that you seem totally unorthedox, very, to be kind, Retro." "Yes, as you say, I suppose so..." With that last comment, Sara and Cliff burst through the door, out of breath. Sara met Kate's eyes knowingly. "It's war," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Yes," said both in unison. Cliff sat down exhusted mentally. When the news hit, he was struck by the odd way Sara took it, almost like she'd been expecting it. Kate stared at Sara, hoping the woman wouldn't blow her cover. After a few seconds, she realized Sara wasn't going to jeopardize the their confidence and relationship, even though the woman picked up Cliff's questionable vibes. The older woman sat on the couch doing her best to seem stunned as the radio invaded their world, shattering it with more flash bulletins. Brad came up to her and Cliff sat down as well. The radio had been on since early morning when they'd heard the first announcements. It was at that point that the phone began ringing off the hook. Donna, Gloria Wood, June Landers and even the Wood parents began a barrage of calls to the St. John household. Kate fielded all the calls, spending the most time with Landers and Donna Wood. It seemed to Kate that Sara St. John was coping and keeping things under wraps. Thank God. But it was the conversation between her and Donna that was eerie, just another event to store away about the fated singer. "We've been talking at our Christian Science church I belong to in Hollywood, and the Bible makes reference to this event! It's so awful, but God's love and our prayers will get us all through, I just know it," said Donna. "Isn't that where you met Ralph Dietz?" "Yes, it is. You must of been reading my mind, because I did meet him at the church. He's a Scientist. Gosh, Kate, you are so lucky Brad isn't the drafting age." "Yes, I'm relieved, but if I'm not mistaken, Ralph is 26," said Kate. "Oh, he's quite the athlete, but I don't think they'd take him." "Why?" "Because of his flat feet." In spite of the seriousness of war, Kate laughed. "Don't get me wrong, Les, this is very devastating. I've been praying all morning. In fact, my church called and wants us down there pronto, would you like to come?" "As much as I would love to, Donna, I can't. I'm here with the St. John's and, well, you know..." "I understand. And I hope you don't think I'm insensative about Ralph's feet." "No way, I understand. We all deal with it in our own way." "Take care." Brad was doing his best to remain indifferent and aloof around Kate, out of respect to his grandparents. It was at that second he started thinking about the death of his own parents when he was 10 years old, in 1921. He had finally told Kate one day. They were all driving in a roadster when it tipped over. His parents were killed when the car went over the canyon and he was somehow thrown clear. Afterwards, as he recovered from his injuries, the St. Johns had been making arrangements to take the boy with them. One night they talked about the whole affair, then decided to put it all to bed, and start fresh. Cliff told his grandson that there was little else they could do except take direct control of Brad's well-being, which is what they basically did. Life with his grandparents was stricter than when he was with his free-wheeling parents dubbed 'Mules', people that would deliver liquor illegally across state lines. As he grew up, Brad began to see the full picture of his parents. He'd noticed how his mom and dad were into themselves and their world of liquor flasks, fast cars and speakeasy's. It greatly contrasted his grandparents, who seemed more into his universe, at the same time their world becoming his anchor. It was very strange for the boy, but gradually he adapted and became a man. After he'd finally told Kate the whole story, he felt understanding in regards to her tramas. Kate's story about her own father's death was tragic as well, how the man had it all, but committed sucide, the easy way out. Now a new era was unfolding! World War II was looming full bloom. They were all scared, especially Sara and Kate, for those two knew the outcome of the mess. It was a secret that was eating them both up in many ways inside. They would just have to bear the brunt and keep quiet, it was the only way. Kate would plunge into public relations, which surely would be booming once the armed forces began initiating and reactivating the USO. It was assured that both Gloria and Donna would be going on tour now, and that meant P.R., media and print interviews to slate, which Kate had become great at through the months. Her electrical current could easily manipulate the studio and entertainment people, especially over the telephone, because she was always one up on them, a step ahead. All she had to do was think of the future as she was talking to them, and usually they'd agree to anything. It was a vibe, a control tool, which worked wonders in this time-frame. Kate would use anything to boost Donna Wood. She was obsessed all over again, just like when the lady found the pictures in the future. Onward she would go...
* * * 1942 June 1942, thanks to Kate's P.R. skill, Donna Wood propelled into a full tour with the Pot 'O Gold people. Kate had done her part. It was a combo event, meshing radio, live shows and entertaining the troops into a huge band orchestra revue that traveled across the country almost mimicking the Roosevelt Campaign when FDR trekked by train in the same spirit and purpose as these people did now. They had been told that all their activities were appearing daily in many of the small town newspapers, which hinted that a Wood daughter had made it big. And Kate was saving every last clipping, no matter how small and insignificant it was. She worked with Gertrude Wood putting it all together. Donna and Gloria were amazed at how Kate and their mother saved every scrap. From the moment Donna introduced Kate to her family, Gert and the publicist shared their photo knowledge and put together a detailed family portfolio. It was Kate's rare chance to see the same photos all over again, the new experiences and ideas flowing ever presence. And she simply adored Gert. She seemed so driven, yet so loving and down-to-earth. She could almost be pushy, but couldn't we all? Yes, this was a dream come through for Kate, and she thanked God daily. She wondered if her prayers reached Him differently than in 1997. Gloria, now 20, rented a small bungalow, 9328 Olympic Blvd. in Beverly Hills. She wanted to be closer to her sister Donna, who lived a few blocks down on Canon Drive, Kate down the street on Elm. A nice close-knit bond developed, reminding the sisters of their friends in Arlington, Mass. Even Virginia Wood and her new husband Dick came down, just as she had told Kate she would back in 1997. Kate was speechless when they met. It was like being tongue-tied at a party when you met your idol. It felt different when Kate met Donna, but all the same, it was riveting and almost sobering. They all mingled well. After awhile it became easy for the girl to become oblivious to the facts. Glo had always loved this area, and even more now that she had ties here. It certainly wasn't Massachusetts, and never would be, but she believed a piece of Arlington and her family was being planted right now! One day she'd buy a house, live permanently, and ask her parents to stay. And they'd all gone to the premiere of Pot O' Gold, without much fanfare. Due to the war, it was hard for people to enjoy appearing festive, even if the feature was produced by Roosevelt's son James, and that's why Gloria and Donna started going on the road to entertain the troops. Virgina and Dick were soon leaving via train for back East. They decided to settled there. Ginny would all but give up show biz. Kate was over Gloria's house one hot summer day, soon after they'd returned from a 3-day engagement at the Coranado Officer's Candidates School in San Diego. The blond singer checked her mailbox and among the utilities was a postcard. "It's from Chuck, a soldier I'd met on the road up in Denver last year." She sat on the love seat next to Kate. "He's written in pencil." The postcard read: "Dearest Gloria, been out in the field for a week now and have not ever had my clothes off, not even my shoes or stockings. We are kept busy all the time. The only things we sleep in are tents. It is really rough going. Love Chuck. "How interesting that you'd develop a friendship with him like this," said Kate, as she sipped on a Coca Cola. It was interesting how good Coke tasted here, so very fresh, but not containing Cocaine as in the 1920's. "I'll never forget Chuck, he had nice hands," said Gloria. She confided in Kate like a third sister, and was glad Donna had introduced them. When Gloria recited the postcard, Kate knew exactly who he was because of her own research in the future. And 9328 Beverly Crest Drive in Beverly Hills, would be her address in 1983, 40 years from where she was now. Kate had brought yet another client to the Landers Agency, much to the delight of June, and had been rewarded in many ways. She was glad the friendship with the Woods was going well for her assistant. Gloria continued. "I might of gotten a bit carried away with him that night after the performance we gave for 2000 troops getting ready to be sent overseas. Chuck and I got pretty hot and heavy, up until the big moment should have happened, but didn't. He got my top off and was kissing my body. The guy was so gentle that I almost lost all my resolve in that one passionate moment." "I wonder if Donna ever did the dirty deed with the jeweler she'd almost gotten married to," said Kate, immediately thinking back to her future conversations with Virginia about Donna and her romances. "What a whirlwind romance that was. To think, my sister could of married that guy! We would have all been set for life with jewelry," marveled Glo. "Has she introduced you to Lee Hackler yet?" Gloria nodded indifferently. "Yes, I've met him." "Recently Donna introduced me to her new love. He's a captain in the U.S. Aircorp." "Figures it would be someone like that to turn Donna's head," said Gloria. "Maybe Ralph the jeweler is free to date you now, Glo." Both laughed, never taking themselves too seriously. "What about you, Ralph's more your type, Les" teased Gloria. "Nah, too materialistic for my tastes," admitted Kate, thinking of the down-to-earth Brad St. John. "Well, I find Lee Hackler to be a bit stiff for my tastes," said Glo. "But what I'm happy about is how ecstatic this union has made Donna," said Kate. "And the fact that my sister seems to be settling down since meeting the dapper Captain Hackler. If he wasn't so stern and proper, I wouldn't have a problem with him. If he bent over in total laughter, he'd probably crack into a million pieces," ribbed Gloria. "Hey, he's a good conductor, but very anal, which mixes with the type of music he conducts, and he is good looking, sort of dashing." "More like boring and stuffy," laughed Gloria. "Right now in these times of war, this guy is the ideal mate for your sister. Donna seems happy, almost elated, but sometimes it masked a deeper yearning, a father figure image," said Kate, her masculine side feeling like Sigmund Freud. "You are so weird and strange sometimes, Kate. It scares me. That's not a great thing to say, that while she's involved with passion, Donna thinks of our Father!" "I didn't mean to imply it was bad or dirty, nor was I trashing Donna, it was just an observation. Like Donna has her dreams, I have my observations, okay?" "Well, it doesn't sit right with me talking about it like that." "I won't talk about it anymore, Glo. Gee, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Darn, sometimes I don't know when to shut up." "Don't sweat it, Kid. We still love ya'." She stared at the phone. "Hey, let's call her." Gloria picked it up, dialing the all-familiar number to her sister's place - 27300. It always rang twice, then Donna picked up, her soothing, silky voice melting the receiver. "Hello..." "Hi Donna. It's me, Gloria. Kate's here too!" "Lee just walked in, but you and Kate should come over right away, because he's asked me to marry him, and I'm just nuts at this moment, because I've said yes, of course! "Hot spit," yelled Kate on cue. The two sisters chatted for a while, until Lee's booming voice commanded that it was time to shop for a ring! Gloria said, "She hasn't even spoken to Ma and Woodie, yet, they'll obviously be thrilled at the news that Donna was finally settling in!" "We're all constantly worried that Donna's pushing herself. She still never gets enough sleep, and those dreams!" Said Kate. "Her doctor said she needs to slow down or her condition will act up again." A lot of their crowd had noticed that Donna, of late, looked pale. Kate and Gloria alike were worried about the older sister, who they all but worshipped for different reasons. Gloria since age 6! Kate since 1996! Donna was their rock, but cynically in a hard place. Both women hoped Donna would slow down and take to being a homemaker. She'd certainly live longer, that's for sure, without the worry and stress. After hanging up the phone, Donna turned to Lee, who was dressed in full uniform, looking so very handsome with his bright blue eyes and curly locks that were always combed back. He was stern, yes, and strict, sure, but there was something about the hunk, a word Kate taught her, when they were alone. He truly loved her, she could tell soon after they'd met. Lee too felt the same pull toward the young up-and-coming singer. Donna was unique. Right away he wanted to know everything about this young, enchanting butterfly, and had seen Pot O' Gold 3 times! He was brought up in a strict household. The elder Hackler would not stand for much public displays of affection, so Lee became more rigid than most. But Donna knew behind closed doors was a different story. It's not every woman that Lee would show his loving side to. Donna was the first in many years. After knowing her for only 6 months, he'd finally popped the question today. Now he wanted to lie his gal down and make passionate love, feeling her body against his, protecting her, loving her, kissing her all over for hours. For now he would put these emotions in check, which was easier for him than displaying them! He took her in his arms and she came willingly. Some people said this man was hard on Donna, and yes, he was, but in the end Lee proved his love. They stared into each other's eyes then met in a long, passionate kiss. Soon they were locked in a fevered embrace, and moved to the couch where they petted and smooched into a moaning want. Donna let him roam his slender hands that probably downed enemy fighter pilots, move over her body. Today she was dressed in shorts and a midriff with no bra. They almost lost control once, and she felt they were losing it again, as he held her close to him. She could hear his strong heart beating, then thought of her dreams about meeting this man and the future. There were times she wanted to fling herself into Lee's arms and make him ravish her, but whenever she came to the point, she felt it wasn't the right moment. It was almost the right moment that's for sure! Her family values were very strong. And this was different from all the other flings and fly-by-nights she'd experienced. This was love. Maybe she was old fashioned at heart, but he'd asked for her hand in marriage! Wait until her family got wind of it. She was sure Gloria and Kate were calling them right now with the news. As the usually stern Lee nestled his head against her ear and nibbled like a little boy, she felt the shivers rise up. Her nipples became hard as Lee deftly messaged them through her thin mid-drift, cotton shirt. Oh, how she wanted to be one with this brave soul, but she must stop now before they lost all resolve. She'd never be able to face her parents if they made love before their wedding, even if it did sound a bit prudish, Donna had morals. And sometimes the diet pills made her feel all giddy and alive. She wanted sex, plain and simple. They did a lot of petting, kissing and feeling. She'd just stop short of the deed, coming to her senses in the nick of time. These pills were starting to rule her a bit. And sometimes she felt heart paptations and had to sit down and catch her breath. She attributed it all to stress of being on the road, plus meeting Mr. Right. One thing's for sure, she wouldn't let a little black pill rule her resolve when it came to making love. She had a feeling that her sister Gloria didn't really care about the moral aspect. Donna remembered on the set Pot 'O Gold she was propositioned every other day, but never did anything about it, even though she could have. Yes, she dated a couple of the boys in the band and on the crew, and Jimmy Stewart even took her out to the Brown Derby one night, but left her at the end of their evening with a peck on the cheek. Yes, Kate had hyped it up as something more, but nothing really gelled between Donna and the actor. Maybe that's why she called the man Mr. Stewart. When Gloria had visited the set, right away a few crew members took to the 5-foot singer, right away inviting her to a few studio parties, sharing a few laughs from what Donna observed. When Ralph came into her life Donna was just finishing a photo session. He was there talking to the photographer about some of the models wearing his designer jewelry. Then Donna met the young, handsome, athletic gentlemen at a party given by one of her friends in the Hollywood Hills. She was swept away with the man. So much so, that the young starlet almost ran off to Vegas on a whim to marry him. At the last minute she broke down, calling her parents, who begged her to reconsider. "Think about the marriage, maybe wait and see how the relationship develops! Please Donna! Please!" They had insisted. But Kate got a notion to pitch a potential story for the local Arlington newspapers, and the newspaper editor went for it hook, line and sinker, and interviewed Donna, the headlines reading "Hub Singer to wed in Movie Romance," "Stalled Elevator Led To Movie Role" and "Cinderella in Hollywood". Thanks to Kate's energy, more papers had picked up on the story than would have normally, which pleased everyone all around. Kate had even gotten a few more radio interviews locally for Donna, rather than just on the Boston circuit. It was obvious that she was only enhancing the Wood sister's lives. Looking back, Donna was glad she didn't marry Ralph, or else this handsome officer wouldn't be here kissing her long and fiercely. Captain Hackler may be stern in the eyes of the public, but this man had a hidden ardor that was truly something in Donna's eyes. Her body responded to him with equal love and desire like no other man she'd been with. As far as Donna was concerned Ralph was a distant memory, but a fond one. She was sure he'd meet the right woman one day. Last the singer had heard, he'd been dating a string of contract actresses with MGM. Finally they composed themselves, just as there was a knock at the door. Lee went into the bedroom while Donna did her best to shape up a bit. Kate and Gloria were at there, all decked out, on their way to The Beverly Hills Hotel to meet a reporter from Variety. When Donna answered the three hugged a long time. They chatted in the hallway as one of the next door neighbors, Mrs. Handley, an assistant to a publicist at Paramount, came out to see what the commotion was about. Kate told her of the impending marriage just as Lee popped his head out and said it was time to leave for the jewelry district downtown. Handley had heard of Kate through her association with June Landers. The two war horses sometimes shared notes. Gloria bit her tongue, almost jokingly making a rude comment to the couple about maybe seeing Ralph Dietz about a ring. The perky singer didn't know why she deliberately tried to set Lee off like that. Donna had told her many times that Lee was a different man in private. He was brought up that way, and she should respect it, not ignite it. Donna wished that Gloria could be more like Kate was. It was obvious that Kate respected Lee and gave him his much needed personal space. Not so with Gloria. They all walked outside chatting lightly. Lee had borrowed an officer's jeep that he and Donna were climbing into at that moment. They were parked outside the building. Gloria's Caddy was down the street a-ways. They all hugged and left for their separate destinations. Gloria had called their parents but there was no answer. They phoned Aunt Stella, so of course, the word was out - "Donna Wood was settling!" Lee and Donna drove up Beverly Drive to Sunset Blvd., then headed for the old 110 freeway toward Downtown, which was becoming a good place to barter and buy jewelry. Lee preferred going there to the snooty Beverly Hills stores. He could tell that it didn't bother Donna like it might have another woman. She sat beside him enjoying the California breeze in her face even though it messed up her do. And who did Gloria think she was fooling with all the phony poo-pooing? The handsome soldier knew his future sister-in-law was a little jealous and didn't really like him. Well, let her. "Donna deserves so much and I'm going to be the one to give it to her! Thank God Kate Siegel was around," he thought. Lee was grateful to the other sharp thinking woman, for she brought a lot of happiness and excitement into Donna's life, which meant fresh energy, something his Sweet needed right now to get her mind back on track and off those dreams she's having more and more. Lee stared at their reflections in the rear view mirror, noticing curls coming loose, the Vitalis not doing its job. Maybe Donna's publicist knew of some other brand, for he noticed that she managed her hair the same, sometimes wearing it bone straight, other times in a French braid. They stopped at a red light and he quickly donned his service hat, which did the trick to flatten his hair. To him, his mop seemed so unruly. Soon they breezed into Downtown and parked by a small jewelry district that popped up in the last few years. Lee predicted that when the war was over, a lot of servicemen would return to loved ones, and they'll want to settle down, buy a ring, get married and have kids. It was hard to fathom that this area would one day be booming as Lee and Donna parked and walked a few blocks. A strange thing happened as they stopped to cross Hill Street. An L.A. Transit Company Bus tooled by, stopping to pick up passengers right by where Donna and the Captain stood ready to cross. The doors of the bus swung open and the driver of the bus, Gloria's future husband Leenoticed the man in uniform and saluted, Hackler saluting back. It was a fleeting gesture that came over the bus driver when he noticed an attractive girl with the serviceman. She was pretty as a picture! Aunt Stella got through to Robert and Gertrude. They were very happy and approved of the match. The Captain was stable, so that was a good sign of a solid marriage. They knew he would genuinely provide for their daughter and truly love her for what she was inside, not for her outside glamour and beauty. Her other daughter Gloria had spoken of this man to them, and even though she said he was a might uptight, Gert had dealt with polite society and would soon thaw his outer shell. She knew, and felt right away that Captain Hackler was a decent man with a good heart. God knows what would of happened if she'd married that jeweler. Both parents were relieved. The next five years would be a whirlwind for everyone concerned. Donna would enjoy her last years of health. Soon, by the end of 1946, she felt the pangs of illness seeping in. Somehow, she kept on going. * * * 1943 Donna laid in bed, both she and Lee now married. It was January of 1943. The ceremony had been really something. The whole Wood family and an enormous amount of relatives attended, as well as a slew of Hollywood friends, band members and other hanger-ons. It was amazing to see the groupies from Donna's Don Juan days with MCA, still in touch with her. She can thank Katie for that one, because the publicist had made many phone calls gathering everyone together, including the paparazzi. It was in all the papers, bleeding over into the music section and society pages, even making it into Hedda Hoppers column. For the past few years before she met her husband, even now with the war winding down, Donna had been on lengthy music engagements and various conducting tours, until her health began to suffer, so she decided to settle down in Beverly Hills. Recently Lee had gotten a job with a well known Beverly Hills newspaper - The Beverly Hills Citizen, so things were stable. Kate's P.R. had proven successful, for Donna was still getting calls from her agent about gigs and maybe a new movie offer in the makes. It all hitched on her health now. No good amount of P.R. is going to help her head! But they had really tied the knot. Lee lay beside her quietly, eyes open, wearing boxer shorts. Donna had donned a modest night gown this evening. Soon Lee put his arm around the petite woman, and they became lost in each other, the magic of chemistry between man and woman taking over quickly. Lee was a different man in intimacy. He was caring and Donna noticed the stern guy seemed to shed some of that analness, and nibbled her earlobe. She drew closer as he whispered his love, a rare moment indeed. The Captain told her that actions speak louder than words, and usually balked at saying 'I love you, darling'. Whatever the fact was, right at this moment the man was giving himself and opening up to her soul. That's what she loved about him most ... The fact that Lee held back his feelings, like precious gems. But when he gave freely of his emotions, her own soul felt like bursting. The moment was built up for years and now finally she was becoming a women. Was 25 years old too late? Should she have gotten this over with years ago with Ralph? She knew the answer as her husband held her beneath him, and they began a slow rhythm, him conducting. They moved together and pleasured each other slowly at first. When both got the fervor in them of the moment, the couple shed their pent-up emotion for each other and shared their bodies until finally Donna felt a building release after a momentary sharp pain, that at first scared her, then it went away. She was chasing that building feeling until she felt a tremendous explosion of emotion and nerve endings. The singer moaned a bit too loud, as Lee picked up the pace, finally having his own release. Kate and Gloria found it hard to believe that Donna had waited until marriage. Yes, she petted with a lot of boys in her band, even a bit more sometimes with the jeweler, but she'd stuck to her guns about giving up virginity, and felt very strongly about it. And she was glad to have waited, because this moment cannot be topped, not even doing a gig at The Pantages on a Saturday night. After Lee settled, he rolled away from her, but brought her with him, having her on top of him with a quick flip of his arms. Lee told her in that same whisper how much the man loved her and how good she felt. Donna drew closer, nuzzling against her husband, his chest clear of any hair, his baby face glowing against the moonlight out the window. The smell of Jasmine permeated the air and added to their mood, which was romantic and close. They just held each other under the covers. He didn't say anything to her afterwards, just his actions, as always. Slowly Lee came back down to earth, becoming his formal, uptight self. His type was a brooder as well as a deep thinker. You had to be if you conducted an orchestra. Although his new job didn't have anything to do with conducting, he was ready to devote as much time to accounting as he could now. There was a certain edge to that business, and in many ways paralleled his former profession. His first client, funny enough, would be The Landers Agency. Kate had approached him with the idea of balancing their books, but he also dabbled in slogan writing too. They'd taken on more clients and therefore were making more money, so were in need of a good Advertising Account Executive to sort things out. Kate had already asked June, and she approved. Finally both slept. All was quiet in the Beverly Hills middle class area nestled between Wilshire Blvd. and Olympic. Soon night turned into morning and the couple stirred. Their bed had just a slight creek to it, but it became comforting to Donna as she lay deep in the covers as her husband rose to take care of his personal needs. It was at that moment Donna turned and looked out the window of their bedroom facing Canon Drive and heard the tapping of a woodpecker! She giggled out loud and flounced out of bed cheerily, opening the window to the morning breeze and the sound of doves cooing. The milkman was just arriving when Donna tiptoed downstairs to retrieve the morning paper. She picked up her fresh milk, mumbling hello to Mr. Johnson as he continued his route in her small 8-unit apartment building. The neighborhood was semi-upscale. Beautiful palm trees lined the street, but the wide open landscape seemed especially crisp this morning. Donna returned to their apartment and began percolating coffee and preparing a simple breakfast of grapefruit, hard-boiled eggs and lightly buttered toast. She'd picked up some fresh strawberries down at the market on Beverly Drive and actually bumped into Kate. They were buying the exact same thing! It always amazed her about her publicist and how they were similar, but Kate seemed to be a bit more rebellious, and that sometimes caused slight riffs in their relationship. Both women grew up with a lot of family love, but since both were in the entertainment business and some of the same places, and during the war were involved in it on the same circuit, a slight jadedness arose sometimes between them. As she boiled the eggs, she thought about how she had slowed her pace now. And the medicine she took to sleep and control the dreaming sometimes made her feel fatigued. Then other times she would just forgot that there was anything wrong at all. When Donna was constantly on the road there was no time to think about such things. But now that she was more stable, not so musically nomadic, she felt the pangs of her ailment more sharply. Kate suggested she become more involved in the outside activities here in Beverly Hills. Maybe there was a women's club or society, possibly through the local church. In the two years she'd lived here, she was always away or too busy performing to wonder if such things were available to her. Now she could actually entertain the idea of it. The girl laughed to herself as she saw in her mind's eye, sitting around a sewing circle chatting about the local gossip. Lee came in then, and she told him her humorous thoughts. He smiled tightly, his way of acknowledging her during his moments. Her parents, living in town now for a little over a month, were coming by this morning to take some photos. Gloria and Kate would be there as well. Lee had agreed to put on his uniform one last time for the occasion, then he'd hang it up for good. She was glad he'd found a place at his new job and hoped he didn't mind being a bit curtailed due to her own health. She would do her best to make a happy, orderly home, sickness or no sickness. And she'd grown to like Brad St. John and Kate, and wondered when they'd marry. Even though Lee lived with her now, their apartment was still neat and cozy. Lee didn't have a lot of mementos or luggage, due to his travels and lifestyle, especially after joining the service. It was a quaint place, with white venetian blinds formally drawn halfway, Stylish blue curtains hung as well, giving the room a slight masculine appeal. Donna's mother had bought her all the accruements to start a little home, and they hung or were stacked in drawers. Around the room hung plants and ferns bursting forth with life and vigor. A few oil paintings hung of a flower garden and sheep in the meadow. A piano was parked off to the side of the living room, and all around that area hung family pictures and performing shots from around the country. The brown shag rug was coarse, but added to the aura of the place, 2 blocks from the famous Rodeo Drive. Donna and her sister had decorated it, and Lee approved, one of the few things he liked that was connected with Gloria Wood. He knew the sisters looked out for each other, and so he tolerated her, but if not for Donna's sake, he would have nothing to do with the younger Wood sister. She could be snide and rude, and sometimes blurted out things left better unsaid. Yes, he tolerated, but only for his sweet songbird Donna. Later that morning they stood outside the apartment building all decked out in evening clothes, yet the sun shined brightly. They took shots of them standing by the place, as well as in each others embrace. Kate seriously could not believe the whole scene. She was re-defining the time fixtures and it was working! Gloria posed by the back of the building, as well as in the entrance. Lee and Donna were shot by Mr. Wood, who still was the ultimate shutter bug. The Wood daughter's and their doting parents joked and complimented each other. Kate knew Donna's mother and father would always be more than just people who bore two wonderful daughters. They were such an intricate part of the Wood sister's lives. Even now Gloria had already bought the little two bedroom Beverwil house. The elder Wood's were in the process of moving in, Gloria giving up her little bungalow on Olympic. But Donna was satisfied with where she and Lee resided. She just didn't want to move and uproot herself right now. Her husband agreed, only wanting to be with her, love the lady, making her happy and content. He in turn expected the same, and Donna always made sure she relayed that to her husband in her actions as well as her words. It was never any problem for Donna to express her love for Lee, but as usually, he was a bit stiff in that area. Though Donna knew he loved her, sometimes she did wish for a more happy-go-lucky man like her past Dietz character or even Brad St. John. But then men like Ralph tended to stray, becoming bored. At least with Lee, you knew where you stood, usually having to earn his praise by abiding to his ways, which was something Donna had a problem with, especially with the presence of her sister Gloria. Gloria had a wild streak in her, and even now was getting a tremendous amount of work and attention these days, thanks to Kate's excellent P.R. skills. Donna had recommended her for Kay Kaiser's band, thinking that they both could sing with the orchestra, but Kaiser picked Gloria when he saw her perform the Florentine Gardens in Hollywood. Due to Donna's health, known gossip in music circles, he decided it was best to go with the younger Wood. Her sister was not upset that Gloria was getting work. She just can't believe her poor health prevented the woman from succeeding too. She must go see that new doctor everyone seems to be recommending. Now that she was more stable, Donna would see a specialist. For now she would cater to her husband and try and live a happy life. Maybe she'd try writing some music herself. Or maybe they could write something together. You just never know. After taking a roll of shots, they all walked up to the Beverwil house, leisurely strolling up Canon, then Olympic to Beverwil. It was at that moment, when they crossed Pico Blvd., that Kate noticed more car activity than she'd ever remembered. This war would be over soon. Brad spoke. "It's a beautiful house, Glo, modern for this time and age." "It has all the latest conveniences, ample light," explained Gloria as she fiddled with the shutters and blinds. She showed them the two cheery bedrooms. There was a living room, little dining area, plus a kitchen and garage area. Kate then suggested, "Gloria, you should build an addition, a lanai for parties and jam sessions." Everyone stopped in their tracks and stared at Kate strangely. Finally, Gloria replied, "For now it suits us and I'm not going to change a thing. But thanks for the suggestion, duly noted," said the petite blond singer. "Mom and Dad are already moved in." "What about your home in Arlington?" Asked Kate. "There's relatives staying there, watching the place for us," said Robert. "Besides," spoke up Gert. "I feel more part of the Beverly Hills community than ever. We want to mingle out here more than anything else." Everyone in the room, including Kate, knew why the Woods were around: Donna's health, which had begun to get a bit worse. They all knew she was not well, anyone could plainly tell. The girl's pallor wasn't up to par and she didn't seem her free spirited, energetic self at all, but the Woods had taught their daughters to always bite the bullet and overcome by God's love, which is how Donna has survived this far. But now was a time to begin a more aggressive treatment plan. They'd try a new a new specialist, a Doctor Bilon, over in Hollywood. Maybe now they'd find something to help poor ailing Donna Wood. "We love her so much, and don't want to lose her," prayed Kate one day. "I agree with anything you want to do, and respect your decisions," said Lee to Robert Wood one evening quietly. "I know you all love your daughter unconditionally." The Woods were getting on in age, and it was really good how Gloria was taking responsibility in caring for their needs. Lee had to hand it to Gloria, and give her credit for that. Maybe she was growing up too. She was only 21, but Lee always expected maturity out of every woman, and sometimes was hard on them when they couldn't toe the line. He accepted that. Robert Wood was a smart, well-rounded, worldly man, so they could relate and come to conclusions quicker. "Lee and I agree, let's try a new physician," Donna said. "As well as inquire into any new treatments or drugs on the medical market, maybe even the black market!" Said Capt. Hackler. "An army buddy of mine who'd flown to Mexico, said that there were some new vitamin treatments going on there. I told him to check it out." "You just never knew," added Brad. They took more photos together by the sliding glass door beside the patio. After Gloria gave everyone the grand tour, feeling proud, and picking up the vibe from Lee that he totally approved of what she had done for her parents, they sat in the living. It was amazing, but for the first time she'd felt totally at ease in Lee's presence, not like he was judging her, like usual. It was a milestone for the budding singer. Maybe it was the fact that Donna's health wasn't great and that her parents were getting on in age. Whatever the fact, Gloria felt good doing this for them, especially if doing it meant Lee's acceptance for once. God knows how hard it was to please that one. He was difficult, but when Donna and she were in the garage unpacking some boxes together, and Lee was having coffee with the Woods inside, the elder daughter had told Gloria and Kate of Lee's sexual charms and how wonderful it was for the first time. "Donna, we can't believe you waited until marriage," kidded Gloria. "But we believe her," rallied Kate. "Maybe other women wouldn't believe you, but Glo and I do." "Singing with the Don Juan's surely didn't help in that department," said Gloria. "Hey, speaking of them, Art Carney is making quite a name for himself in comedy as well as music," pointed out Kate. "At least since he's finished Pot O' Gold." "I've always thought Carney was and still is a wonderful person and talented performer, but nothing can top touring with my dear husband on his conducting engagements, singing for his band," admitted Donna. "For a girl with your ailment and fragile health, you've achieved the impossible," said Kate reverently. Kate recalled when the woman was shooting Pot 'O Gold with Jimmy Stewart. Everyone loved Donna on the set, from the producer James Roosevelt, who was absolutely charmed by Donna, to the set director, who was obviously gay due to his body language and poise, how he looked at good looking men as well as woman, but only felt a jealous rage when he saw one who had something he didn't, like a bracelet or earrings! Donna was in starry-eyed heaven working on the Pot 'O Gold set. She experienced her first taste of stardom, even though she only had a supporting, virtually non-speaking role in the campy film. It would be her ad campaign that Kate had explained to Gloria that day, a hyped up version the 'Cinderella in Hollywood'. Although Donna Wood barely said two words in the film, the woman was a regular public relations ploy in the making, at least in Kate's opinion. It was the woman's health that stopped everything cold. "Once Hollywood found out you were in ill health, they shun you like a disease," said Gertrude. "Well, that's why Donna decided to quit while she was ahead, and she's decided to settle," said Kate. When Kate and Gloria visited Donna on the set they set the place in motion. Everyone from Jimmy Stewart to the guys in the band used to stand around smiling and chatting with the two pretty women, who could of been potentially famous, especially Kate, who was bubbling with energy. Kate first noticed how others noticed their differences. They drew certain types of men to them. Donna always attracted the dashing, well built, sterner types, producers like Roosevelt Jr., and band leaders such as Horace Heidt, who had a rep for dating a string of beautiful singers. "Did you know, Glo, that at first Heidt pursued Donna for a date, but she convinced him to let her sing in his band, which he really agreed to," said Kate. "Yes, I did know that," answered Gloria. "They were, at that time, considered semi-famous on the music circuit." "Heidt's music sometimes comes off as backward and campy, sort of corny in nature, but that hasn't stopped the man from continuing," said Kate. "Of course, as soon as the movie was wrapped, he moved right on to touring again once it wrapped," explained Gloria. "What gusto that guy has," commented Kate. "I spoke with Horace, a
240 Comments:
Hiya... I ended up here from http://sacrificezone.blogspot.com/
Like that CLI script you're running, but maybe I'm biased, since I'm the original author :)
Are you planning on making this script available to the public?
Cool little script. Seems a little unpractical, though.
What I feel about this blog is beyond expression. It is amazing and utterly cool.
Nice little script. Cool, and geeky.
You should also include a clrscrn or refresh feature.
That would be super cool
cool stuff.
not too bad, but a bit taxing for a reader who wanted to keep up with everything...
confusing at first but very cool indeed.
This is awesome.
wow wonder ful how do you do it
Interesting.
This is SO retro. I didn't think anyone could make something look so 1970s. Have you got the Trek game on this thing?
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
Leslie K. Siegel at kiegel61@yahoo.com dedicates this poem to ZIEL, MD, to the 7th son of ZIEL, MD, ZIEL, MD
Tears Sprang Sparingly Shed, NOT!
Time to forgive, put us to bed
Our days of quickly escaping
Wondering what really happened
Are now star-crossed dearly departed
Cowardly fear of jealousy’s inspirations
Powerful emotions dim to despair
Distress signals, setting off flares
No answers echo in air
From a sweet embrace
Chromed foghorns blare:
“Please forgive, please forgive, please forgive!”
You never did!
Floating adrift never on shore
Twisted riptides screaming:
“Oh Romeo, Oh Romeo, where ‘Art’ thou Romeo?”
Swimming through riptides
Tangled pillars of seaweed
Aching hearts are Gratefully Dead
Never shall we rise above
Our shadows of duality
I’ve accepted our end in lament
Forever, oh forever and again!
# # #
tell me, what else is possible?
hey it looks good... (but who was that nutter who did the biggest... boringest... poem?... probably my mother...) it just is not sooo practical... but fun for once in a while...
hey guy! My name is André, and I was looking up on internet when I found your web site. It was really good to me because I simply loved the style of it. The possibility to type the commands in the page. Well, I was surprised when I got the links file, because I discovered that you are bahá'í, or, at least, know the Bahá'í Faith. So, I want to be in contact with you and, if is possible, get a copy of your template.
See ya!
Hey! I have no clue how i got here but this is pretty kool.
This post has been removed by a blog administrator.
This is awesome, totally dig it!
speak_up00@yahoo.com
send me a copy of the code please, I'll do some modifications and let you check it out (make it even more 'matrix-ish')
Thanks
:-)
Hi,was browsing and stumbled upon your blog...this is awesome..could u send me the code as well?..i'm really a big fan of your work.
stanleytan@email.com
Thank you and cheers!
! NUF SI SIHT ...GNIZAMA
this is awesome
I really like this. can you tell me how you did it? I am a cs major, but not this talented.
PLEASE SEND ME THIS CODE netkid91@cableone.net , I'm sending you an e-mail too because I want it that badly :p
Leslie Siegel at ksiegel61@yahoo.com wrote all these original poems
POPULARITY EBB TOLL
Flowing through popularity ebb tolls
Moods changing the tides
Split personalities falter then readjust
A full circle glide, people's rules must we abide
Survival of the fittest in our herds
They talk, they shout, they laugh off gaff
Steadily so remote
Slapping the back, underlying envy clap
One minute of King O’ the Hill,
Then suddenly bottom of the ‘sill
“Good job, good job”, raising the stabbing dagger
Saying great things, witty and fun
Isolation in full swing
Better saying nothing at all
Be your own worst best friend
When they start to ignore
No longer considered best of the bunch
Loud mouthed, crazy, doing the best
Losing patience, going under board
It’s not quite right finding a new dream
Ol’ riptide takes it out to the sea
GOD COULD-DA, WOULD-DA, SHOULD-DA
Hey God, let life stay stationery
So we can all remain happily unconcerned
To follow life’s many paths
That would still be filled with hope and the Devil.
If the world stopped spinning
We could all enjoy the seasons of living without getting dizzy.
It would be grand if we never aged
Only in our brains
So we could have a ball in children’s bodies as old farts!
It would also be satisfying
If criminals stopped robbing
Because the rich donated 100 million to anyone who applied
The world would surely be a better place
But, maybe not!
ART’S HITCH
Two years past, two years zip
You’re still a haunting psychic tick
Attacking the hearts that once beat rapid fast
Two minutes ago, two seconds gone
A dazzling love thrill once upon
As memories fade from subconscious will
Two moments to now, two meters to hell
Waiting breathlessly as you ran
Screaming “Uncle, uncle” to be let go.
Two inches to him, two feet to hold
Taking your place in a muddled fold
Excitement abounds when you were around
Two fingers to judge, too many have said
Put you to bed, move on to others who won't falter or go
Except for you, our broken fate will never show
DONKEY FALLS ALONG ELEPHANT’S WAY
We met by chance in '82
Crunching autumn leaves
West Virginia’s colored hues
He had his goals
While shouting the praises of Alan Cranston!
Lost touch for years
He got involved
Memories never faded
Romantic notions of first love
Surrounded by an Allegheny Forest
Almost died in time’s firestorm
Reading old letters
His futuristic gubernatorial path
Never coming to full fruition
The path strewn with expectations
A shaky past of a Nomad named Brad!
Unbelievable circumstances
Befell his pool of downward coasting
Watery-eyed dreams of political aspirations
Rising up the Legislative ladder
State rep, Connecticut mayors, bouts for the Governor's Mansion
Elephant's destiny knocked his Donkey away
While senators met, recessed
Ingested amongst his constituents
Arizona bound to become a chef
Passion for sauces, a blur of brisket
Rise in weight, loss of hair
Wouldn't have cared
Because my love for Brad
Would have bared
The grandest cooks make the best politicking reps
Knowing the right ingredients, the correct mix
It's one for all, and all for the Bipartisan fix
His golf game hadn't suffered much
Even when joining ranks of the new young Aficionados
Brad arrived back home
The un-conquering hero
Looking for an outlet
Wanting to get involved in people's causes
The political arena, that's where he fell
That was his place, his platform, his Nirvana bell
Anywhere away from the painful aloneness
Tittering on the edge of Alcohol's awful retch!
On a whim, the Internet allowed him to be found and contacted
Almost 20 years after us
By then he was already West
Cooking up a storm
Drinking like Phish (his favorite musical group)
The putt was his game, he knew everyone's name
Had a certain something going strong, something gained
Except a whiskey sour tingeing his good soul
Those kind eyes gelled over with despair
As the liquor addled his flare
So he headed home
To his destiny calling
A new position for the rabble
Gave it his all, settled in for the countdown to disaster
We spoke one day when I reached a shallow depression
Of losing yet another true love
Telling him, my first, that the second perished in an auto wreck
Although not truth, dear Brad believed
That the one so much like him had died
His words of condolences
Set my own heart aflutter
But 3 days after, reality hit cruel and bitter
Wrenching his life-force through a car window
On the wrong ramp of a freeway
He was killed instantly
In a flash of mashed glass
Letters stopped, phone calls ended, his vibe faded to black
Until months later his Internet obit
Floated into up from the sea
His name, the cause, his cause, those he loved, all listed in a row
Finally coming into his own
If not for too much spirits swallowed out of habit
He is missed, as I sit like a loose tooth
Out of place yet feeling in sync, but without Brad
LOCKED UNIVERSE, THE POEM
A starter's pistol was my live universe
An affair from a man that held me for ransom.
We proceeded, Mr. Live Universe and I
Running the streets in fear of being caught in cinches
Immortalized cheaters crawling on all fours, doggie style
Taking chances, running the baseball diamond ragged
Controlled by a Mama's boy philosophy shored up an ever downward spiral
As our times floated by between the thin sheets and paper walls
We moaned in unison to the ears of the ones that brought him into this world
Live universe created and patented by him, spinning infinitely into the finite reality
So sweet and safe he is, as I dock into the locked universe
Where there is no return, no key, no love, only mistrust & sadness
Violent separation like giving birth, his live universe is now locked & cursed
ONCE WE ARE
We find ourselves at the end of what was first culminated
Still like young lovers casting out our fears
Growing times together feeling strong, more linked than ever
Little things you do so reminiscent of love in late bloomer
A kind message, a fruit basket, a card spewing I love you just because
Sitting side by side enjoying the company of being
Wondering, marveling, exclaiming how we met
Very lucky, total chance, but meant to be on the Internet
Blessedly, we turned out to be good for one another
There was a future, a lifetime of caring, loving, doing
Knowing each has been wrought through the ringer
Nothing gets on our nerves, little idiosyncrasies just trivial pursuit
Traveled to New York, had a ball, you showing so much interest in my past
When we speak, it’s a nice chat pattern, no stress tuned in
Time has flown by in two years
Memories of old faded into fog
New moments with you take away ugly spaces and places of my past
Making love no longer a stretch or high maintenance
Emails flying back and forth like butterflies, rich with passion and interest
We converse making sure to be listening in
There is change on the horizon between us, but faithful though
Noticing how we are now, remembering the then of living in hell
Could short temper whiny, bothersome moods replace tolerance?
Conditioned responses changing from once soft fluttery kisses on the whim of love
A hint of negative feelings may come through loud, clear and above
Is it really much easier being mean and ornery rather than sensitive and sweet?
One who’s been thrown backwards knows the score
Chipping off the golden ice to reveal what we could become
Anxiety laced from a non-reaction to stimulus of a lifetime
Heads bowed in a laptop not wanting to communicate
Becoming all too familiarly remote, the twin bed theory
From whence we came, all full of rose pedals and love
May be one day treading on hard water, industrialized
Face facts we’ll both change for the good, the better and the worst
More times than not locking the bedroom door
But feelings can’t be mistaken so late in this old game
Will you grow tired of my antics, like I am hormonally deranged?
Where in the before time, you usually let things roll
But now, often times than not, you blow off steam seeming irate
There’s a secret part to you, a closed off portion
Your kiss distant, your touch not as reassuring, body language blaring annoyance
A bean counting hermit replacing a once spirited ardor
I didn’t mean to drive you away if that happens!
IT’S A COMIN’, IT’S A COMIN
Noticing my bosses charm is waning and tarnished
Finally be overwrought with my loud uncouth way of booming around the office
Growing ever tired of spastic actions of a woman with a fine high energy
Most times on the norm, they seem happy, fulfilled, satisfied
With my underrated work level force
My boost declines, carrying more unrest in the ranks of the late great tele-ladder
As we move up, they are more uptight, more business minded, like sharks
Watch out, you may be devoured, let go or fired
Easily sent home for being too freewheeling
Others getting peeved, she’s too happy, too up, something’s wrong
The upper echelon wants to know what she’s on
Having too much fun - Relax, shut up, be quiet or you are gone
An empty desk, a sullen walk down the green mile escorted
Leave the card key under the now “unwelcome” mat
Another love affair with the wanted ads, another place, another chance
They won’t know you at first … until the full circle curves around
The pavement you will pound
Remembering other jobs when you were the best queen around
When all is done and said, employment put to bed, rest in peace
Wondering if it’s a self destructive mechanism in place
This makes me vulnerable to the executive switch
Deconstruction at its most highest level
A well-liked, underplaced employable girl lies flat on her face
Supervisor’s pitch is so off keel, taking the wind out of my ‘sales’
Wondering when and if the axe will fall
Getting caught and enthralled, put on the spot, the seat is hot!
Karma’s Rue will Rule!
Subconscious word of mouth
Running like diarrhea, diseased in all areas of life
World is shaky, friends are nil, enemies hiding behind bright smiling faces
Looks that could kill
Family so non existent, wanting no part, no fill
So that is why I am breathing, sitting idly by, my gray hairs seeping
Reflecting the reasons as to why I am vibed!
Simple tongues wagging, “over and out!”
Continuing to a final pit stop
Before you turn around, the whole world hears you
Rabid folks ready to plunge their teeth into your soul
A once free spirit, now too much said, a big mouth
Others assuming you’ll spill the beans of secrets, which you will
No longer a muse to soothe
Those who knew you, now weary of your “flapper trapper!”
The Karma of your oral voca isn’t always in good shape or taste
More like a dentist popping cotton between your cheeks!
MY BUMBLE BEE A.D.D.
Always hyper, full of life’s imaginations
Speaking a mile a second
Never quite growing up, always flying around in my mind
Like Peter Pan – In flight, all different directions
Sometimes brain isn’t pacing, a rollercoaster ride racing
Never reaching an age of reason
Still retaining that crazy, batty affliction
Can’t stop, always talk, talk, talk
Meds almost doing the trick
Pulling that psychiatrist’s stick
A thought, a process, an idea
With clarity, but buzzing like a bee.
That’s what they say of me!
Speeding out of control, a million miles a minute
Running of the mouth piece, chemical imbalance
Thoughts not exactly jumbled, seeming clear and concise
But to others my outbursts bring in thoughts of medical mind crisis!
No leash to bring me to bay
No lease on jumbled jargon’s way
Gene pool takes a dive
Chromosomes bearing the spot
Endorphins bursting In air
While the ‘tat, tat, tat’ of the nervous processing is speeded up and boarded out
Like a funny car souped up and racing about.
My bumble bee A.D.D. in full swing
ENABLING FULL FORCE
Open arms, all right in
Wish to be where I should really be
Not stuffed in a cubicle
Taking calls, a 20 year old telling me what to do
Not of my own – Just a rabid spot between the crack of everyone’s ass!
Want to say fuck you!
Take it and shove
Can’t, stuck, sad
The best shunning my talent
Forthright and grandiose
No delusions … just enabled in full force
HERE YOU ARE NO MORE!
Alienation has landed, blowing away your sunshine
Can’t start anew, where no one knows you
Clean slate, another fate?
Roll out the red carpet, open the gate
Once easy to escalate and stick around
The same scenario happening
Like a skipping record, no escape
You as golden goose losing luster with others
Dared to cross the line
Looking for old friends, colleagues accepting of apologies
Venting machine broken down
No one wants you around
Pounded down of your own volition
Their finally fed up
Your gossip turning kind eyes to daggers
A jagged edge sword slicing popularity
Dead woman walking, not a happy camper
Here you are no more, it’s become a familiar shore
Heads turning away, putting you at bay
Nothing else to say
Once happy smiles lit your path
Now downward glances bar the way because of what was said
Don’t cry, don’t pout, be resilient and just ‘bear’ the ‘grunt’ for now
Nothing remains the same ever!
Think good deeds, good times and the many months you shined
OUR LIVE LOCKED UNIVERSE
Chance meeting or act of God?
Tittering on the edge of wondering why we were
The supermarket where we met, a flash point
Like Normandie and Florence
Our blooms became Reginald Denny against rioting mobs
Volatile memories surface then fade away
Heartfelt desires always seem to stay
Sneaking around zero ground
A stone's throw from another mushroom cloud
Detonated by an angry bee smoldering in rubble
His stinger a beacon to the men in blue
Who answered the call and broke us up
Gleaming handcuffs blocked the way
To opening a Locked Live Universe with you to remain!
Did the cosmos say "Make it so"?
Or possibly Lady Luck passing the romance buck
From whence we met
Thoughts of togetherness weaved life in two lonely hearts
We had a clue but chose to ignore, but who knew?
Until the Devil himself waved his pitchfork
Our fall from grace for lost quadrant's sake
Vainly weeping, wondering what would have become
What we would be borne from
A budding sweet love released from bondage under another man's thumb
TELE ME THIS!
Ring, ring, ring
Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up
Want a loan?
Investments on the phone
Rules, laws and edicts
Against the soliciting marketer
Tele Me This:
Hello, hello, hello
Stop calling
No, no, no
Hang up, hang up, hang up
Predictive dialers gone wild
We need the lead
Just grin and bare it
Smiling and dialing all over the nation
As they pass legislation
Smearing reputations as retaliation
Continuous clicking of open line titillations
Remain resilient in the face of busy signals, A.M. hours
The stigma of high rejection, low pay
Overworked with a large turnover force
But with luck, we'll come through
And someone will believe the scripted malarkey
Pulling down on that one armed bandit
Ante up, ante up, ante up
FLASHY TIMES FLY BY
Good times, bad times come and go
Past days move in an even flow
Even though moments pass gas
We react, cry, pondering why
A Vietnam Vet's post traumatic stress
What was, creeps in
Situations arise, burning ambers never die
In the deepest recesses of the mind
That is where you'll find 'Them', where they reside.
Those flashy, musty, messy old things that shape our lives
Coming back to haunt, flaunt and fawn
Flashing over and over, sometimes on a dime
Procured by an odor, a word or rhyme
Processing long ago deeds into static of the brain
Yielding flashbacks in color
Simmering, shimmering back and forth like R.E.M.
A CAN OF WORMS FOR MOMMY!
Just trying to draw my family back in
Mater’s rule is iron clad
Siblings afraid of her scold
Scared of the power she wields and holds
They cower and indulge her fancy, not wanting me with them
They’ve shunned my crazed openness
Umbilical cord detached long before my birth
An empty void where sisters and brothers should be, only trouble lurks
They perceive me as wicked and unclean
Not fit amongst their polite Martini Society
They live, they breathe, they laugh, they party
But only under Mom’s rule of thumb
Until the drama queen, known as me, her oldest daughter pushes the insanity button
Forgetting the dysfunction engrained in their brains over you
They fear retaliation from the ‘Big Kahuna’
Mom’s rage and resentment bars me from worming my way back to the fold
Time passes with no communication, no episodes
Frivolously, the wheels start to turn, crunching raw bones once more
Enabling my grandfather’s favorite daughter to trample upon my twisted goal
This is only to irk the one who brought me into this world
‘Ema’ waits with a clever to hack me off their limbs
Even surfing the Net is like a poison pen
Written by Me to ‘Mother’
Who goes so far as to keep me away and in my place, far from my kin
To her deathbed she shall curse me in her last dying breath
No room for niceties, make room for ‘Mommy’s can of worms’
No time to settle, she’s too set in her ways of despise to take heed and forgive
Leslie Siegel at ksiegel61@yahoo.com wrote this original poem about Brad Boyers from West Hartford who died in a tragic car accident. Brad Boyers is gone, but Leslie Siegel still misses him. Here is the poem about him.
BRAD BOYERS, DONKEY FALLS ALONG ELEPHANT'S WAY, LESLIE SIEGEL ORIGINAL POEM
Brad Boyers, original poem by Leslie Siegel, ksiegel61@yahoo.com, Leslie Siegel misses Brad Boyers who used to live and work in West Hartford, CT. Leslie Siegel think Brad Boyers was a very deep and spiritual person, but lost his way somehow. He is truly missed!
DONKEY FALLS ALONG ELEPHANT’S WAY
We met by chance in '82
Crunching autumn leaves
West Virginia’s colored hues
Brad Boyers had his goals
While shouting the praises of Alan Cranston!
Lost touch for years
He got involved
Memories never faded
Romantic notions of first love
Surrounded by an Allegheny Forest
Almost died in time’s firestorm
Reading his old letters
A futuristic gubernatorial path according to Brad Boyers
Never coming to full fruition
The path strewn with expectations
A shaky past of a Nomad named Brad Boyers!
Unbelievable circumstances
Befell his pool of downward coasting
Watery-eyed dreams of political aspirations
Rising up the Legislative ladder
State rep, Connecticut mayors, bouts for the Governor's Mansion
Elephant's destiny knocked his Donkey away
While senators met, recessed
Ingested amongst his constituents
Arizona bound to become a chef
Passion for sauces, a blur of brisket
Rise in weight, loss of hair
Wouldn't have cared
Because Leslie Siegel's love for Brad Boyers
Would have bared
The grandest cooks make the greatest politicking reps
Knowing the right ingredients, the correct mix
It's one for all, and all for the Bipartisan fix
His golf game hadn't suffered much
Even when joining ranks of the new young Aficionados
Brad Boyers arrived back home
The un-conquering hero
Looking for an outlet
Wanting to get involved in people's causes
The political arena, that's where he fell
That was his place, his platform, his Nirvana bell
Anywhere away from the painful aloneness
Tittering on the edge, an awful retch!
On a whim, the Internet allowed him to be found and contacted
Almost 20 years after us
By then he was already West
Cooking up a storm
Drinking in 'Phish' (his favorite musical group)
The putt was his game, he knew everyone's name
Had a certain something going strong, something gained
Those kind eyes gelled over with despair
What addled his flare?
So he headed home
To his destiny calling
A new position for the rabble
Gave it his all, settled in for the countdown to disaster
We spoke one day when I reached a shallow depression
Of losing yet another true love
Telling him, my first, that the second perished in an auto wreck
Although not truth, dear Brad Boyers believed
That the one so much like him had died
His words of condolences
Set my own heart aflutter
But 3 days after, reality hit cruel and bitter
Wrenching his life-force through a car window
On the wrong ramp of a freeway
He was killed instantly
In a flash of mashed glass
Letters stopped, phone calls ended, his vibe faded to black
Until months later his Internet obit
Floated into up from the sea
His name, the cause, his cause, those he loved, all listed in a row
Finally coming into his own
If not for too much spirits swallowed out of habit
He is missed, as I sit like a loose tooth
Out of place yet feeling in sync, but without Brad Boyers
Leslie Siegel, original novel LOCKED UNIVERSE excerpts. Adventure of lost love, trumped up charges that made no sense and other details...
FORWARD 10 YEARS
LIVING AN ALMOST UNLOCKED LIVE UNIVERSE
It began like an article straight out of a cheap dime novel, right around mid- August, around the time of my 40th birthday. I went to the grocery store in my neighborhood, having no real thought or desire of meeting anyone new there, even though my 10-year relationship with TJ seemed to be crumbling day by day.
I drove over to the grocer from my job at a telemarketing firm nearby to the neighborhood market I’d been frequenting for years since I’d moved in with TJ. He had lived with his mother there for 6 years, and before that his sister lived there with her husband. A lot of people were on their lunch breaks and were milling around as I made my way to the check out counter. That’s where I met Him. I had no idea that my life would drastically change, hurling me into a Live, but Locked Universe with almost no escape.
Albert was wearing thick sunglasses and allowed me to go in front of him. He was medium height with short dark brown hair, a dimple to die for, a bit overweight, actually resembling a pudgy John Cusack in some ways, believe it or not. His mind waves shot out at me, which was what caught my attention right away. I felt totally open to our future eclectic beauty right away. That coupled with his quiet, reserved demeanor wasn’t to be ignored, and was appealing to me, giving him an air of mystery. I noticed his most striking features after he’d removed his signature thick sunglasses, revealing the most beautiful hazel eyes. It was as if he stepped off the boat from heaven.
How could I have known then that this male stranger I met casually in the market would entwine himself into my life, turning it upside down? New relationships like ours can be deceiving, looking tame and tactful on the outside, especially with the smell of infidelity welcoming us in for the very first time.
But there was no denying that there was an immediate attraction, a pull toward one another. We talked while taking care of our purchases at the market, only for a moment or two, but enough to spark interest before I had to get back to my job a few blocks away. As hoped, he stopped me outside in the parking lot. We chatted and realized that there was something akin to electricity between us, something I hadn’t felt in 10 years and seemed to be dead to TJ and I. As we made our way to our cars, which ironically were parked next to each other, he handed me his phone number on a receipt. I promised to call, not really wanting to leave him to go back to the relationship that had become my growing hell. I had the strongest urge to hug him, but refrained. That night when I closed my eyes all I could see was his beautiful hazels staring back at me like a stark plastic photo negative. No coaxing on TJ’s part would rouse me from my side of the bed, nor would he be able to pry me away for the next 5 months!
There was so much to what Albert and I experienced after our fateful meeting at the grocery store a week after my birthday. Things between us began to light the skies above even more quickly than when I’d met TJ ten years prior on my birthday when I was with Herb, who was long dead by now. Eventually I had introduced them, both taking a liking to each other, Herb even remarking that TJ resembled his long lost son, who ironically we found out committed suicide by jumping in front of a train after a big court battle began when Herb had actually left TJ $100,000 and a 40 foot boat!
In that time, the relationship between TJ and I became sexually one sided. I’d been conditioned to ‘turn-off’ to any intimacy he tried igniting, except when I was pressured, which was usually the case. It had become a “let’s get this over already” with me. And the day Herb passed away a few years earlier after I met TJ, Aimee had called and asked for TJ. In fact, they had become very close in those few years. Herb had left TJ $100,000 in his will, but by the time I’d met Albert, the monies were spent and long gone. TJ had become a tyrant, sometimes a brute, especially sexually. He was rough and tumble, more prone to watching porn and constantly asking me to talk dirty to him, really down and dirty, which I found repulsive after 10 years of adhering to it, like a dutiful wife!
So when I’d met Albert, he immediately felt wonderful to touch, kiss or just talk to and relate with on many levels because of his mellower personality. He seemed a lonely man living the solitary life of a self-philosopher and I was empty inside from my own rough relationship. I needed and sorely missed an essential ingredient to sex and love … fluff! I needed the pomp and fluff of it all! I had to have romance and warmth, which were things TJ didn’t have high marks for, especially as we progressed into our ten year relationship. For the first time I was with someone like Albert, it was less demanding for me as we took each other to another world and back again in so many ways. Such intense feelings grew and coursed through both of us. I might have gravitated in this direction when TJ’s fun, joking attitude gave way to the controlling, insensitive man he became as we marched forward toward our tenure. In all our ten years together, I had never cheated on him, nor had thoughts of fooling around with the neighbors! I never put myself in the position, and if the situation arose, which it occasionally did in ten years, I would snuff it out before it could begin.
But after meeting Albert, in a short period of 5 months, he and I grew quite close in all ways, even closer than I felt to TJ in 10 years! It made me truly see what TJ and I had become. I saw a new beautiful light surrounding Albert and I. It was there, because we always acknowledged it, as did others in our vicinity. Whether it was to a restaurant, a park or a concert, everyone noticed us. When we went to eateries, waitresses paid extra attention to the couple sitting in a booth holding hands and staring intently at each other. I’d never shown or received such a public display of affection and felt open and good doing it. At the time it felt totally genuine and very refreshing from what I was used to. What I shared with TJ became so very rough around the edges leaving literal paper cuts. What I didn’t know then, that I read much later down the road was that Aries’ like Albert seemed to fall for someone who was already involved with someone else! I fit the bill on that one.
Although Albert was 35, he lived with his parents for some strange reason, in a beautiful Colonial American home with a pool and rambling rooms up the hill from where I resided with TJ. I should have seen the signs then, but was just too languidly dazed over the new feelings flowing through me from the moment Albert and I met.
Albert’s house was only 3 blocks from my own, so it became an easy, comfortable jaunt for me to be with him when we began seeing each other regularly. Usually I rode my one speed bike up. Other times I’d use TJ’s car. Still other instances I’d just walk up there, or be so brazen that I’d tell Albert to pick me up on the corner.
I’d even bundled up the nerve to wait for TJ to fall asleep around midnight. By this time he’d become used to my pattern of transferring myself into the living room and sleeping on the lumpy old couch. I’d feign sleep for awhile. Then I’d get up, call Albert and walk up to see him. I’d even made fake bedding, feeling like Herman Munster in a long ago Munsters t.v. series plot when he was sneaking away and leaving a pail and mop head rolled in blankets to conceal his hasty departure. His wife Lily suddenly one evening awoke and thought he was having an affair and rushed to follow him. I heard the canned audience laughter in my head as I made my way up to Albert and the security of his cozy little bedroom in his parent’s house.
There was no doubt about it, I loved being with him even when we were simply hanging out in his room doing nothing, just enjoying each other’s company. His room and several other rendezvous points around town became our haunts. I had been very unhappy with TJ for many years, but couldn’t seem to break away from him. Whether it be a powerful hold he had on me, or just that I was afraid of his angry repercussions, I couldn’t detach myself. In the end, neither could I break it off with Albert, a man who delivered me from my rising sexual misery and high tension that had grown between TJ and I.
I could see it in one of the first letters Albert had written me. It flowed from him like a new mink coat and truly touched me.
I fell asleep and woke up at 10:00PM. Sorry I didn't come over. I can see why you reacted the way you did. My honesty can easily be misunderstood as saying more then I mean. Please read this and help me decide if I am just using reason to cover myself. For me, (being celibate for 10 years and having only two serious relationships before), I see sexuality as the lower end on the spectrum of spirituality. People meld spiritually and even sexually without knowing it (in the conscious mind). The degree of connection and the spectrum it is in seems to characterize a relationship. I believe in a hippie universe, combined with a Puritan spiritual approach to ethics (just as one needs both right and left brain perspectives to balance life). I connected with you (from the beginning at Ralphs) at the peak of my spiritual spectrum (my God self -where in reflection God speaks to me). My life shines from there! This is my Puritan center. All that gets into that light becomes as born into that world. This is my hippie domain of ethics. Some love is universal, some love is absolute. Love that flows from the God center is absolute (like the infinite world). Love that flows from lower spectrums is universal and relative (like the finite world). Some see all or none (as in the finite world). But more accurately, there is all and some (as in the infinite world). As above so below, drop the intensity of our relationship at its spectrum, into the lower spheres and you get wicked magic. As the man learns to control the lower (faster spinning - farther out from the center) spectrum, so too can he maintain the higher more centered perspective. The world (being finite) is full of temptations (to be drawn out from the center -infinite). The relationship is so new I have no thoughts about it really. Just maybe I have a hold-out of maleness in me that wants to unite with anything that shines of life. Yes I admit it, I want to have spectacular orgies and spin and love with communities of life. But that is the hippie in me. The Puritan in me wants a nurturing home with new life. I see you (potentially) as cradling with me that absolute love which flows from our centers and creates new life. I have never led a swinging life style. Who knows, I might hate it (It’s just that I feel so strongly for life and connection). I admit I spend most my days fantasizing about sex and masturbating, but that is probably only because I have been denied connection for so long. And your idea about chasing the dragon, if I understand it correct, seems potentially correct. Let's talk it over. Have you ever had an interesting sexual experience? Am I wrong in my beliefs? Lets see every day as a learning process, not just of the world, but of our infinite natures. I love you. Just read your e-mail -I feel Soooo Goooood !!!! Come over if you feel safe walking the streets. Or call and I will get you ---Yes call -I want you so bad! Wait, that is very dangerous with TJ, so lets not. Love Albert.
Both our laughs were full and jolly, and we were constantly cracking each other up, smiling brightly and chuckling loudly. It was obvious we were falling for each other more and more as we progressed from the market. I did not tell Albert that I was with TJ, and had been living with him for 10 years right off the bat. I told him gently, after he’d asked me candidly, I didn’t leave out any gory details about TJ and I. When out of the blue Albert had casually asked me (as if he already had the sixth sense to know) about TJ and I, it would be two weeks after we’d met that I’d filled him in on everything. Albert seemed like a fragile individual where you had to let him in slowly or scare a man like that away like sneezing before he the butterfly is about to land on your shoulder. When I’d first met Albert, I told him that I lived with TJ’s sister Loren, and that TJ was always coming around, but finally, after two weeks, I came clean to Albert.
In all that time, I’d never met anyone, nor done anything close to what was coming for Albert and I! At times I felt he was a delicate leaf floating down My raging river. We would lose control and I had never cheated on my boyfriend TJ in the past, so why now with Albert?
The other relationship with TJ steadied at 10 years on the meter and wasn’t going great. It left me with a stunted sexual drive where at first there was so much promise. TJ slowly became a bit manic in other ways, and on many occasions lost a very important part of any relationship … being sentimental about intimacy. I soon realized he was like that due to his own upbringing riddled with abuse in all its ugly forms. I would find out soon after moving in with him ten years ago that the man harbored a temper and could be provoked easily. He’d done a stint in the Army, ranking all the way up to Sergeant, which made TJ into a very ‘tough love’ sort of guy, as I was to find out later.
It was the first time in the history of my relationship with TJ that I began a pattern of sneaking up to Albert’s house, hanging with him partying and just being together with someone else. It was like a mini-vacation time for me, even if it was deceiving to TJ. My relationship with The Boy Up The Hill blossomed; more like mushroomed into more and more each time we got together, and I wouldn’t put it passed the fact that Albert and I were running around like virtual spies, which added extra intrigue and excitement to what we were doing, especially in his eyes. Mama’s Boys were prone to leaning over to the wicked, forbidden side, but I felt comfortable around him, enjoyed keeping company with him, even for the first time in literally years loving the intimacy a man and woman shared. For a long time I’d not enjoyed it much with TJ, and was so unhappy lately. It always seemed like I wanted to get away from him and the ‘act’. More often than not I found myself trying to detach myself physically from TJ. Our relationship had grown quite stale, cold and a bit one-sided.
I had met Albert at the local grocery store on a whim and hadn’t expected the potential it had for pure infidelity coupled with storybook romance, as his letter to me reflected. I should have picked up on his mortal fear, but just couldn’t see it, or ignored it.
I feel magical around you, but I need my morals as well. I could have lost it (my mind) when TJ asked how long I knew your friend Jeanette. We need to be strictly friends. I think we could still have the exact same kind of fun together (including TJ whenever). I will probably struggle, and fear, and contemplate, in silence frequently, over my feelings for you. But I need to know that I am not doing anything wrong. I love you quite a bit. And our relationship will radiate light. People will know our truth. Friends are allowed to love each other, but where is the line? Do you know what I hope for? That TJ is your brother, and you are just using him as a shield from men. Then when things are right between us, we could become lovers, without hurting TJ. But until I can openly love you, I will not. I played guitar last night till dawn with my friend Benny. I wish the four of us could jam some time. I am still thinking about you all the time. I miss you and hope we can get together somehow, soon. Sorry I didn't call, I was hung over, and needed to think things out between us. I hope we can be friends for life. Love Albert
At the time, from the moment we met, I felt so good being with this man, and couldn’t stay away. We were always holding hands, sharing so much closeness, filling in the loneliness for each other.
So for the time being we were together and made every moment count! Sometimes we would just kiss for hours, nothing else. The times we danced together cheek to cheek in his room reminded me of the old World War II scenario of the soldier and his sweetheart at a social dance. We’d hold each other tightly and were just having such a ball getting into each other that both of us got carelessly stupid, easily underestimating TJ’s resolve to catch us and put an end to it.
Mostly we were hanging out in his room, going to eat and taking hikes, as well as going to the movies and excursions to San Francisco to see The Grateful Dead, not activities I was doing with TJ, where days of renting movies at Blockbuster strung together like the links of a ball and chain. Albert was nuts about The Grateful Dead even though the lead singer Jerry Garcia had passed on years before and the remaining band was now called The Other Ones.
We actually managed to sneak off to San Francisco twice under the premise that I was heading to my cousin’s cabin in Ojai. She didn’t really have one, but it sounded reasonable at the time seeing as she was a doctor and they did those things. Those two trips were fantastic and we spent the whole time kissing and making out in a corner like high schoolers all through the concert. In fact, I felt like I had gained back my high school years, even though I was totally unpopular, unhappy, teased and picked on for years by the kids then.
He’d even mentioned the concert and his fears about TJ in another one of his flowing, flowery letters to me.
I am glad you wrote me back and want to meet again soon. I hope it is O.K. Tomorrow is good for dinner - I'll meet you at Marie Calendar’s at 6:00? Or should I come by and order in some Numero Uno pizza and TJ can join us? I got two tickets for Shoreline in San Francisco on Sunday, Oct 27. SUNDAY's LINEUP is going to be as follows: Neil Young, James Taylor, Jack Johnson, Ryan Adams, Thom Yorke, Tenacious D, The Other Ones (really the Grateful Dead), Vanessa Carlton, Plus... special guests to be announced. I hope all is well... Does TJ feel better about me?
Those trips made up for everything, including my growing guilt over what I was doing to TJ. But with Albert I felt like we were at a dance 24 hours a day holding each other close and swaying to the music, feeling like the 1940’s couple that meets there, everyone disappearing when they touch and move slowly to the music with the crystal ball spinning above.
The make-out passion had started innocently enough. We were sitting in his room looking at something on his computer when we began to slowly kiss and nuzzle each other. That quickly turned more passionate and distinct and before we knew what was happening, the both of us were moving against each other vying for release, which came for both of us like a sudden tidal wave even though we were fully clothed. We held each other long after. He was sweating and breathing very heavy, almost wheezing. He broke free of me just long enough to grab his atomizer for his asthma. He took a long drag from the canister, which had a top on it and sounded off a long mournful horn sound, like an elephant in the jungle!
We actually became voyeurs when the truck drivers would whiz by us on both San Francisco excursions. Both of us willingly attracted a lot of attention driving up to Oakland one afternoon while holding each other and making such a spectacle of ourselves that the truckers radioed ahead to the others up the highway, who were all ready to stare at us when we passed their rigs as they honked their approval of our actions. I’ll admit it wasn’t the best thing to be doing, but it was so invigorating and when we laughed it brought us to another world. At the time it felt as if our hearts were always full when we were together. But in the end, because of the way the relationship with Albert was culminated, it was destined to crash and burn eventually, especially sneaking off like we were doing. The free-spirited feelings gave way to more sneaky tactics to be together, and in the end, that may have drove the relationship over the brink.
Little did I know then that TJ became very suspicious and began following me when I left our house. One particular day I couldn’t wait to get with Albert, who resided a stone’s throw from our own little place.
I rode my bike up steep streets thinking only of Albert and not the consequences of wanting to be with him. TJ followed in his Camry. When I was just reaching the street where Albert’s only friend Benny lived, TJ came driving around the corner and yelled out the window, “You’re busted!” I froze in my tracks and tried playing it off, pretending not to hear or see him at first.
Finally I circled his car with my one speed girl’s bike. “I’m going to work. There’s a new bus route up here,” I stated, trying not to stammer or lose my cool.
“There’s no bus stop up here, come on, you’re busted!” He didn’t believe me. But he did drive away again for some odd reason.
I was vigilant and continued up to Albert’s house, trying to throw off my growing panic at not being able to see him or having to spend the day fending off TJ, who came around the corner again and said the same thing - - - “Busted again! Okay, what’s going on?” He asked, his arm leaning out of the open window. “Are you going over to that guy Albert’s house?”
“No! I told you, I’m taking a different route. I don’t like to take the same way every time!” I was so desperate to reach my destination that I didn’t care whether TJ saw me dive into some bushes when he drove away a third time. It was at that opportune moment when TJ turned on Pacific that I high-tailed to Albert’s house.
I was out of breath and had to sit down on the bed.
“TJ nabbed me, but I got away,” I said, breathing heavy, face sweaty, having a slight urge to try Albert’s asthma buster machine.
Albert got a scared look in his beautiful eyes. “What are we going to do? Do you think he followed you here?”
“No, he went down Pacific,” I answered as Albert sat on the bed and we put our arms around each other out of habit by now.
After kissing passionately for a few minutes I pulled away for a moment. “I’m going to call him!” My voice was filled with resolve.
“Oh God, do you think that’s a good idea?” Albert went to his shuttered window and cautiously looked out into the empty driveway, something he was prone to doing and I had gotten used to.
I went to the telephone inside the closet by the bathroom and nervously dialed TJ’s number. It was easy to get up the gall to call him from Albert’s and ante up. “Yes, I’m at Albert’s, but I’m leaving shortly for work,” I said into TJ’s answering machine, knowing full well he was still out looking for me. I hoped that he wouldn’t try and come to the house.
Again, Albert and I got to spend the day together, but from then on we were both scared and traumatized that TJ’s wrath would eventually reach us. We holed up in his room for the rest of the afternoon and evening making love, partying and having long drawn out conversations about the 4 quadrants of the brain, plus taking time out to sneak away to an obscure restaurant for a bite to eat. Soon it was time for me to ride my bike back down and face the music with TJ. We left his room after surveying the driveway through his window as had been done throughout the day with him.
It was a clear night, a bit brisk while walking down the hill slowly. We reluctantly reached my drop-off point by the high school and embraced, holding each other for a long time. Every now and then his hand would brush my curly locks and we’d practically crush each other. Our lips always met in the middle of all this, easily roaming up and down our necks. Goose bumps rose on my cool skin, and a sweet liquid held fast below. Our breathing was rapid and almost frantic. He just felt so good against me, and I wanted to melt into his chest cavity and stay there as we moved against each other creating an incredible friction and wanting for each other!
In all my years, I’d never experienced anything like what I did with Albert, except maybe my college flame Brad Boyers, but that was 20 years ago. I would never forget the feelings I felt when we were together. It was powerful and intense, especially when we were kissing and close physically. There was also a mental stimulation as if we made love in our minds just as fiercely as in our reality.
A special bond formed between Albert and I, especially when we got more into the intimacy that comes with a relationship of our type, no matter where or how we met. Holding hands, kissing, cuddling even making love multiple times a day was the norm for us, things TJ had never given much thought to in the last few years. It was pure heaven and opened me up like a baby rose after a 10-year Nuclear winter.
Albert’s letter to me summed things up nicely.
I have read your letters several times... It makes me feel like I am talking to you (all warm and fuzzy inside). I have been bored and sleepy most of the day. I wish you could walk over and sleep here tonight. I have all the pay channels on cable TV. We could turn on the surround sound and eat popcorn. I bought a picture of Janis Joplin today. The picture looks like it was taken 200 years ago. Janis looks just like you in it. You can have it for your collages. I need to get the USB cord from my Mom to transfer the pictures from the camera. I should have them on a CD by tomorrow. Love Albert
Many times when TJ wanted to get intimate with me throughout the 5 months, and actually before, I would pretend sickness or tiredness, and he asked outright on many occasions if I was fooling around or had met someone else. Toward the end of the 5 months he even asked outright if Albert was the culprit, which I always downplayed, usually hinting that my best friend Jeanette’s Lesbian neighbors were influencing me, seeing as I was spending so much time over there, when in reality I was using that as an excuse. It got so real that I began to actually see these two old non-existent Lesbians that lived next door to Jeanette in Tujunga Canyon where she had a house up a long winding driveway. TJ was only half buying the explanation, and had a feeling I was with someone else. Now it was happening and I was stuck in the denial muck with no way out. That was a mistake, as I would soon find out.
But it would be almost to the date Albert and I met that everything caught up with us finally. Our time was growing short and we didn’t realize that our last few precious hours together were approaching like the sound of far off cannons. That particular day, like many others, we couldn’t wait to be in each other’s arms. I could feel it when I knocked on his door, setting yet another pattern of our hearts and bodies coming together in fiery passion.
He was in his room as usual. If you could read the fly on the wall’s brain, it was obvious we seemed like a happy, normal duo, and it showed all over our rosy faces as we lounged on his bed talking.
When I was with Albert, thoughts of my other relationship with TJ fell to the wayside. TJ could be crude in the ways of foreplay, as compared to Albert’s gentle, almost soothing, passive nature. It was easy to melt like butter into Albert’s arms than stiffen like alcohol-dunked wood in TJ’s. It made me dread intimacy with him, and all its fixings spread out like a dried-up turkey dinner. But my views would change with the sudden and fiery appearance of the 35-year-old man who still lived with his parents, saying he’d not had a serious girlfriend in 10 years! I believed him, and cherished the fact. That’s probably what attracted me to him in the first place. Time and time again we’d come together and got closer, more intimate, more relaxed around each other, especially in his room.
His space was small, but became quite cozy in our months together. It was once occupied by one of his sisters who had long since married and moved on. Where at first there was no real warmth to the room, toward our latter months together it registered a true love that brewed between us. We were constantly trying to make it better, him moving furniture around like a madman. We’d added little touches that couldn’t have gone unnoticed by him when I reluctantly had to leave, returning to my own house down the hill.
Before I walked in, Albert had freshly downloaded some new photos of us. We took tons of pictures everywhere. Many of those shots should have been in a photo magazine. We both looked so happy and free, and many of the photos reflected our true selves and feelings. I felt transformed, empowered and beautiful with him, as we sat together gazing at the photos on his computer that fateful afternoon. We looked wonderful, like a couple of old souls together. We enjoyed holding each other until gentle caresses suddenly turned explosive and we’d end up rolling around on his bed for hours, whispering “I love you” in each others ears, moving together over and over until we were spent and sated, just like a romance novel stuck in a foreplay jag or make-out mode.
I’m sure TJ sensed what was happening. My whole demeanor changed when I met Albert. It was apparent by the lightheaded high-schoolish attitude I was exhibiting from wanting a man and being wanted back just as fiercely. My face took on a taunt, beautiful rosy appeal. You could see the twinkle in my eyes and more. Everyone, not just TJ noticed this. People around me, including neighbors, family, friends and strangers in stores also took note. I was constantly stopped on the street and told I looked different, very healthy and up. I felt more energized and confident than I’d ever felt in my life. Albert felt it and saw it too. The question was: How long could things go on like this before the bottom dropped out from under us?
I wasn’t answering that question as Albert and I prepared to go into bliss mode after looking at our photos. He put them on the automatic slide version on the computer and darkened the room. We quickly ambled over to the bed and lay down.
Albert always paid attention to who was coming and going in the driveway, but for some reason didn’t react when a car door slammed harder than normal outside his window. I knew his parents were in, so didn’t think on it too much and figured it was just his Uncle Curtis, who Albert avoided like the plague whenever the man would drive in. As we kissed and held hands, there was a harsh knock at his door. It was his father.
“Can you two please come into the living room right away,” his father asked seriously.
“Is there a problem, Dad?” asked Albert. Very rarely would his parents ever disturb us, but this time something was wrong.
“Yes, a big problem!” His dad’s usual jovial face was pressed with strain.
We both headed for the living room that I’d only been in once before. His mother was sitting on a plush chair crying her eyes out, her usual makeup dripping down along with her tears, totally out of character for her. This time she wasn’t waiting with curious crossed arms to embrace the new girlfriend of her baby boy, the last child of many, and wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. Albert and I sat stiffly in a loveseat, his father sat on another chair. The scene made my stomach churn and my already dry mouth was going even dryer by the millisecond.
“A man claiming to be your husband TJ knocked on the door and knew you were here with our son,” his mother said between racking sobs still not looking at me. “He wanted to warn us that you were bad news and were doing bad things against the law, and that Albert was with you, his wife, carrying on for the last 5 months! He wanted to warn us.” She spit it out with dignity, still not meeting my steady gaze. “What have you done?” She asked between wracking sobs, she seemed to almost want to believe what TJ had said.
As we sat in the tastefully decorated living room, usually the Forbidden Zone with Albert, it had finally come to this: Sitting together facing his staunch parents as we were forced to watch Our Rome burn, TJ playing the role of Emperor Nero.
This was a far cry from my first visit with his parents, which seemed worlds away now! I sat there silently at first, as if I was witnessing our crashing and burning from afar, easily slipping into a memory of a calmer first encounter with his parents.
* * *
…By chance, I found myself standing at Albert’s door before he’d returned from work one October evening, two months into our relationship. I had never met his parents, so I turned toward the main door and knocked lightly. Albert’s mother answered and invited me in. I had a chance to make my feelings known about being with her son. I could tell she felt uncomfortable, maybe somewhat wary, but cordial, even when Albert came in the door looking nervous, knowing I was there when he specifically stressed that we meet in his room. The man looked as though he was about to have a coronary right there on the spot. He held himself together while staring transfixed for a moment at his mother and I sitting in the living room chatting like old friends. Albert seemed even more quieter than usual, especially for him when he finally joined us. The man looked downright hot under the collar, his rosy cheeks giving him an almost cherub baby look, but the infant was teething and fussy. It was about time I did this, so he had to sit there and grit himself through what seemed to be torture for him, watching his mother and lover interact with each other.
I could tell right away that Albert felt totally freaked out that I had made the contact with his mom. We’d known each other since August and he’d not once asked if I’d like to meet his parents. That should have been another indicator of things to come. Again, I was so blind and carelessly happy, not realizing the full scope of Albert’s mental aggravation and emotional strain when it came to his personal life with his parents.
But on this particular evening, even with Albert’s panicky-ness, I ended up being invited for dinner. Soon Albert’s father walked in the door. It didn’t take long for me to melt him. The older man seemed very pleased that his son was happy or he appeared to be pleased just to get the skinny on us.
“My son didn’t tell me he had something ‘precious’ in his bedroom,” piped up Albert’s father.
Both Albert and I blushed deeply. Albert was a virtual recluse and didn’t seem to have any friends except Benny, whom he’d known since early childhood, and who lived down the street. I would see a million pictures of them as little boys in the Scouts.
We sat in the kitchen talking and eating. When Albert’s father broke out the red wine I should have known it was to loosen us up a bit. But Albert’s mother was a whole other realm. Albert would always be a Mama’s Boy through and through, and that too would be our downfall in the end. Because the relationship didn’t start in a wholesome manner, it was doomed. I didn’t think she liked me too much anyways. But his father might have, had our relationship was given more time to grow and mature. I could sense it. There had been many times when Albert and I were in his room, his parents obviously having to hear our sexual ruckus. Maybe it bothered his mother, but his dad seemed to take it in stride, even leaving a big paper bag full of condoms for us by the bathroom door. It was comical at the time and we got a huge laugh from it.
During dinner I told his parents how much I loved being with their son and how happy we were. They quizzed me the usual questions, which I answered honestly. My mother was an opera singer/concert pianist, father was a lace designer, brother worked as a property officer for a county jail, and sister was a housewife living a good life in Florida where they were all based now. It was a strained, but fun dinner and we ended up talking for hours, even decorating a pumpkin for Halloween. Afterwards, Albert and I hung out in his room dancing slowly in a tight circle to The Grateful Dead.
Then afterwards, very late at night we’d do my absolute favorite thing when I slept over, TJ thinking I was at my friend Jean’s house in Tujunga Canyon. -- Albert and I would sneak into the neat kitchen and pour over leftovers and watch TV. I loved those times when I sat wrapped in one of his blankets while he cooked up something for us.
His parents always seemed to respect his space and never came downstairs even though our banter must have reached their ears upstairs. Those times procured a beautiful peace in us that was truly rare.
* * *
Now his parents sat right in on us as our blissful coupling came undone to reveal a true, full-blown tragedy unfolding, which probably would never afford their youngest son another chance to bring a special, but misguided girl in their home again.
“First of all, he’s not my husband,” I countered as steady as I could. “He’s lying, I didn’t do the other things he’s claiming either. You have to believe me,” I begged. “Please!” I put my head in my hands and wept openly. “I love being with your son, but you just have to understand my side of the story here,” I pleaded.
Albert’s dad said. “TJ told us he took out a warrant for your arrest, and that you had been living with him as his wife still! Is that true?”
I denied all of the trumped up charges. Albert didn’t say a word and just sat there pale-faced, sweaty-looking and scared, like he was going to wet his pants at any second. As we sat immobilized, sharp memories of our past 5 months flashed before my eyes, like right before dying in a plane crash.
One of his letters to me flashed in my trampled mind as I sat frozen:
Pain is a multi-sourced thing -- one of which is not bad. Pain directs awareness of spirit, and spirit heals. Of all the things in the world (finite things), each causes pain in loss. The good feelings from finite things are fleeting. But to feel the pain is a healing process. It shows you what is eternal in you and what is contingent --- to work from your center when all else is burned off in a clarity of vision that can direct your life to less painful waters. Love Albert
Now our genuine flare was turning to yellow-bellied fearful pain in a matter of minutes, as I continued denying everything to his parents that TJ had told them. “I don’t know how things got so out of hand,” I said, crying in my lap. “And I don’t know why TJ is doing this!”
As I looked over at Albert to get some support, there was a steady knock at the door. He got up this time and answered it to find TJ angrily standing there with an amp Albert had lent him to play his electric guitar with. It was one of a lot of little tokens Albert brought down to us out of his vast supply of ‘things’. Unfortunately, it was another bullet for TJ’s smoking gun, and he’d let off another shot, point blank range in our faces.
I was dumbfounded, shocked and reeling from this. TJ repeated everything again … “Hey, Albert, thanks for sleeping with my wife for 5 months, here’s your amp!” He also repeated the charges and warned of the impending appearance of the police to arrest me.
“I didn’t know!” Croaked the paralyzed Albert, trying to save himself from his parents and hold the heavy musical equipment in his arms. He had an amazed look on his face, the wonderment of being spared a punch in the face and a swift kick in the balls. TJ looked like the sort that would take it that far, but restrained himself. For a split second, when Albert’s hysterical mother looked up, I could sense she wanted to give her son a slap across his smooth, baby face and I wouldn’t put it passed her that she wanted to side slap me upside my head too.
“I respected you as a friend, Albert. I let you into my house and this is what you do? I was even giving him guitar lessons,” he said to no parent in particular. “I think you’re partying way too much, but I thought I’d come up here and warn you about the situation here with us! I’m not kidding about the police. They’re coming up to arrest her,” said TJ with a cutting calm resolve in his deep voice. With that last comment, TJ simply left like a mad hornet.
I still couldn’t believe TJ had called the police and put in a report on me. It seemed so overblown, like a bad 1920’s radio show.
As TJ left again, my blood ran cold as I stared over at the scared little man, my lover Albert sitting next to me. For the first time since we’d met, I felt a stranger beside me and knew this spelled the end of Albert and I.
It was devastating to be sitting there in the hot seat and thinking back to the first time we’d set eyes on each other. My mind flashed back to that time, trying to escape the madness growing like fungus on bathroom tile.
* * *
In the back of my mind I thought about him and let a week swing by, but didn’t call. One day at my job, the receptionist approached my desk and said there was a cute guy waiting to see me out front. I walked outside, my heart beating. It was him, Mr. Grocery Store Boy, standing there wearing his standard dark shades, covering his sensitive eyes. We took a quick walk and chatted until my manager, a black guy who wanted to date me, came outside, shooed him away and made me come back in. I had the heaviest urge to kiss Albert right then and there, but refrained. Later on, of course he told me he had the same thoughts.
It was one day after seeing him at my job. I was, ironically, in the bank making deposits when he spotted me walking by. He was waiting on line. Right then and there we hugged tightly and I felt urges I’d not experienced in years. I remember distinctly that everything faded away and went dark as I hugged him in the bank. We walked down the street together to a café and had coffee and chatted for hours, plus made plans to get together again soon. Later, months down the line, he told me that he felt something as well. It also turned out that our cars were again parked next to each other. It was no fluke that we were to meet.
* * *
I was pulled out of my flashback and thrust back into the black hole that had formed from our void as we sat in the living room feeling like members of the Spanish Inquisition, except Mel Brooks wasn’t going to be popping out of the closet dancing in the aisles. We watched our past flow out like blood from a deep puncture wound. I sat there in the living room feeling like Guinevere when the king caught her with Sir Lancelot. I was deeply weeping, tears flowing down my now cold, clammy cheeks. “All I wanted was to get away from TJ. I’ve been trying for months now!” I pleaded to Albert’s parents.
“So, what are you going to do now?” asked Albert’s father.
Again, I denied all charges. His father suggested I call an attorney, but I was rooted to the chair and didn’t go for the phone, even though I had contacted a lawyer months ago when the threat of this seemed remote. It was on the insistence of my friend Jean who gave me his name and number. He had said that if TJ did try something like attempting trumped up prosecution, that I should call right away, but I didn’t.
His mother continued her tirade. “Do you think he’ll come back?” She cried, not once looking up at me sitting there like petrified wood.
Albert’s parents were scared and wanted to know the story between all of us. His mother was crying hysterically and it was turning into a nightmare. I was crying too and denying. My mouth was so dry that white stuff was caking up on the sides of my lips. Rabid guilt at its finest, at least in their eyes.
TJ was not the romantic type, nor the nurturer like Albert had become. Little by little, as our time stretched out before us, I was falling head over heels in love with being with Albert, not caring what TJ thought or was doing about it. Both of us were finding out harshly and plainly that we should have paid more attention and not have been so lackadaisical. Obviously, TJ had been planning things to fall in his favor and had timed everything to perfection as he welded his power ball with near precision.
As the large grandfather clock ticked loudly, I flashed back to the time Albert actually came over to our house under the pretense of friendship with TJ, seeing as they were both musicians and had a lot in common. Many times Albert would show up to jam party music with us. TJ is an excellent musician and was actually teaching Albert to play.
As time went on, it became increasingly difficult to pull the wall over TJ’s eyes. At first it was easy to have Albert there and pretend there was nothing growing between us. But as the months flew by and Albert and I consummated our relationship, it became difficult to hide our feelings for each other when he was at my house. The passion Albert and I shared behind closed doors was ripping at the seams and pouring down the hill into my declining life with TJ.
One particular evening Albert and TJ were playing bass and guitar respectively. TJ’s back was turned as Albert and I stared at each other longingly, our eyes locked in dreamy reflection. TJ noticed and commented on it after Albert left for his house up the street.
“Hey, what’s with you and that guy?” TJ asked me later in the evening.
“Nothing, he’s just a friend, that’s all.”
“Well, I think he likes you, and I don’t like any other guy looking at you that way,” stated TJ. “So, what’s going on between you?” He asked again.
TJ could be very harsh and blunt. His features would actually change as his anger rose. His deep aqua eyes would turn slate blue and crinkle up, almost like an old Korean woman’s. His face would pale, taking his handsome profile from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde in a matter of seconds. He wasn’t passive, and had way too much sexual drive and tons of testosterone from that Scottish/English background. That mixture was starting to spell disaster for me. I didn’t like living in it, and it became much more apparent how tolerant I had become of it over the years, especially when I met Albert. My eyes were open, but I was pretty much still stuck.
By TJ’s second angry, but well placed visit, Albert’s parents became alarmed and it could have spelled a positive turning point for me in getting away from him, but unfortunately, that was not to happen. My tainted Karma would not allow it.
“Well, I’m calling the police just in case TJ returns a third time,” said his father. As the man got up to make the call, his wife increased her wailing and carrying on. Albert still hadn’t uttered one word in defense or support. He just sat there like a statue staring straight ahead like the little boy caught doing wrong already retreating into his shell after being caught masturbating by his mother, who sat in the corner crying uncontrollably. It made for a very dramatic scene.
As we waited for the cops, I still couldn’t quite fathom that TJ had turned me in like he did. I knew in the back of my mind that my best friend Krista, who was visiting me from Arkansas, must have told him everything, leaving nothing to his imagination, which was running wild right now. He was going on emotional impulse. I had hurt him deeply and he must have been as shell-shocked as I had when he showed up at Albert’s door.
As I sat there in all my jittery misery, my mind flew to thoughts that Krista was indeed the catalyst that destroyed Albert and I. She put a 12-year friendship with me aside and went to TJ out of jealousy, telling him where I was, whom I was with and that sealed our fate.
Thoughts of Krista and the damage she’d wielded faded from my brain when there was a harsh knock at the door. Two police officers walked in to Albert’s house. The female had her pad ready, the male asking the questions. They began quizzing us more about TJ and what his motives were, making it seem like a routine domestic dispute, which they put in their report. At first I thought I was off the hook and TJ was just trying to scare me about them arresting me. They were about to leave and Albert’s father offered to at first take us all out for dinner to discuss this, and then to secure a safe room for me when another officer walked in. He asked me to come on the porch to be questioned.
I went with them. The tall, menacing cop asked the questions as the two others stood ready. He told me they’d spoken to my husband TJ and if what he said was true.
The tall officer stood there holding his shirt pocket like he was recording everything. I was in stunned shock. “Do you have what your boyfriend says you have? And don’t lie to me, Lady!”
I was scared, but answered with a meek “Yes”. They asked me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. I was getting arrested at my lover’s house right in front of him and his parents. I wished it were a dream, but it wasn’t. There I was getting my rights read and having steel cuffs placed on my wrists, then being dragged away to one of the three waiting police cars parked in and around Albert’s driveway.
I was crying foul, but the cops ignored it and placed me in the cruiser. I couldn’t believe it was happening but it was! TJ had brought the cops on me out of pure rage of finding out about Albert and I. Sitting in the back of the black and white crying hysterically, I howled and proclaimed my innocence. In the back of my mind I thought they would help me, but Albert and his parents never came out again. The male cop exited the beautiful home carrying my purse. Right now, I was in the doghouse and didn’t see a light at the end of this love tunnel. At that moment I felt like a photo of ‘Bruce the pitbull dog’ who had gone mad and mauled 3 people before he was unceremoniously hauled away to await extermination. His picture haunted local newspapers when it was found that he was living at an upscale location still running around free!
I wanted to wake up from the horrible dream we had become, but no luck. The black and whites still stood parked on Kensington in front of Albert’s house, which had become a haven of love for me. As the sun set a brilliant orange I sat with bruising wrists and a sad heart. I was crying uncontrollably, but to no avail. No one came to my aid; no one tried to speak in my behalf. I began cursing TJ to no end. Just as I felt the funny urge to ‘bark’ to add some silliness to the situation as darkness fell, the cops came to the car and got in. As we drove to the Glendale jail, I asked them what was going on and what the mood was in the house.
The male cop turned to me and said, “Lady, if I were you, I’d never go back to the house again. And your boyfriend Albert, or whatever he is to you, has a lot of growing up to do!”
His answer to me dashed any hopes I’d held, as my mind flew to our first date. For a while I let my mind wander to save it from a total mental melt down as I sat in the police car trying to get comfortable. All I could see through my tears and agony was that image of me being hauled out of Albert’s life forever in handcuffs.
* * *
To Live Or Not To Live In The Locked Universe?
Again, my mind had wandered as we drove onward in the police cruiser. When the cop told me his comment about never going back to the house, the officer abruptly turned away from me as we drove down Kensington. I cried and whined that it was all a mistake and all this was TJ’s wrath over me being with another guy. They didn’t listen to me and even were joking with each other about other things, easily blocking out my whimpers and whines.
I kept asking lots of questions about my fate. At first they didn’t answer me, but then they seemed to soften just a bit and let me know what was going to happen. It didn’t look good for me at all. I was going to jail on trumped-up charges. TJ had actually gone ahead and gotten me incarcerated. The charges were a separate issue from being with Albert, but they seemed to mesh and become one.
It was dark when the cops drove into the jail. I tried to calm down and not make a spectacle of myself. This didn’t look good for me at all. My purse was filled with things that suddenly turned into hard evidence they were going to use to prosecute me. It was a sad day indeed. In one swoop I’d lost everything, including Albert and my freedom.
It seemed to take forever to book and search me this time. The cops took their time going through my purse and even joked that it was time to clean it out. It was stuffed full of things.
They pulled out all the stops, searching me thoroughly a few times just to make sure and for intimidation sake. They took a mug shot of me smiling brightly into the camera, something no one would do in my situation, but I had. Afterwards they fingerprinted and processed me. That’s when they noticed my hands. I had been born with only two knuckles on each of my fingers and toes, which afforded me a lot of typing talent and added flexibility. My mother had the same thing, and could have been an accomplished concert pianist. A few officers crowded around the prints and shook their heads strangely.
“Well, we won’t ever have a problem identifying your prints, Lady,” said Officer Adler, a huge black policeman.
Two hours had passed quickly and I was wondering what was going on at Albert’s house, whether they’d bail me out or what. They didn’t. In fact, that night after I left a few messages on Albert’s machine, he turned it off.
They put me in a holding cell and I was allowed to make local calls. I called Jeanette first, giving her every number I knew of family and friends. She felt terrible about it. “See, see, I told you this would happen,” she said in her thick New York Jewish accent. “I warned you that TJ would stoop this low to destroy what you and Albert shared. You know I begged Albert to get you a place somewhere, to get you out and away from TJ, and he didn’t listen,” she said on the edge of hysteria. She promised to call those numbers and did reach some folks, including the lawyer she’d gotten me.
After two years of not speaking with my younger sister for some stupid email letter writing with her ex husband, I did reach her. She immediately came to my aid and checked into things. I asked her about bailing me out, but my bail was $20,000 and rising by the minute. It would seem that there were several pending counts on me hanging low ceiling. Jean, thank God, had reached my cousin (who was a doctor and lived here in California) and sister, so between them the wheels began turning.
In the interim, Officer Adler, the policeman on duty, found a prescription for Ativan, an anti anxiety drug I was taking. He asked me about it, and I said I was on Disability from the State for a panic disorder.
“What is this for?” he asked me, holding out the bottle of Ativan.
I told him, “If I don’t take it, there could be problems that aren’t very pretty. “ I thought it would get me off, but it only worsened things.
“Oh, I didn’t know that. We’re not allowed to give any medication, so hold out your left hand,” he instructed casually, and proceeded to clamp on a County Jail wristband with my name and now familiar booking number. I was going to County Jail because of the medication aspect and my condition. I frantically called my sister again begging her to bail me out before they sent me to County. She looked into it, and it seemed as though I was going after all.
“As usual, you had to open your big mouth,” she said. It brought me back to when we were kids and she’d say the same thing after I’d said too much to my father about what we’d done that day.
I hadn’t used the bathroom since I was with Krista that afternoon. I begged them to let me out to use one. They brought me into the cell area and I, for the first time, had to use the open toilet out in the open. It was hard to pee, but I managed to do a little, which brought some relief to me. They had locked me in the small dirty cell and I wanted to get out and make more phone calls. The policewoman who dropped me in there didn’t come back for almost 30 minutes. I started crying loudly until another woman in the adjoining cell said to stop that she was trying to sleep. This was the beginning of a jail stint for me. Finally, after my tirade, the female officer casually came back and led to back to the other cell.
I made one last call to my sister who had gotten more info on what was going on with me. She was surprised they were sending me to a psych evaluation and that I was basically nuts, or something akin. No bail would be paid, and by that time Officer Adler was growing tired of my crying and carrying on over the phone and in general. I was going to County whether I liked it or not. They shut the phone off and prepared me to be transported. By this time it was passed 10:00 pm. My hopes were dashed. I had called TJ a few times and he screamed into the phone that he knew everything and didn’t care they were sending me downtown up the river. He also called me a few other things that weren’t flattering.
The two cops that brought me in were at the door ready to take me to County … The Twin Towers as the facility was called. It almost sounded like a resort, but of course, it wasn’t. They led me out of the holding area and outside in the darkness. I kept asking what was going on and they told me, as if I didn’t know. As we drove on the 110 freeway toward the immense jail facility I kept asking if I’d be safe, to which they said I would be. They told me it would go better if I calmed down. I did somewhat, and began telling them the saga of why I was there, that just because I fell in love with someone else, my boyfriend of 10 years got me arrested. They didn’t respond.
We reached County in record time. There wasn’t any traffic to delay my arrival. The building entrance was ominously scary. Everything had a gray color and looked menacing. They drove to the gate and it swung open invitingly. I walked out into the darkness and was sent right to processing. I was led to a chair and told to sit, handcuffs still adorning my very bruised wrists. I was then told to stand by a window where a big fat black officer ordered me to hold out my hand. He scribbled in magic marker some letters I didn’t understand, which immediately reminded me of the tattooed numbers of Jewish prisoners during the Holocaust.
The officers that brought me in, prepared to leave, but not before the dark haired woman cop came over to me. She stared at me sitting on the chair as I asked her for the umpteenth time if she thought things would be okay for me.
She reflected a moment, probably debating whether to say anything at all, but replied, “You look like a woman who has gone through a lot and in the end I think you’ll be okay. You’re strong and just got off track. Take care, don’t worry, everything will be okay for you, I know it.” With that last comment the officers left.
Afterwards everything happened a bit faster. I was led to a room and told to disrobe and put on the two-piece County clothes. I quickly donned the jail clothing and before long I was in the County color of dark blue, even having to put on the ugly white sneaker shoes. I was taken to the next phase, which was much slower. By this time it was way passed 11:00 PM and I was losing hope and very scared. I had never been to County Jail before.
My mind whirled with visions of dropping the soap as I was led down a long florescent lit hallway and into a large elevator to a holding cell where there were at least 25 other woman waiting. I was afraid to look at anyone too long once the guards locked me in with them. They all seemed like girls that would slit my throat in an instant, at least at that time. Female deputies were immediately inside barking orders. Some acknowledged women who had already been through the system like old friends at a party. Except this was not a festive occasion. They asked us to straddle the steel bench and look ahead, no talking, of course, which was fine with me. I made sure I was at the end where no one was behind me. We sat a bit longer, a few of the women recognizing each other from other stints in the slammer.
I spotted a short girl with scars all over her face. She spoke with a deep criminal voice and I didn’t want her noticing me watching. I overheard her talking to another tall gal about what to say during the medical evaluation.
“You say that you’re very sick and taking all sorts of pills, plus you hear voices,” said the menacing looking woman.
I took that to heart and realized that it might be easier on me if I did the same to some extent. I took account of my surroundings as the shock wore off a bit.
After waiting there for what seemed hours, one deputy led us single file, our right shoulders always close to the wall. I noticed a blue stripe running to the horizon of the endless hallway, and I did my best to stay in line. I began whispering a tune that shored my fate, “My life is over, my life is done… My life’s over, this is it…”
I sang it over and over as we walked, hands in pockets, heads down. A short, crass-looking blond woman in front of me turned around and whispered, “No, your life isn’t over!” I still sang it over and over. She seemed to get pissed off and told me to shut up. I did, until we reached a large freight elevator. I could hear other deputies joking, their voices echoing like boys taking a shower after a victory football game. I began crying again, until the same woman turned around and gave me a gaze that shut me up.
“Look,” she said at a hissing whisper, “Your life is not over. Just cool out. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”
How could I believe her? It all took on this surreal feeling as the elevator went up. I felt a bit claustrophobic, but knew I had to get a grip. My mind flew to my times with Albert, and I tried to put myself back in the security of his room and arms, but to no avail. I was on the verge of panic when TJ’s stone cold face rose in my mind like a full moon during Halloween.
We were led out of the elevator and told to walk with hands in pockets, no talking, keeping our right shoulders to the wall the whole time. I noticed repetition was a big part of the jail system, probably instilling order among these chaotic, wayward women housed here. I had long given up the notion that any second someone would pop out and say it was all a gag, maybe a new t.v. show, but that never happened.
They deposited us into yet another holding tank with more women of all races, sizes, shapes and ages. Once settled in the ugly room with the open toilet I could not imagine using, girls began chatting loudly. Some paced, most slept on the concrete floor, and others sat together exchanging stories of why they were in. That seemed to be the question of the hour.
I didn’t want to draw attention to myself while assessing my surroundings more closely. To the left there were two very overweight tough looking black women sitting together talking. One lay down and didn’t care that her butt crack was showing. I stared mesmerized, taking a long hard look at her ugly, spotted body. The woman’s face was pitted and scarred. I marveled at how they both were so manly looking. In fact, I would notice many mannish looking gals, some even sporting stubble of a beard. They looked like a tough bunch, but there I was immersed in them.
Memories of Albert surfaced easily and I wept knowing that whatever we had and were growing with was now dashed into the sewer. I thought of TJ, who was the one that put me in here because of it. I ran the arrest at Albert’s house over and over in my mind, wondering why I admitted wrongdoing. If I hadn’t answered the tall officer, maybe they would have let me go and I'd be in a safe room via Albert’s father, not in a dirty jail. I cursed TJ and myself for letting it get this far. Here I was in jail for being with another man. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel as more women were added to the already overcrowded holding cell.
Finally, I started walking the perimeter of the room really looking at people. I seemed to start to accept my fate and didn’t see them as dangerous as first thought. They all looked like they’d done a lot of bad things.
“Yes, I did what I did, but don’t think it was warranted that I be thrown in jail,” I whispered to myself. I still hadn’t spoken to anyone directly as feelings of crushing depression over took my soul. In a span of hours I had lost my boyfriend and, my lover all because of my best friend.
My thoughts kept flying back to the good times I shared with Albert, TJ and Krista, which was normal. In Albert’s case, I felt like Juliet being wrenched away from Romeo, except I knew I couldn’t kill myself, nor would he. In fact, I got the impression that this incident would plunge Albert back into the reclusive, lonely, solitary man he was when I first met him.
He had one friend I knew about with the exception of a few cousins on the outskirts that Albert told me about vaguely. He didn’t have a normal social life and spent most of his free time going to Grateful Dead concerts and hanging in his room building speaker components. His seemingly only friend Benny lived with his parents in a house not more than two blocks from Albert. I imagined TJ gloating and angry and doubted things would ever be the same in any area. Things spelled the end of my reactivated, long time friendship with Krista obviously.
I walked to the corner, sat down in lotus position and actually began doing a little Yoga. That’s when I noticed other ladies looking at me strangely, so I exercised and stretched, trying to feel better, like I wasn’t scared of them.
“Hey, Blondie,” yelled the big fat black girl. “What’s that you’re doing over there? It’s making me nervous.” Her companion, a boyish looking black gal had fallen asleep with her head smashed between the others butt. She cracked open one eye, not even moving. It looked weird, and brought visions of lesbians attacking me in the night. She couldn’t take her steel dark gray one off of me as I did more Yoga contortions in my corner. Finally she turned her head, readjusted herself and went back to sleep.
More time passed. I wandered over to another corner and sat quietly crying and looking sad. Next to me there was a pretty, longhaired comely girl, who looked no more than 18. She turned to me and asked, “Hey, you want to talk about it?”
I gladly accepted her offer and began telling her what happened. She listened attentively and couldn’t believe TJ had the nerve to go so far, but he had, and there I was in County Jail ready to be put in a cell. She told me what went down with her, that her boyfriend had put her in jail for attacking him during an argument. She was so sweet looking and pure faced. It was hard to believe she had done anything wrong. It was then I noticed the other women drawing their attentions to us, wanting to hear more about my story again. So, I related the tale again, more women gathering closer at rapt attention, some asking poignant questions about both Albert and TJ. It was then I realized that I could take the situation and make it better for me by playing the role of the storyteller, which I was always very good at.
Out of the blue, another idea hit me! I asked the young gal if she’d like me to read her palm. She said okay and I took her delicate hand in mine and began reading her palm. I guessed a lot about her and she was amazed as were a lot of the girls forming a small ring around us. Before long many others wanted their palms read. I suddenly noticed that this also would be a good outlet as well. Even the big fat black girl wanted her palm read. She pushed at her sleeping comrade to wake up and move over, making room for me to sit down. Rather than hesitate, I took a seat beside her, even feeling the slight body warmth of her friend radiating out of the cement block ledge, like a phantom still sleeping.
I had read everybody’s palm in less than an hour. I was getting better with each new hand. It was interesting for me to see trends in the lines, especially the Line of Mentality, which represented the written word, things in black and white and legalities of their pending cases. It would seem the trend with women in there was a visible “X” in the middle of the palm above the Line of Mentality. I said it represented their outcome.
One girl even wanted me to show her how to sit in lotus position. I sat on the cement floor and began twisting myself up in all directions, even taking my legs and putting them behind my neck, something I’d been doing since I was 3 years old. They were all amazed and started cheering me on madly. It was a good distraction. Others wanted me to read their hands, which I did like an assembly line. There never seemed to be a shortage of palms, as I would find out. Many wanted to hear my story about Albert and TJ again, and I was getting a nice pace going with it, remembering all sorts of small details about what I experienced with Albert, TJ’s demeanor and an assortment of other things I had forgotten due to my shock in being arrested. It doesn’t compare, but could be paralleled to the pain a mother feels giving birth, which is soon forgotten after the baby is born. Strangely, Krista fell into the role of midwife, the Deliverer. Unfortunately, the whole episode would turn my life upside down, and now I was in a real Locked Universe.
Talking about the incident and reading their palms coupled with the Yoga helped calm me and put an almost human touch to things. I even started pursuing the girl with the scars on her face so I could read her palm. She declined saying, “That’s okay, Blondie, I know I’m dying…”
Others convinced her finally. She sat with me as I read her small, delicate, blotchy, dish-panned digits. I could see the lines of concern and illness, as well as other things that came to me in a flash. I also told her other things I couldn’t possibly know and she was amazed. It was a tool I would use over and over in that place.
After I read her palm she directly cued me in on how to get sent to medical evaluation rather than straight to General Population.
“You just play everything up,” she said.
“Just like you’re doing?” I asked.
“Hey, all my conditions are serious,” she answered without hesitation, raising her voice for all to hear, then suddenly coming close to my ear, her voice becoming a throaty whisper. “They’re listening,” she said, pointing to a two way intercom speaker.
I took her advice to heart. She had red dyed hair and other than the scars, upon closer inspection, her face was smooth and unblemished. Her beady eyes showed criminal hardship. The woman claimed to have every sickness and condition known to mankind, and was on all sorts of drugs, prescription or otherwise. She was quite vocal about it as she pranced and preened around the cell to anyone who would listen.
“I guess the question of the hour here is ‘What did you do?’”
“All I did was rob a 7-11,” She said, wanting to hear my story, which I told in greater detail, with most of the crowd leaning in to hear again.
“I know, you were with your boyfriend, right?” I asked her, actually feeling the vibe that she was with her boyfriend. My hunch was correct. She was totally amazed, as were those around me.
“Well, I sure was with my man,” she screamed like winning a Wheel of Fortune round. She looked around at everyone edging in to hear. “And I never told her that,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “You’ve got the gift, Girl!”
There seemed to be no limit to my story and the energy I put in to telling it. As I told it again, I could feel they easily identified with me and put my own fears to rest about my stay at County. Some of the old timers came up and explained things to me. They didn’t candy coat it for me, but said I didn’t have much to fear from inmates as much as the deputies. At that moment, I felt like a character from the movie Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome!
“Those deputies can really mess with you,” said one lady with the most beautiful flowing blond hair and piercing blue eyes I had ever seen.
“Why are you here?” I asked, grabbing her palm on instinct.
“I have an anger management problem. I’m raging all the time and on medication,” she said honestly, pulling away from me only to be able to talk with her hands. “I’ve been here many times for my anger. I’ve beaten up countless family members and friends for no reason,” she said matter-of-factly. Rage was written in the lines of her palm when I finally captured her flailing hand in my own and read it.
It was way past 2:00 AM in the morning when the deputies came and separated us into smaller groups. I was put in a smaller holding cell with some of the women I’d read palms for. I felt an immediate identification with the others like I’d known them and had met them at some function. We were wearing the same garb, the dark blue County outfits with white boat shoe sneakers and socks. In a funny twist, it united us in our plights.
I was put in with the first gal I had spoken to, as well as a few others, including the rage girl, whom I was starting to like. Some new faces heard that I read palms (news traveled fast in that place) and wanted theirs read, which I did. It passed the time. I noticed a nice strawberry blond girl with clown-like lips watching me and laughing at everything I said while launching into a barrage of jokes, becoming a real clown myself. I sat on the floor and rolled up into my lotus ball, which made everyone in there laugh hysterically. They tried to do it with little success. For the first time I was actually feeling better about myself. I’d brought a little joy to others and might have found a new calling. I entertained those ladies for over an hour, until a deputy came and brought us to med evaluation. I knew what to say in there, thanks to Scarface.
We were finally led to the next phase. In a large brightly lit room with desks and chairs they told us to take a seat. We waited until our names were called. I noticed that the girls they put me with in the smaller holding cell were still by my side, as if they’d grouped us accordingly. My name was called and as the jail nurse behind the desk cleared her computer I saw Ms. Scarface getting her evaluation. I heard her rattle off all her ailments and drugs. “Yes, I’m taking Valium, Wellbutren, Sulfa drugs, I have Cancer of the stomach, I hear voices all the time, and I’m taking steroids, plus Codeine-5, Morphine…!" I couldn’t believe all the drugs and symptoms she had, most probably trumped up and bogus, like my own situation with TJ. But the nurse jotted it all down like she’d heard it all before.
When my evaluator asked me, I went into my rap. “I’m on Disability from the State for anxiety and panic disorders.” I showed her my fingers, which at that moment looked like I had arthritis. “I take medicine for this too,” I said, holding out my fingers, making them shake a little just to drive home the point.
“What are you taking for the anxiety?” She asked.
“I take Ativan and can’t be in any enclosed areas or I’d have an attack,” I answered.
She rattled off the usual questions. “Do you hear voices? Do you have thoughts about killing yourself? Do you have thoughts about killing anyone?” The last one through me for a loop and I almost answered otherwise, but didn’t in my moment of clarity. Krista and TJ came to mind of course.
I didn’t want to take it too far, just get assigned to a medical section, thinking it would be better for me. She jotted down all my ‘no’ answers.
“Am I okay, and is it safe here?” I asked shakily.
She just looked at me, her bored expression giving me no real answer, like she’d heard it all before.
After the med evaluation they led us to a group of poorly constructed partitioned offices and said to sit tight, which we did. I finally got into to see an older lady who did more evaluating, asking me a load of new head questions. I asked if I was safe, and she said yes. I started telling her my case background like a love story and why I was really there. She didn’t seem fazed, but I joked a bit through my tears and could just see a hint of a smile crossing her lips.
It was then I asked her to say something in her evaluation about Albert and I, which she did. She wrote one sentence and turned her computer screen around so I could read it. “Inmate hopes she gets back together with Albert when this is all over!”
Through my tears of loss and gratefulness I asked if she wanted her palm read, but she declined. That ended, and I was led back outside to the holding area where they split us into smaller groups. I found that most of the women I was brought in with were smiling at me wanting to talk more about my story with Albert & TJ and how it related to my case. The deputies seemed adamant about making us shut up and move quickly though.
By 4:00 a.m. I couldn’t believe that 12 hours earlier I was sitting in Albert’s room ready to go into bliss-land. I wondered what he was doing now, probably traumatized and hiding his head under the pillow like he used to do when things got too much for him toward the end of our 5 months together. He must have been affected, but at the time I thought our love would and could conquer all. Apparently, it hadn’t though. I imagine his parents were laying into him big time, and the scene popped into my brain, as clearly as I was starting to read palms. I could actually see their lips moving in unison yelling at poor Albert, who was now a casualty, a Romeo bleeding.
We were all led back to the elevator and to the 3rd floor. They told us to take a mat, a blanket and a sheet and follow them. They marched us through several sleeping quarters and finally into a large space they called a day room. There were steel tables and chairs and the lights were very bright. We had to sleep on the floor and so I placed my mat in the middle and prepared my bed with no pillow. It was almost 4:30 a.m. when I laid down and looked up at the ceiling tracing all the pipes and ducts running along the wall like counting sheep. I doubt I’d sleep and needed an Ativan, but knew I’d get nothing, which was the least of my problems. Thoughts of Albert filtered into my mind, as I knew they would. It was becoming so painful to not know what happened, yet sense the inevitable as I lay awake, sleeping a few snatches at a time.
I thought back to yet another letter Albert had written me and cried quietly:
Thank you for being my friend! It is so rare in my life. I was wishing for years to meet someone like you. I love that you live so close, and transcendently we have so much in common. I wish I could be a bridge for you in your trials and survival. I love that you are an evolving spirit in your own right, and I think I can learn a lot from you. I can image us having enormous fun and mystic experiences that could rival Adam and Eve, but we have a lot of work to do on our paths. I can see you have that higher wisdom which knows the difference between the finite and infinite. So I say to you that I am entrusted to myself to be such a guide to all life save my own temporal limitations. Temporal limitations are tough! For example: Your DNA scares me, and makes me think I would not wish to have children with you and since I wish to have children one day, that precludes as getting married, and since you need a husband to share experiences to survive, I need to cut you free of any expectations of me supporting you. However, I can also imagine that if we truly become soul mates, I could bare the risk someday and marry you. Until then, let’s just be the best of friends, even if in secret. Love Albert
At 5:30 a.m., the day room they put us in took on a whole new aura. A stern deputy came on the loud speaker and announced a new day of counting and lockdowns! Women were stirring and cell doors were unlocking all around me, the ominous sound filling the echoing, stale, re-circulated air. I had barely slept 30 minutes when two deputies entered the “pod” as the sleeping quarters were named. They announced breakfast after rousing and counting all of us, plus looking at our wristbands. Luckily, I’d made friends with the girls with me and after a breakfast of cold cereal, cold hard boiled eggs, milk and orange juice, we were led out into the corridor and marched to the medical section where recovering addicts, pregnant and suicide watch women resided, some in cells, most in triple decker bunk beds in the day room, some even sleeping on the floor with only the thin pad and county blanket for comfort.
The jail was overcrowded, but neat and clean for what it was. We walked single file again, right shoulder to the wall, hands in pockets, heads bowed. A door unlocked and there I was in Pod 242 B. Other women were meandering around after count, and idly stared at us, the new comers. Some sat on their bunks reading. Others took showers or sat with their bunkmates chatting. As I walked in, I spotted all colors, shapes and sizes brushing their teeth, brushing their hair, and other activities. I saw the red and black signs that read “Suicide Watch”, “Bites”, “Spits”, “415 Med Obsv.” The women looked a bit menacing but there were placid looks as well. Some even looked like men! It was not General Population, but rather a medical evaluation section.
We were assigned bunks in the day room for the time being. I took a top bunk to the back of the pod. There wasn’t much to it. All I had was a thin pad, a county blanket and a sheet, plus one towel and a nightgown. I was given a plastic bag with soap, deodorant and the like, but no toothbrush yet. I already smelled like slight B.O., something I never experienced much.
The medical pod was two stories, glass cells lining up and down toward the back. The day room served as quarters for many, even some pregnant women sleeping on the floor. Mostly there were heroin addicts on methadone, crack addicts “kicking” as they called it. I would soon become used to the daily grind, and even in most cases becoming desensitized to it. It didn’t take long after witnessing so many seizures and actually getting involved with helping them through it, for the episodes to become hearsay and routine. We all got settled, and it was all the women that were in the smaller holding cell with me from that evening. They smiled at me, waiting patiently for me to take the stage and make them laugh, which is what pattern we all fell into.
Payphones lined the walls, but were turned off, as well as the t.v. against the wall. The pod was neat and clean, not grimy, as I had expected. The walls were all glass for observation. Male and female deputies walked in and out of the pod regularly. We were being watched day and night.
I sat on my bunk morosely at first, which was normal for most. All I could think about was how this mess had escalated and how unnecessary it really was. Or was it? I prayed to God silently and cried to myself. God must have answered my prayers because before I knew it people were coming over and introducing themselves, some re-introducing their selves from the evening palm readings in the last holding cell. The raging blond with pretty hair was there, as well as the clown-faced woman who still laughed at everything I said even from across the room.
I climbed off the bunk finally, and sat at one of the steel tables. An overweight, white lady who looked like someone’s mother was reading a romance novel and I asked to sit down. She obliged and started talking to me explaining the daily activity going on around me. Soon another bouncy, blond gal sauntered up and was introduced as Bev. One of the girls in the holding cell with me said I read palms, so I started reading a few, Carole (the woman reading the novel) first. I got her M.O. down pat and she was amazed as well as a few of the others in earshot.
Bev and I bonded the very second we met. She was tall and blond and actually reminded me of my cousin. Long blond hair, oval face, blue eyes, kind demeanor and very up for where we were. I liked Bev and Carole right on the spot. It turned out that Bev was the girlfriend of a well-known D.J. on the local rock station. She was in on her third DUI. Carole was caught shoplifting and had been there a few days ahead of me. She had a family and a daughter, but had to do her time. She was very overweight and I could see bedsores on her elbows and arms from sleeping in the rickety bunk bed with only a pad.
Bev had a huge cold sore on her lip and kept trying to hide it as she talked a mile a minute. More people started noticing how I was … very animated and up for someone in jail. A few asked if I was on something. I denied it, but don’t think they believed me. The truth was that I was still up from my partying with Krista.
I started noticing others in the pod. There was a woman trying to kick drugs and was on methadone. She could barely talk, but others seemed to understand her. There were groups of gals milling together. Blacks, Whites, Latinos, gang members (mostly 18th Street). Everyone sat together in groups, but we all were in there for something. Even Scarface was on the row. Every time I spotted her, she seemed less mean looking, just a girl down on her luck. I doubted she even had half of what she said was wrong with her.
There were even women sleeping on the floor under the stairs of the day room, that’s how overcrowded it was in County. Ironically, when I returned to my bunk another gal had pushed my stuff aside to the lower bunk. “I wanted the top bunk, and you left!” dictated the blond.
I didn’t argue and moved my stuff to another side of the pod to a middle bunk. I noticed bruises on my legs from trying to get comfortable the evening before, and doing that first bit of Yoga on the cement floor of the first holding cell. I had little bruises on my arms and wrists from the obvious. I was still wearing the same jump suit from the night before, and hadn’t gotten any courage up to take a shower in the one shower stall that surprisingly afforded privacy. But by lunchtime I had begun to make friends and flowed easily through the various cliques around the pod. I read palms, and started giving soothing massages to the various girls kicking drugs. Afterwards, I took a nice long lukewarm shower and felt better.
Under the stairs was the Latino click of girls, gang bangers kicking mostly heroine, shooting speed and crack. It didn’t take long for it to get around that I gave good palm and wonderful back rubs.
“Blondie, Blondie, come here,” cried one gang girl named China. It was tattooed on her forehead. Her face was heavily pitted from acne and the like. She had tattoos of tears on her face, as well as a small ‘18th’ under her left eye. She wanted me to read her palm, which I did. It had several ‘X’s’ representing her cases on the Mentality Line, as well as ‘concern’ lines around her Lifeline. I was getting so good at reading that I started to feel this confidence rising in me, and get hunches on people. When I read China’s palm she almost jumped out of her skin with its accuracy. “You are really good, Blondie!” she praised while reclining on her bed.
I began to massage her gently. Her back felt smooth and oily. In fact, I noticed that no matter what their faces looked like (scarred or otherwise), their backs were blemish free for some reason. I asked her to hold out her needle-scarred arms and began trying to send positive energy into her by gently focused my mind’s eye on each bruise from her needlework and imagined a cool white light infusing healing vibes. A new understanding and knowledge of where to rub and how to do it rose up in me. I really began to feel that I was making a difference. I rubbed China for a long time and she told me she was in for trespassing. I’m sure it was more than that judging from her arms, face and palm. She kept asking over and over if her case would be settled and she’d be set free. I said she would be if she kept her head cool. She seemed to be the type that got angry and wanted extra attention though. I picked that up and used it to my advantage while reading her palm.
Next to China was another gal kicking drugs. She too had the lizard look to her. I went to her bunk where she lay in agony of withdrawal. I turned her over and noticed that her back was smooth and feminine, unlike her face, which showed, like China’s, her addiction and pain. The girl was not well. She barely could get off the bottom bunk. She had the body of a praying mantis. The woman was tall and gangly and in definite pain from her ordeal. I would spend many sleepless nights rubbing her and helping her get to the bathroom.
While I sat with the girl, China got jealous and called out to me from her bed on the floor. “Blondie, Blondie, read my palm again, please!” She always said my name twice. By the late afternoon I was feeling comfortable moving from bunk to bunk. I concentrated on reading the palms, and rubbing backs. I, of course, obliged China and read her other palm. Others crowded around wondering and asking if two palms were different.
“The right palm is a cross reference,” I said knowingly. I held up both of China’s palms, she seemed to enjoy the attention. “It confirms information I read from the other palm.” Some nodded with understanding, other’s pretended to know.
Not everyone in the pod was open to palm reading. A few other Latino girls began calling me “Voodoo Woman”. I explained that it was all in fun. “Do you go to the movies?” I asked. Most said yes. “Well, think of it as a movie of your life!” I said, trying to keep my voice hypnotic and calm. “Think of it as a road map of your life,” I stated, feeling like David Carradine in the t.v. series Kung Fu. Everyone cracked up and the tension of the moment passed.
I hadn’t really gone to the bathroom much, and knew I had to take care of business. Thank God there was one bathroom enclosed. I used it a few times, trying to relax and pee at least. As far as the other business, I didn’t want to rush that. I knew I was irregular, but it would pass. I’d not eaten much for breakfast, and lunch wasn’t much better fare. It consisted of stale baloney sandwiches, fake fruit juice and a cookie. By dinner, the only hot meal of the day, my voice was becoming hoarse and dry. Drinking the water was like sipping out of the toilet, but I had no choice.
I was losing my voice and at times became overwhelmed that I was actually in jail, put there by TJ. Of course I was thinking about Albert constantly, and what was in his head. Between palm readings and massages I tried calling him, but his machine was turned off and remained so throughout my ordeal and beyond. I also wondered what had happened to Krista. Did she go home back home, or had she simply left our house and spent the rest of her ill-fated vacation with her friends in Hollywood? I’m sure my questions would be answered. For now I had to sit tight and be strong. But I kept fretting about Albert.
“Hey, you were arrested in front of his parents, for Godsakes,” said Bev as we lounged around goofing on things around the pod after I’d told her the whole saga.
“It made him go back to his recluse state and block out everything you guys experienced together,” said Carole. She had listened well, and got Albert’s personality down pat.
I was crestfallen, but determined to see this out.
“Have you tried the other guy, TJ?” asked Bev.
“Once or twice, but he isn’t accepting my collect calls,” I said.
I had also been calling my sister, who always accepted my jailhouse collect calls. She told me that she was in touch with my cousin and between the two of them, would get me out. Thanks to my friend Jean, everyone concerned had been notified. I begged and cried for them to bail me out. They were doing the best they could under the circumstances though. For the time being I was stuck, but the good news was that they were going to be hiring an attorney, thanks to Jeanette again. She had already recommended the lawyer to me months ago.
“Hey, why are you in a psych ward? What’s that about?” asked my sister. “They think you’re crazy!”
“Good, I’m better off here,” I said, glad I’d taken Scarface’s advice.
“Hey, what’s it like in there? Are you safe?” She asked conversationally. Of course, by now I knew I was pretty safe for the time being. “Is it like that show Oz on HBO?”
My sister had a good life in Florida, lived in a lovely home and had a genius daughter and an ex she was working things out with. For the past two years we’d not spoken because an email barrage I had with my sister’s ex husband! TJ had found that out and was pissed off because I’d written a bunch of bad things about him then, as well as nasty things about my sister. It had all backfired in my face, like this situation I was in now. I never seemed to learn. Albert represented more carnage in the wake of my downtrodden life.
“I just can’t believe Albert has totally abandoned me and shut off his feelings,” I said to Carole, but it seemed he had. I cried for him, tried to reach out mentally like we did before all this, but to no avail. “I’m not feeling him any longer.” I remembered calling him in my mind many evenings after TJ had gone to bed, and before I knew it, he’d call leaving his signature one ring.
“He’s basically ‘shut-down’ on you,” Carole said wisely.
“But it’s extremely hard for me to turn-off,” I admitted. Albert lucked out and had the emotional responses of both male and female. We’d often discuss things like that in great length. “It wasn’t just the physical attraction I miss, but also his mental aura. I’d gotten used to roaming up to his house and being there with him,” I said. “I miss how we used to talk to each other in our heads. I’d call out to him, and he’d answer!”
I thought of another letter he’d written and things seemed to come more into focus:
I know God is watching us through our relationship. You said once that you know God has something very important for you to do in your life. I also have such a feeling. Since our thoughts evolve, God is manifest. My contemplation and actions through life take over a fundamental spiritual realism that is transcendent to my personal will. If you already have a boyfriend or whatever, it is okay with me, as long as I don’t mess things up for you. In other words, I don’t want to own you. Your survival comes first. I hope my honesty does not preclude our relationship that you have been so open with me about right from the beginning! I feel I can do nothing otherwise. In our relationship you don’t even have to be present for our love to grow. For our love stands as I stand in evolution! The mind is above the heart -- The spirit above both. Our relationship is below them only redeemed through the spirit, thus is our work in life! Love Albert
I began telling the story to anyone that would listen, which was just about everyone. There was always a new ear to tell. By my second night in jail I had almost 50 women listening to my story of the saga of Albert & TJ. It was interesting, and every time I told it, I remembered some vague memory of a time I spent with Albert. It was starting to sound like a movie to me as well as a good outlet for hours of idle boredom.
There was always a newcomer to the pod. They were always directed to me for a palm reading and that always led to the story of how TJ put me in jail for straying to Albert and carrying on with him for 5 months, but because of my best friend Krista, it had all come crashing down like in a Jack and Jill fairytale gone awry.
“Albert and I shared something very special, maybe too special. We didn’t realize TJ would go so far to end it,” I said, felt like Conan the Barbarian when he loses his true love to a snake arrow. I told the whole story from beginning to end. There was always a stream of new women in the pod and everyone wanted to hear about it.
Afterwards, like Oprah, we’d have a question and answer section about Albert and TJ. Then it transformed into shouting matches, some saying I’d end up with one or the other, but mostly women shouting that they hope I’d end up with Albert. One smoldering-looking Spanish gal standing in the wings with her arms folded disapprovingly said I wouldn’t end up with either. That caused a crescendo of girl’s yelling voices into overdrive. There were even a few shouts for all of us to “shut up about it!”
I told the story over and over again, actually getting things down in my mind better because of the repetition. Small details started floating to my conscience. Instead of Albert having something precious in his room, I was now resigned to the fact that it was happening, so I continued to read palms throughout the day and evening, even reading China’s palm for the 6th time.
Dinner came and went. I tried Albert over and over, but no luck. I did reach my sister, who for the first time in years was actually taking my call every time, ringing up a phone bill to the tune of $500. Dina always wanted to hear gory details of grit and Lesbian fights, but that’s not what was going on with me and the other girls. After talking to my sister, I did tons of crying until the woman who stole my bunk came over and put her arm around me and consoled.
Could you read my palm?” She asked hopefully. I looked at her face and noticed she had niceness to it, a far cry from the scowling lady who stole my bunk.
“Why are you here?” I asked while taking her little hand in mine.
“Can’t you tell me?” She smiled brightly, showing crooked, but clean teeth.
“Doesn’t work that way,” I shot back, sounding like a professional.
“I’d just taken a hit from a crack pipe in my room when the cops were banging on the door,” she explained easily. “They caught me red handed, and could smell it.”
“Yes, I see that conflict,” I said. “And the neighbor called, right?”
“Yes,” she answered in amazement.
“You don’t get along with him, do you?”
“Nope, I don’t! You’re right, Blondie! He called the cops!” She stared at me hypnotically. “I can’t believe you picked up on that!”
After reading her palm and blowing her mind, I told her my story again and she smiled brightly, “See, I told you your life wasn’t over!” It turned out that she was the same girl that was walking in front of me when first taken in. Her face had changed 3 times, and I felt like she was a comrade now, even though she pulled a power play with the top bunk. I let it pass easily and we became friends, often talking in the hallway and at the steel tables. It was amazing how she’d transformed. Of course I told her about my own saga, a very familiar and fun story in the pod.
We actually began a small jogging routine up and down the steel stairs around the second landing, and back down to the bottom over and over until we were exhausted and the stale, re-circulated air had gotten the best of us.
She had also overheard me talking to a few girls in the larger holding cell the night before. As we talked in the day room, the raging girl with the beautiful long blond hair walked up and joined us. Even in jail her hair was in perfect order. She was really striking and I told her she’d make a great model. In fact, we were to share a few incidents in the next few days that would bond us, and it was so hard for me to believe she was violent, but she was … but never to me. She already had a few confrontations with other girls in the pod, and would eventually be transferred to a 24-hour lock down cell on the end of the row on the second landing.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said, plopping down on the empty round seat beside me and putting her long arms around me. “If I were you, I’d get someone to beat the crap out of TJ when you get out of here!” She said plainly, seeming to want the job in an underlying way. “It’s hard to believe he’d do that over some other guy. And what’s with Albert? He hasn’t even tried to visit or contact you!” She seemed to get angry with them, and wouldn’t doubt she could do some serious damage to them.
“Well, it’s not that easy. They both probably have reasons,” I said while sipping stale tap water out of a milk carton. I thought of the arrest, and just how far TJ had gone. Albert’s baby face hovered in my mind constantly, as well as the sweet relationship, clandestine or not, that we shared. I recalled so many moments that my heart was ready to break in two, especially over the fact that Albert had shut down on me. It was hard to grapple with, plus thinking on TJ’s anger over all this, it was all so overwhelming to deal with.
“Honestly, at the time, I really did see a future with Albert,” I said to her.
“TJ and your friend Krista did this, so just hold on,” she answered, grabbing my hands in her own and squeezing tightly. A lot of women were hoping everything worked out for me in the dismal County Jail. My status in there made it somewhat bearable though, which was some consolation for me.
“In the back of my mind I know how Albert is. His life is sedate and rent free, an easy high paying lab job examining women’s pap smears and cultures,” I said to the girls, who cracked up and screeched with delight, my timing and statement perfect. I told them how he was so easygoing and quiet, but had this funny humor, plus how we’d talk for hours about the mind and why people did what they did, even about our experiments in restaurants when we made others do things with our collective minds thinking as one.
Other memories surfaced and I shared them with my crowd. I could imagine Albert turning off completely, but how could he turn away from the wonderful memories that assaulted my mind? I couldn’t fathom him washing away those great, magical, electric times we shared our ‘white light’ with each other and those around us, but he had. However things turned out, I would always treasure the months I spent with him, no matter how cruel it was to TJ, or how bad things looked on paper. I felt a deep, deep love blossoming between us, but TJ had somehow stolen the power and dashed everything in a burning hellacious fireball, and I had let him do it! I knew that both Albert and I were reeling from the blows TJ branded on us. I doubt either of us would be the same from the experience, but it did happen, and was unfolding right before our eyes. At least I did have a cheering section developing. I imagined Albert was hiding behind his mother’s apron strings and that virtually no one knew about what had happened. I surmised that the more people that were told, the more he would withdraw, actually blocking out what we had together more easily.
They hung on my every breath as I described days of walking through the park with this man, a bit zonked from our partying, driving up to San Francisco two times to see the Grateful Dead, running wild around town trying to avoid TJ, or just hanging in his bedroom holding each other all night in the dark and laughing at stupid things that came to us. Our favorite game was sitting under the covers in total darkness trying to guess numbers we were thinking of, childish on it’s own, but so wonderful when it was followed by a barrage of soft kisses and caresses, amidst the flicker of softly lit candles in temple holders reflecting against the ceiling. A few of the girls swooned at that point in my story.
For hours, sometimes we’d hang out at the Chinese buffet just eating, kissing and making out. On occasion we’d really head up to Jean’s hippy pad in Tujunga Canyon, where she’d let us hang out alone while she’d run errands. We’d spend hours in Jeanette’s cool canopy bed holding each other, making love and just laughing kid-like.
The girls loved to hear it all, even the times I was with TJ. I had distanced myself from him easily, but not securely. “He’d gotten into the habit of following me when I left the house to meet up at Albert’s parent’s home,” I explained to the crowd of women listening intently.
“You should have taken more precautions,” said Bev.
“But my pull to be with this new, quiet, stimulating man was crowding out everything I should have done in protecting myself from TJ,” I answered eloquently, which set off mumbled conversations all around me.
“Man, that TJ really pimped you, Blondie,” said one black girl lounging against the back wall of the pod. “And why did that other guy even live with his parents? He’s grown, right?”
“Yes, but that’s what it was,” I answered, continuing to tell my saga. “By the first trip to San Francisco in October, it was getting increasingly difficult to get away safely. I would hop a bus going in the opposite direction and ride 4 miles out of my way on my bike just to be with Albert. At the time, it was my haven, he was my heaven, and when I was with him, my life was like a cocoon of secure bliss, hiding from the world safely in his ‘nook’. It was very attractive to me. His parents seemed to turn a blind eye to it as well, probably enabling him, the youngest son, for years.”
“Yes, I can see that, Blondie. But his mother didn’t like you from the get-go. That’s her baby, her last child.”
“He said he’d been in trouble with them before, mostly about partying. He’d been thrown out of 3 prep schools because of that, and bordered on the edge of brilliance. His concepts were a bit Sativa-soaked, but made sense,” I related easily to the crowd.
As I sat in the jail talking to my new friends, I thought about all the notes he’d leave his parents via his bathroom, most saying he was skipping being with them, or not going to work, which started to bother me, especially one day when he refused to leave his room until his Uncle Curtis, his mother’s brother, left.
“On many occasions whenever Uncle Curtis was visiting or sitting in the family driveway, Albert wouldn’t leave if Jerry Garcia rose from the dead and was standing naked outside his door!” I said. The room broke out in serious laughing over that last statement.
“Who the hell is Jerry Garcia?” asked one sweet looking boyish black girl.
Thank God I had many palms to read, and my family was accepting my collect jailhouse calls, even doing the illegal 3-way connection, which was against the rules. One inmate, a recovering speed addict with a sales charge, said all you had to do was blow into the phone when it connected. It worked like a charm.
I thought about how everyone was looking at me on the outside. Family was family, true blood relations that should come to your aid because of that stigma, plus the Jewish guilt factor in full swing too. I knew that probably by this time even TJ was feeling blue about what he’d put into motion, even if I did have charges ringing in the New Year like flashing neon!
I did notice that after I told my story that first evening the majority of them were swinging toward Albert and I, and he would pop out of his fragile, recluse stationery mode he was currently in and step up to the stage to save me. Unfortunately, as the second day kicked in at the jail, it looked like that was not to be the case. But I held onto the hope and memories I shared with Albert, and the shear fact that he would allow them to carry him through like I was trying to do, making it a happy ending love story.
As I told my epic, we were always stumped as to what would happen, and that is what made it so stimulating to discuss. After all, we were the most bored humans on earth and didn’t all walks of life like a happy ending or a good mystery?
We also had our distractions. Every now and then a certain handsome deputy we nicknamed “Butt Boy” would saunter in and do a count, which paused talk in there. Sometimes he’d walk in every 10 minutes just to wander around to the various groups of girls lounging in the day room and on the landings. It was a medical observation pod, so that was typical to see guards there. We knew they were watching us closely. But the women liked this particular deputy because he posed for them and enjoyed it. I could tell that right away.
He was in great shape and not hard to look at. I began trying to throw my mind at him, making him do simple gestures. I shared my experiment with a few of the girls in our pod. Bev got a kick out of it and we’d spend a lot of time staring out the large windows at Mr. Handsome with the closely cropped hair, decked out in full deputy regalia! A few others picked up on our cue. They began watching and waiting to see it happen. At first it was very subtle, then it kicked in full swing. We were all amazed.
One morning he had wandered in 4 consecutive times and by that time I had made him trip on the stairs, turn around and smile, stop in mid step and even say certain sentences that amazed the other inmates watching me. I don’t consider it a magical thing, because from reading all the palms and getting notions on people from that, I believe a new perspective was growing in me. I was able to actually predict what he would do partly.
“Hey,” piped up Bev as we sat in the pod discussing Albert and TJ and any new thoughts on the matter, as well as any memories. “…Maybe we can think all together and make Butt Boy unlock the door and let us go free!”
We all laughed loudly, knowing that it couldn’t happen.
As he followed our thought patterns, and actually did what we thought him to do, the women would “ohhh and ahhh” every time. It was during these moments I didn’t feel like a jail inmate, but just with a group of women like myself at a retreat.
Soon we all would gather in a circle and think deeply of that deputy, actually making him appear out of nowhere and come toward the pod. But his own strong will made him turn around one morning and never enter our pod again after that incident.
After that, Butt Boy resigned himself to posing in front of the computer by the watch station, which was situated right in the center view of our pod, for all to see out of the glass walls where our beds were aligned row by row. Every now and then he’d sneak a glance our way, pretending the vibes we were throwing out at him didn’t bother him. This was done in silence, because whenever the deputies entered our pod everyone would stop talking and almost be at attention. In the beginning I was talking to Carole when they walked in and singled me out as I was in mid sentence when a certain mean female deputy asked me to step down from the second landing where I was standing, just about to read a palm.
I was wearing my jail shoes which I’d fashioned into sliding shoes by putting my big size 10 feet on top of the tongue of the flimsy sneakers. I could slide around unhampered and it was easy on my feet. As I was coming down the steps trying to slip into my shoes, I fell, but recovered, showing my flexibility.
“Hey, it’s the Pretzel Girl,” said one female deputy. Other deputies chuckled loudly. I laughed, easily joining in on their joke until they stared sternly at me. “What did you do to get in here?” She asked scrutinizing me up and down, which was their way. My naturally curly blond hair made me look younger than 40 years old. The dark blue jail suit actually complimented my look, especially my coloring. I definitely stood out. “You don’t even look like you belong in here, Pretzel Girl! So what did you do, and I can’t wait to hear,” she said, already looking bored.
I walked slowly forward, hands in pockets, head held high. “I’m not sure,” I whispered.
“What, I didn’t hear you,” she commanded easily. “What?”
“I’m not guilty!” I stated, not even daring to mention my Albert and TJ story. Obviously, they saw me doing my Yoga and it had been a joke amongst them. Who knew what other information they had on me.
“That’s what they all say,” she answered. “Well,” she added, putting hands on hips. “… Maybe some time in a cell will shut you up from now on when a deputy enters the pod. Get your stuff and lockdown in cell 7.”
“Listen, I’m on Disability from the State from severe anxiety and panic attacks, and I’ve not had any meds for it,” I explained, my voice low and shaky due to the bad re-circulated air and the trauma of the day before.
“I don’t care about that, you’re here now. This is jail! Get moving or I’ll tack on more time, maybe a full week in lockdown! And while I’m at it, I think I’ll check your records…”
I grabbed my property and walked up the landing to cell 7, slowly stopping at the door, not going in right away.
“Go on,” screamed the deputy, uncaring that I was starting to whimper. “In, or more time, you make the choice.” She got on her walk-talkie and radioed the watch house outside the pod and gave my booking number.
You could have dropped a pin and heard it in that pod. In the background I saw all the faces I’d read palms for and they registered pain there. Most gloated when someone was sent out of the day room and into the small cells lining the walls and landings away from the groups of ladies littering the day room. But these women were not gloating. They truly liked and wanted me to stay with them. I brought them up like no one else had.
I was told to shut the door. It clicked solidly. I walked to the top bunk and noticed someone sleeping in the bed below. As I was putting my stuff on the bunk I began to cry and carry on. I was panicking and no one cared. I began pacing and screaming and couldn’t breathe. Just as the tears blinded me and I was going into a black panic, hands reached out and held me closely. It was the blond rage girl enveloping me in her strong shoulders and pressing me against the smooth cool strands of her wonderful hair. That morning she had gotten into a verbal tussle with the girl who stole my bunk, so was put in here. She pushed the two-way intercom that all cells had, and was screaming at them. “Hey, she’s having a severe panic attack! You’ve got to let her out, please…” If the situation weren’t so serious, it would almost be comical. The whole jail environment revolved around closed in space.
I held onto her tightly and prayed to God for them to let me out. I know the girls downstairs wanted the same and were pulling for me as well. I could feel their silent prayers. I cried harder and held onto the girl tightly until we heard a click and I ran from the room. “Get your stuff!” cried the deputy. “…before I change my mind.”
I was relieved and grabbed my stuff and gave the blond a tight quiet hug. She smiled at me through her own tears, which had nothing to do with her being locked in alone. It was a rare thing that just happened. Usually when a deputy makes a decision like that, it sticks and nothing would change it, even if I were suffocating to my death.
After that incident, I noticed that the Boy Butt thought sessions suddenly turned into Bible reading and group prayer. I would always remember those moments. The whole pod got together before count. There would usually be 40 of us standing around at the table in the middle and holding hands. One Latino woman Kicker actually pregnant with twins would lead us with readings from the Bible and go around trying to make us talk in “Tongues”. Tears ran down my face and the goose flesh rose on my arms as I prayed along with them at an even pace. Trustees, as they were called, the ones who worked outside the pod, and had special privileges, stared at us in awe from the outer receiving area, not moving from their spots in the outside hallway. It was an amazing thing to watch. I didn’t talk in Tongues but the Latino woman did come up to me and hold my head way back. She even knocked on my forehead, which made me think I was! What a wonderful, exhilarating secure feeling you feel with other women in the same boat as you. A bond formed from all the palm reading and massage therapy I was giving the Addicts and Kickers in the pod. Even the praying mantis girl was with us holding hands. I was the only inmate that seemed to be able to cross groups. I was starting to feel welcome among them all – The Latino girls, the older white ladies, and groups of black girls, who actually took me under their wing when I was moved to ‘General Population’.
We prayed every night like that for 20 minutes, the deputies even delaying their 15-minute count until we finished. Then I’d read palms and give more massages, plus do my Yoga contortions in front of 50 women, who quickly became used to seeing me do it. I was literally rolling myself up in a ball and twisting my body in the air, doing head stands and sitting upside down in lotus. Even our guards would soon allow me to do these things unhampered. It was a rare thing and many in the pod came over and told me so. Word of me was spreading to other pods on the floor as well. One day while in line for a med evaluation two women from another section came to me and asked me to read their palms, which I obliged right there in line. As usual, my readings were accurate and true. I was secretly amazed at myself. One girl clapped her hand to her open, amazed looking mouth and backed away in awe. I was also starting to receive little notes that said “thank you” for the palm readings in the holding cell last night.
In between reading palms, the massages and the like, I talked of my situation. Many heard the many stories of my adventures sneaking away with Albert for 5 months behind my boyfriend of 10 year’s back! They identified with why Albert shut his machine off, and said they were sure he was thinking of me daily, but didn’t want to upset his parents or the balance of his life any further. Also, the pain must have been hard for him to deal with from what I explained to them about his personality. It was more than that, and it started to bother me and distress my soul that he had turned his machine and himself off to me. I was thinking of him mostly in that dark, dank place and he’d not had the decency to at least be a man and let me know what was happening in his head.
Yet another letter he rattled off to me came clear now:
I see things strong in you. You have an inner strength, and duality of spirit that is aware and actively self-evolving. It is a bit confused, but you harbor great love in there. Too much love to hold on to alone – so it becomes grounded. Always Albert
But I took solace when many girls did say it was traumatic for him, especially the way I described Albert … quiet, reserved, a virtual recluse except for his best friend Benny down the street! He talked of the mind and the 4 quadrants of the brain, which I explained to the women listening to me all around the pod. The man had a head talk better than sex. But soon, months down the line, that too would fall into place for us and we would spend many nights of blissful passion together. At the time he infused my soul with such a fire and passion of wanting.
But jail life went on, and the days began to pass slowly. There was little or no access to a clock or real mirror. My nights were virtually sleepless into my 3rd day. I still couldn’t believe this was all happening. It was impossible to get any real shut-eye in the steel bunk no matter what I did. More bruises appeared on my back and legs. The nights were the hardest and I sometimes asked my new comrades in crime how much a body could take with no sleep as I was doing.
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” said Carole one morning as we munched our breakfast.
“The body can take a lot. Don’t worry, you’ll sleep eventually. Look at me,” she said, pointing to her large frame, bedsores and all. She was a very nice lady and had always talked to me when I went to her bunk to chat. She was very positive and knew everything about what I was going through and why. I had told her privately and she’d sat in listening intently when I told my story one late evening to everyone in the pod.
One evening on my 3rd night in jail I first noticed a large Ethiopian woman locked in a cell by herself. Magnetic red and black signs read “415 Med. Obvs”, “Bites”, “Spits”!
“What’s 415 Med Obvs?” I asked one black girl also watching the Amazon lady locked away from everyone by herself. She wore a yellow jump suit and looked like a huge man standing there ready to pounce.
“She goes into attack mode whenever a deputy walks by…that’s 415. In fact, she tries to attack anyone walking by. You don’t want to mess with her, Blondie.”
I watched the girl behind the locked cell. Our eyes met, but not in a bad way. She must have been watching me, because most told me she was an observer and knew what was going on. She’d spend hours just standing as close to the glass door as possible. On occasion a deputy would walk by on count and she’d go nuts trying to break the door down. She’d go through a temper tantrum of spitting and clawing and throwing things around her cell.
Next to her was a meek looking gal on “Suicide Watch”, as her magnetic sign stated. I walked by a few times and she was crying and screaming, sometimes pulling at her hair and scratching her body with her jagged, bitten fingernails. I could see her face clearly behind the glass. She had been crying and carrying on and was sweaty looking, washed out and wearing a blue prison gown rather than the garb the rest of us wore, including the 3 pregnant women housed with me.
On the 3rd night, I as usual wasn’t sleeping and was just one bunk away from the girl kicking on methadone. Sometimes she’d bolt upright, bump her head and start talking in her sleep. I couldn’t sleep so dragged my mat and bedding to the floor and passed the “Suicide Watch” girl, next door to Amazon Lady. There was a large pylon that would hide me. I started doing Yoga like crazy which gave me energy. As I was doing the Yoga, and stretching myself into a pretzel again, no one bothered me. I, by chance, looked over to the girl on suicide watch. I moved my mat right up to her glass cell and knocked. She had been looking the other way, definitely not asleep, because I had heard her carrying on and crying the past 2 nights, no one helping her or coming to her aid.
She turned and began frowning at me sitting by her door, waving me away easily, and squealing loudly. Instead of leaving or teasing her, I began doing the Yoga, rolling myself up into a ball right in front of her eyes. She sat up curiously looking out at me, but her whimpering stopped. I had her attention, that was for sure. I began rolling over and asking her questions whispered under her door. I made it a point to overdo my body gestures when I’d crawl up to the door crack and talk to her.
“What’s up in there? “Hey, want to see me bark like a dog?” I nimbly jumped into lotus upside down, rolled up to the cell door and barked like a dog. “Hey, did you realize that the door has been unlocked all this time…? Try it. Open the door for me!” For a split second I could see the urge in her bright blue eyes to come to the door and see if it indeed open, which it wasn’t.
She began chuckling lightly, still a bit wary of my intentions, but definitely distractedly interested and responding to what I was doing. I definitely had her full attention all the same. For almost 2 hours I entertained her by the door, only stopping long enough for the guard to come through and count us. As soon as he left, which took about 2 minutes, I’d be back at her door doing the funniest antics I could think of to make her laugh. Suddenly, I stood up and took her ‘Suicide Watch’ sign down and wrapped it around my own neck and pointed to it like I was hanging myself with it. “What’s this all about, Lady?” I asked sarcastically, pretending to be a deputy reprimanding her, hands on hips like I had seen them do many times. I smiled at her. She laughed crazily and had to sit down because of her giggling jag. The girl was laughing so hard and was getting out of breath as I pretended to be guarding her. I marched back and forth playing policeman, even imitating certain guards whose personalities stood out.
Boldly I went over to Amazon Woman’s cell door and took down her “Bites” sign and showed it to the other girl. “I’m going to switch signs and see if they notice, is that okay with you?” I asked her, going into my under the door whispering-dog-mode. I put the sign on her door for a moment. We both cracked up and she cautiously came a bit closer to the window of the cell door. She reminded me then of Wendy from Peter Pan.
I put her sign upside down and started pacing in front of her door like I was a husband waiting for his wife to deliver their first baby. I told her as much as I paced and paced, suddenly going into Yoga mode right before her eyes. I had been doing the stretching exercises as much as possible in the pod and realized I’d not been out of the room in days. She laughed at every thing I said and every antic I did, even a corny Jackie Gleason to the Moon, Alice number, which reminded me vaguely of Albert. She became my captive audience. In fact, everyone in this joint had become so as well. Maybe it was my sense of survival, maybe I really cared. All I knew was I had found a new calling. Maybe when I got out of jail I could look into some sort of physical therapy, helping patients get over injuries and such. I knew I could do it and I’d prove it again and again as the days passed in County.
Little did I notice at the time, but Amazon Woman was up watching what I was doing with the girl on suicide watch. She stared openly into the dim hallway from her cell door, as always. She resembled a sad clown, not a violent girl at all, at least to me at the time. I went over to her door and cautiously sat down in lotus position. She looked back at me, but didn’t move to scare me or go crazy. I started jumping back and forth and grabbed her 415 sign and put it upside down on her door. I said, “Are you going to get in trouble for that?” She smiled brightly and nodded her head back and forth. She ominously pointed to me and wrote an invisible “T” against the cell door. I turned the sign back.
Next I grabbed the “Spits” sign and held it up and took some water I had by my pad and began squirting it easily from my two front teeth. I became a fountain and got up on one knee and made a stream of water shoot 20 feet. She didn’t hesitate to smile brightly, which was a rare thing for her.
“Hey, I could change this to “Sizzler”!” I pulled the sign down and pointed cartoonishly. She laughed again and squatted down to watch. I grabbed the “Bites” sign and said, “I could make this ‘Bidder’ I pantomimed placing bets at the racetrack and then pretending I’d won and was collecting my funds. Amazingly, she got the jokes and just stood there listening and watching me do my thing. I didn’t miss a beat and became good at gesturing jokes. I interchanged between both women until I had them literally rolling in their cells.
It was then I noticed a few girls in the pod watching from their bunks. They were perplexed, but interested and some were sitting up and openly gawking. I doubted they were sleeping any better than I was, so I continued with my circus show for the two cell girls with others watching in the dim lighted pod.
I tried to keep the jokes coming and was getting carried away and obsessed with thinking up something new to say to them. I was getting just a tad bit overwrought, but did more Yoga to soothe my soul. The girl on suicide watch no longer was crying and cowering in her bed, nor scratching her eyes out, or threatening to do it. Instead she was mimicking my moves. I kept using my hand gestures and whispering under her door, which added to the fun. She began following my lead; even doing a finger movement thing with me for a good 15 minutes, almost like the silent act the Marx Brother Harpo did with Lucille Ball.
Amazon Woman also got my attention as she sat on the floor of her lonely cell and tried to put her legs behind her back like I could do. She got as far as her ear when I heard the familiar click of the lock, signaling the deputies count walk through our pod. I quickly ran to my pad and lay down pretending to be sleeping. I could feel the wind of the guard passing me. I cracked one eye and saw him look in at both girls I was working with. Both smiled at him as he causally stared inside. In fact, he looked twice just to be sure and shook his head when he spotted Ms. Suicide Watch sitting on her bed in a half lotus position trying to push herself up straight. He spotted Amazon Woman on the floor in lotus position trying to put one leg over her neck. He left without a back glance, but shook his head as if he’d seen it all.
The weekend passed uneventful, more of the same routine. I was surprised at how accustom I was becoming to County. Other than not sleeping, I was coping quite well, making friends and moving through all color lines. I especially enjoyed the massages I was giving to the girls. It never became sexual, and it was surprising to me. Talking to my sister, and listening to her questions conjured up all sorts of sick things, but they never happened to me. Reading everyone and anyone’s palm helped elevate my status there as well.
The evening before I was to go to court, they brought in a very young, pretty white girl. Everyone took her under their wing because she seemed so innocent. The girl was in for shooting up speed and was 3 months pregnant. She was only 18 and had a very feminine high-pitched voice that sounded like a little girl. As everyone pawed over her and played with her hair, I just became a bit jealous until someone suggested I read her palm, which I did. As they played with her smooth, brown, silky hair, I finished her palm and joined them. She didn’t seem to mind everyone’s hands stroking her hair and scalp. A lot of those woman had a motherly intuition and they were giving her everything they had. She seemed to enjoy it all, even when I started rubbing her back. A day later she was released as everyone waved goodbye like she was leaving on the Titanic.
I was also learning how to be when the deputies were around. We all found out who the nice ones were and who the real baddies were, which was most of them. One particular nice female deputy seemed more like a first grade teacher because of the way she treated us. The male guards were mostly aloof. You did have some like Butt Boy who would slightly fraternize with us, usually asking what we did and if it was worth it. It was the way they asked us that drove the point of it all. I noticed that the whole flow of the jail revolved around demeaning us to such a degree in every possible way, no matter how small. I would see the scenario time and time again during my stint there.
I would soon find this out when I made my first court appearance. It was Tuesday morning around 3:30 a.m. when my name was announced for court. I hadn’t been sleeping anyways, so I rose from my bunk and got ready. There wasn’t much to do except take a Mexican bath, quickly arrange my hair with my fingers, brush my teeth and wait for breakfast.
Breakfast was the usual cereal, milk, hardboiled eggs and juice. I had learned to eat as much as I could, even though it was sub-fare! I had been in there since Friday evening … 4 days! But I was keeping my spirits up with the prayer sessions, palm reading and massage therapy that were growing popular around me. I sat eating with a few others who were going to court from our pod. We made small talk and woke ourselves up.
I recognized and knew every single person in that pod, even the new faces. Sometimes they’d try to fool me into thinking I’d not read their palm and I would play along, but give the same interpretation as I’d first given. I even started understanding the woman on methadone, Anna. I also found out she was the same age as myself – 40. It was hard to believe. From day one she never got it out of her mind that I had a 9-year-old child with TJ, so I shouldn’t leave him, even though he put me in jail and was the cause of all this pain.
“You have a child with this man, you can’t leave him. You gotta’ work it out,” she bantered, almost looking like she was talking into space. She wasn’t though. She was talking to me! No convincing whatsoever changed her stance on it. She really believed I had a child with TJ, which was ridiculous.
After breakfast we were all led out and walked single file to a receiving area before getting to the holding cells downstairs. From there we would board a black and white jail bus and head to court, but that was hours from now. Once we departed from the freight elevator it was pure chaos in the multiple court holding cells downstairs. As I passed the various areas, women were recognizing me and calling out “Blondie, read my palm! There she is, the Palm Lady!” Women screamed from all corners.
Hands of all colors and sizes waved furiously trying to get my attention. I felt like Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator as I walked down the long hallway to one of the many multiple holding cells. If the deputies noticed, they didn’t say a word. As long as I didn’t talk and kept my hands in my pockets that were now shredding, I was okay. I also, for the first time in there, thought about what Herb might have thought of all this. We reached my holding area and they deposited me and another Spanish girl in with at least 75 others waiting there for the buses. Long benches lined the walls and women were doing the usual things.
A group of Latinos called out for me. I ended up reading their palms like clockwork. I’d gotten quite good at making a big production out of each reading. As I read one woman’s smooth, deep lined palm in English, it was interpreted into Spanish many times over all around me. My voice was very weak and it was hard to talk over the noise in the room. A few times I had to drink water from the fountain situated beside the open toilet, which I actually tried to use, but with little success.
Other girls saw me from across the room and wanted me to read their palms. The clown-faced girl who laughed at everything I said was there with some new friends. I read their palms. Then talk of the Albert and TJ situation arose and I re-told the story to all that would listen. The Spanish girls edged in and the same gal interpreted my love story that had become so very popular, even in another language. As I told the story and heard it coming back at me in Spanish, it sounded even more fiery and intense than in English. I would catch the names “Albert” and “TJ” frequently mentioned, then a barrage of words strung together excitedly. It was truly fascinating and I took note. I also realized that there were many dialects of Spanish, different words meaning the same, but put in a certain way.
Finally, after waiting for almost two hours, the deputies came and marched us out into the hallway. We were handcuffed and chained according to what court we were going to. I ended up chained to an older Mexican lady whose husband had put her in over domestic violence. It was amazing to me how many women were in there for that.
We boarded the bus and took a seat in the front. Men were caged in the back. They wore orange or yellow jump suits, and stared at us curiously, but we pretended to ignore them. We rode the bus headed down the 110 freeway, stopping first at Van Nuys to deposit a few guys.
The woman I was chained up with and I struck up an avid conversation. She didn’t mind talking like most did. It was a good idea to keep to yourself in jail, but that was not the case with me, because I needed to reach out to others, I thrived on it. It was no different with this lady. She seemed very nurturing and spoke good, clear English. She understood me as I explained what the lines meant on her palm. I also told her of my plight and she said God would lead me to the right man. I said that I saw them dropping the case and she would go free and be clear.
We got close being chained to each other. Even when we finally reached the courthouse and were led into a small men’s bathroom converted into a holding cell with a broken payphone in it, she and I talked about everything under the sun. We prayed together and cried together, sharing our pain. She didn’t think her husband would follow through with the case either. I wished the same for my situation, but knew mine was a bit more complicated.
It was 7:30 a.m. and we weren’t due in court until 3:00 that afternoon. We had a long time to chat and comfort each other. By 12:00 noon they opened the door and handed us baloney sandwiches and an orange. I tried to eat, but couldn’t. I did Yoga for a bit and continually tried the broken phone. It was frustrating.
Finally, at around 1PM the steel door opened and my comrade was told that her case was dropped. She clapped her hands to her mouth and jumped for joy like a beauty queen winning the contest. I was genuinely happy for her. I asked about my case and the bald officer stared me down coldly. “We’re prosecuting you to the full extent of the law, Lady.”
I almost cringed, but refrained. They shut the door again. The lady and I hugged tightly. She wrote down her phone number, took my booking number and waited eagerly to be released, which would happen soon. She promised to put $20 in my account so I’d have money. She never did, but wished me well and said that God will make everything okay with my case. I had enjoyed my time with her. She gave me added strength to go on and face the music. They came for her 30 minutes later and she was gone out of my life.
The next time they came for me, it was to appear in court on some building charges and counts! When they put me in a locked cage by the courtroom and my public defender came to me, she read everything, including TJ’s statement, and the arrest up at Albert’s house, which still stung me like 100 queen bees hitting at once. In all the 5 days of my jail time, I still had not made any contact with him. I begged my sister to call his parents and explain and see what the feeling was, and she did call, but her answer back to me was vague and unfulfilling. I just wasn’t ready to face the fact that Albert had abandoned me and wasn’t able or willing to deal with it all. It saddened me. It made me feel hopeless and down. I was so upset that I took the poem I had labored over all week and ripped it up in that holding cell bathroom, flushing it down the toilet in little pieces. I had come to a turning point about what was going to happen with Albert and I. It didn’t look good. I misjudged him greatly and should have known. But we always cling onto something we cannot have and that’s what I was doing. It was still something that got me through and very good conversation with the inmates I was housed with.
They had to call in a court psychologist to deal with me, because I was manic and upset about the multiple counts pending on me, counts that didn't make sense to me. My public defender thought it best to call the woman in. She sat with me trying to assess my sanity and insisted that I needed Paxil or Lithium. I declined so when she left I was alone except for one male inmate in the next cage waiting to see his public defender. I had heard the public defender say the guy broke his probation and has to answer to that. I looked at the guy and started talking to him and ended up reading his palm right there in the courtroom. He was so amazed at what I saw that it took awhile for him to put his hand down afterwards.
Soon my public defender returned and I was led into the courtroom. She first tried to reduce my bail, which had zoomed up to $186,000! That went down to $40,000 right on the spot. I was also pleading not guilty to 9 counts (even though it was 30 and rising). It all seemed too surreal, like a bad movie. I'd done nothing illegal and should be vindicated. Everything happened in a matter of seconds, and I was put back into the holding cell to await return to Twin Towers. My house was literally 5 blocks from where I sat, and I had to go back to County. I wished to be free. It all seemed pointless and cruel. I didn’t murder anyone. I remembered what one deputy said to me a few days earlier in the pod when I made that statement.
“Hey, you take a chance. You were caught. You do the crime, you do the time! But I have to say something to you. I looked you up and you were good, really, really good, Lady,” he said to me while doing his count a bit slower just to talk to me for a minute, which a lot of the deputies did on occasion. I was an oddity in the pod, some offbeat character.
I didn’t feel good that he said I was good at whatever he thought I did. He probably meant that I was good because I got away with it for a long period of time, at least in his mind. I spared him the love story version and he continued his walk, or posing, depending on how you looked at it.
PART II COMING....
Donna & Gloria Wood, Leslie Siegel ksiegel61@yahoo.com original novel about two big band sisters. Time travel novel, lots of true adventure and finding lost love...
http://leslieksigel12.blogspot.com/2004/07/leslie-k-siegels-novel-where-woods_16.html
WHERE THE WOODS WERE, ORIGINAL NOVEL BY LESLIE SIEGEL
Leslie K. Siegel's novel WHERE THE WOODS WERE, DONNA & GLORIA WOOD, SINGERS, 1940's
LESLIE K. SIEGEL, DONNA & GLORIA WOOD, SINGERS, 1940's --WHERE THE WOODS WERE NOVEL ON TIME TRAVEL AND BIG BAND SINGERS!
BY: LESLIE K. SIEGEL
WHERE THE WOODS WERE
This is a story connecting the physical world of reality to the spiritual universe beyond most people’s comprehension. It’s loosely based on a Massachusetts family, the Woods, mainly their two daughters Donna and Gloria, popular big band singers in their heyday. They left behind ageless photos that become one of the many links to them and their illustrious, yet ‘firefly’ past.
Born to early Boston radio stars Robert and Gertrude, both Donna and younger sister Gloria showed musical ability at early ages. Life growing up for them must have been idyllic and carefree, even with the presence of the Great Depression, and World War II looming. Both had voices, talent and looks, at least from what they left behind --- Literally thousands of photos chronicling the different stages of their lives, especially the highpoints, from childhood to budding starlets, to the tragedy of Donna’s early 1947 death at the age of 29! Even their photo jaunts year after year at the same locations around Los Angeles held such significance.
Gloria went on to become a 4-octave singing dynamo voice-over artist in her own right, and was married to Lee, the ailing elderly man who had called a Hollywood trade I worked for as an editorial assistant. He put it simply by saying that Diabetes claimed His Glo in March of 1995. I found that eerie because it was exactly 40 years after her parents passed away in March of 1955, at least from the information uncovered from the photos!
“Perhaps there may be a story for the magazine to write about Gloria and her sister Donna Wood,” Lee prodded hopefully.
By the first 30 seconds of our conversation, I sensed more than a story, something bigger! “The heck with the story, there was more here than that…” my racing mind blared before I did!
But maybe my ‘prequel’ to the Wood Sisters and my true blood-love for the 1940’s must have started when working for and traveling with the songwriter who wrote UNFOREGTTABLE by Nat King Cole. Irv was in his 80’s by the time he and I met, but we traveled all over the world together. He’d written other songs like THROW MAMA FROM THE TRAIN, PRELUDE TO A KISS, and yes, ME, MYSELF & I … hundreds of other ditties that were famous back then and then, one day out of the blue, the Wood Family dropped into my life!
Let’s start with eldest daughter Donna Wood. Didn’t know her in life, only after her early death at age 29 in April of 1947, as stated above. Born in Arlington, MA April 14, 1917, Donna’s birth marked the 5-year anniversary of Titanic, already a pall set upon a newborn’s first breath. That and the height of World War I always foreshadowed a ‘firefly’ lifespan. I know deep down inside, the moment after laying eyes on that first photograph taken ages ago, that their residue and essences reached out for something missed!
Meeting the Woods in 1997, exactly 50 years after Donna’s passing, started out simple enough. To recap: A phone call from one of her forgotten ailing relatives, a trip to Beverly Hills, being introduced to them ... or at least what they were 50 years almost to the date after Donna died so suddenly, and so young. Suddenly, 6 cardboard boxes of their family mementos sprang into my possession. The photos date as far back as 1865 and range on up to the late 1950's of “Where The Woods Were” -- who Donna and Glo were, and whose loins they were borne from!
In my present, most people seem intrigued with my fascination for the Wood Sisters. Then there are those piqued individuals that question my focus for the Woods, a family I’d never met in life. But I’m always still turning over some stone about this family, and have stumbled across some really great cases, some dead ends, others interesting, many coincidental, but all related to the photos proclaiming Where the Woods Were! (“We are the Woods!”) It seemed easy for them to rebuke my childlike views on what living life was, as well as what was the Great Beyond. But the Wood Sisters represent my child’s fantasy, an adventure into the Unknown after life, or at least a peek at best!
The perky, free-spirited gal knew that the past was wide open for the percolating Wood family spirits springing forth, happy to be remembered, as they wanted to be recalled in the many pictures left behind by them. It's their life and times, and Kate often wondered if they subconsciously thought someone like herself would one day unearth their photos and think of them.
Kate wondered if she were destined to spend her entire lifetime mooning over dead people, dead memories? Was that how it was going to be? Indulging her graveyard quick fix? Sometimes, especially lately, Kate had begun to secretly resent the new sensations and intuitions she was receiving. It was no longer simple gestures and actions people did. Now it encompassed the gestures and actions behind the gestures and actions people did -- What did it mean subconsciously? A simple phrase in a sentence said a certain way was revealing all sorts of innuendoes in Kate's mind. Could it be the new presence of the Woods? But aren’t the Woods passed on?
That thought brings other strange thoughts to light about life and death. In a strange way, I learned from sitting around with Lee (and Irv), that the old seem to revert back to a childlike state. But Glo’s husband never ended up resenting my enthusiasm toward the end of his life as Mr. Unforgettable did.
Flash back to when World War II broke out! Donna and Glo were out here in California filming a movie and singing with the Big Bands in town, going on War Bond tours, meeting Bob Hope, Donna even getting married in the thick of it all, mid-1943! She married the head army band conductor and Colonel! He was no lightweight either, and flew fighter planes on dangerous missions. His name was Lee! That said a lot about Gloria’s fascination when she met her Lee, the Lee I’d been hanging around with of late.
During the time Donna was alive and married, Gloria could have had a thing for her sister’s tall, blond, blue-eyed, handsome hubby. I doubt it was by chance or ironic that 20 years later in 1963, Glo meets her sister-in-laws husband, also named Lee and falls for him (a blond, blue-eyed, cutie in his own right). And then came the controversial Family Blacksheeping it eventually caused, at least from what her later diaries shortly before her death in 1995 stated.
And I’ve never been able to find any trace of Donna’s Lee (believe me, I’ve tried). The only thing that sheds any light on his being was that he once worked for a Beverly Hills newspaper called The Citizen. There was a small, almost missible article on James Roosevelt, son of the president, who produced POT O’ GOLD, the Jimmy Stewart movie Donna made her debut in. No mention of Donna’s Lee, but the tie-in was there, a small thread of his existence, especially with the information I was going on – small articles, clipped gossip columns, hometown newspaper clippings and obituaries mostly; and of course, the numerous pictures of them posing so handsomely candid.
The question that started burning in Kate's brain was: What would Donna have become if she hadn't of passed away at age 29? Would she have surpassed Gloria's mini-stardom? Some photos reveal a friendly competition between the sisters. They were close, yes, but when Donna died, her sister passed the mark the older woman had achieved from the shots of Gloria at Donna's gravesite in the early 1950's.
And something else was very strange. As mentioned earlier, Gloria ended up married to another Lee, who was blond and blue-eyed. In many pictures, even before the second Lee, you can see that Glo took the same pictures and poses as Donna did with her Lee. Year after year, until her death, there are tons of photos of her and Lee. Those photos were matched by Gloria with a different Lee, years later! Plus, from reading up on the diaries, Gloria mentions how sorry she was for any pain caused to Peggy, her brother’s wife’s sister. She is constantly apologizing throughout the diary for basically stealing away her brother’s wife’s sister’s husband (Lee #2).
But, it was when Katie found a 1943 postcard sent to Gloria Wood at her small apartment - '9328' Olympic Blvd., Beverly Hills - that she realized how much of her own past really did parallel the Wood's. For many years, starting in 1983 (exactly 40 years after Gloria), Katie lived at '9328' Beverly Crest Drive, in Beverly Hills! Then she moved to 312 S. Elm Drive, finally ending her 12-year stint at 261 S. Reeves Drive, inner-city Beverly Hills, the two streets on either side of Donna Wood's 132 S. Canon Drive, and just up the street from Gloria's Beverwil house and first 9328 Olympic Blvd. address. And Kate did not miss the play on the number combos with Donna's address and hers on Reeves Drive in Beverly Hills, CA.
This cleared the way for other coincidences. Kate has two older brothers and a younger sister as Donna did, her older brother is Robert, (same name as the Wood's older boy) younger sister is Diane, her mother and family were singers and entertainers like the Woods, and finally, she has an Aunt Gloria. And Donna was given Mercury to possibly jump-start her heart, ridding her body of any virus, just like Katie's Uncle Norman.
But everything done and said, I’m constantly led back to the galore of pictures! It’s first obvious that the Wood Family didn't want to be forgotten, almost as if those musty lifeforce boxes were meant to fall into my hands because I am the sort of gal that reveries and preserves, making it part of my own cycle, although the Woods are not related to me by blood. I spend many hours going through those (Their) boxes like savoring Godiva Chocolates. They call out to me everyday. They say, “Oh, Kate, you are a true historian, thank you Kate!” Many think I’ve become obsessed (or maybe possessed by) with the Woods --- people who are dead, passed away, classified as ‘almost yesterday’s news’. Maybe that's true, but they are such special entities, and I sense them strongly entwined. I sometimes feel their oddly familiar essences, but blatantly. By the time 5 years had passed, I’d invite it, look for them everywhere, finding them in most obvious places. They manifest themselves (or I allow them --- maybe a bit of both) to become engrained in my life, like a new relationship. It started when I began matching up their photos with present day locations then going to those locations and taking present-day shots (as Gloria did). It is truly fascinating, like stirring up something longing to be let out again in some mystic and photographic way. I mimic the old shots of them, placing myself in the same spots, locations and stances, but 60 years apart. To me, it reflects a bond of sorts, maybe that time is the in the same continuum. Or perhaps doing that set up the time continuum? Who knows. But, I give the picture an effecting pose, while matching the family at Donna's gravestone year after year, mugging it up for the camera. At times it’s an odd space, especially when thinking of them while watching t.v. The channels come alive with their subtle messages, especially Donna and Gloria, whose pictures hang in the bedroom (over the t.v. stand) … And the highlights in their lives, so fleeting, but clear as if they happened but I forgot I was there, almost like I am old and of failing memory, so I remember them, but can’t recall spending time with them, but I did (procured by looking at the pictures). Like when a family member tells you something funny you did as a baby so many times, that you start to vaguely remember it, but can’t quite recall.
As the months passed, Katie arranged numerous snapshots, starting at approximately 1880 and finishing with her own shots taken in 1997 in some of the same locations. She began feeling more confident in labeling names, activities and locations, which for the most part were accurate, as the woman would find out later when she would travel back to then!
In the meantime, a blueprint (lately she had been thinking it had been there her whole life) formed in Katie's mind of Donna's life, times and death when snapshots of the singer's coffin, gravestone and funeral were seen. Although it was a sad occasion, family members smiled, as if they were having a party by the woman's grave. It's evident on their expressions, especially Gloria Wood's, in pictures taken at the site years later.
Obituaries in '47, both from her hometown and Hollywood, stated 29 year old Donna Wood died mysteriously of some sort of heart disorder, but had married a musical conductor, Lee Hackler, (ironically the first name of Gloria's husband), and lived at 132 South Canon Drive in Beverly Hills, California for 7 years until her April 8, 1947, 11:00 p.m. untimely death! For some reason, it was all starting to sound like a story Kate had heard for years and years ... yarns spun by older relatives only visiting once every year. But she felt such kindred feelings radiating in and out of her airspace. Some of it came from within herself, but she could feel an underlying pull toward the Woods beaming their own sort of ghostly grace. She would follow this family and find out all she could, even trying to track down lost relatives.
It’s admittable though; I’m hooked on the Woods. Following their photo paths to the places they were at, then snapping myself in the pictures where they once stood has given me a detective attitude, an almost strange free association connection path leading right to Where The Woods Were and After!
After the photographs were in my possession, I pieced together the birth, life, death and actually became instrumental in the rebirth of them, especially Donna Wood, who got her first start from the once popular big band leader Horace Heidt while stuck in an elevator with him in Boston, around 1936. He saw Donna’s raw talent in that short amount of time and confining space, and eventually had in the campy Jimmy Stewart/Paulette Goddard movie
POT O' GOLD lensed in 1941. Heidt easily encouraged United Artists to cast Donna as the silent sister to Goddard’s character (except during a few singing numbers), which they did. It was a hastily put together character bordering on featured extra and budding songbird. There are a few pictures of Donna taken on the set, plus many publicity shots made by the studio. She does a few chorus numbers, but it’s obvious that she was edged out, probably at Goddard’s insistence. I have the shots on the Pot O’ Gold set in my possession, even some negatives. Hunting down those studio photos in the collector shops strung along Hollywood Boulevard and actually finding a few, was a big thrill.
* * *
CHAPTER I
In March of '97, while working as an editorial assistant at a local Hollywood magazine Katie received a call from an old, ailing man, whose wife Gloria Wood, a 1950's commercial queen and orchestra singer, passed away.
"My wife died a few years ago, and I've got some of her memorabilia," said the quiet, soft-spoken voice. "I think there may be a story here," he added. (Boy, he wasn't kidding!)
"Why don't you give me your number and I'll call you back on it, okay?"
"Okay, that sounds fine." He had boxes of mementos spanning 40 years before World War II. The writer took his phone number, stuffed it away and forgot about it, not realizing that this would be the beginning of a long, strange journey through time and space. It started with that one phone call, reaching across the far reaches of life and death itself!
One day, by chance, she was sitting around the house she shared with her boyfriend PJ in Glendale, California. He resembled a cross between actors Jeff Bridges and Kurt Russell, with naturally curly hair like his girlfriend, people often mistaking them for siblings.
As Kate stared at her boyfriend, something in the back of her mind recalled a certain phone conversation she had with the old timer who had called her a few weeks back about the Woods. It was then, for some reason the woman remembered the old man. "Hey, I almost forgot! This guy called up a few weeks back and said he had some 1940's memorabilia from his wife," she said happily.
She had never taken an interest in that era, usually floating between a throw back from the Sixties to a folksy Janice Joplin look-a-like, but more attractive, of course. The 1940's seemed to reflect what Katie ran away from as a child - feminine glamour. People like Robert Taylor, Vivian Leigh, Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy were reminders of her own mother, an retired opera singer/concert pianist that could have been the next Female Liberace in her day in the sun as a would-be glamour queen that only teetered on the edge of fame.
"Call him, it might be worth checking out," P.J. coaxed, while strumming a Martin acoustic guitar. His long fingers strummed an even original blues tune with ease.
Katie phoned and spoke with Lee (#2), who invited the couple up to his house in Beverly Hills, on Beverwil Drive, two blocks from where Katie used to live for 12 years.
They drove in P.J.'s ' Chevy truck, taking Coldwater Canyon to Kate's past Beverly Hills stomping grounds.
The old territory loomed before her as P.J.'s lumbering Chevy chugged down Beverly Drive, the sunlight reflecting off the old truck into the green trees lining Kate's old haunt. They passed her ex-landlady's store - Beverly Hills Liquor Castle - the aging woman's bent, decrepit figure still reigning like a queen in her dusty, florescent-lighted store, unchanged in the years since Katie left the neighborhood. They made their way up to Beverwil Drive to an unassuming 1950's-looking house near Pico Blvd.
"Wow, being back in my old neighbor is so strange," Kate reflected. "It almost feels like another country now," she marveled while gazing out the window at the sunny, bright sidewalks.
"Yes, it must be weird being back, huh? Wonder who lives at your old place on Reeves Drive" P.J. drove up to the curb at Alcott Street and Beverwil.
"I can't believe it's still standing, especially after that Northridge Earthquake. I thought for sure they would condemn it, but in a sad way I kind of miss being around here," said Kate, remembering the nuance of once dwelling in the City of Diamonds, Beverly Hills. People back East would always be gaping at the fact that Katie actually had an apartment there, behind the storefronts of Beverly Hills...
"Oh, please, come on. That place was a hole."
"I know, but I still have happy memories. I did spend 12 years here," she said nostalgically.
She noted all the new stores and restaurants. "Wow, they finally got a Koo-Koo Roo Chicken! And look, they closed down the old Edison building. Vons Market is finally resurfacing their driveway." Life moved on.
In a flash they were standing at the door of the house, ringing the bell.
Lee's Russian companion Marlena greeted them, directing the couple into the garage where an old, thin man, his blue eyes dancing with excitement, sat in a chair just getting ready to light up. It seemed as if the garage doubled as a playroom, and they'd parked their cars on the street just to show them off at one time. It almost had the feel of that 'keepin' up with the Jones' flare of the early 1950's. All that was missing was the white picket fence, which was long gone by 1997!
Quick introductions were made all around. The next thing Kate felt were the Wood Family's essences rising up, as if they'd anchored themselves there, waiting for that opportune moment to spring forth in that musty, hot room. She immediately sensed their restless souls calling out, "Don't' forget us, please don't forget the Woods! Help us not be forgotten!"
"What an interesting family," Kate uttered while sitting down close to the find, beginning to sift through the well-preserved photos.
"Gloria was quite something," said Lee, as he leaned against his walker. The man was definitely ailing, but proceeded to smoke his cig'.
As the old man puffed, Katie could smell the old memories floating up like familiar scents invoking memories. It was then her impatient partner PJ, as if sensing the spiritual vibes, which sometimes could be oppressive, especially if you didn't usually dwell on such things, prompted the girl up 2 hours later. It didn't seem like more than 10 minutes to Katie, so engrossed she was with the photos and items in the boxes the Woods had left behind.
They carried the 6 medium-sized cartons to PJ's antique truck, the old guy following them to the door, walker in hand, observing while lighting up another Marlboro and puffing away, as if not dying of emphysema, which he was. Marlena busied herself in the unorganized kitchen, except for tons of Vons shopping bags stacked neatly by the door. What Katie felt was another presence though --- Gloria Wood and especially from her sister Donna!
As they drove away Katie said, "Maybe we can visit him again! I think he liked us a lot, PJ." She looked at the boxes tied securely with bungee cord. "I feel like we've caught the catch from the middle of the Century!" Clamoring over Coldwater, she looked back at the stuff from another era. "God, I hope it doesn't blow away in those creaky boxes."
"Stop whining, we'll get them back in one piece," said P.J. while puffing on his favorite brand.
Once home, they carried the boxes into their bedroom and placed them around a king-size bed, given to them by an 82-year-old songwriter who wrote Unforgettable, by Nat King Cole. Kate had spent a number of years as his companion, up until meeting P.J. in August of '93, when she made the decision to give that life up with Irv, and very easily too, because Old Man Irving was a Mean Old Fart. The woman was glad to get away from him, even though Irv and P.J. had forged a strong friendship, when she introduced them after the Northridge Earthquake in '94. He also is credited with penning the classic "Throw Mama From The Train", as well as a number of other tunes, but sometimes Kate wanted to throw someone else off that train!
All her concentration during the next few hours focused on her newest find - those Wood Family boxes. Handling the Wood family photos and mementos carefully, as if they were ancient treasures, Katie sifted through mounds of pictures, literally hundreds of snapshots of 'Where the Woods Were'. Little did the lady know then that she'd be whisked into 1941 in just under a year.
Katie's association with Lee became a direct divining rod headed straight for 'Where the Woods Were'. She and P.J. began making pilgrimages up to the Beverwil house in Beverly Hills almost every Sunday. It was the opposite of a Pandora's Box, instead filled with mementos of an era, rather than evil particles, jagged and angry!
The couple had gotten into a pattern of spending hours milling around Gloria Woods' Beverwil house finding precious gems that held so many Wood family memories, as if they were laid out that way for them to discover.
***
Arlington, MA – 1931
14-year-old Donna Wood lay in bed cringing under the thin blanket. She'd been awakened by a nightmare, the same one over and over. "She's walking in a forest and suddenly feels pressure on her chest. She can't breathe without effort and everyone around her seemed oblivious. Then Donna lies in a white coffin, her whole family standing around her grave. She sees herself in the coffin as a young woman then starts running around trying to get her family's attention as they grieve for the grown-up Donna Wood lying in state. Then everything goes black and silent."
She's softly crying as her mother, Gertrude comes in to comfort her oldest daughter, who was in distress. Donna always tried to hide the fact, but Mother always heard and came to hug and assure.
Dreams were powerful tools in her family and that's why she was concerned with Donna's nightmares. They were coming on more frequently of late, but the doctor had said Gert's daughter might grow out of it eventually. If not, they were ready to administer a sedative to the teen at night.
"Is it the dreams again, Darling?" Asked Gert, full of concern.
Donna turned on her side, tears slipping down her porcelain face. "Yes, mom, it's horrible. I see my death, I see the future, something foreboding and scary."
"What do you mean scary?" Gert sat on the edge of her daughter’s small bed. She always tried saying the word scary in a more soothing, clown like way.
"I see you and Daddy standing around my grave, it's hard to breathe. Then this curly-haired woman is standing by my grave and I'm trying to speak to her but and it's almost like she's just about to respond, and then things get so jumbled and frightening!" Donna reached for her mother's arms, wanting comfort. "Mommy, why do I have to die? I don't want to? Don't let me die, Mommy, please," cried Donna as her mother took the girl in her strong sure arms and hugged her tears away.
Gertrude knew there was something very special about her Donna. As a little girl she could sing, play notes on the piano, and carry a tune with the ease and maturity of a lounge singer. They encouraged Donna to sing and embrace radio. She was even now taking to both mediums with ease. Donna was born April 14, 1917, and the dreams were always with her, even when she was just an infant. Gert could tell right away, could see her baby become flushed and fidgety in sleep, where most children simply shook slightly when they dreamt. It was disheartening, but they dealt with it.
The family resided in a roomy, Arlington, Massachusetts Colonial home that had been with the Wood's since their grandparents came to the United States in the 1880's. Gertrude's hope would be that her daughters would become a singing duo. Gloria, her youngest, was 8, so it was plausible to begin now. And it's okay that her older boy, Bobby wasn't into the music like her girls and Channie, her second oldest son. It was already apparent in dark-haired Donna, and the gifted blond Gloria as well. Her second oldest son had it as well, but not as strongly as her girls.
"And God knows the boys are growing up fast too. It's hard to believe Bob would graduate high school this year, and Chandler would be a Junior already. Donna was a budding, 14-year-old flower," the troubled mother thought. "Lord, how she loved them all, especially her little Gloria. Gert would be there for them, and knew they'd be there for her, or their father Robert. It was unity that guided love, that made for stronger morals."
Gert sat there holding her daughter, as the gifted girl drifted off. She kissed Donna's cheek and whispered, "don't worry, everything will be fine." Donna calmed immediately and her mother stroked her daughter's smooth, unblemished forehead and rearranged the bedding. As Gertrude left and gently closed the door, a burst of light shone through the window. An angel appeared whispering as Donna slept, "Dream sweet dreams now, for you will have good times before the dark days of death claim your young delicate soul."
* * *
1997
In the ensuing weeks, that turned into months, Robert Sr., Gertrude Anderson-Wood, Donna and Gloria Wood, as well as brothers Bob and Chandler Wood became as familiar to Kate as her own family and she was finding parallels between them.
Robert and his wife Gertrude were singers on the early Boston radio circuit. They met, married and continued their careers, even after their children were born. Kate didn't really connect with the Wood brothers, and had found Gloria Wood's history interesting, but who she felt a special connection and kinship with was Donna Wood, the sister who died at the age of 29 in '47. Every time she'd run across Donna's picture, something inside of the sensitive girl identified with the good looking brunette whose short life reminded her of a firefly, a rapid spark compared to time and the universe. "Who was she? Why did she die? Where did she live? What were her thoughts? Why did I care?"
But Katie became more obsessed as the days passed. Every picture of Donna Wood brought her closer to the singer's seemingly nurtured, carefree childhood in Massachusetts. She too, like Kate was the first-born daughter, third in line after Channie, Gloria the youngest. All her focus lately was on those Wood photos. Whether it be shots of a beachfront picnic, a nature hike, or maybe those first candid publicity shots when Donna sang with Horace Heidt's band in the 1940's, then landed a film called Pot 'O Gold in 1941, starring Jimmy Stewart, a klunker of-a-feature about a musical band's turmoil to get on a radio show, that Mr. Stewart quoted as 'being the worst film he ever did'. With the coming of World War II, Stewart soon enlisted in the armed forces, claiming not to be in the right frame of mind when agreeing to play the starring role in the movie produced by then-President Roosevelt's son James. Soon after filming of the flick, Stewart, of course, enlisted and went to fight for his country. It would be Donna Wood's film debut playing an extra beside co-starring actress Paulette Goddard as her sister. It was the only film Donna ever appeared in or did, and it's only 45 seconds. Still, to see this woman alive and breathing was such a treat for Katie, after looking at tons of the singer's photos from age 3 up until shortly before her death.
* * *
1931
The summer days turned out to be humid, but clear and bearable, not like most summers in Massachusetts. It was June, 1931. The Great Depression wasn't even in full swing yet and it had already been two years, but Donna never really felt the pinch like they all heard on the radio.
Her father had told His Girl many times, that entertainment and radio would always be a constant medium, especially during bad times. "People need something when the chips are down.
“Even Blue Chips,” quipped Gert.
“They crave something that infuses them with hope and We Woods give it to 'em straight!"
Robert had already sold most of his long-held stocks, including the Blue Chips. He'd come out better than even, and settled his affairs just as the bottom fell out in '29. Later, people marveled over his foresight and wanted to know who his tipster was, and if he knew someone on the Inside. It was baffling to them. Though he'd never admit it in public, it was one of his wife's dreams that led him to sell the stock and cash in, just like in the Bible where Joseph advises the Pharaoh of Egypt.
Presently he owned part of a radio station in Downtown Boston, and was looking into other venues, he sometimes wondered if he was a bit too demanding, possibly expecting too much? The boys were growing up virtually normal, and Bob hadn't shown a great interest in musical entertaining. But his girls and Channie had something special that needed nurturing and direction, which he and Gert would give them.
Robert noticed that his kids had something when the other day he observed Donna orchestrating a photo session with her neighborhood friends. It was how she handled one particular Sour-faced man, a nasty neighbor who was known to dislike children and the clamor they caused and created, that struck Robert like a lightning bolt.
He considered His Donna a regular little director, and Charlie Chaplin couldn't have done better. Robert had a mind, more than once, to write Mr. Chaplin about his thoughts on the movie business in general, how music and movies should mesh. Again, with the establishment of 'Talkies' (and it's a long time coming already), Chaplin would be looking for new, fresh-faced talent, especially young ladies that could sing, and have experience on radio, as well as can talk properly, clearly and with substance. Why it took so long for radio and movies to come as one, is only the Lord's answer. Oh now he was starting to sound like his wife, but let's face it, Baby Peggy is all grown up and more upbeat, musical talent is needed like his Darling Donna and his Little Glo maybe even Chandler.
Summer, 1931
The next day it was off to the beach, a magical place for Donna. She loved to sit on a sand mound watching the waves breaking shore, holding her breath until they crashed to the beachfront. Her brother Chandler sat beside her in the sand whittling a stick and watching the girls walk by. Once not too long ago, her brother would have been content building sand castles and catching crabs, but now his interest in girls was swimming around his brain, which made him more creative with music.
Donna remembered when they were really young she'd wanted to join her brothers in idle play, but she knew deep down inside then, only being 8, that there was something within that wanted to burst forth in another way, mature feelings for a young child. Her parents understood and encouraged her. Gertrude would stare into her daughter's dark, wide eyes and see an old soul residing there. In a silent moment, Donna would become very serious, saying something profound, more like what an 18-year-old woman would utter. It was uncanny, almost frightening, and it foreshadowed a short life span for the budding woman. Only time would tell. In the meantime, the Wood's would give their family every opportunity in the world to embrace education, music and The Arts. Yes, there would be good times, wonderful times and of course, bad ones as well.
All of a sudden right there on the beach, Donna and her brother went into a duet of present day medleys. By the end of the little music number the beach had become crowded with people listening to the brother and sister duet. At the end, everyone clapped, a few teenage gals swooning like Chan was Rudy Valee.
Bob swam with his father as Gertrude sat on a blanket with 8-year-old Gloria. They seemed the ideal family that day on the beach.
Robert Sr. looked up from body surfing with his oldest. He spotted his wife on the blanket with their youngest and thought how much he loved Gert's ingenuity and strength to keep the family together even during this hard financial time of the Great Depression. They both had strong family ties and loved the radio. He, as well as his wife, saw great things in their girls. Already Gloria was responding to piano notes and would join in with Mama and Donna as they sang standards together in the living room. And lately, Chandler was developing a late bloomer interest in singing too. He would, of course, encourage that.
* * *
1997
Also, with the help of PJ, Kate found "Where the Woods Were' buried at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale, literally blocks from their house, just by studying the 1947 photos of Donna's funeral procession.
"Hey, that place looks familiar...it's Forest Lawn!"
"Isn't it ironic how out of all the graveyards in Los Angeles, it just so happened that you worked at this particular one as an electrician in the mid-1980's," marveled Kate. Not only did P.J. know the terrain, but also the set-up of the place off San Fernando Road, a most interesting coincidence!
"It's no big deal," said P.J.
"The next step is to find those plots. We'll match up some of the shots taken at the Wood gravesite in the latter 1940's and 50's, then head up to Forest Lawn," Kate said excitedly, as if this were some sort of treasure hunt!
"Now don't get all crazy on me now, okay?"
"I won't. Come on, let's go," urged Kate, leading him out the door.
"Man, I wish you were this way with sex!"
Kate ignored the jibe.
They drove the twisting roads of the graveyard searching reference points from the 50-year-old pictures the Woods shot. Something drove Katie onward, pictures in hand, gazing at hundreds of other graves wondering how they had died, and if they were loved enough for someone like her to bother searching for them at all.
Recently, Katie had found out through a family friend that her Grandfather (her mother's father) loved to go to cemeteries, and visited with dead relatives a lot. That intrigued Kate, and got her thinking about the blueprint in the brain theory running through her own mind. It all seemed to fit. Grandpa David owned and operated a comic book publishing company in the 1930's on up until his death in 1969. He had been rumored to be listed in 'Ripley's Believe It Or Not' for strapping a torpedo on his back and swimming underwater to place those things in the line of fire. Kate sometimes fancied him to the first Navy Seals. He could have been a career man, until his wife said no more and also loved flying. Grandfather David was a pretty illustrious character of a guy. Kate was convinced that the reason they never gelled was because she wasn't the first-born son. If she had been, they may of had something, but as it stood, he took a shine to her oldest brother Robert. No matter though, for she had his blueprint fixed in her brain consciously, rather than in her Id! As she searched for the Woods, her thoughts matched the elements and weather.
The day was breezy, swirling clouds moving above, casting billowing shadows on the wide-open, green grass.
From Katie's vantage point, she spotted P.J. making his way around the next hill, head down, prodding casually along, looking for the Wood graves too
It was at that moment the upbeat, high-spirited woman realized they couldn't give up until the graves were found. After one hour, suddenly Kate was magnetically pulled to an open spot, a beautiful view of San Fernando Road sprawling before her, right above the cemetery's Arlington Way. She stopped, gazed at the view of Los Angeles gleaming in the foreground, and then walked right up to 'Where The Woods Were', the Family's final resting place.
If anyone saw the curly-headed, 30 year-old, Janice Joplin look-a-like yelling, "I found them, I've found the Woods," at the top of her lungs, nobody stirred. She sat down and stroked Donna's stone, murmuring, "I've found it, I found them! I found her!" It was like something out of a bad soap opera episode!
P.J. immediately ambled over, quelling the girl's exuberance by hushing her. "Hey, this is a bone yard, not a park," he scolded.
"Look P.J., they're all here! I can't believe it," Kate cried excitedly, actual tears rolling down her cheeks. "I knew we were linked up with them somehow," Kate added.
She began an oral history. "Robert Sr. died in 1955. He was two years younger than his wife Gertrude, who also passed away in '55 at the age of 63. Gloria Wood, of course, died in March of '95, we knew that," said Kate. "The brother's graves are missing for some reason. I wonder where they are, or if they may be alive?"
"Who knows what happened," answered PJ. He sounded a bit freaked, and trying to maintain his control, but he was effected as much as Kate was, but in a different way, of course. Could a part of him be jealous of dead people?
"Doesn't Donna Wood's grave look as fresh as it did in the 1947 black and whites?" Katie bent down for closer inspection and held up the old shots. "In essence, Donna & Gloria Wood have literally lived beside me in their youth and death, and we've never met until those pictures and family history in an old musty garage gathering dust found their way into my life," she said reverently.
"Go figure," added P.J. nonchalantly, which was standard for him.
The couple snapped shots of themselves by the graves, imitating the same poses taken by the Wood's 50 years before, sitting and standing in the foreground, shooting the same landscape that had changed very little in all that time. Maybe someone looking at the couple from afar thought it strange, but to Katie, it was the most exciting find to date.
It was when they'd finished photographing the scene that P.J. all of a sudden became restless, probably noticing Katie's growing attachment to the Wood's, like when they first went over to Lee's house. It was just plain strange, but you knew Katie like he did, you understood.
"Okay, I think it's time to go now," he said, hustling away, literally having to tear his girlfriend from the spot.
"Now that I had found Her, I didn't want to leave Her," cried Katie's mind, but P.J., being a sensitive man, felt the Wood Family spirits dwelling there strongly, and therefore, the jittery guy stood at the top of the road nervously lighting his 4th Merit Ultra Light in 15 minutes. He must have been pretty spooked by it all. Katie, on the other hand, felt rooted, not wanting to leave, and would have rather lingered after taking pictures, but reluctantly left the spot 'Where the Woods Were'.
* * *
1931
The next day a little boy ran up to the Woods, who were sitting on the porch swing, and announced, "Donna's got a bunch of the neighborhood kids dressed up in funny party hats she made! Even Old Man Jones, who never smiles, is ear to ear now!" The boy pointed to a small crowd in the distance, and then quickly high-tailed it back to the commotion.
When word spread about Jones, Donna soon had the whole neighborhood toting parasols and wearing her homemade hats. Robert was soon out in the thick of it, snapping picture after picture, not wanting to lose the moment to time, which thereafter changed the image of the neighborhood. They always had the trusty camera to record posterity. God knows they wouldn't want to forget this. Thank goodness for film. Even Donna's little cousin Virginia was in the thick of it too. She was darling, and sometimes was mistaken for the third sister of the Woods! Even as a baby she was sometimes mistaken for his little daughter Gloria.
The next day, on a whim, Robert had taken the kids up to North Conway on the train, just for the sheer joy of doing it. He snapped pictures on the way. Mr. Wood wore his Sunday's best and a fashionable flat top hat. Donna wore a striped shirt, white slacks, and paten-leather shoes, looking slim and on the verge of puberty. Gloria was there feeling hot and fussy in her traveling suit. Chandler and his brother loved the excitement of riding the train, but Bob would rather be back home swimming at the lake, or rowing in the quiet of the family boat.
On the other hand, Donna enjoyed traveling, especially by train. You could really see the world passing by, could sit back and enjoy the ride. She had dreams of one day growing up and traveling place to place singing for the crowds. The girl would suddenly awaken in the middle of the night feeling like she'd been sleeping on a train. Donna smiled to herself thinking, "My dreams on the Disoriented Express!"
She sat next to her father talking about all sorts of interesting subjects, especially when the conversation drifted to music and the radio after the train had run into some trouble and was sitting on the tracks idle for hours. Dad knew everything there was to know, and even Bob, who usually got moody on these train rides, was listening to his father's yarns about the golden radio days with their mother, even quietly and simply explaining how radio worked. Bob tuned in during this part, loving to hear the specifics of Radio’s inner workings, not just a wooden box with a dial and people’s voices filtering out. And sometimes it was hard for them to imagine their mother a cool, suave singer, but she was and still performed, and was now performing through her children.
But they all knew Donna had It, and pictured her immersed in it
. "Be patient, for that time will come to pass too. Follow thy Father's hand and thy Mother's rules, imitate their successes," said a strange inner voice Donna had been hearing of late. It spoke again. "Your time will come Sweet Songbird, Donna Wood."
Yes, Daddy Wood had a vast knowledge of radio and music, and Donna respected that with all her heart. As the train finally rolled along back from North Conway, she remembered the first time her parents took her to church. She stood in the pulpits watching them take center stage before their congregation and God. They sang from their hearts, sounding so beautiful and pure that Donna cried joyfully out of the sheer beauty and overwhelming grace her soul felt. It made the little girl, then only 4, grateful to God that she'd inherited those same talents, and took to them like a bird to chirping.
Donna always felt much older. Especially today, for some reason. Not just because she was traveling with her father and family, all dressed up in a traveling outfit, but because she really was growing up, even when they all munched on maple sugar candies and giggled at the drunk old man stooped over the railing they made funny faces at him.
She hoped they'd get back early. A few of her friends from school were coming by to go hiking early tomorrow morning. It would be Cousin Virginia and Janice, who asked if her brother Todd could join them.
* * *
1997
After doing some quick talking, Katie got P.J. to drive into Beverly Hills, to Gloria's house. She incessantly begged him to stop at 132 S. Canon Drive, Donna's old place, which he reluctantly did, after her over-urgings. They passed Donna's apartment building.
"Wow, it's still here and looks the same as it did in shots taken 60 years ago of Donna, Gloria, Mama and Papa Wood, with Donna's tall, handsome army captain looking somber and handsome in his uniform," said Kate wistfully. "And I noticed something, P.J.," she said holding up a picture of Lee Hackler. "You look a lot like him! The same hair, although Lee's curls are brushed straight back conservatively," she noted, touching P.J.'s adorable curls, him brushing her hand away. "But you both share the same brow and eyes, as well as brooding expressions." It was amazing to Katie as P.J. gunned the engine and barreled down Canon, swearing he "didn't look at all like Lee Hackler", how much he really did!
They drove 4 blocks to the Beverwil house. Gloria's ailing widower's hospital bed was set-up in the living room where parties, jam sessions and neighborhood get-togethers once took precedence.
"Hi Lee," Kate said, going up to his bed, CNN blasting in the background.
"Hello, how are you two doing?" Asked Lee, while struggling to sit up. He reached for his cigarettes, as usual, offering her one. She took it eagerly, finding a strange identifying factor in the gesture, like when she first came to the house and was looking at those pictures. The smell of the smoke renewed her nostalgic Wood wonderings.
"Where's Marlena?" Kate asked Lee.
"She's at school," answered Lee. "She's taking English classes at Beverly Hills High."
"That's great, Lee!" P.J. died his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray.
It was then that Katie causally started walking around the house, seeing as Marlena wasn't around. Sometimes Lee's Russian companion would find Kate searching through boxes and drawers in the Lanai. The plump gal with the varicose veins, sometimes hidden by spandex, would ask Katie what she was doing, so it was good the companion wasn't there this particular day when the girl snooped about.
But the bug had bitten Katie the moment she walked into the house. There wasn't anything of much value, just pictures, clippings, diaries and mementos of the past glory of the Wood family legacy. That's all there was to mark the birth, death and re-birth of them, at least the ones in the pictures. Katie still didn't know if there were living relatives, because Lee never mentioned any yet. She knew in time he would.
Kate looked around, scrutinizing the remnants of the room. It seemed Gloria was the entertainer, as well as an excellent hostess, especially in the story told by the snapshots of family gatherings, Walt Disney functions, road trips and other such excursions captured and frozen on film. It proved beyond a doubt that the Wood's were an active, happy-go-lucky, close-knit family that wasn’t shut out of Donna and Gloria's singing stardom. It was strange and eerie, but Kate could almost hear Gloria singing in that 4-octave range, enabling the 5 foot singer to carry virtually any note with ease and abandon. As she thought about that, Kate spotted an old picture in a frame all dusty and moldy. She picked it up, dusted it off and just barely recognized Rock Hudson with a microphone along with Gloria and others frozen in some high note in this very lanai!
Katie walked in front and snapped several shots of the roadside and exterior by the house. Once inside, she talked Lee into snapping shots of her in the same spots as Gloria was in her 1950's barrage of photos. Outside in the yard, on the patio she and P.J. matched and shot in the same spot that a young vibrant Gloria Wood sitting with her grandfather in 1950. That picture, as well as one from their cemetery trek, was to yield strange unexplainable feminine ghostly images.
Yes, there were two distinct shadowy, ghostly figures. One captured at Gloria's house on the patio of a woman's face staring into the camera on the lower left portion of the picture. Also, at Donna Wood's plot at Forest Lawn - a strange face of a woman between Kate's hands as they rest on either side of Donna's plot, unmistakably well-defined eyes, nose and mouth can be seen with the naked eye. Most she showed were a bit skeptical. Others believed. They even submitted the photos with captions on the World Wide Web, and people as far away as Singapore were clamoring to know all about the Woods. Even an engineering student in India wanted to chat about Donna and Gloria Wood! Who were they? Why hadn't they ever heard of them? And Kate faithfully answered the long-awaited fan mail from people about the subject. Sometimes she pretended to be Donna, or sometimes Gloria, and whatever drove her onward with, had a strong hold.
Was it the Wood Family's spirit calling out, refusing to be forgotten? Calling out their ongoing message of - "Keep our memory alive, please don’t forget us, the Woods!"
The Wood family was big churchgoers, Robert and Gert singing in the choir, as well as other engagements around the Arlington and Boston areas, so there was a religious spiritual feeling to their souls. And souls were laced with electrical current, as well as the Internet.
P.J. and Katie sat out on the patio in the hot sunshine. "It doesn't matter that Donna never achieved movie stardom," said Kate, taking a puff of a Marlboro cigarette Lee offered her when they first arrived that morning. "But if she had 3 blockbuster films under her belt, she would have been known as Lady-James Dean, I just know it!"
"Hey, I hope you aren't taking this Wood thing too far," said PJ. "Don't go nuts on me, okay? And there may be family members alive who won't take kindly to us, you know..."
"I've thought about that, but who cares. We're bringing so much happiness to Lee. He loves how I've embraced the Woods, I just feel it. I feel them too!"
"Just don't get too crazy, okay? Other people connected to this family might not appreciate it," preached PJ. "And you know how high-strung you get! Just be careful and let the Woods have their place, that’s all I’m saying."
Katie brushed his warning away, "Okay, I know, I know. Don't go off on me about it!"
But, she had to agree with P.J., there must be relatives lurking about somewhere. And others, their friends and family may think her a bit “off”, so for now Kate would suffice with the photos of the past.
After gazing closely at each and every picture of the Wood's at least a dozen times over, Kate began feeling even closer to them. So close in fact, that one late evening, her boyfriend heard the lady talking in her sleep distressfully calling the Wood family cat Tommy, whose picture appears in several photos with the Woods. It was the foreboding way Katie called out, when at the same instant she yelled in her sleep for Tommy, there were rapid footsteps outside their bedroom window. (The police term for gun is Tommy) These particular officers were chasing a suspect who ran in the yard and over the fence. The next thing Katie remembered was being jolted awake as P.J. stared at her wide-eyed and looking a bit freaked out himself, but maintaining his cool all the same.
As they sat by the window watching six policemen with Tommy guns drawn searching the yard for the culprit, it seemed as if the Woods essence played a strange role. Finding no one, the cops left, leaving a half-spooked neighborhood back in silence. The couple marveled at the experience and timing of the event, which seemed eerie. After that 'cat' experience, Kate began calling their own feline Tommy instead of his real name of Berlin-Kiddi, but the cat always nipped at her, it's ears twitching at the sound of the name Tommy. Katie also started wondering if the Woods were trying to reach her, since her vibrations dripped of their essences. It would be great if she could travel back in time and meet them. Sometimes the girl fantasized about it, trying to take her mind there, but was usually interrupted by something, causing a connection breakdown.
A few weeks after the police incident, Kate was sleeping in the living room because of P.J.'s snoring when all of a sudden a female arm reached from the darkness, shaking her then dissipating. A few days later, P.J. mentioned that he felt a female arm reach out and rouse him too. Kate told him of her experience, and he wanted to drop the subject entirely, which is what they did.
* * *
1931
As Donna had hoped, they had made it back early, Gert even having dinner ready and hot on the table. A roast, veggies, mashed potatoes and gravy, plus fresh apple cider and all the fixings. The family ate heartily, while talking about the day. They were close and all knew that to get through the Great Depression, differences would have to be put aside, especially sibling rivalry, which shouldn't be left unchecked.
After dinner, Donna stopped by Cousin Virginia's, who had already spoken with the others. They used the phone in the hall to call Janice and had arranged everything from that point.
They giggled when Janice's brother Todd answered the telephone and confirmed everything with them. "Yes, we'll be there at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow," he said.
"Okay, that's great. Hey, Donna wants to talk to you." Virginia handed the phone to her cousin.
"Hi Toad, what's doing?" The pretty girl asked. She'd taken to calling him 'Toad', and he never seemed to mind, figuring Donna meant the nickname to imply he was a Prince Charming waiting for his princess to come and change him back.
"Oh nothing, I just got through listening to Amos & Andy.
"Your dad letting you listen to the radio more?" Asked Donna.
"No, I'm not as lucky like you are, being able to listen anytime, even having more than one radio in your house! Now that's heaven to me. My folks figure that if they gave me a radio of my own, I'd never come down to dinner again!"
"Well, they're probably right," she snipped at him playfully. "My parents know I won't abuse the privileges they set for me. So you going hiking with us tomorrow, or what, Chum?"
"Yes, I already asked my dad, and he said I could. Virginia going to be there?"
Donna didn't answer right away and felt a mixture of jealousy and protectiveness for her cousin. They were close. "Yeah, so what? You taking a shine to her, Toadie-boy?"
"What if I was? You mad?"
"No, not mad, just don't hurt her, okay? She's more than just my cousin, you know, she's my best friend! I look out for her. We look out for each other. She'd be doing the same as I was right now if the tables were turned."
"I wasn't saying anything bad about it, Donna. And we'll be there around 7, okay?"
"Make it 6:00 a.m. so we can get a good start."
"I'll set my alarm."
"Don't be late, or Virginia and I leave without you and your sister!"
"I won't! Tell Virginia I said bye," said Todd.
"Tell her yourself, Lover-Boy, maybe I should put on some romantic stuff in the background!" Donna handed the phone to her friend who stood waiting to talk to her new love.
"Hi Todd....."
Donna walked back into the living room and sat on the couch waiting for her cousin to finish with her telephone call. Lately, since he and Virginia started liking each other, Donna's view of the guy had changed. He was going from a runty, mussed-haired kid, to a tall, more reserved boy that she knew was deep inside his 15 year old body.
Finally Virginia swooned into the living room and sat next to Donna looking dreamy. "Hey, your cheeks are really flushed, Virginia, I don't think you want your mom to see you this way, quick, let's go upstairs and put on some light powder to tone you down."
The two tip-toed upstairs, applied the make-up. When the two launched into a cute ditty song, and had gotten the harmonies just right, Aunt Stella told Donna it was time for her to go home.
"My, my, you two were rambunctious this evening," said the still striking woman.
"There's a lot to be rambunctious about, Mom!"
"You girls are just growing up, but I'll tell you something, I've got a mind to talk to your Uncle Earle about seeing if you can join in on Aunt Gert's music lessons.
Virginia couldn't have been happier, and was Donna when she left to return to her own house. She immediately called her cousin up with the news. They sat and talked about boys for a bit, then retired for the evening. Donna said her goodnights to the family and went to bed.
* * *
Evening, 1931
Hours later, after retiring, Donna still lay awake thinking and drifting. She couldn't wait to see her friends and hoped Toad wouldn't act immature and tease them too much. Maybe she should drop the nickname Toad. Why were boys like that? She drifted into her usual restless sleep dreaming of that same girl with the curly, curly hair.
But, as usual, the sun announced yet another morning out her window and Donna was relieved to see the same bluebird perched on her windowsill, signaling a new day.
In the end, she was glad Todd had come along, because he did most of the picture taking. Her father had let Donna borrow the new camera he'd just bought. She treated it like gold, taking it out carefully from her lunch sack.
"This might be one of the last nature walks we'll take together for awhile," said Donna, walking down the grassy path.
"I guess once we start going to different schools next year, the chances of having the same schedule is at odds," said Janice, while munching on her ham and cheese sandwich, sipping Coca Cola from the bottle.
"I wish you and Toad were going to Arlington," lamented Donna, stealing a sip from the Coke.
"Well, in the meantime, we're all as close as ever," said Virginia, popping a potato stick into her mouth.
As they walked slowly up the well-worn path to a small tree sanctuary at Whitcomb Summit Observation Tower, where they would do a bit of bird watching, no one missed Todd and Virginia holding hands and exchanging a hug once in a while. "Don't think going to separate schools is going to hurt those two, hey?" They laughed lightly.
"My dad said we might see some rare colored birds, because a neighbor had lost his pet parrot, one of those exotic birds from overseas," explained Donna, scanning the horizon with the binoculars she'd also brought.
Todd immediately said, "Donna, your dad is pulling our shoestrings! There aren't any strange colored birds in all of Massachusetts, except the ones in cages and in your brain!" Everyone laughed.
But soon they entered an open copse of trees and heard a bird screeching, then a strange voice say, "Stop in the name of the law!" The group of friends then spotted a small blue and red bird fly to the highest tree, and into its recently forged nest. Its markings were very offbeat and colorful.
"It's from India, I think," explained Donna.
"That's so neat," said Virginia."
"Won't that do something to the ecological chain?" Asked Todd kiddingly.
"I don't think so."
Todd snapped a few shots of the action. It was then Donna remembered the nickname her mother called Dad - 'Woodie', short for the woodpecker bird. Well, it was better than calling him 'Parrot'. Afterwards, when they returned from the hike, Gert invited everyone for dinner. They sat around the table talking about the bird they saw. Then out of the blue, Gloria started teasing her father, how he would look as a bird. Later on that evening, Gert carried the joke further when she compared her husband’s member to a woodpecker bird. They shared a good laugh, settled down, talked for a bit, hugged close and nestled in for the evening.
The house was quiet, except for that mournful train whistle that always seemed to sound it's horn at just the right moment in time.
* * *
1997
Lee finally gave the go ahead for Katie to call Virginia Wood, first cousin and band mate to the Wood sisters. She had finally gotten the number and it was like a key to some mysterious treasure from Gloria's husband Lee, one of many he would procure through the months. Of course by 1997, Virginia was well into her eighties, which was hard for Katie to first fathom because of looking at all the photos of Ginny as a little girl, even as a baby. The first thing the girl asked Ginny was about Lee Hackler, Donna's husband.
"I don't know what happened to Lee. His family was from Kansas. Lord, he was very handsome and stern, focused. Donna had met him on one of her many War Bond tours with the Heidt band. He was, at that time, in the Army Air Corp., but also had the privilege of being his unit's official music conductor," explained the talkative, perky sounding Wood-link. "The couple most probably met at one of the big shows. From there they courted, then shortly married in 1943. He moved in with Donna at her place after the war, worked for the Beverly Hills Citizen in the newspaper's advertising department."
"Wow, that's very interesting," egged on Kate. It was the first time she could put an event to a photo, and Lee's face was as clear as if she'd known him herself, which she probably did, or ‘would’!
"My, my, you are bringing me way back! Shall I continue?
"Please do," said Kate, lapping it all up like a can of Alpo to Lassie.
"My husband and I spent time with them in 1942. That's when we married, and ended up going back east though. Lee was good looking, strong and tall, he had a wonderful sense of humor, but there was this very strict and prim side to him, especially in regards to his appearance. He was only a few years older than Donna, but definitely loved that woman more than anything in the world," said Virginia, her voice becoming far away as she went back to those days. Her voice still held that childlike quality, that flare for living. "By the way, I'm very much interested in what you are going to do with all this," she said so suddenly, that it startled Katie with its stark clarity.
"Oh, yes, of course, I have plans. But I'm just enjoying your family like they're my own. I hope you don't mind," said Kate, wanting to hear more about the Wood's past.
"Did I mention that my husband flew 54 missions overseas? He received the Distinguished Flying Cross, and many other medals," said Virginia, talking up her man. "He was a teacher at a high school, and even taught a class in ROTC. He is a wonderful man."
"I'm sure he is," said Kate, noting that fact about the Woods.
"I've taught dancing all of my life, and put on radio and singing shows, and I play piano and organ. And just for the record, I am teaching at the Cerebral Palsy Center."
"You've sure done a lot, Virginia!" It was almost like talking to Donna and Gloria. For the same blueprint in their brains was certainly instilled in Ginny's.
"Yes, we've done it all, really. Dick and I danced together all through 56 years of marriage until the loss of my son. But we still enjoy swinging to music together. We enjoy our grandchildren and daughter-in-law. She's an artist, just like my son was."
"It's almost like her son represents Donna Wood, the same pattern, dying young like that," thought Kate. "It's so sad, and I'm really sorry about that, Virginia. How did he die?"
"It was a brain aneurysm. He was taking medication, had a headache, went to sleep and just never woke up," said the woman sadly. “It was so sudden!”
"Oh, that's terrible. I'm so sorry, Ginny." Katie didn't know what else to say, but secretly wondered where Virginia's son was buried, and if it was accessible.
Months down the line, Ginny would send Kate a picture of she and her son dancing together in 1976. It would be at that moment that Katie would see the resemblance of the boy to her brother Neil. Putting a picture of her brother side by side with Ginny's son procured another parallel! Neil and the boy could have been twins! And to add more mystery to the saga, Ginny's son was adopted. The pictures of the two would speak for themselves, people would believe what they will. Katie knew the truth.
"Yes, but we go on. I've got a lot of things happening," acknowledged the woman, her perky, young voice all of a sudden sounding stern and forlorn.
"Getting back to Donna and Gloria, I noticed that in many of the pictures there might have been a friendly rivalry between them. You can clearly see their body language, which seemed to be a bit competitive," assumed Kate.
"Yes, there was. Glo was the wildcat, Donna the lovely songbird!" said Virginia, still not seeing the full scope of Kate's Wood love. "But Hackler, oh, he was a wonderful musician, a conductor. They’re so exact, and have to take control. He was the type that laid down the law and expected a clean household and a tip-top wife to come home to," explained Virginia Wood. "He was over protective of my cousin."
"Obviously, Donna adored him, judging from her expressions in the shots," said Kate.
"Our family respected Lee Hackler, especially Uncle Earle," said Virginia, using Donna's father's middle name for some strange reason, rather than Robert.
"Yes, it's clearly written on his face in many of the photos of them together in front of Donna's place and from what you say, Virginia."
Katie had been to the apartment house on Canon Drive a few times and still felt Wood spirits wandering and meandering, still searching out ideal spots to take photos. There's also an attached sadness to the place. Nothing's really changed except the trees around the building had grown triple the size. The walkway, once an azul blue tile, was painted over many times, now an unappealing mauve. After all, it had been over 55 years. Even when Kate did live in that neighborhood for almost 12 years, she never ran across any Wood family visiting that apartment, nor ever noticed Gloria or Lee shopping at the market on Olympic.
Now she felt like she'd known them all along and can draw inspiration and happiness from wondering 'Where the Woods Were'. More and more each day Kate felt what Donna might have felt on certain days and moments.
"Virginia, I've taken a keen interest in the Woods' life in the 1930's and '40's, and I even understand that time a little better just from looking at all those old photos and clippings. I don't know what drives me to continue to take so much interest in your family, rather than putting energy into my own, but, as usual, I feel compelled to wonder about 'Where The Wood Were', and know there is more!"
"It's okay, Dear. Those were golden days. You keep doing what you've been doing. Just know that my husband and I are with you in any way. We thank you for it. And thanks for remembering," said Virginia. "I feel like I've known you all my life," she added eerily.
After Kate hung up, she had a premonition that something marvelous was going to happen. She knew at that second that once she was in the 1940's and had known Them! She didn't even realize how truly on the mark she was, because the woman had gone back in time, and returned, but had not come to that point yet!
* * *
1931
Eric Anderson, Gert's brother, stopped in while everyone was out to drop off flyers for a singing engagement he was putting together. He knew the Wood's were all going to be there, of course. The first thing on Robert Wood's mind was how Donna and Gloria could figure into this dinner show. Although the Wood sisters were young, sometimes their parents couldn't help themselves, and got so obsessed!
"It's the lure of the music. It does something to the spirit, and Gert says it's something akin to religious, like those pious preachers on the streets of Downtown Arlington. They shout The Word, and condemn damnation. It's the same with music, which drives the soul!" Explained Robert in the same way the preachers got all fired up in town.
Robert asked his wife Gert to speak with Eric to see if Donna and Gloria could do a number at the show, but there was no need to ask, because Gert's brother already mentioned it and she accepted for the girls.
Donna walked around the house starry-eyed, feeling what Virginia felt with Todd, but different, of course. Gloria imitated her older sister's gestures. This indeed would be a platform, a springboard of sorts, to see what the Wood sister's are all about, what they were made of!
A week before the show a new addition was added! Cousin Virginia was the third leg that made them The Glo Vir Don Girls Trio. It happened so naturally, and all three of the girls were definitely naturals.
They launched into rehearsing with Gertrude as their director/manager. She guided them through all the standards of the day and of her time. All 3 girls took to the songs, all 3 matching each other in poise and vocal range, but it was Donna that had that certain sparkling beauty that set her just a cut above the other two. Adding Virginia was a good move as well, because the girl was vibrant, a real beauty, and certainly just as star-dusted as the Wood sisters were. It was a certain sparkle that so many Hollywood hopefuls longed for. And all the girls wore it like a stamp on their foreheads. They possessed a special something, and resembled the prototype of a group who would follow that starry-eyed vision set for them.
As the Wood's entered the small dinner theater in Downtown Orange, the first thing Donna noticed was the smell of heavy cologne and perfume from the many richly dressed patrons dining on the last of their filet mignon and lobster tails.
"Yes, she was nervous, but it was a good nervous. This is what she always dreamt! - Singing for a crowd with her fellow Glo Vir Don's!"
Gertrude came up beside her daughter and stroked her hair lovingly. Mother knew a good thing when she saw it, and the Glo Vir Dons were the first step for Donna. At that moment Donna turned to her mother and said, "We're going to get to the end of that rainbow, where there's a Pot O' Gold!" She said it as if on cue, as everyone took their seats then, when the lights flicked on and off. The show began as usual, with a women's trio singing a Concerto, then a mixed assortment of songs of the day sung by groups of singers, plus some of the newer standards. By the middle of the show, before the intermission, Eric Anderson came out singing in that deep Tenor way that set him apart from the other three men on stage with him. They sang mostly medley-type songs, even some barbershop quartet numbers, which got the older folks excited and on their feet.
After the brief intermission the Glo Vir Dons were introduced. There was a murmur in the crowd of regulars who frequented the dinner club. Some sounded skeptical, mostly the 'groupies' of other performers, but as soon as the lights trained on the trio, those skeptical murmurs turned to amazement as the girls began an uplifting bluesy tune.
The Wood sisters knew this was it. The moment they were led back stage and they quickly donned their costumes, almost vamp style, but with class and poise, they knew this was their destiny. And before their show they'd always say a chant between them -- "Hot spit, we've got secrets, mums the word, we won't tell!" It meant the secrets to success! It meant a lot of things! Now they took the stage together for the first time. The crowd, who were slowly raising the conversation din during the show, soon hushed to a light whisper. It was amazing to see these three girls light up the stage, and singing all sorts of musical selections and light tunes. They warbled lightheartedly and upbeat, even leaning toward gospel, thanks to Robert & Gert's church influence, which was obvious.
By the third song, no one wanted the girls to get off the stage. They ended after a beautiful medley of swing tunes, with Gloria & Virginia hitting the high notes, and 14 year old Donna bringing the house down with a cool rendition of a most-bopping blues tune, sang like the lead in a Broadway show, even though the girl was young. It was assured that no one in that audience would soon forget 'Donna Wood and her Glo Vir Dons'.
Afterward, in the lobby, people came up to the Wood's and praised their performance. "Such potential, such poise, such delivery! And Donna, wow, what a set of chops! She sounds like a grown-up, mature singer. How old did you say they were? Donna's 14? And Gloria is only 9? Virginia 12?"
If Eric Anderson felt any jealousy, he kept a cool mask of it as the stout man took each
Glo Vir Don in his arms and swung them around, hugging all of them equally. Many had come up to congratulate him, saying he had a such a voice, not even commenting on the Glo Vir Dons at all, which surprised him about other people's loyalties. Many in society's music circles knew his name, or at least that of his family's, so he had no doubt that the girls would soon be generating a whole new Anderson-Wood scrapbook.
Afterwards they all went to dinner at Tilly's. From the moment the Wood's walked into the restaurant to the second they got up to leave, people kept breezing by their table compliment them, for most had already heard what a smash The Glo-Vir-Dons were, bringing the house down at the old supper club. The girls pulled off a solid performance. In most people's opinion, they're on their way. Even Bobby and Channie got compliments. The Wood family as a whole looked so ideal and centered. Who knew what lucked in their futures.
1997
One Sunday morning, out of the blue, Lee led P.J. (whom he'd become more friendlier with in the last few month's since March) out back in the yard to an aluminum shed that held more personal items of the Wood family's past. Kate’s masculine side felt like Howard Carter opening Tut's tomb! There were recording machines from the 50's, microphone stands, old books stuffed with family pressed flowers and other mementos. There were even items from another family, The Becthel's, a woman Gloria Wood nicknamed 'Bee', whom she had a close association with in the 60's and up until the older lady's death in 1990 at the age of 92!
There was Donna's diary from before and near her death in 1947, which Kate began reading as soon as she found it in that hot shed. It dawned on Kate that entries written by the ailing singer during her illness coincided with the Roswell alien incident, setting the tone for Kate's fly back in time.
Donna wrote sporadically and furiously for months, abruptly stopping in the beginning of April of '47, presumably when she passed away.
February 21, 1947: Today is the day I try some new treatment. Dr. Bilon examined me and my pressure and blood flow are weak. Went to see Dr. Skepner next door at 6255 Hollywood Blvd. His wife was at the desk. We had a nice visit. We made a date for dinner with his mother and wife. Lee called Dr.Bilon. I guess they talked in length about my condition. Because I got a call the next day. I was disappointed. I was all set up for some good news. There was none, but I'm hanging in there as best as I can. I guess all my antics on the road are coming back to haunt me now.
February 23, 1947: Today is the day of my new appointment with a referral from Dr. Bilon's office, a Dr. Levine at 2:30. Dr. Bilon gave Lee 7 shots for any pain I might experience! Afterwards, we went to visit Aunt Stella, who was home. She took me out for a bite, but it was hard to eat. I was dizzy. They gave me something before I left the doctor's office. God, my arm is sore. You know, as I think back, maybe I shouldn't of used those diet aids, they may have weakened my heart. At least that's the impression I'm getting from the doctor. Who knows at this point? I'm so frustrated, but trying to keep up. Mama and Papa have been staying with us, and they are a blessing.
And, guess what happened yesterday morning! There was a huge explosion over on Pico and Sanborn, some aluminum factory. The whole neighborhood heard it. It's been on the radio all day, and my next door neighbor, the only one with something called television, let us watch it. A few workers were killed and it's really making news. Just wishing to feel better.
February 29, 1947: Today is the date of our income tax board for 1946! Lee picked my parents up at 2:30, went and did shopping and to his bank. We went to Five and Dime store and The Broadway, across the street from Dr. Bilon's office in Hollywood. We went to the appointment, although I'm a bit fatigued. They came over and we actually made it to Websters Steak House. Was home at 8:00 p.m. Lee and I actually made love and I didn't feel that fatigued. A man needs the release and so did I. I cherish every moment I get to spend healthy and happy with Lee. He's my life, even in death. I'm being facetious, of course, but I relish to feel good! It' weird, but afterwards, Lee and I had a little argument today. I said I won't take this sick feeling anymore" and he knows it. It got him miffed and brooding, because I think for the first time he realizes our time is short. I didn't mean to hurt him, just want to love. I said, "I can't say anything negative anymore?" and he said, "You do pretty well, and I said you'd like me to be timid and accepting of all this?" Oh, everything seems so petty lately. We finished at 11:30 and went to bed.
Still trying to be upbeat about my declining condition. I can feel it! It's scary, and brings back those dreams I had as a child. It's all coming in picture perfect lately. I'm scared. I've stopped the diet pills, or 'Pep' Pills, as Gloria calls them.
March 5, 1947: Today is the Birthday of Lee, my Darling! His day off. We'll also celebrate his birthday with a drive to Big Bear because, for once, I feel so much better all of a sudden. The doctor said it would be up and down. Lee and I just want to take advantage of my health and live everyday to the fullest. I'm sure if we weathered through World War II, we can certainly weather this too. God is with us. Have my parents staying over. I gave Lee a dinner party at Fog Cutters and sang 'Blue Heaven' for him. I wore an emerald-colored suit. We all had Fillets with sauce and mushrooms and liver, and two barcardis. Delicious! Lee had New York steak. We all had salads. Took our friends home at 12:30. Lee and I went home and listened to the radio together.
Although both of us have our moments and Lee his moods, we do enjoy being together, even when we're doing nothing. Wish I was better. Again, all I want to do is feel well again. I'm really suffering with this ill-health thing. The doctor said it's my heart, and I can put any strain on it. That's very hard for me. I wonder if he also means making love. Oh, how I would miss that. I've also noticed that my dreaming pattern has slowed, which means my medication is affecting it. Maybe now that I'm involved with the Christian Science church, I can find strength in fighting this off. Oh, how I want to live!
My sister Glo is doing so well these days playing with Kay Kaiser. And Horace Heidt stopped in last week, on his way to Santa Barbara with the Musical Knights. I've been missing singing like that. I wish I could just do it one more time, one more whirl. Maybe in my next life, right?
It was February of '97, 50 years later, that Kate began inserting entries of her own on blank pages between Donna's 1947 scribblings. The diary began taking on a new life!
February 21, 1997: Hi I'm Katie, a friend of Lee, Gloria Wood's husband! I found this diary at their house in Beverly Hills. It belonged to Donna Wood before she passed away. Today is my old flame Brad Boyers' birthday. Boy was I crazy about him. Knew him at Salem College in West Virginia. Hard to believe that this day marks almost 19 years after my father died in 1978, committing suicide by swallowing pills and vodka. We came home to find the phone off the hook and my father lying on his bed dressed in full tuxedo. He'd had it all planned out even to the last detail, leaving lengthy, amorous, 'at-peace-with-himself' notes to each of us, including the family attorney.
August 15, 1997: Today is the birthday of me, Katie, plus the anniversary of when I met P.J., just like on Gloria’s birthday when she met Lee! Well, today is my 35th. They gave me a cake and flowers at work, only after an agent over at William Morris Agency sent me flowers. Then, the Film Beat staff reporters got me flowers, as a cake was rolled out into the newsroom, and I found out later that a girl working at my job had said some things. She was mad because she had to pick up the cake. Robert in the library told me via E-mail messages on my computer where I work as an Editorial Assistant. In '47 my mother was sick with polio in Brooklyn, NY.. She told me that on her birthday she heard all the nurses and doctors singing Happy Birthday day from the dining room. She was so ill! My mother was 16 years old then! Donna Wood died, my mother lived.
It's P.J.'s and my 3rd anniversary. P.J. doesn't think it's any biggie. He never was very nostalgic or sentimental, at least not like Donna or Gloria Wood and their husbands - both named Lee! Sad at times, lost moments, unfelt feelings.
Sept. 5th, 1997: Today is the birthday of P.J. Hinman. This is Kate Siegel writing. That's right, my boyfriend Philip John! He's in Palm Springs right now doing a job for one of my mother's friends - Hope Holiday. It's nice space for me spending more time alone. Came home from work, settled in, cooked a nice little dinner, watched t.v., wrote, did my art and slept. At least P.J. is making money! For some strange reason I've been thinking about 1969 when I was in second grade, hanging out with Roland Dubilier, this German kid who moved back there in 1970. Never saw him again. Now, to this day, I wonder about him. (Note: 11/4/97 --- I found Roland when we got hooked up to the Internet and I looked him up in a German white pages. Found Roland and now we correspond almost daily. He lives in Cologne and is a landscaper, married with two autistic kids. Right now he's vacationing on the North Sea.)
There were more of Donna's Entries in some dates, so that Kate could not
write in there. They were dated a year before her death.
April 14th, 1946: Today is my birthday. It's Lee's day off. Going to Big Bear for a 1 week honeymoon. Lee and I alone at Castaways Hotel for 3 to 5 days! We'll celebrate my birthday there. Went to pick up Mom, Dad and Gloria. Ended at Websters and had porter house steak. They did too. Mine was tender and theirs were tough. Got a cake for my birthday. I opened my presents from everyone. Gloria got me some Blue gloves and a table cloth with matching napkins and two cards and then we had coffee.
Lately I've been feeling a bit tired. I did lose 4 pounds, and have been taking those diet wonder pills everyone in Hollywood has been raving about. But now that I've lost that weight, I stopped taking them, and have been feeling poorly, especially in the morning. Lee has been disappointed more than once lately because I've not felt like making love, nor have the strength for it of late. I've been falling into deep sleeps with no dreaming, and I think maybe I'll go see the specialist again.
A few weeks later, Kate actually found Gloria Wood's diaries in a bedroom drawer, dated 1990-1991, and they were a bit more descriptive due to her old age. She talks candidly about health problems and bowel movement schedules. It was amazing to have found both sister's scribblings.
The next items the couple found were reel to reels of Gloria's commercials on radio and TV. It was eerie listening to them on the two-track recorder she used in the 1950's. It brought them back to a time when cars, cigarettes and beer were the exciting rages of the day!
"Did you know that My Gloria sang the theme song from the Woody Woodpecker cartoon, but was best known for that 'Rice A Roni, San Francisco Treat' commercial. She was the voice of Lady Fish in 'The Incredible Mr. Limpet,' starring Don Knotts." That was one of the longest sentences Lee had said and it was awesome to see the transformation of the guy since Kate and P.J. entered his life.
"I know that she did a stint as doing the noises that Tinkerbell in Walt Disney's Peter Pan did, and dozens of other offbeat background work," acknowledged Kate in appreciation. At that moment Kate was going through the older man's mail. "Yes, I got a rundown of Gloria's voice-over career by all the residual checks she's still receiving. It's amazing, Lee," said Kate, picking up one particular check from Warner Bros., for the movie Showboat. She even sang the voice of the little boy Lucille ball sang with in "Mame", the motion picture. Katie was amazed. Glo did a backgrounds for one of the twins in the Parent Trap, and even babysat for Mike Douglas' (talk show host) twins, because of her association with that particular movie. Blackballing would come much later for Gloria. In fact, Katie had found a video of Glo's performance on ABC's Music Is My Beat, and Glo sang her latest commercial of that day, breaking a taboo in t.v. advertising for 1959, by doing a medley of her past commercials for Miller Beer, Marlboro and Hamms Beer. She even sang the 'Grow, grow, grow' little boy voice her latest bread commercial. What a voice she had. Too bad she broke tradition by singing other sponsor's jingles. Then there was that Bridgett Bardot - Explosive Music album that was plugged with Glo's album, 'Wood By The Fire', plus she sang her racy tune "Hey Bellboy!". Another barrage of unfortunate incidents happened to Glo in 1960, 1969, and 1990 – she broke her foot on those three separate occasions, which spelled disaster for anyone with a Diabetes history like Glo was headed for. Plus, falling down may have contributed to her weight problems she suffered around those times.
* * *
1931
Donna could hardly sleep that night, even after having hot chocolate with the family. Everyone was so happy and jovial, and it was all because of her, Gloria and Cousin Virginia! She was totally elated and didn't want the feeling to pass. Donna compared the feeling to the same way she felt when those waves came crashing against the shore. Could it be exhilaration? "Yes, it must be that!"
Gert and Robert were beaming. Words weren't needed to express the pride they shared in creating such talented offspring. When all the children were put to bed, the couple retired to their large bedroom with the brass bed. Nothing could have broken the spell that fell over them when they shut the big mahogany door. Gert sat in a large love seat brushing her hair, while Robert watched her from their bower, shirtless, only in his boxers. Finally he got up and carried his wife over and tenderly laid her beneath him. They shut out the world, making quiet, intense love, never seeming to tire of each other's company or sharing of bodies. It was their closeness that kept things in order.
After her adequate release, she began thinking that the last thing needed right now was another child. She'd bore 4 already and who knew how long the Depression would last. But once they were making love, her mind did little to quell the desire and passion behind the act. But all of a sudden, her husband, as if knowing, pulled out and released beyond the reach of those magical eggs! Gert sighed with relief and fulfillment and drew him closer to nuzzle on her breasts. They washed and retired for the evening, never noticing Donna up and about in the house as they soon fell fast asleep in each other's arms after quietly enjoying some afterplay.
Donna crept into their bedroom watching them closely. She had a dream and was a little spooked by its clarity. But when she saw her parents sleeping so tenderly, the girl didn't have the heart to wake them. It was about time she dealt with her visions on a mature level. Enough with the baby stuff already! If she wanted to be treated as an adult, and she could most certainly sing like one, then she must act like one. It would take a lot of pretending that she was in control of herself, not afraid, but she was going to be an actress anyway, so what the heck, good practice.
Donna crept back out, checking on her sister again for the third time that evening. She got a strange satisfaction from doing it, a certain motherly flutter.
Gloria was, of course, fast asleep, as were her two brothers. Chandler stirred ever so slightly when Donna lightly blew on his face, but Slumberland seemed to tug harder.
Donna loved when the house was quiet and still. At that moment a mournful train whistle sounded in the distance. Donna especially loved the sound of the train. It made her yearn for wide-open country, chugging along.
She walked through the entire place noticing things for the very first time, and imagining she was someone else looking in on her family after they were sleeping or buried forever, which brought attention back to the dream.
There's a colorful field, a girl with curly hair bent down looking at some graves. Donna came closer and saw it was her family's name on the plots. She even recognized her father's nickname "Woodie" etched in the stone, and her mother's nickname 'Ma' It was scary to look upon her own and something held her back from gazing at it in the dream. Frustration came next. She's screaming and yelling, and suddenly wakes up afraid, because it's not normal, but rather a foreshadowing of images of things to come. Was she talking to that strange inner voice?
Definitely not run-of-the-mill kid dreams, that's for sure. Her friends at school never dreamt like that, nor were theirs as vividly prolific. She tried sharing some of the dreams with her school chums, but they didn't take to it, usually brushing it off. Even Virginia shied away from such talk about Donna Wood's eerie dreams.
Still not being able to sleep, Donna went to the living room and pulled out the family Bible, which she began reading on the large, comfortable sofa. After the Tower of Babel fell, the young girl flipped to the plight of Joseph when he was in Egypt and interpreted Pharaoh's dreams. Finally, Donna fell asleep comforted by Gideon's.
A few hours later Robert Sr. rose and went to the kitchen. On his way in he spotted his daughter sleeping with the Bible beside her open to The Old Testament. She stirred then, but turned over on the plush colonial couch. He went to the closet and pulled out a flannel blanket, gently covering His Girl, kissing her lightly on the forehead. On his way back he put the hall light on the lowest dimmer so his daughter could find her way to the bathroom. And also to fight off any lingering bad dreams. Oh, how he hated those blasted nightmares. The doctor's could only say that it was something Donna might grow out of. If it were treated as a disorder, they'd give her medication to calm her at night. Robert couldn't allow it, and neither would Gert. It would most probably render their Donna of her loving, talented spirit that drove their oldest, plus, how would it effect her performance and singing career? No Laudanum for My Girl. God must have had some reason for her to be that way. As Robert climbed the stairs, thoughts of his daughter's dreaming troubled him. The condition could not be ignored, so the Woods turned to God and their faith to heal their daughter, and get them through the crisis. He prayed she would be okay, and asked God to give them all strength. He also prayed not to favor one child over another, promising to do more with his boys, especially his oldest.
After looking in on his Boys, he returned to the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. Gert, as he surmised, was wide-awake, looking at him, knowing his exact thoughts.
"She's sleeping in the living room again," said Gert. "Our daughter had no doubt come in when we had just fallen asleep.
"Gert, why don't you let things be for now," said Robert.
"Soon we're going to have a hard to hard talk with our daughter about privacy after hours. She's 14 and old enough now to understand that we won't tolerate that sort of behavior of sneaking around the house poking noses into business best left in private any longer. When the door is closed it should remain so," said Gert.
"Of course she means no harm, but Donna must sleep through the night in her own bed from now on. We've let her get into a bad habit of depending on our strength, when it was time for the girl to draw from her own," agreed Robert, fluffing his pillows and lying down.
"We'll talk about it in the morning and she would understand and obey," said Gert, turning to flick off the lamp. "Good night my sweet Woodie!"
"Sweet dreams, Ma!" They kissed deeply before turning over to sleep.
Soon a beautiful morning rose bright and clear, birds singing, sunshine trickling in Donna's room. She had went back upstairs around 3:00 a.m., climbing into her own bed. The same bluebird landed on her windowsill every morning. She became used to remaining as still as possible, for that creature was so alert and timid that even though the window was closed, he flew away when she looked up quickly. Soon Donna was up and playing the Songbird herself, humming one of the songs from Uncle Eric's show. The cheerful girl washed then dressed in a simple blue-print calico dress and button down shoes.
After fixing her hair and adding a touch of powder to her cheeks, a dash of perfume, Donna went downstairs to breakfast, her family already seated at the dining room table. Gert was serving eggs with bacon and motioned for her daughter to sit.
There was fresh squeezed orange juice, a tall glass of cold milk, buttered toast and jelly. Donna chewed on a piece of toast and sipped her orange juice, wanting so very badly to taste Dad's coffee. It smelled so wonderful. She would try it one day. Once served, she began eating as conversation drifted to the prospective day ahead.
Bob and Chandler were going to the lake to swim and do some boating. Gert was taking little Gloria, who sat across from Chandler eating oatmeal, for a haircut. So that left Donna to take pictures with Grandpa's camera. In fact, Grandpa was visiting and would love nothing more than to go on a photo excursion with his son-in-law, Shutter-Bug Wood and granddaughter around the same property he courted his now deceased wife, Constance.
Bob sat at the table finishing his country breakfast, wanting so badly to race to the lake where he could be outside. The oldest boy relished the outdoors so much, that he'd always wished to be like the American Indians. There were some left too! He read about it in an outdoors magazine put out by the Sierra Club. Maybe not around here, but they're still out West, which is where the boy had his sights set. The oldest son watched his father fiddle with his latest film gadget. As far back as Bob could remember crawling, he recalled how his father was so bug-eyed about cameras. They still had Grandpa's outdated camera from 1910!
He wasn't a performer, just didn't sing that well, and he'd accepted it. But once in awhile it would have been nice if Mom and Dad paid him as much attention in their hobbies as they were doing for their sister's talents and Channie's interest in a singing career. Bob found himself turning to other family relatives for that support. His Aunt Stella had been telling him to follow his dream to be a forest ranger, just like Donna and Gloria were doing with their singing and performing.
He stared long and hard at his sister Donna sitting across from him picking at her food. She should eat more, that he knew. Once he'd overheard a conversation his parents were having about Donna's dreaming. She was so different from the girls he knew at school. Sometimes he felt a cross between jealously and sadness for his sister, but they got a long very well. She seemed to favor Channie though. He'd noticed when she came into their bedroom in the middle of the night sometimes. He feigned sleep most times, just to observe her.
After breakfast everyone started their day. Gert and Robert took Donna aside and explained about the privacy act that was now in effect.
"As long as the door was closed, you aren't to enter or knock unless it's an extreme emergency, like the house was on fire or you didn't feel well," said Gert evenly.
"Otherwise keep that door shut and mind your privacy. And no more getting up at night and roaming around," added her father sternly.
"You're at an age where it was better to steel yourself, and try going back to sleep," said Gert.
"Of course, if you have to relieve yourself, that's fine."
"If you still can't sleep, you have permission to leave your bedroom light onto read. Take the Bible with you to keep at night."
Donna tried to be accepting, but that little girl part of her felt abandoned and sad. She loved sleeping in her parent's bed, loved the smell, the comfort, the security of lying between them, the enjoyment of their conversations and discussions that sometimes drifted far into the night as she fell asleep again. The girl would sorely miss that. Although she thought her parents a trite harsh, Donna seemed to understand their reasoning, and from then on would respect their wishes. She would adhere and have that acting strength because one day Donna Wood was going to be a famous movie star, that she was sure of. She was also sure her parents were sure.
* * *
It was two months later, Donna's first day at Arlington High School, that her dreaming disorder took a turn for the worse. She had fallen asleep during history class. When the teacher tried to wake her, she began screaming. They said she was zonked when some boys carried her to the nurse's office. Her parents were called and came right away. Gert was at a radio rehearsal and Robert in a board meeting, but they immediately sprung into action when both had received word of the nightmare in class. They rushed to the school as Donna was just getting off the infirmary cot. She looked pale and drawn, but was stable and getting color back in her cheeks. Donna's face lit up when she spotted her parents racing up the steps. She was scared, but knew this would happen due, of course, to yet another vivid vision of her future death.
As soon as word spread in Arlington about Donna Wood, the congregation at their church began a 24-hour prayer vigil, non-stop, all day and night. Gert and Robert, as well as the entire Wood family attended services and sang in their daughter's behalf. By mid-week there was marked improvement in Donna, nothing short of a miracle. The pretty, bright-eyed girl became much closer to God, and began studying His Word more intensely. She attended Sunday school regularly, as well as mass and services, which made her dreams fade by the time she awoke. She began taking long slow walks on the property, even accompanying Bob to his favorite place, the lake, for a boating expedition.
As Bob rowed rhythmically, both brother and sister enjoyed the quiet and solitude the lake lended. They grew up there and were as comfortable as kittens in a litter. Donna was feeling much better, stronger and not so scared to sleep. She must have faith!
Bob asked, "What do you see in those dreams? He was very curious.
Donna tried to recall where her mind went after she slept, and explained that "...everything goes in slow motion until little by little, gray clouds consumed my vision, then I felt myself falling. The next I remembered was waking up in the future looking at my final resting place. Sometimes it's so scary and full of clarity," explained Donna easily.
But specifically Bob wanted to know such thing as - Did her spirit go out of her body? Did she go to heaven, but God said it wasn't time? Bob wondered.
Donna knew the answer. "It's my strong will to live that keeps the Grim Reaper at bay, my youth and strength. But, also a strong faith in the Lord."
"Will you eventually succumb?
"Yes, I will, but not quite yet. Bob, I've grown to accept it for there was not much I can do except keep the faith, know God is alive within me, and try achieving the goals set for myself.
But still, similar questions nagged at her brain lately. It was becoming harder and harder to put them to the back of her mind and get on with the life she envisioned of stardom, singing and making movies, as opposed to making babies, or dying?!?! Something deep down inside Donna knew there was little time in her lifespan, so she started to learn acceptance of her fate. Let it take her where it will, she will fight tooth and nail!
At the thought of making babies, she thought of the conversation with her parents and understood that it had something to do with a private intimacy between man and woman, something that was just dawning on her. Virginia told her about having a crush on Todd, even admitting to exchanging kisses on that bird-walking hike. It had been a private thing between the couple. At the same time, Donna thought about her parents and how close they were. But why was love so hidden and private? Wouldn't their joy in each other be better out in the open? Why all the big secret fuss? She could understand not allowing the boys or Gloria in, but her? What had she done to get shut out, when in the past there were no problems with her sleeping in there? It must have something to do with her age. She was almost 15 and would show them she could obey and respect their wishes.
1997
Katie, PJ and Lee uncovered a record/stereo player from 1956, encased in wood paneling, made by Columbia, with an attachment speaker in excellent shape. Kate picked various bundles of photos of the Wood family and pasted them on the stereo using special art glue that sealed the old photos into a smooth, clear surface.
"It truly shows 'Where the Woods Where', their past jumping out at you in a jumble of highlights," Katie said to PJ. But, before P.J. had a chance to repair the heirloom, sometimes they would hear, or think they'd heard eerie 1940's big band music, maybe Horace Heidt's popular numbers blaring in the middle of the night, but when the light sleeper couple would awaken and walk into the living room, they were met only by silence. It was back to bed until the music started again. Sometimes Kate would have to sleep in the living room to make the music stop playing (and to get away from PJ's snoring). It only happened on certain nights, then not for a long while, suddenly occurring again for no apparent reason. The scientist in Katie told her that it was her own mind playing tricks, but she still loved a good haunting. It became a game to Katie, as she stopped trying to distinguish every sound, usually attributing it to the Woods.
It was when Kate found Donna Wood's bible she read and held close to her before dying 50 years before, that the woman felt another piece of the puzzle falling into place. As she turned the pages of the half-a-century-old Bible, a doctor's prescription fell out. It was dated April 6, 1947, two days before the young singer passed away. The paper was well preserved, modern-looking except for the 5-digit phone number of a medical office at 6253 Hollywood Boulevard. You can barely read the signature of the physician, as well as what the medicine it was, which finally looked as if it may of been a form of hypo-Mercury that in those days they thought would stimulate the heart and kill any virus. In other words, they didn't really know what was wrong with Ms. Wood, and that's the sort of medication they doled out as a last resort!
Soon Kate would be getting off the bus there, on that corner, at that address because her job selling Internet Advertising for the phone company was actually in that same building directly across the street from the old Howard Hughes/Broadway building. It was hard to believe that 6253 still stood on the corner of Vine and Hollywood Blvd. She went in the building and up to the directory, scanning it, looking for Dr. Bilon, the name of the physician who last treated Donna. Amazingly enough, Kate came across a
T. Balal, almost similar to Donna's doc. Could it be yet another coincidence added to the long list growing? How very strange.
What really caught Kate's attention about Donna were the numerous hometown newspaper clippings about her, obviously through some mysterious P.R. ploy in hyped-up fashion. A picture is painted of a woman on the verge of stardom, a 'Cinderella in Hollywood,' engaged to a jeweler to the stars, doing her part for the war effort by going on coast to coast singing tours for radio and live shows, then meeting her future husband in '43 and settling in Beverly Hills, California.
In Donna's own words, "A lot of things have happened to me since I arrived in Hollywood last week. For one thing, I'm in the movies, something I had never imagined even in my wildest dreams!"
There were articles date-lined Hollywood - "Because an elevator stalled in Boston, a motion picture career opened in Hollywood for Donna Wood, 24-year old Boston singer. With no acting experience at all, she finds herself playing the part of Paulette Goddard's sister in "Pot O' Gold," James Roosevelt's first picture for United Artists.
Katie's first inspiration was to take all of it - pictures, dinner theater calling cards, ads, flyers and other such things - and create an impressive collage, which is what the creative woman ended up doing with some of it. She added 2 butterflies to the collage, as well as family photos at the gravesite, the obits written about Donna, including a typewritten poem by her Aunt Stella entitled "A Songbird in Heaven." It hangs on the bedroom wall in a large plastic-covered frame, looking like a piece belonging in a mod museum on Melrose Avenue. The second collage of Gloria's history sits on the fireplace mantel at the Beverwil house. Kate gave it to Lee, who adores it, even though he's ailing.
But Donna's collage holds much more significance for Kate. She gazes at headlines that ring, "Hub Star In Movie Romance! ... Stepping from airplane at East Boston as easily as she stepped into the role of Hollywood's 'Cinderella Girl', pretty Donna Wood of Arlington who reached fame in pictures in a few short months, revealed yesterday that she almost eloped one week after her arrival in the film capital."
"The now glamorous former Arlington High School girl is Donna of 'Donna and her Don Juans' featured with Jimmy Stewart and Paulette Goddard in the soon to be released 'Pot 'o Gold' movie."
"Yesterday at her parent's Arlington home, she recalled that she and Ralph Deitz, Hollywood jeweler, were on their way to buy plane tickets for a Las Vegas elopement when suddenly - like a woman - she changed her mind."
"But it was a change of mind and not of heart," she quickly added, explaining that she was afraid marriage might spoil the chance of her 'Don Juans' to reach the success for which they worked so hard.
"The Don Juans are George Jackson, Eddie Jones and Art Carney, all South Boston boys who sang over Boston radio stations for several years before Hollywood and fame beckoned to them almost overnight success."
"But Ralph and I correspond regularly," she smiled, and added, "Maybe soon there won't be any hitch when we start out to buy those plane tickets again."
"James Roosevelt, son of the President, who produced the 'Pot o' Gold' movie, is probably the most charming man in Hollywood, even more charming than most of the stars - in Donna's opinion."
She said, "He and Romelle Schneider, the nurse who brought him back to health following a serious operation, are really in love and were the most attractive couple on the set during the filming of the feature."
Donna's opinion about Hollywood glamour ... "It's strictly the bunk because all the stars are as nice and as down-to-earth as our next door neighbors."
"The fans glamorize the stars, and Hollywood simply picks up the cue from there on," she said boldly.
And as for her P.R. ploy to propel her into at the regular, Middle Class, American market, articles such as this one appeared to tone down the image ... "Orange relatives of Miss Wood have known of her engagement to Mr. Dietz, who is described in the Purcell story as the 'well known jeweler to Hollywood movie stars,' as well as being a 'handsome, six-foot two athlete.' It is assumed here that the church in which the couple alleged to have become acquainted is a Hollywood Christian Science church, since both Miss Wood and Mr. Dietz are Scientists. Miss Wood is 23 and Mr. Dietz' age is given as 26."
But of course, even the Hollywood of then made a woman's head turn toward the mirror, and sometimes that image didn't suit, so other measures would suffice in the age of no such thing as plastic surgery. Donna may have dabbled in diet pills, a deadly combo with her already weakened heart. She'd pop them on the road mostly to keep her going. It was very strenuous, and most of her friends encouraged it, just to give her that added pep and figure. It might have led to her death, and that was something Katie could not prevent, plus the fact that Donna was a Scientist, and most know what their beliefs in medicine are.
* * *
1931
It was one month into the new school year when the Sadie Hawkins dance was announced. As a joke, Virginia dared Donna to ask Rich Roberts, a new boy in their class. Donna stared over at the cute-as-apple-pie blond boy sitting in the lunchroom eating a sandwich. His nose was buried in the latest Horatio Algers series that boys relished, so he didn't at first notice the pretty, dark-haired beauty standing over his shoulder. When he did, Donna smiled and almost curtsied, but instead looked him square in the eye, introduced herself and asked him to the dance while handing him a fresh milk from her tray, a gesture, a gift.
Richard, a heavy mottled blush spreading on his face and neck, was taken totally off guard. He was shy and quiet, and never in a million years thought a girl like Donna Wood would ask him to the dance, so for a second he was rendered speechless, dumb struck. At first Donna thought he was going to turn her down.
Finally, Rich found his voice and stammered a bit, but gratefully accepting. "Well, ahhhh, ummm, I, I, I guess so. I mean, yes, I'll go!"
He was so bashful, but Donna still sat down beside him. "What are you reading? I love reading too, mostly music sheets and lyrics."
As they talked, he thought to himself that Donna Wood seemed like a gal who would go places. He liked her, wanted to go with her to the dance, get really close, and maybe even hold her hand. It was the beginning of a long friendship that would last way into their twenties, up until Donna left for California in 1940.
The day of the dance arrived quickly. Donna's father would drive the kids. Mrs. Roberts had deposited her son at 6:00 so he could dine with the Woods. Right away Rich felt comfortable, maybe because Bob Jr. was there. They'd known each other since track team in junior high. Now Bob was getting ready to graduate!
"So, Bob, you going to be running track at college?" Asked Rich.
After swallowing his food, Bob answered, "I'm not sure yet, but sure's hell I'm going to get a lot of exercise."
Donna looked over at Rich. A blush went across her cheeks as well as his. Everyone pretended not to notice.
Rich sat tall and proud and exhibited his finest table manners for a boy his age. He was glad Donna had asked him, and still in awe that he was at the Wood dinner table. They had a fine reputation in this town as well as the surrounding Boston area. After all, he was no Douglas Fairbanks, so it was such a shock to him to be asked to the dance. He was sure that Thelma Korenman was going to get to him first. But Donna was quicker, thank God.
Of course her Daddy took a ton of photos with their Grandpa's old camera, as well as a brand new one he purchased at the store in town. Donna and Richard posed for photos that were eventually blown up 8 x 10 and added to the growing collection of family mementos that Grandpa and Gert kept in order. They would pass it to one of their daughters, who would preserve it for their own families, and who knows after that!
Once safely deposited at the dance the two strode up the steps of Arlington High and into the gym for the festivities. As soon as they walked in, Virginia and her date Todd came over just as the band went into a Glenn Miller tune. They all stood together by the punch table and it was obvious that Rich couldn't dance or was too shy to ask Donna. So, as usual, the perky, petite gal took the gumshoe during an upbeat Dorsey number to pull him to the dance floor. They danced through the next Benny Goodman song.
Once on the floor they fell in step with the rest of the crowd at Arlington who were doing the Lindy Hop, an original swing dance number that started in the late 1920's. The band was very good, and Donna could imagine her parents standing around critiquing the poor fellows and Rich's dancing as well. She smiled. It was at that moment that Donna looked over in the direction of the band and began a slow saunter in that direction, almost forgetting she was dancing with Rich. The shy, tall, handsome young man followed her lead and danced over with her. Donna, as if entranced, stared wide-eyed at the band as they played a familiar Cab Callaway tune. She was just so taken with the music and wanted to jump on stage, grab the mike and sing right along with the band. The dancing only brought out her deeper, stronger feelings for singing. It was at that moment she recalled her latest dream of being in the spotlight. The lights turned into movie cameras and then she's whisked off on a cloud, but it feels like a train ride. So strange that she would think of it here, but at least it wasn't a nightmare.
Finally, the feeling passed and she turned to Rich, who was about to run and get her some punch to snap her out of it. At first he became alarmed, thinking she was going to pass out like at school, but he could see now she was fine. The band began a slow blues tune that made for closer dancing. They came together then, both a bit sweaty from the past few dance numbers. After doing the Lindy, their hearts were fluttering butterflies. Donna could smell him, a deep musky, yet fragrant outdoorsy smell, almost like her brother Bob, but different all the same. He was wearing some kind of cologne and that added to her feelings of wanting to hold him close and make him come out of that shell he'd built up around him from having an overbearing mother.
As they danced, all of a sudden his shyness left him and he led her toward the outskirts of the dance ring where bolder couples hid in momentary darkness to exchange a kiss or even cop-a-feel. Richard led the way to the dark corners of the room giving Donna a clear signal that he wanted to hold her close and kiss.
"You are so pretty, Donna," said Rich, almost awkwardly. He fought off his shyness like a bad demon as they began slowly, almost haltingly exploring each other's lips. Both were soft and pliant as they lingered there. Finally, they ducked behind a wall where they hugged and kissed, exploring new feelings of growing up. As they kissed, Donna wanted to get closer, needed to experience the feelings. For the slightest fraction of a second she imagined Rich was her father, but quickly repressed it. Richard realized that it took little time to brush his shyness and confusion to the back of his mind. In his nervousness he talked softly to her. "You feel so good, so soft and smell wonderful."
As he slowly drifted his hand to her soft bosom, he marveled at the texture of it through her clothing. He touched her lightly, holding her breast long enough to draw heat from it! But they had to stop, right? Why wasn't she stopping him? As he thought that, she did stop him and whispered in his ear, "I want to sing a few numbers with the band. Will you help me?" As she asked, Donna nuzzled against his cheek, which brought on goose bumps. "We better go before someone sees us." It was she that led him away from the darkness just as their principal was coming down the hallway to the men's room. They had to stifle their giggling when Principal Mack started talking to himself, thinking no one could hear. They shared one more passionate kiss before quietly making their way back to the dance. They had great timing, because a few couples, Virginia and Toad included, were caught by the chaperones and were being written up. The last thing Donna needed was to have her parents know she was making out too, and they wouldn't approve of that! She thought back to the reasons behind them not allowing her into their bedroom at night. She finally understood it all and wanted to experience this thing between man and woman. It seemed forbidden and wrong, but only when taken public. She wanted more than ever to experience it, but only with the blessing of marriage.
"Donna, you sure must be psychic! You are really something," said Rich.
"I'm just in tune with things. I get vibrations, feelings most don't have, especially girls my age. Most kids can't handle it. Sometimes I can't take it," said Donna, thinking of her dreams of late.
"You're different, not like anyone I've ever met," gushed Rich.
"You make me want to be exciting and fun," admitted Donna.
"And God knows I can handle it, and would just sooner hold you and make you feel safe," said Rich.
"I've never had these feelings."
"Oh yeah, I've had crushes on some girls, but nothing like this," breathed Rich, taking a risk and hugging her close to him.
At that moment there was something else she wanted to do.
"Listen, Rich," she said, pulling him closer to her. "I want to sing a few numbers. I feel compelled. It's extremely important to me."
"Okay, Donna, anything you say. The couple made their way back to the band, who were at that moment taking a break out in the alley. They found the manager and musical conductor smoking cigarettes, a cool veil of smoke slowly ebbing into nothingness.
Richard spoke with the orchestra leader, "She's good, and has been practicing for years with her mother, who's a known radio star up in the Boston area." He had to admit that he was a bit nervous, and hoped his voice wouldn’t crack.
"Okay, if it's all right with my manager, then she goes on."
The manager, who hadn't spoken a word, coolly turned to the blond kid and his date, who he'd spotted standing in the wings. He turned to Donna looking down at the petite pixy. "You make quite a picture and fit the bill pretty good, Missy, so I'll agree, that is if it's okay with the rest of the band."
Once the band got word, they gave their okay for the girl do two numbers. "If she stunk, then she was outta' there."
As the stage was geared up to accommodate one more person, the manager had a feeling from the start, when he first saw her staring up from the dance floor, that this one would be a real show stopper. He wished he was getting more for this gig, for his keen intuition said this girl was a gold mine. He could already feel the energy of the crowd as they stood around wondering what was going on. If this Songbird flew, he'd sign her to a band in no time!
Donna hoped she timed it right. Her father was coming back at 10:00 p.m. sharp to check out the band and maybe interview them for his radio program, so she wanted to be on stage when he came in. Her wish was to be granted, thanks to her father's prompt attendance due to working the radio circuit for years, for as soon as she stepped up to the mike and the band leader was introducing her first number, Mr. Wood was walking up the steps of the school with Gert, Channie and Bob.
When the first few notes of Donna's mature, perky voice hit, the Woods knew! Gert was glad her husband had brought his camera. "Oh, I wish Aunt Stella could be here to see this," said Gert of her sister who was babysitting for Little Glo.
They entered the school and raced to the gym, not wanting to miss a drop of their daughter singing on stage with an audience of her peers. It was obvious from the first moment she got on stage that the crowd was excited and wanted to hear her. Most were students in her class who had heard about the dinner club extravaganza. So they were eager to hear for themselves. And Donna did not disappoint them. She belted out two songs, then three, then finally after six songs when her father climbed on stage, thanking the crowd and leading Donna off, to shouts of "more, more, more" fading when the band started an instrumental. Even Cousin Virginia, who felt just a twinge of jealousy, ended up clapping the hardest for her kin.
Donna was sweaty and elated as her parents flanked her on either side, Bob and Rich bringing up the rear, Channie not far behind them. "Donna, you were great," said Rich.
"Didn't she have a nice feel for the band’s music set-up?" Asked Gert
"I'd overheard several of the road crew remarking that Donna Wood had the makings of a star," announced Rich proudly.
Bob was happy for his sister, but felt that usual cross between jealousy and respect for his her, because he understood wanting recognition for dreams achieved too. He had heard from University of Montana, which had an excellent outdoors program, but he hadn't told his parents and had intercepted the mailman. He would tell them when the time was right.
On their way home Donna chatted freely about the dance, minus that she and Rich had hung in the shadows.
"The music was great and so was the punch," said Donna. "I wished Virginia could have come up and sang, but everything happened so quick.”
“There just wasn't time," added Rich. "The band was much better when Donna was singing.
"Now Donna, you're still at a tender age, and I don't want to spoil things, but your father and I feel that you need more direction and focus, otherwise you'll go on emotion and feeling to sing, rather than the regiment of formal training." Gert had spoken with the sleazy manager, who wanted to, as he put it, "hook Donna up with some musicians, some real hot players!" The older woman turned down the offer, saying her daughter was too young, but maybe in a few years, and I'm sure she'll be flattered.
"But Mama, it was so appealing and fun. I want to sing like that all the time."
"Donna, you mustn't forget the standards by falling into this rash, wild big band thing that's just the latest rage. Stick with the old style for now. There's plenty of time for that other stuff later," coached Gert. The manager had persisted, and she didn't trust him, or any of his kind. She remembered her own career, back in the early Twenties when men like him roamed the small, early radio stations beaming out music. They reminded her of the Hyenas roaming on the outskirts of a Lion’s hunt.
But Donna was starting to chomp-at-the-bit, seeking out other influences, which was totally normal for a teenager to be doing.
As usual the family sat in the parlor sipping hot chocolate, and then everyone retired. Donna could barely sit long enough for Gert to take the pins out of her hair and unbutton her gown. Finally, after washing up and saying her prayers aloud, Donna settled in and her mother kissed her and left. For the first time as far she could recall, Donna fell asleep fast, as if a lot of curiosity was satisfied this evening. She was making the step from child to woman. Singing up there really helped her along. This night she dreamt sweet dreams of being in the arms of an army man, tall, blue eyed and handsome. It wasn't Richard Roberts that's for sure.
* * *
1997
Katie also observed a humorous, cynical side to Glo from her expressions. There's a look on the voice-over artist's face that seems to emulate self-satisfaction in that sly, smirk. And later on, Kate read Glo's apology pages to Lee, her husband...
March 7th, 1990
"Lee Darling. I love you with all my heart and soul and body. I don't want anything to happen to you, my Dearest! If anything happened to you now or in the near future, I would die of a broken heart and I wouldn't want to live any longer.
I won't be alive without you. I also love Barbara like a sister and I wish I was as strong when Chandler was here and she now does everything for Steven and family!
I know I'm a burden to you. I'm going to try to walk again, though it will take time and patience.
I'm sorry I left you for so many months, especially when I didn't remember anything I did or said. I love you so much. I know I say it so many times, but I can't stop myself!
I wish you would talk to me and tell me your troubles and the way you really feel healthwise. I want to be here for you like you were for me, all those months!
I'm also very sorry, very sorry, when I bring up your smoking. I know it drives you crazy and you hate when I do, but if I didn't really love you like I do, I wouldn’t say anything, at anytime. It's just that I hear so many bad things about it and what it can do for your health and well being!
I try to shut my mouth about it for I know you hate me doing it, so I'm going to try not to make you unhappy when I mention your smoking. I know now you'll never stop even for me!
I just hope and pray that Dr. Levy can help you and get your strength back and really help you and I do hope he puts weight on you. I would tell him that Ensure makes you get pains in your stomach.
I know you've been through so many operations and your heart attack. If I could take it away, I would, but I can't and I know you've suffered so much, and now your suffering again and your so thin! I'm heart broken, I wish I could be strong for you and say and do all the right things, but I guess I don't know how to be everything you want to be.
In closing, I hope you will understand my feelings for you, but my heart breaks when I see you suffering and I can't do anything about it!
I want to thank you for all you do for me. You’re the only one in the world that cares about what happens to me.
If you have anything to say to me, from your heart, I wish you'd write to me and open your heart to me.
I know you hate for anyone to repeat themselves but I can't help it, for I love you more than life itself!
I will write more after you tell me how you really feel! Your Angel Baby, Gloria (XXXX0000).
PS: I will try to make things easier for you by doing some things for myself and maybe take Meals on Wheels so you won't have to cook for me. I just want you to be with me for a long time and I'll give up Bingo if you're that sick! I don't want you to have to 'go' when you don't want to. I hate to see you sick, I pray to God you will get your strength back and your health back.
My wish is for you to recover and get well and that Dr. Levy can do everything for you so we can live once again. No one really cares for me, only you, so tell me what you want me to do to make you happier!
Again with love, Glo.....
* * *
Kate and her partner built a regular routine of seeing Lee every Sunday. The rail-thin, white-haired, blue-eyed Wood link was paying the woman to plow through his mail, quite a pile of junk advertising, sweepstakes, utility bills, hospital invoices, as well as residual checks for Gloria's appearances and shop-by-mail jewelry Lee bought for Marlena.
Things changed one day when Kate showed up with her friend Kristi. Lee took one look at the brassy, tall, leggy, bleached blond bass-player-chick, and proceeded to write a one-hundred dollar check made out to cash, handing it to Kristi. The girl almost pockets it, until Katie nudged the other woman to 'hand it over', which she did! After that incident, Lee called one day, lamely explaining that someone else was doing his mail and he didn't need Kate’s help. The old guy became distant, usually wanting to talk to P.J. when he phoned.
Kate wrote in Donna's diary –
"Let's face it, Lee changed September 8th, 1996, when I enthusiastically showed up with a cake and card on what would have been Gloria's 74th birthday, and their 33rd anniversary. He took one look at the little cake that said, 'Happy Birthday Gloria, Happy anniversary to Lee And His Sweetie,' got up using the walker, which is something he'd stopped using for a bit when we came into his life, retreating to the bathroom.
After 30 minutes, I finally called out, "Lee?"
"I'm fine, just constipated, that's all," he answered from the Jon.
His tone sounded wounded, haunted and definitely not infused with energy and happiness even in his constant pain of laying in that hospital bed. It was then I realized that I’d dredged up memories that hurt Lee. Finally, he came back, sat down, and fiddled with the t.v., obviously not wanting to look at the now melting cake.
Like his wife of 30 years, who watched the tube 24-hours a day before finally passing away of Diabetes at age 72, Lee carries on that tradition, the t.v. always on, never silent, lest he stop breathing and be silent too!
In all my most selfish-abandonment, I didn't take into account Lee's feelings, because he's all alone now, save for Marlena, his Russian companion who barely spoke English.
* * *
The woman had also found out that Gloria Wood left the Beverwil House to the Motion Picture Television Fund, which catered to old time movie hounds put out-to-pasture. When Lee passes away, The Fund will take the home and property. Lee receives Gloria's pension from them because of her close affiliation with the organization when she was alive and spry. P.J. even tried getting the Fund to make some repairs on the house, especially in the Lanai and on the roof, but ended up doing most of the work for free, which abruptly ended their relationship with the Television & Motion Picture Fund.
But the following Sunday, as usual, they spent another sunny, hot afternoon at the Beverwil house. Lee lies on his hospital bed as Susan the day nurse administers a shot of some painkiller Lee claims is only vitamin B injections. She's full of perk and compassion smiling over at P.J. while doing her thing. Finally, she departs, scolding, "Lee, if you're smoking, which I'm sure you are, move the oxygen tank into the Lanai immediately." She turned to P.J. and said, "Move it for him, will you, Dear."
When the nurse left, Kate put a fresh plastic nodule against her own nostrils, breathing in pure oxygen while reclining on the couch Gloria Wood passed away on. P.J. wheeled the tank into the Lanai, as Susan instructed.
Lee lights up, as does P.J., who is sitting on the other couch across the room. While they puff away, Kate breathes as much O2 as possible.
In between cig breaks, O2 and t.v. commercials, Lee tells about his past, a capsulated history of his wives and times, leading up to when Gloria Wood came to his world. It draws Kate closer to 'Where the Woods Were'.
In Lee own words,
"My First and I had a funny deal. I knew her uncle and that's how we met. She was only, well, … she told me she was only 17. I was in the Navy when her Uncle introduced us one day before my unit sailed out of port. Next thing I know, Beverly followed me to San Diego, so I eventually married her and settled in Los Angeles.
We were together six years until she left me for a bus driver while I was attending Los Angeles University. Had to quit school because we had two kids. At first I didn't know what to do, so went to my mother's place. She was none too happy and wondered what the heck was going on. So I brought them to my sister's place in Ohio. She agreed to take Julie and Lee Jr. in until I returned to L.A. and got myself a profession, which is what I was shooting for. Once I got a job, I could bring the kids back.
My first place was a rented flat Downtown, near the bus depot. It turned out to be a blessing, because I ended up working as a bus driver for Los Angeles Transit Company.
I drove L.A. bus lines for about 5 years, in the early Forties. Whether it was to the beaches, Hollywood, Downtown, I was all over the place. Then I met Peggy, this pleasant and level- headed waitress at a drugstore on Crenshaw and Manchester. She was only 17!
Yes, Crenshaw and Manchester was a turning point for me in more ways than one! It was the end of my bus route, the haven for a cup of 'Joe' at the end of my bus route. Peggy used to ride my line to and from work and school, which turned out positive for both my little ones and myself. By that point, my kids and I graduated to a small 2-bedroom bungalow. I remember thinking then that if my kids didn't like her, then to hell with her. Turns out she passed the test and four months later, when she turned 18, I married her.
Back then we'd take walks down by the racetrack, which isn't there any longer. We'd see people coming and going to the races. It was exciting, a real hustle-bustle, especially for the kids. I made a few bets, won, lost, but had fun most of all. I was never a drinker though, just a once in a while jigger of bourbon and 7. My dad and brothers were the real ' booze hounds'. They drank the hard stuff, whiskey-sours. My mother died in her 90s. Dad was a real ladies man, that's who I took after (laughs).
It was in the Fifties I met a guy named Bill Morris, a used car salesman for Chevrolet. I kept bugging him to let me sell cars and finally got an opening there. Also went to work for a Lincoln dealership in Hollywood, but was with Chevrolet on La Brea for quite a bit. Made good money. Then I came to a point in my life where I needed a change so got into the latest rage of selling insurance. That's how I eventually met Gloria. By then it was 1964.
Peggy’s sister Barbara was married to Gloria's brother Chandler. One evening Peg and I went to a party where I was introduced to Gloria when someone mentioned life insurance. She and I took the bait. And boy, you should have seen the sparks fly when we laid eyes on each other! When we first met, she seriously was contemplating buying insurance. I was selling many types during that time. She asked for my number and called me up the next day. Fire, car, life, even homeowner’s back then. I picked her up and went to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. We stayed until 4 a.m. talking and meeting all the people she knew in the business. We just sat around drinking coffee and the showbiz crowd would sidle up to our table. Gloria would make a big fanfare about introducing me to Bing Crosby, Rock Hudson and even Walt Disney. They all liked her, especially Rock Hudson, who had a secret fantasy to be a singer. He'd come up to the house and they'd disappear in the Lanai and listen to Glo's records (laughs). He thought he could be a regular crooner one day, that's for sure.
But let me backtrack for just a sec' here … I sent her insurance paperwork to our main branch in Nashville, Tennessee. When they sent it back, I called her and we met at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel again. That place became our haunt. We sat at our usual table realizing we were in love, decided right then and there that togetherness is what we wanted.
Next thing, I'm off to Mexico getting a quickie divorce and moving in with Glo! I don't condone what I did, but it was just something. I met her in '64, married her in '66. By the time Glo and I met, my kids were out on their own.
Once things were settled, I moved into her house. We'd go to Vegas where she had singing engagements, and I would sometimes drive her to the studios here … one studio after another. I remember taking her to CBS to do The Lucy Show (laughs). Gloria and Lucille clicked right away, so she did 15 shows. She also sang voice-over for Lucy's screen son in the movie "Mame” when the boy and Lucy did a singing duet together in the film. Glo did a lot of kid voice-overs.
Sometimes Gloria had 6 or 7 singing jobs a day. All she ever did was sing. She wasn't a movie star, or into heavy acting like her sister Donna tried to be. Glo was more of an entertainer. She even sang at President Kennedy's campaign, andyou know how Kennedy had a penchant for 'blondes'.
She had a wonderful personality, so wonderful. Once she even took care of the talk show host Mike Douglas' twins while he did a year on the road. She had those kids happy and fun-loving, just like she was their own mother.
My Gloria was a commercial queen. She did thousands of singing commercials, jingles and voice-overs. Rice A Roni was recorded in '62 and they still use it, at least up until recently. Most of her stuff was singing backgrounds. Voice-overs, she did a lot of voice-overs, and even did singing for Marilyn Monroe in "7 Year Itch. She performed a lot in Vegas, did shows and revues and what a woman she was!
She was a good friend with Walt Disney and his bunch. They were very close. Glo sang at his studio in Burbank. and did the voices of Minnie Mouse, Donald Duck's nephews, Hewey, Louie and Dewey as well as singing all those little children voices they had of different characters for Disneyland when it first opened. She could imitate anything or anyone and could hear someone sing then sound like them right on the spot. It was amazing.
One thing I remember was all the poodles she had. She just loved toy poodles!
When Kate began reading Gloria Wood's diary, she came across the number of one of Lee's sons in Utah, and called it. She spoke with his wife, who explained that Peggy, Lee's first wife, fainted on a bus because she was working too hard after giving birth. By the time she awoke, Lee presumed she'd run off and put his kids up for adoption. It was only a communication mishap that occurred, breaking up the marriage, throwing them into other people's arms.
* * *
1997
The day was October 23, 1997. Kate arrived at Beverwil House around 9:45 a.m. Lee left a hastily written note saying they were at the medical center to get his hand checked. His companion Marlena thought it might be broken. Kate sat on the steps in the foggy sunshine flipping through the photo album she'd made of the Woods, feeling a bit down knowing Lee is withdrawing from her more and more lately since the cake incident a month before. "I guess that's how it goes with illness and being old," said Kate aloud.
At 10:00 a.m. she decided on walk to 132 S. Canon Drive, which is a stone's throw from Lee's. She can't get Donna Wood off her mind, especially lately. P.J. was with Irving, the songwriter they knew. Irv isn't well either and was getting yet another blood transfusion later this week because of bone cancer.
Kate walks down Olympic to Canon Drive, passing 9328 Olympic Blvd., Gloria's old apartment in 1943.
It was a hot, humid day while ambling in the frustrating heat over to Donna's place. As she walked down the well-kept street, it was eerily deserted. It seemed a much longer distance than first anticipated to Donna's old building, but the girl trekked on, driven of course, by the thought of another inspirational moment to meditate on "Where the Woods Were".
Kate found it all right, and stood at the doorway of the dwelling where Donna Wood drew her last breath. The die-hard fan walked around the exterior of the place wondering which apartment was the singer's. Walking to the back, it occurred to Les that when she lived on Reeves Drive, an overly friendly neighbor said he knew a place where laundry could be done for free. That was in 1987. It was here at 132 S. Canon that same neighbor hid behind the washing machine and scared the living hell out of Kate one night in the utility room of the Donna's old apartment house. Now she stood there almost ten years later for different reasons.
The woman strode through the building several times, putting her hand on all the doorknobs in the 8 apartments. It seemed crazy, maybe a bit uncouth. But, it was the awe of the whole association there. Thankfully no one, neither tenant nor manager seemed at the moment to be around. Kate would imagine they'd think her a bit touched if she started knocking on doors asking questions about a past tenant dead for 50 years, so she sat out front by the shade of a palm tree right where Donna was standing in photos with her husband and family. She sang Aunt Stella's poem out loud hoping no one would come by thinking she was nuts.
Walking the perimeter of the last apartment building on Earth of Donna's, Kate felt the dead singer's spiritual sadness lingering at not being able to have finished life. For whatever reason God had for Donna Wood, Kate sensed that the woman did not want to leave. It's amazing how someone's life stops dead when they pass-on suddenly. But a part of them lives on, especially when there's tons of pictures of them in their heydays. It becomes this great mystery to be solved by some future person like Kate.
At that moment, Kate started a habit of going back there year after year, until one strange day when she arrived and the doors were flung wide open. She walked inside and upstairs and stood in front of Apt. 6. The door was also flung wide open and plumbers were at work in the bathroom. Kate walked in slowly and realized it was Donna’s apartment because of the two windows. She had shots of Christmas at Donna’s and although the heater was gone, it was the same scheme and placement! It was truly amazing to be standing there in the present. A few more seconds and Kate was backing out and wishing Donna a hello. Kate walked back downstairs in awe.
Just then, an old woman walked by and into the apartment building, disappearing into it. Kate quickly followed and knocked on the door she spotted the lady going into. The older woman answered, staring at Kate curiously, almost suspiciously. "Yes?"
"Hello, my name is Kate Siegel," said the girl a bit nervously. "I'm writing a novel about a woman that lived here in the Forties. Her name was Donna Wood. How long have you been here?"
The graying, petite, wrinkled landlady squinted and put her hand to her head. "Now let me see, I've been here since January of 1947. My sister and I bought the building. Been here ever since."
"Do you remember a couple who lived in this building? Donna and Lee Hackler?" Asked Kate, while reaching into her knapsack and pulling out the Wood photo album. "I have their pictures right here." Kate opened to shots of Lee, Donna and Gloria.
The woman took the album, then said, "I have to get my glasses, hang on." She handed the album back to Kate, not bothering to invite the girl in. Soon she returned with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. She put them on and gazed half-heartedly at the shots. "No, I don't remember them. Pretty girl though. She looks to be around 25, but I was just too busy flitting here and there, that maybe I just didn't notice them. Sorry."
"Are you sure? I mean, it's sort of important to me," said Kate, taking the album looking at the shots. "They lived right here and moved here in 1941. If you came here in January of 1947, do you remember a sick woman in one of the apartments, maybe an ambulance, or the family or some kind of commotion over there?"
"I'm sorry, Lady, but that's almost 60 years ago, and I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Sometimes when you get as old as me, you can only remember so much. It bogs you down after awhile, so I put it to the back of my mind," she explained.
"Well, thanks anyhow. At least I tried." Kate was about to turn and go down the steps, when the woman seemed to recall something. "Hey, my sister! She'd want to see those pictures. She's bedridden now, but she might remember. Celia's more of a details person than me, but she's in poor health."
Kate felt the Wood spirits lurking around, maybe changing this woman's psychic kinetic energy. "Thanks so much. What's your name?"
"Name's Ruth Jones. I've run this building for over 50 years with my sister," she said. "Now come in and wait in the living room while I talk to her.
"Okay, I will," promised Kate, entering the small abode. There was a cosmic energy flowing here as well, but much different vibes, more along the lines of spiritual essences and memories that ran parallel with the Wood's, especially since they were sisters too and still kicking.
Ruth walked out of the room and into a small bedroom. Kate looked around the apartment at all the family pictures, not much different from the Wood photos, except there were less of them, whereas literally hundreds existed for the other family. Soon Ruth returned and beckoned her inside the little room, where she found a white-haired lady sitting on a well-made bed. She was cramped up from arthritis, but smiled at Kate and motioned her to sit down on the chair. Kate sat down and handed the older woman the album. She turned the pages slowly, gazing intently at the photos of the Woods, more than her sister had.
When Celia came to the specific shot of Lee and Donna, Kate sat close to the lady and pointed out reference points. This woman was much more astute than Ruth was, and acknowledged at least vaguely remembering the Woods.
Finally she spoke, Kate hanging on her every word. "Yes, I faintly remember them. Ruthie and I hadn't been here too long when I did catch sight of them. She was a thin, beautiful girl and he so good looking. Once she came to the balcony up there," reminisced the older sister. "But I could tell then that she wasn't well."
I'm totally blown away," said Kate excitedly.
Then the old lady's mottled face broke into a smile, making her look angelic. "Guess she would of been about 80 by now. A shame, she was such a pretty, up-and-coming woman."
"I'm writing a book about them."
"Sorry, but I don't remember much more, because she passed away soon after we moved in and I was kinda' busy during those days. I can understand Ruth not remembering. She doesn't notice much. Takes a lot to excite her, get her talking, but when you're our age, your time's not wasted trying to take in everything like when you was young, although, Ruthie never did notice much then either." Her face cracked another wide smile.
"But what do you remember?"
"I remember enough to know they were very much in love and she seemed like a nice woman, but I recall her being very sick in the month of March. Now that we're talking about it, I heard her weeping from my window." It was then Celia seemed to go into a trance. She said, "Sometimes I can still hear her crying on a clear, crisp night." The woman suddenly came out of it and laughed loudly, almost crazed.
Ruthie abruptly butt in, "Hey, enough talk about that shit! I don't want the dead talked about in this house, you understand! Enough on all this. Lady, you’ve got to go now!"
Kate rose, heading for the door, "Oh, no problem. I have to leave anyway. It was nice meeting you."
"Nice meeting you too, Kid," said Celia, re-adjusting herself on the bed.
"I'll show you out," said Ruthie.
"Thanks for talking to me. I know it's not easy dredging up the past. I didn't mean to intrude, but I'm driven."
"I can see that clear enough, Missy," said Ruthie. "When you have medical problems, time ain't spent dwelling on when you was young. But I found meeting you interesting. You brought back a lot of fun memories for Celia. I hope it helps your writing."
"Oh, yes, you were of great help, and only brought me closer to my goal of finding out more."
"Well, good luck to you Kate. Nice meeting you. Take care." Ruthie formally closed the door.
Kate walked downstairs and back outside in front of Donna's apartment building. She pulled out Donna's diary notebook and began writing in it:
"As I sat by the entrance, I wondered what had happened to Donna's handsome, blond, blue eyed husband Lee Hackler. Did he move away afterwards? Marry someone else? What happened to him after Donna died? And what about Donna's first fiancé, Ralph Dietz, Jeweler to the stars? And why did I even bother to care? It must be that I was drawn in to this because of my own free spirit and openness to such things, plus I wanted something my own family could never give me. It was also like a private investigator trying to find answers to a big mysteries about how and why people disappeared, and where they went. I contemplated all of this on my way back to the Beverwil place.
May 31, 1997: Marlena and I became good friends today. She came home with Lee and at first was a bit standoffish, but warmed to me when I started helping her with English words and sentences. She's only been in this country for 2 years, so it was interesting. It was at that moment that Marlena told me in her broken English that Lee had asked her to marry him! It seems unreal, but wasn't something the Wood spirits took lightly. I doubt it would happen, because I explained to Lee that he may lose his benefits from Gloria if he got hitched to his companion. In the end, I'm sure the idea would be nixed, and only materialized because the old guy missed Gloria. The idea was absolutely ridiculous and only proved Lee's declining condition, plus Marlena's position in that household that held two ghosts, Lee and his Russian companion.
We ended up out back on the patio smoking Capri Cigarettes and talking generally. P.J. returned from Irv Gordon's and had driven Lee's convertible Caddy Seville to the store to get the old guy more cigarettes.
It was today that I asked Lee why he smokes even though he's ailing. He says, "It was the thing to do 60 years ago, fashionable and sociable." Experiencing his first drag at 15, Lee got hooked by all the promoting of the nasty habit back then. "I remember when cigarettes were 3 cents a pack. Gloria did a lot of singing/jingle work for Philip Morris, Marlboro and Camel, but the funny thing is that she never smoked," the old guy joked.
* * *
There is a morbid social fascination that arises in Kate when Lee lights up a cigarette. She wants to join him for the habit of his enjoyment of that cigarette after years of conditioning from commercials, social functions and happy moments of his youth when smoking seemed to bring Lee back to the days when his body was strong and could take the heavy smoke inhalation. Now he was wasting away and there Kate was sharing one with the man, to hell with oral fascination!
The kitchen table is filled with ads and questionnaires ready to be mailed out for points toward prizes from side panels of Marlboro's. Neatly counted and stacked in rubber band holders, they're ready to be sent. Marlena asked Kate to fill out the questionnaire and settles on a snazzy lighter with a leather case.
It was during one of those smoke breaks from the oxygen machine, that Lee called
Cousin Virginia Wood again. She sang with Donna and Gloria when they were teenagers, when they were called the Glo Vir Don Girls - Gloria, Virginia and Donna Wood. Donna's mother Gertrude was their manager and set them up with gigs from her contacts with the Boston radio crowd. She orchestrated a group called The Harmony Sisters in the late 1920's, before The Great Depression and brought live radio shows to the Boston area with her husband Robert Wood.
Now, in 1997, Virginia and her husband live in Panama City, Florida. She possesses that certain sparkle and spunk of her youth. Her husband still lives and the grandchildren are there to spoil, so something still exists for her to keep on living that zest for life. They were all very close. Of Donna she said, "not a more nicer, poised, elegant woman existed. But there's a side to Donna not many know, and I'm sure you want to hear about that," said Virginia.
"Donna and I had a saying that went, 'Hot spit, we've got secrets, okay, mums the word.' It was our calling card. Those girls were fun. Donna was more reserved, Gloria, the wildcat, but boy we had a lot of great times. Things really took off when my cousins moved out here. They worked at a lot of the major recording studios. And Donna was really celebrity crazy, she introduced me to all the them. She almost married a jeweler to the stars."
"She became very glamorous. Everything was very glamorous back then. We wouldn't dream of walking down the street with what I have on now! Oh no, we dressed in Lilly Ann suits, which were my favorites, she was my idol! Wide shoulder pads, and pecklums ... little cinched-in waists, we were all waist cinchers, and our jackets were very fitted, and you took your skirt in until you could feel it on both sides when you walked. You had to feel the skirt. If you didn't' feel it, it was too loose on the bottom. We all wore four inch heels ... Spring-A-Laters. They had no back, four inch heels and just a piece that went across ... and they had a glued in elastic inside so that it held it on to your foot, spring-a-laters."
"In the late Forties it was very Joan Crawford! Big shoulder pads. The bigger the shoulder pads, the better! Oh Yeah, like a football player. I remember when Donna invited us out there for a week. My father said to me, "If they start bombing, I want you to turn right around and come home!' I never forgot that. The only way I could get off the train was to grab some soldier or sailor by the arm. We were traveling during wartime, you couldn't get a reservation! It took us five days. We even beat the President, I think by one day. It took him 6!"
"One of the first things I recall was when Donna took us up to a house on Cahuenga Terrace, a great big white house that Rudolph Valentino built for Pola Negre. That's the first place in Hollywood I got to see. It was a boarding house then. It was where her friend, another actress was living. And a guy named Bernie Williams, who was a songwriter, owned it. He wrote 'Somebody Stole My Gal'. It was just one of the men that wanted to marry Donna. Even Bob Ramsey, head of Republic Studios wanted to. And especially the cowboy actors ... Sunset Carson, Monty Hale..."
Kate was floored talking to someone who knew the Woods when they were alive and kicking. Virginia was all talk, talk, talk, up until Les edged the conversation toward ghostly images of Donna and Gloria on photos. Then the '2nd Wood Link' clamed up, wanting to fly away!
By this time Kate was becoming restless at the Beverwil house. Lee was closing off on her more often than not, and Marlena kept dragging the girl out into the garage for a smoke, having fallen prey to that same morbid fascination as Kate had with cigarettes at Lee's. After the Wood mementos were out of the house, the place had lost its last bit of luster. There was no more treasure at the Beverwil house in Beverly Hills, it had been picked clean, Sutter's Mill dried up, the last find being Gloria's Diabetic blood sugar counter with her last readings still registering, but spelling out 'LES' (537) backward, by the way, a very high reading.
Kate had exhausted every nook and cranny. It was when P.J. mentioned that other people snagged most of the plum items before them, that the house seemed more run down, especially in the Lanai, where Rock Hudson fantasized about Frank Sinatra and Gloria was Mr. Hudson's divining rod straight to a Crooner's bed masked by a desire to sing!
P.J. and Marlena had exchanged some harsh words and it seemed that Kate's partner was becoming bitter that Lee didn't pay for fixing things like before, nor did he really converse with the couple like in the beginning, which is totally normal for a relationship built on dead people. After P.J. and the Russian had their blowout, it was hard to feel comfortable in the house any longer. In other words, this scenario had been played-out in a whirlwind. By that time, animosity was setting in due to the crashed marriage plans that Marlena most probably blamed on the couple. She was starting to resent the whole association and wanted them to stop coming by. The woman started using her influence over Lee to get the man to agree with her somewhat.
Kate and P.J. would stop in, Marlena ignoring the two, Lee pretending to fall asleep in his hospital bed, and the couple simply left after pacing around. Things further soured after Lee's son from his marriage with Beverly, came to visit from Arizona. He didn't have nice things to say about his father and Gloria.
He said, "They were both selfish, always expecting the best from people, especially attention. Towards the end, Gloria became mean, possessive and bitter."
It was around that time Kate was told by a family member that Gloria Wood was eventually blackballed because of a controversial song she sang called 'Bellboy', which did make a small chart passing on the Hit Parade list, but hard nosed t.v. sponsors of that day (1960) did not take the sexual connotation lightly. It was when Gloria appeared on the Larry Findley Show for ABC, when her album 'Wood By The Fire' was coupled with an equally sexually explosive record called 'Behind Bridgett Bardot', a collection of instrumental songs from her movies. After that, music work seemed to dwindle for the singer, so she was resigned to mostly voice-over/commercial work where her face wasn't even seen, forced to live a life of obscurity, which accounted for her bitterness and bad tempered feelings.
Kate sometimes wondered if Donna Wood became the same way at the end of her life. There's an air of mystery about that lady. "Why did she pop into my world now, rather when I was younger? I could have used her as a role model even more back then, and maybe would have better identified with my flamboyant mother, who had a singing history chock full of experience that never bent my way socially," wondered Kate to herself. Then she said out loud, "I can only imagine, from those family photos, what Donna was like. I know I'm pretty darn close to that mark." Soon Kate would be even closer to her mark when time whisks her back to 1941! But as for the negative things rising about the Woods ... no family is perfect. I’m sure even after Donna died, Gloria held that same sense of envy and love, maybe awe. With good you must have bad, lest you don't have the good. Kate accepted everything about them, including the negatives, one being what Gloria and Lee did to his second wife Peggy. Karma isn’t very kind.
* * *
PART II -mk BACK IN TIME
1997
It was a few weeks after the couple had gone to the Wood graves, that she noticed the first subtle changes in P.J. Kate mused that possibly the Wood Sisters were permeating her living space, thus prodding their influences on her intuition. The pattern began when the woman's good looking, curly, blond musician boyfriend struck up a friendship with the 70 year old niece of famous, well-known brothers who were composers, a singer named Alegra. He had been doing electrical work at Alegra's condo, across the street from where the old songwriter Irving had lived at the esteemed Marie Antoinette Apartments on Wilshire Blvd. in progressive Westwood, California. Irv had passed away, but the building still utilized P.J. as a its trouble-shooting general contractor. It was also within close proximity of Gloria Wood's old place on Beverwil, so Kate thought nothing of it when P.J. mentioned he'd been there after work visiting her husband Lee. She was to find out otherwise.
Whether it be a strong, but long buried feminine hunch or those Wood sisters sending messages from the Great Beyond, Kate kept getting heavy feelings that P.J. was spending newborn quality time with this Alegra woman, more than he was letting on. It was confirmed, like clockwork, when Lee phoned out of the blue one day.
"Say, it's been a long time since I've seen you guys, especially your other half. Where's he been keeping himself lately?"
Kate knew the answer, recalling with pain how P.J. said he'd seen the old guy just yesterday. More subtle hints and intuitions would soon unravel.
The next indications of Kate's suspicions of his meetings with Alegra were further solidified when her partner avoided his telephone, even shutting the ringer off when they were together. But, soon the whole Alegra mystery-story tumbled out as the couple sat on their bed under the collage of Donna Wood, like the Virgin Mary staring down at them, pointing a silent finger at a guilty-looking man.
"Alegra invited me to a wedding and I have to fly up to Carmel with her. We'll be staying over night in separate rooms. We're just friends," he spoke of the 70 year-old singer nervously casual, actually trying to shrug it off, but failing badly.
It was Donna's beautiful angel face, so serene, that kept Kate from screaming rage and distrust more aptly than she did. "I knew it! The story about going fishing was a lie, right?"
"Yes, but I was going to tell you! This whole thing is so weird for me. I've never had a friend like her," P.J. blurted, giving Kate one of Donna Wood's husband's famous boyish glances. "I just didn't know how to exactly break it to you, especially when you flipped out last week about her."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner! It's so upsetting, because all along I knew. You actually lied to me," spouted Kate. "And the only reason I was flipping out was because when I checked your machine there was a message from Alegra saying that you two were on for tonight, and I asked where you were going and you said to your Aunt's place in Carson, which is lying, so I freaked!"
"I don't know why I lied," he said charmingly sheepishly. "It was really hard to tell you. I didn't know how to explain it," he fumbled, hot under the collar. "But you shouldn't have even been listening to my messages. Believe me, I was going to tell you. Do you think I'd just go off to Carmel like that and deliberately hurt you?"
"So you're going then?"
"Come on, don't be like this. It's no big deal," he countered, trying to put his guitar-playing hand on top of hers, a gesture he never used, which told of the impact his friendship with the singer was becoming.
"I can't believe this is happening!" She pulled away from his grasp. The first thing that crossed Kate's mind was, 'What would Donna Wood do in a case like this! Cry, like she felt like doing?' Feelings of betrayal and deceit surfaced, coming out angry and mean. The couple argued, receded, than bickered again, until finally Kate had to accept the fact that P.J. was going off with the woman, even if both of them cried 'platonic'! It may very well be platonic now, but who knew what would happen as things progressed. It only made his friendship with the older woman that much more forbidden, at the same time inviting for both of them, especially Alegra.
It was the Fourth of July, Friday afternoon when P.J.'s phone rang. Kate had turned his phone on earlier that morning after the man left on an electrical job. As it rang, Kate knew who it was - Alegra! She just knew.
The girl picked up the phone calmly. "Hello."
A female voice with the slight hint of hesitation asked, "Is P.J. there?"
"Who's calling?" Kate's heart picked up the beat, knowing even before the woman answered.
"Alegra," she said firmly.
The two women began a conversation that would soon put Kate's fears at ease for the moment as she poured her heart out to the woman who might spiritually be stealing her boyfriend's heart. Kate had to keep reminding herself that this relic was alive, well and breathing, not laying in a cold, dark grave for the past 50 years!
"I'm a writer and singer myself, and I really care for P.J., so what I'm getting at is, what are your intentions? P.J. told me you are a singer too."
"I can totally relate and I respect your frankness and niceness about it, but I assure you that we're just friends. It's totally platonic," said Alegra evenly. "And yes, I'm a singer."
"There was that word again," thought Kate. "It's just hard for me to believe that platonic thing," she plainly stated to the other lady.
"There's nothing sexual between us. He told me he has a girlfriend. Do you live with him?"
"Yes, I've lived with him 4 years."
Again, the slightly British-accented voice hesitated, as if taken off guard again to P.J.'s total situation. "Oh, I see."
As Kate spoke with Alegra she wandered over to the stereo player of Gloria's from 1956. It seemed something was different. She came up to it and gazed at snapshots of the Woods through the Century, noticing a small sign in one particular picture of Donna and her father. It was slightly blurry, but it looked as if it spelled out 'P.J. is OK.'
Were the girl's eyes playing tricks or did her subconscious mind want so badly to believe that statement?
It was hard to be calm when your Little Boy Adonis fits the prototype of needing a woman like Alegra to be his father!
There was also a dark side to P.J., and surely this woman would find out, but maybe that wouldn't happen until a go between the sheets came up! As her imagination ran rampant, Kate continued talking with the older singer, but soon returned to the record player decorated with the Wood family. Kate gazed at the picture again and saw that the lettering was becoming much clearer. She could make out the words 'P.J. is OK.' It was a message from the Woods, letting their mortal fan know that everything would be all right, but to watch out for Alegra.
After her conversation with the older singer, Kate nervously phoned her own mother, a singing star herself back in the Forties and Fifties. Before Kate knew it, her mom was calling up her best friend Tina Louise, Ginger on Gilligan's Island. The actress used to baby-sit for the Seagal children on occasion, due to the fact that Kate's mother and Miss Louise go way back to the mid-1950's when they were roommates in college and performed together. Kate's mother told Tina about this new association. It just so happens that the woman who played 'The Movie Star' was acquainted with Alegra, which surprised Kate and her mother.
"I spoke to Tina today," said Lenore over the phone to her daughter. "She told me this Alegra-woman is obsessed with age and only hangs around with young men!"
"Really?"
"Yes. Now what is your boyfriend doing with that woman? Tina couldn't believe it when I told her. She said you should dump him right away. P.J. has no right to do that to you. It's like a slap in the face," ranted Lenore.
"I know, Mom, but what can I do?"
"You need to get out of there."
"I just can't leave off the bat, you don't understand!"
"Look, you do what you want. You're past 30," said Lenore, wanting to totally control her daughter, maybe entice her to move to Florida where she could be under her mother's thumb like her brothers and sister were.
Kate had become in tune with her own intuition in being able to sense P.J.'s new world, just as he had seemed to of found at least a partial feminine side to himself when he said plainly, "I just want to be loved." That was a sentence he never used, and it's usage now spelled out a very interesting relationship with Alegra indeed. The woman had brought out a small part of him that seemed buried and moldy - sentiment, even if it was slightly self-centered.
At that moment she recalled three weeks ago when P.J. first mentioned his supposed fishing trip. In a flash, Kate's sharpened vibe-feelers, through some sort of phenomena, knew there was no such excursion planned, but something with Alegra that was brewing. She knew that right away from the start. And the sign didn't say 'Alegra is OK', which lends a double message coming from the spiritual Barrier Wood Reef.
On the day P.J. left with the seasoned, classy, wealthy singer, flying first class to Carmel, Kate decided to visit the Woods. As usual, she made her way up to Forest Lawn in Glendale, and found the spot very quickly. For awhile she wandered the place, passing stone after stone, finding two with her first name listed. There were other Donna's and Gloria's peppered throughout, and a ton of Robert's. She even ran across another family named 'Woods', 4 neat spots just like her Wood family with no 's', of course.
As she walked among the dead, Kate imagined P.J. in Carmel with Alegra, who was obsessed with her age and was rumored to like the company of young studs, probably infusing her soul with a strange satisfaction that she's got one over on the mates of those handsome young men. P.J. made very light of his relationship with her, even if there was no sexual activity as they both claimed. It would be obvious that when P.J. and Alegra were seen together, most in that polite society would think they were a couple, which is what bothered Kate the most as she walked through the graveyard and thought of them together. The woman strolled by a huge, oversized headstone ironically inscribed to,
'Our Beloved Alegra'! So very strange! Their whole association was unusual and totally unnerved the already jittery lady.
Kate came up to the Wood plots and sat down, like clockwork, by Donna's. Due to the stress and turmoil with P.J., tears welled up and Kate had a good cry, trying to sort out her emotions about this new development with her man of 4 years. There always seemed to be a slight breeze blowing at that spot and soon those tears dried. The girl then pulled out her diary and began writing in past tense for some strange reason.
July 5, 1997: They're plots were so warm today. The green grass kept sticking me and leaving weird wavy indents on my skin. This whole Alegra/P.J. situation has me very upset so I settled between Robert and Gertrude and shut my eyes, pretending to feel what Donna might of felt when she went into her parents bedroom to be comforted. I had my crying session and spoke with them, but really was speaking with myself, using their essences as a tool to get in touch with my own emotions. It worked, of course.
As I reclined between 'Ma and Woodie', the sun beat down, I all of a sudden felt a cool wind on my face even though the air was still. Opening my eyes and sitting up, a strange feeling passed before it dissipated because I noticed too fast, probably chasing its delicate spirit away. I wasn't spooked, but rather intrigued. There was definitely something there, not just dead bodies in 50 year old graves! I sensed the others who once came to this sight too, but realized no one had in many years. The Woods felt lonely and useless. Their spirits were dormant, that is up until I came into the picture.
After about an hour or so, I had a good solid cry, wiping my tears on Donna's plot and kissing each one in turn, starting with Robert's, on down to Gloria's. I'd come to the conclusion that it was Robert and Donna whom I'd felt closest too. She was 'Daddy's Little Girl', and Gloria was Mom's. Chandler and Bob are not there. I wondered at that second if anyone in the family had trekked to the graves lately, at least on a regular basis like I was doing. Another mystery to solve in "Where the Woods Were".
It was amazing how all of a sudden, after writing down her feelings on paper, she became calm and collected, as if her own spiritual senses locked onto to something that was feeding her strength to overcome the despair of losing a large part of P.J.'s emotional love, what little there was, to Alegra, if she hadn't already. The Wood family's bond reached out because Kate had taken the time to find their graves and remember them, even if it was mostly through imagination and photographs. In Kate's keen, sharp mind, she perceived the Woods as rallying to her side, or at least spurring Kate to use the energy spent on them for good direction.
Then a foggy vision appeared in Kate's mind. What would happen with Alegra and P.J. is obvious now. It would fizzle out, because P.J. would become stifled by the older woman's constant control and domination.
It was when Kate abruptly stood up, lost her balance and fell back down, hitting her head against Donna's stone, that nothing would ever be the same.
* * *
1941
The next thing she knew, blackness enveloped. It looked like stars were shining, but it was still daylight. Basically, Kate was out like a light. When she awoke it felt cooler, fresher and somehow different. She opened her eyes to a cloudy afternoon but something was definitely altered. When she turned around to see the Wood graves, they weren't there! "Perhaps I was in a fog and wandered away from the site, " she wondered. But everything looked the same, except, no, there was something else strange. Kate tried to clear her muddled thoughts. There were missing gravestones she distinctly remembered each time the girl passed by them when visiting the Woods.
Kate began to really look around at that point, noticing how barren of headstones the place was, how certain buildings were just not there. It was definitely Forest Lawn Cemetery though, that much she could tell.
Kate's mind went into a panic when realization took hold. "It couldn't be!" She began racing around looking at the plots that were there, which were dated before 1940, every single one of them! The girl tripped, bruising herself. She felt oppressed, her body going into slight shock over the trip back through time. She even slipped over a few more graves, drawing blood. The woman felt all pins and needles, even feeling nauseous, sick to her stomach.
Trying to compose herself was an understatement, but she did the best under the circumstances and sat on the grass taking gulps of cool air. Kate spotted a faucet by a water shed and headed to it, not noticing a parked car in the road. She drank right from it, pouring water over her skinned knee. The old Packard slowly drove by, its occupants gazing at the distressed lady drinking from that spigot in the graveyard. Kate was wearing the clothes she'd worn that morning, a simple tee shirt with Geronimo, the Apache chief emblazed on it, cut-off shorts, moccasins, even a Indian-bone necklace. She didn't fit with the times, if Kate really was where it seemed like she was.
"Excuse me," yelled Kate to the couple in the car. "Do you know what time it is?"
The old man looked at his watch, then curiously back at Kate. "Almost 2:00."
The woman spoke up, "Are you in trouble?"
A young man's face appeared in the back seat window. The tall, handsome, 1940's dressed guy got out and walked toward Kate. He was young and dashing looking, untouched, almost perfect features, good breeding. At first Kate wanted to dash away, because of the fear inside about where she really could be.
"My grandparents and I thought you might be in distress. Do you need help? Have you been robbed? Hurt?" Concern shone in his even-set, deep blue eyes. The wind blew his dark, wavy hair around.
Kate thought quickly. "I was checking out some of the celebrities buried here for a book on Los Angeles I'm writing. I was searching for Jean Harlowe's grave," explained Kate, remembering that the actress had died years before. "Then this strange man jumped out and chased me. He stole my purse, money, and identification! I fell down, got disoriented and felt dizzy and strange." She staggered, but he caught her in his grip. She smelled the distinct odor of Old Spice and red wine. It was very appealing. When she came to her senses, Kate felt like she did when arriving at summer camp, everything feeling foreign, unfamiliar and stark. What would she say to these people? Where would she go? To Donna's place? To a shelter perhaps? A church?
All she needed to do was sit down and tell these people her situation without seeming to them as going crazy.
She'd already had her cover, the grad student from back East, leaving family and friends, starting a new life here in L.A., writing her first book. She just had to gain this family's confidence, maybe convince them that she really was writing something on life in Los Angeles. "Thanks for your help," the muddled woman said to the man. "I can really use it!"
"I'm Bradford St. John and those are my grandparents, Cliff and Sara St. John."
"My name's Katie. I'm an author writing a book on life in L.A.," she said while Brad led her to the Packard. They shook hands.
"Really, how interesting. Please don't think that we do this sort of thing every day," he said. "It's not often we meet people in a cemetery like this. We actually came here to see my parents," he admitted sadly, saying no more about the subject, which obviously pained him.
They got into the car and drove out of Forest Lawn. Kate quickly filled them in one who she was, what she was trying to achieve and why. It took about 10 minutes of driving for things to be put on the table.
"As I told you, I'm a writer working on a new book about life in Los Angeles," she said trying to put them at ease. "I just came out here blindly, not knowing a soul. That's the best way to make it grow wings and fly," she said.
"Interesting, Kate, I never heard of anyone writing a book like that. It sounds sort of strange, if you ask me," said Grandpa Cliff.
"Land sakes, Cliff, what's so strange about that?" Asked Grandma Sara. She liked this girl Kate immediately. There was a certain part of her that wanted to nurture the granddaughter she never had, and it was odd how the old woman felt about it. Sara wanted to say that everything would be fine now that they'd met, even though she only just met the woman literally minutes earlier!
Grandpa drove down San Fernando Road wondering where this lady wanted to go. "So where to, folks," he spoke up, startling Kate, who was still recovering from her trip through time.
After a healthy silence, Kate finally admitted, "I don't have any place to stay. I don't know anyone out here. So I planned all my funds very carefully until that man stole my purse and satchels with everything I owned in it!"
"Except your knapsack, thank God," said Brad.
"That includes my identification and other daily accruements." She cried, a bit shaken. Can't blame you folks if you dropped me at a shelter. It would probably be more convenient, because I don't have any money, but can fend for myself if the need arose, which was the premise of my story in the first place," she sobbed uncontrollably, mostly due to her trip through time.
They had met the girl for literally a few minutes, so no one spoke up to offer her anything right away. The St. Johns must of been in shock, because all three of them were thinking that if this girl needed a place to stay, then they'd open their home to her. It was only that they didn't know who she was, not usually making it a habit of inviting strangers in to the nucleus of their family, especially making lightning quick decisions. They were a laid back lot.
Kate sensing this, started to tell them about herself. "I'm from New York. My mother is a concert pianist and my dad was a fabric designer, he's passed on. I have two older brothers, who live in Florida. One is a property officer at the Palm Beach County Jail. The other is a bit slow so lives with my other brother. My sister Diane is with a doctor and has a child, divorced from her first husband, a burlesque club manager," Kate explained as casually as she could under the extreme conditions. The St. Johns' eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their heads.
The woman from the future forged onward, trying to ignore their expressions. "I'm out here trying to make it as a writer. Then there's my mother, she's real character, let me tell you. If they could see me now!" She cried harder, but mostly for show, feigning it.
"Why don't you just call them," suggested Sara, breaking the shaky silence.
"No, not until I get settled here," said Kate. She actually could call her mother, who would be in Flatbush, Brooklyn living the life of a pampered Jewish 11 year old music prodigy. Her brother Norman, who would die of intestinal disease in 1945, after he'd been injected with Mercury, would still be alive too! Imagine if she could actually meet them? What a thought. Kate had landed years before her Uncle Norman died at age 18. Soon afterwards, Kate's mother Lenore would be steeling herself against Polio in an iron lung. But two years later she was out of the house, married, divorced and on the road singing with Eartha Kitt and the blackballed black folk singer Josh White, up until Kate's father married the sparky singer in 1956, and they settled in Teaneck New Jersey, then Providence, Rhode Island, and soon New York City, and back to New England where Irwin took his own life in the town of Barrington, R.I.
"Now don't worry darlin', it's going to be okay," said Cliff reassuringly. "And did you say that your sister's ex is a burlesque manger?"
Kate breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, it's very lucrative. Believe it or now, my sister is well taken care of, not wanting for anything, but that pampered life isn't for me. I see more for myself."
And soon Sara took the weeping girl in her arms and comforted her as they pulled into a coffee shop.
"Is that curly hair natural?" Asked Sara, trying to distract Kate like one might a child. She touched the curls.
"Oh yes, it's a permanent-perm from God!" Said Kate through fresh tears, but perking up when she saw they were parked at a restaurant.
"My, my you look like Shirley Temple with those curls," said Grandpa, lowering his suspicions and accepting Kate finally. He was always a sucker for tears.
Together, looking like they'd never been apart, the 4 headed for the quaint coffee shop. They were seated at a big booth in the back. The St. Johns accepted Kate
un-conditionally, and she would not want to jeopardize her living situation by telling them crazy notions about being from the future.
At that moment her masculine side felt like Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future! She couldn't believe it was happening, but as she gazed out the window, it was obviously 1941. It certainly wasn't the Glendale she remembered from one hour ago while agonizing over P.J. flying to Carmel with Alegra. It was funny to think that the older singer would be barely 8 years old in this time zone! My God, what a thought.
And what about what was going on in her time? Would they miss her? Did she really exist while being here in the 1940's? Was time passing normally, or when she eventually went back, would everything be changed? She hoped everything worked out.
When the waiter took their orders, Kate excused herself to the ladies room. Once inside she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The girl was so keyed up over this time traveling that she couldn't relax enough to relieve herself. The girl panicked for a split second, then composed herself just as fast. Kate felt the bump on her forehead where she'd fallen against Donna Wood's plot. It only solidified her story that she was robbed and made it an easier transition for the St. John's to accept her. Things happened for reasons.
She quickly calmed herself and returned to the table. After that, something kicked in and Kate tempered out evenly. She and the St. Johns started talking, becoming very close, the four of them, all at once, as if they'd known each other in another lifetime. Even Brad, who didn't take to strange women easily, felt at ease and happy around Kate. He couldn't explain it, but when he saw the woman drinking water out of that graveyard faucet, her naturally curly brown hair and earthy clothing, he began to become attached to her. It wasn't natural as the minutes ticked by in the car and now in the coffee shop, and he started hearing Kate's voice, the shy man was hooked. He didn't know why or how, but his own male intuition went with it. His grandparents felt the same way, although no one spoke of it, because everyone carries their own guilty fears. And he noticed that even the strangers in the restaurant were staring every now and then at the group, as if some energy ranged around them, all since Kate came into the picture.
When the most delicious strawberry cream cake was served, Grandpa Cliff made an announcement. "While you were in the powder room, we decided that you can stay with us until you finish that book. We've got a decent house over in Beverly Hills on Elm Drive."
"Now it's nothing too fancy, but we all agree that you are charming, and it was only circumstance that dealt you this most unfortunate luck." Grandma Sara put her aged hand on top of Kate's, as if she'd known the woman forever.
"Are you sure it's no trouble?" Asked Kate. She couldn't believe they lived on Elm Drive! Kate had lived on that same street, across from the junior high school in 1986. It would be instantaneously familiar territory, even if she did live there in the future.
"I have a flat over in Hollywood, but spend a lot of time at my grandparents'. Do you have any clothes or a suitcase?"
Kate looked sheepish, "This whole idea about how I'd write the book really is falling apart all around me. Did you guys ever see that movie about the famous director that rides the rails looking for inspiration?"
"No, can't say that I have seen that one." Grandpa sipped his coffee, eyeing Kate suspiciously for a split second.
"Well, it starred Robert Taylor," Kate said. "That's what gave me the idea. Maybe it's playing at some movie house, we should all see it. It would certainly explain a lot of things."
"I know Robert Taylor, but not that film," said Sara honestly.
Grandpa sipped his coffee a bit more, then eyed the woman strangely again. "How come you decided to do such a fool thing? What's your family think?"
"Can they help you?" Asked Brad.
"Yes, they can, but they live in Florida, near Miami, we're like oil and water and they don't approve of what I do nor how I do it. I've always been a rebel. It's my sister that's the apple of the family's eye. I'm the black sheep."
"Even though your sister's husband was in Burlesque and she's with that doctor, how ironic and sad," said Brad.
"Sure you ain't running from the law? I mean, you don't have any identification, bags or luggage to speak of. We're just a little concerned, that's all. Seems as my wife's taken a shine to you though, so I guess that's a good indicator, but Miss, you've gotta' have something to call your own."
"We have no right to pry," said Sara.
"But it's like you popped into that cemetery out of thin air," added Cliff, not realizing how close to the mark he was in that statement.
"Grandpa, why are you questioning this girl? She's not on trial for God-sakes. She's a victim!" Brad spoke up.
"Well, I just...."
"She already explained. The woman was robbed and the only one running from the law is the bum that got her stuff!" Brad frowned at his grandfather, making his handsome features obscure a bit.
"Now son, don't get up in a dander, I'm just looking out for things," said Cliff.
"Clifford St. John, I'm surprised at you," scolded Sara. "How can you be so suspicious?
"Her story makes sense, Grandpa. I have a good feeling about her, and so does Grandma."
Kate spoke up, "Please, believe me, I know it sounds strange, maybe even mysterious, but it was the only way at that time, that I would be able to write this book. I have tried detaching myself from things and luxuries. But be assured that I come from a good family. We lived in New York City for a long time, then I went to college in West Virginia for a few years."
"West Virginia? What college is there?" Asked Cliff.
"It's a small college called Salem."
"You mean where they burned witches?" Asked Sara, the statement only adding to the confused emotional situation.
"No, that's Salem, Massachusetts." When Kate said Massachusetts, her thoughts flew to the Woods and her excitement grew. "I have a degree in Journalism too."
"Oh, that's wonderful."
Brad stared at the brown haired beauty that was already working her way to his heart. He'd fallen in love with her the moment he spotted the girl. There was something exotic and different about Kate. She was down-to-earth and very intelligent, but there was a little girl side to her that he wanted to take under his wing and protect. He was glad he'd talked his grandparents into putting the girl up at their house, and wished she could stay with him, but that was unethical. He wanted to get to know her, figure out some secret, and could easily look beyond her shabby appearance, wearing pants that were cut strangely showing her knees. There was something just underneath the surface and he swore he'd get to the bottom of it. Brad turned to Kate and said, "You should be an actress! I thought you were when I first saw you."
At first Kate thought he'd meant it because he sensed she was lying, but then Brad smiled and continued, "You've got the look, that's for sure."
The group piled into the Packard and drove toward what would be a bigger downtown using old Route 99. The road was paved, but not tarred. They traveled at a leisurely pace, Kate immediately noticing the surroundings, how the neighborhoods didn't look rundown. There were stretches of open spaces and parks, even a few mini-ranches and farms. Little bungalows dotted the roadside, and there were the beginnings of communities popping up. The girl saw buildings in great art-deco shape here, that in her time were dilapidated. Finally, the 99 turned into the spanking new 110 freeway. Now, in '41, it seemed, very small, not at all menacing. In fact, due to the coming war, in a few months to be exact, it seemed almost deserted. It was 1941, so the population of just under 1,000,000 people from a census book Kate had read back in her time, seemed to be holding their breath, as if waiting for some big event to shake up their lives.
"Bet it's different here than back East where you came from, Kate," spoke up Sara, above the din of the engine. Cliff turned the radio on, some big band tune blaring.
"God, she wouldn't even know the half of that," thought Kate. "It's different in some ways, but mostly the same, except there's less people here," said Kate, truly not lying, because there was less of a population in 1941 than in 1997. It was times like these, since she'd landed here, that Kate would feel a funny panic in the pit of her stomach. What if she was stuck here for the rest of her life? Would it be so bad? What was happening in her time? Did P.J. wonder where she was? Was he still in Carmel with Alegra, maybe even right this second improvising some of her Uncle's standards? She imagined the two sitting by the Ocean, P.J. strumming his Martin, the singer trying to set off some passion, sensing the lack of it in his relationship with Kate. Did time pass there as it did here? Those were questions Kate could only fathom and not answer. Eventually she'd have to tell someone about this.
They conversed easily about a lot of subjects as the car made its way toward Olympic Blvd, traveling west. It was cleaner, the sky bluer, the air crisper. In fact, the sun was so bright due to lack of pollution that Kate had to borrow Brad's sunglasses when he noticed the woman squinting.
Finally, they came to the outskirts of Beverly Hills, actually heading toward Elm Drive, less than two blocks from Donna's apartment, and even her sister Gloria's in a few years. Once Kate did make money in this time, she'd find her own place somewhere around here again, and she told the St. Johns so. "By the way, I'm a fast typist, I won't have trouble finding secretarial work."
Her old neighborhood had not changed much, just less buildings and no highrises, or Bank of America Building, which was like the beacon of Beverly Hills in 1997. They drove down Elm Drive. Kate's first apartment was standing, and seemed the same as they passed it. There was no Beverly Vista Junior High, but rather an open field that Kate could see children playing stick ball in, such an ironic touch. Cliff pulled into the soon-to-be-familiar small yellow home closer to Olympic Blvd., very close to Gloria Wood's future Beverwil house.
When they finally drove up to a quaint home on Elm Drive, Kate could not get over how close it was to 'Where The Woods Were'. It was also very close to where Kate used to live starting in 1983 until 1994 when she moved to Glendale, right down the street from 'Where The Woods Were'! Kate would be most curious, once she was settled, to explore this area, maybe take some pictures.
Grandpa got out first, opening the door for his wife, Brad doing the same with Kate. The gesture alone, conjured up such a romantic candor. "Thank you, Brad," said Kate, daintily stepping on to the curve. She liked the whole motion, and thought to herself how interesting it was becoming. She had now doubt that this was real. Then again, it could that she was knocked cold and was unconscious, although it feels like a dream, and she knew she was dreaming, and not waking up.
They walked up the paved red brick driveway. Once inside, Kate was taken on an impromptu tour of the place. It boasted 3 bedrooms, living room, Cliff's den, an enclosed porch and quaint yard with roses growing, whose trellis gave a air of privacy. There was even a small wading pool, turned off and covered. Kate's first thoughts were if P.J. were here he'd know how to fix it in 1941. She wondered where he was right now. Was he living in real time, or was it frozen at this exact moment? She'd find out soon. But for now, the girl would make the best of it. She had already managed to get these people to help, had not ended up in a shelter, maybe jailed.
Next she would find a job and start making a 1940's salary. Kate, for a split second, entertained the idea that with the knowledge she possessed, maybe she'd write songs and make them hits before they were hits! If the lady wanted to meet Donna and Gloria Wood, she'd have to do something in the music field. Entertainment was hot and Kate was about to ingrain herself in it here. People were going to have to be made to think that this girl had an uncanny intuition. They must never find out about her time travel secret. She may tell Brad eventually, but not quite yet. First Kate had to adapt to this new and strange place. It was her stomping ground in 1997, but so unfamiliar now. She'd find her way.
Kate had to get a guitar. "I'm sure they have pawn shops in 1941. I'll pick up one soon. I could rule the world," she mused to herself as they climbed the steps to the second floor.
They showed her upstairs. The St. John's master bedroom was quaint and cozy. It was done in beige and had a rocking chair by the window, knitting sitting by it, and a white cage with two love birds in it, a mahogany dresser with pictures of their family on it in silver frames.
The walked down a hallway, then around to the left. "This is your room, Dear," said Sara walking into the cheery looking, bright powder blue bedroom. Already Kate knew where the guest bathroom and other bedrooms were situated. Sara had stopped at the linen closet, got fresh sheets, pillow cases and quilts for Kate. It was simple and plain with a white bedspread and small wooden makeup table that had three drawers to hold clothing. Kate thought about that, and wondered how she would get clothes. Maybe she could cash in on the conversation she'd had with Virginia Wood, talking about the latest rage in fashion during the next few years. Big shoulder pads, the bigger the better! She couldn't wait to buy her first pair of Spring-A-Laters!
It was at that moment that Sara left the room and soon returned with a simple powder blue dress, as if reading Kate's thoughts. Although it was a bit conservative, Kate welcomed it, wanting to shed her dirty clothes of the future. The window was open and lace curtains fluttered in the breeze with the slight scent of jasmine. Kate strolled up top the lace curtains thinking of her father and how he really did invent lace patterns, just not for another 25 years! Gazing intently at the patterns, she used it to her advantage. "These may be my father's patterns! I'm sure of it."
"How do you know," asked Grandpa, the whole family coming up close.
"I know his designs ... flat rose link patterns. In fact, he was working on a new fabric invention called 'fish net' stockings before he died!"
"What's that? Don't think I'd want to wear fish net on my legs," laughed Grandma as she fluffed up the pillow and fixed the bed up.
"It's not fish net stockings literally, it's made of the same stuff stockings are, except the design looks like a fish net. It's going to be the latest rage, you'll see!"
It was then that Kate stopped and noticed the faces of her new family. Their jaws were dropped open like little kids watching a side show. An eerie feeling came over the room, like whatever was controlling time wasn't letting Kate talk about the future freely. It caused a strain and set many molecules in motion, too many, until Sara got up and said she'd get some towels and could Cliff come help. He was rooted the floor, the older, sweet-faced woman having to nudge her husband of 45 years a few times to make him go with her. "We'll see you downstairs, Dear." They left the room, leaving the couple alone.
Brad smiled and said, "Again, don't take offense, but I guess we're trying to figure you out, Kate. We've never met anyone quite like you...Fish net stockings ... wow, where did your father come up with that one? I mean, it sounds like a good idea, but nothing I've ever heard before. Amazing, truly amazing," he marveled, absentmindedly stroking his slender fingers against his clean shaven chin. "We'll have to go to dinner some night soon and you can explain it all to me. When I first saw you, it seemed you needed a friend, and I elected myself for it right then and there!" It looked like he wanted to take her in his arms, but felt too awkward, especially being in his parent's house. So he refrained, backing away slightly, not taking those baby blues off her. It wasn't the right moment, that's for sure.
"My parents are brilliant people," said Kate. She thought, "I could call my father in this time. Let's see, right now he'd be in high school." Kate wished she could tell Brad the real reasons behind her appearance, but knew now wasn't the moment, and would wait until they got to know each other better. She could tell already that they seemed well matched and his grandparents liked her, but the woman was worried about Grandpa Cliff. He'd have to, at least in his own time, accept her. She would earn her keep, and really start writing the book. This was a great opportunity. Kate would ask Brad to take her around town, especially to any 'Where The Wood's Were'. Kate would try to befriend them somehow. She'd been thinking on that for some time and thought the best way to approach it would be to settle in and wait. Kate had a feeling that their path's would cross soon. Right now the woman wouldn't rustle things up and must get these people to relax.
"I'll join my grandparents." Brad turned and left, sensing the lady wanted to have some privacy. "See you downstairs."
Kate went into the bathroom, washed up a bit and changed into the outfit. She had to wear her moccasins and she re-tied her bone necklace on. Her masculine side felt like Bobby Van in the Movie Lost Horizon, the remake she and her family saw at
Radio City Music Hall in New York City in 1974. After she changed into the new attire, the girl actually sang Bobby's tune in the feature ... "Question me an answer bright and clear. Question me an answer. Answer me a question!" She even danced around the room as the actor/singer did in the motion picture. "It's funny, but Bobby Van is alive," she said to herself, while doing the cute little jig Van did in the film. After that she silently stared at the bed that would be hers, and struggled with herself, wondering if sleeping meant waking up back in 1997. Would that be her fate?
Instead she shrugged it off and went downstairs, joining the family in the living room. It was then the woman looked down at herself and thought how the dress really had brightened her up.
Soon they were all chatting and joking around. This was very exciting for her, something really special. She liked the St. Johns, but especially Brad. He sat across from her on the sofa as Sara and Cliff told Kate stories of how they got to Beverly Hills from Arkansas. "I remember when the only people here were Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks," joked Sara. "It's really growing now!"
"Don't forget Harold Lloyd," said Kate, laughing, pretending to hang onto a grandfather clock in their living room.
Everyone cracked up at her antics. Already it was easy to play the role of the offbeat, slightly beatniky 1940's woman.
Kate thought what a neat, cozy, well lived in home it was and could tell Sara was proud to maintain it. The living room had doilies on tables, a colonial brown couch with throw rugs. There was a sewing room off the left of the living room where Kate presumed Sara spent much time in. Kate remembered each room in detail, especially the kitchen, modern by 1940's standards. The place was neat, everything in its place. Beyond the kitchen was Grandpa Cliff's den, and a small enclosed porch, that was Sara's laurel.
Kate never felt more feminine than she did at that moment. It was something about the Forties that brought it out of her, something 1997 could never offer.
"Are you thirsty?" Asked Grandma Sara, already going into action. She poured lemonade into four tall glasses.
The future lady never tasted anything so good. It made her pucker, but had just the right amount of sugar to temper it. Food and drink of the Forties tasted fresher and clearer, like the air -- crispier!
In the last few minutes, Kate had caught both Sara and Cliff staring when they thought she wasn't looking. Brad remained quiet for awhile, probably assessing the young woman too. He must have been observing his new friend. Kate hoped these were not judging people. Once she got into the swing of things in this time, the woman hoped and prayed that this family would settle down. She just had to be accepted as a woman in their time.
Then like clockwork, after her thought, Sara announced, "Now, Honey, from what you explained to us, we realize you have no clothes or funds, so Cliff and I want to extend a small loan to you so you can replenish your wardrobe and extras, okay?"
"You can pay us back when you get settled and get a job, like you said Kate," explained Cliff evenly.
"And when you sell that book," said Brad, winking playfully, easily falling into the role of her biggest fan.
"I can help you there," spoke up Brad. "I'll ask around at my firm, plus I can secure you a typewriter.
Kate was bowled over! "Thank you so much for trusting me and caring enough about my welfare. I could just as easily find a shelter at a church or even go back home."
"Think nothing of it. We have a good feeling about you, and don't mind Cliff, he's naturally suspicious," said Sara getting up. "I have to start dinner."
Before Kate could offer anything, Sara left the living room, and was in the kitchen in record time. Soon the older woman was setting the table and pulling pots from the cupboards. It's what she lived for!
It was then Cliff took his cue and retired into his domain, the den, to have a pre-dinner pipe smoke.
"It's been a long time since my grandparents have had this kind of company. I think my grandma thinks of you as her long lost granddaughter," said Brad.
"Really?" That comment scared Kate a bit, but she could understand.
"Sara will have dinner ready in about an hour. Brad, you staying?" Asked Cliff from his den.
"Yes, I am," said Brad looking over at Kate staring out the picture window. Brad wondered why he was becoming so attached to this lady. He'd been seeing someone at his firm, but when he met Kate, the other woman paled in comparison to Kate's energy and vibrations, even though it had been literally 2 hours since he first set eyes on Kate.
Christine was basic, typical, not boring, but definitely run-of-the-mill. She had been his safe base, but now something had changed. Since he'd come in contact with the curly-headed stranger, Christine faded to the back of his mind. He doubted he'd ever be the same, even if this girl moved out of his life tomorrow. The man vowed to get to know her! Brad's male intuition screamed that he'd better take advantage of her presence, because she may one day be gone forever, as if she never existed! It was a scary thought, and put his male ego in a tailspin. He'd always maintained control over emotional issues, especially women. Those he dated were proper and shy, allowing for his own control over the relationship. Brad had a feeling that he and Kate would make a great match and one day soon maybe even a couple, an item. Brad hoped fate went in that direction, the same fate that drew them together in that cemetery. What a chance encounter. He was glad for it, needed the infusion Then he got a thought. "I'll be right back." He raced down the steps and out the door, before anyone could utter a word, almost like his grandmother did earlier. So, Kate sat in the living room reading the latest Life Magazine, trying to learn a bit more about 'now'!
At that moment Kate's masculine side felt like 'A Man Without A Country'!
About 25 minutes later when Kate felt refreshed and calmer, dinner smells permeated the area. Cliff came back in the living room and got into a deep discussion with Katie about possible oil off the coast of Northern California. They sat in the living room chatting, waiting for dinner to start, Brad returned with a box. "Here, this is for you, Kate," he said handing the box to her. She opened it and found two cotton dresses and one simple brown pants suit, as well as a pair of stockings. "You'll have to shop for your own underthings, because I really didn't want to guess sizes," he said sheepishly, a slight blush rising on his tanned cheeks.
Kate got up and hugged her new friend, thanking him and the St. John's for everything. "I'm not going to forget your kindness."
"Think nothing of it," said Cliff, taking out his pipe and loading it up with cherry tobacco, but not lighting it, out of hidden courtesy.
"There's a small clothes store up on Beverly Drive and I just felt the need to splurge in your behalf. For Beverly Hills, it's pretty inexpensive. All the women around here go there to buy the discounts and bargains.
"I want to try them all on," said Kate, getting up and running upstairs, catching the same fever, again like Sara did prior, when making dinner. In her own time, these clothes would be vintage.
"Brad, that was a very nice thing to do," praised Sara. "Cliff and I will certainly reimburse you."
Bradford held up his hand. "You will do no such thing. It was my idea to have her come here so I don't want a cent. I really wanted to do it for her. You should of seen the expression on the sales clerk's face, it was a riot," said Brad excitedly, like a high school boy's first crush.
"You takin' a shine to her, Brad?" Asked Cliff, now going through the motions of lighting his pipe, but still holding back.
"Maybe," he answered coyly. "And what if I was?"
"Well, what about that Daniels gal?"
"What about her?" That's just it - What about her? "I'm so intrigued with Kate. She's so different and out of this world."
"I think you and our new house guest make a nice couple," said Sara with a twinkle in her eyes.
Brad blushed beet red. "Now Grandma stop it. You are embarrassing me!"
"Sara, stop pestering the lad. We can't help it if he's got a school boy crush on our new house guest."
"I'm sure interested in more than that book she's writing," said Brad.
"Listen you two, please don't press the girl."
"I still say there's something more to what she's saying, so I don't know. But she is special, I'll have to give the gal that," commented Cliff.
"She's down to earth and very natural," said Brad. "I can't wait to get to know her better. In fact, I feel like I've known her before...Anyhow, whatever the facts, I'm glad for her presence."
"Didn't have a stick of makeup on when we found her," added Sara.
"That's what I like about her, Grandpa. She's so natural and earthy. I've never met anyone like her, and I've only known her a few hours."
"The soul knows over and over, Brad," said Sara.
At that moment Kate came back. Six pairs of eyes stared at the girl as she walked down the stairs.
"My, my, now you look even more presentable," said Cliff.
Kate was wearing the brown pants suit. She really looked wonderfully full-figured and just the right about of buxomness. Brad couldn't take his eyes off her.
Before they sat down to dinner, Sara went upstairs and took Kate's clothes to the washing room in the cellar. Before she added them to the old-fashioned washer, she checked the pockets and found something very strange. "Land sakes, what's this?" She said aloud, holding up a color picture of Kate sitting by a grave in the cemetery they'd found her. The picture didn't look like any photo she'd seen, because Sara scrutinized it, wondering at the quality, so clear, so colorful. It was just last year that they had gone to see 'Wizard of Oz' at the Hippodrome and that's what these photos resembled, when Dorothy went to the Land of Oz! The colors were sharp. And another thing she noticed was Kate's clothing in the photos, which was different than what she was attired in. The girl was wearing an American Indian jacket like Davy Crockett's, fringe and all. She checked the front pockets and came up with something even more curious. It was a 25 cent piece, but the date on it didn't seem right. Maybe Kate had it made at an amusement park, because it read 1995, and that wasn't for almost 53 years. Sara's heart did a strange flip-flop. But her 1940's mind wouldn't budge to the fact that Kate could be from the future. To remain sane, she could not believe it, and thought of it only as an illusion or maybe part of that book Kate was intending to write. She'd say nothing about it, and put the picture and money behind a tin jar in the room. She'd slip it back in the pants when the wash was done. Sara was shaken as she climbed the steps and prepared to serve a dinner of lamb chops, peas and potatoes, with gravy and greens.
They sat at the table, talking about all subjects, especially Kate and Brad. It was obvious they were a bit taken with each other. Brad stole glances toward Kate when he thought she wasn't looking. Kate looked his way and always smiled at him warmly. Sara remained unusually quiet throughout the meal, afraid to bring up anything to spoil it. She especially didn't want to tell Cliff what she'd discovered, lest he'd reject Kate thinking the girl was odd, not to mention how he'd be angry with Sara for suggesting such a thing in the first place.
Kate was starting to like Brad St. John. She was growing attached to him and wanted to know him, would like to learn to appreciate him.
Tonight Kate would not stray from her new home in 1941. She'd remain here and get settled, and catch some much needed rest. Then she noticed Sara staring at her curiously. It was as if the older woman wanted to ask her something, but was reluctant, wrestling with something. Maybe she realized something. Kate hoped not. For now the woman was closed mouth. Eventually it would all come out though.
* * *
1941
Katie had been living in the 1940's for a little over five months. It was December 1. She noticed that it was not hard to become accustomed to the new surroundings and pace. She had lived in that neighborhood (Beverly Hills) on and off since 1983, so the transition was that much easier to bear.
Kate noticed she was tuning in to the new atmosphere and sometimes the girl would wake up drenched in a cold sweat, her body's chemicals leveling off. At first she panicked, thinking that illness may be setting in. God forbid she'd get sick here in the past and would have to resort to 1940's medical care!
She also debated with herself for hours, wondering about dropping a hint about Pearl Harbor. Every time Kate tried bringing the subject up, something happened, preventing it. She didn't want to start making comments about things to come in the future, lest people would become suspicious. Other times she'd forget completely about the urgency and would go about her daily grind, which had become a bit more placid and simpler than the life she'd led in 1997. She felt much more feminine here in the past, tapping into a whole new side of herself. Sometimes she got flashbacks of how she arrived here, but even those episodes were fading some.
To most, especially Brad St. John, she was an exotic flower, especially because of that curly hair and retro-deco attitude. He had met her in a cemetery of all places! But it changed his life.
So far all the people in the St. John social circle had for the most part, accepted her. There were only a few women, who obviously had silent dibs on Bradford St. John, that didn't particularly take to the free spirited girl. The rest picked up on her thirst for knowledge about them, their lifestyle and ways, so gave freely of advice, history and commentaries, thinking she'd mention them in a book the girl said she was writing about Los Angeles. This had spurred Kate to actually start a tome on Los Angeles, which the woman had begun rough drafts on an old 1940 model typewriter Sara had given her, although not old compared to her standards. If she became stuck here in the Forties, then Kate would get the book published. If she was sent back to 1997, she'd at least have a manuscript, so in a strange twist she was killing two birds with one stone.
Kate even imagined her book tailored after the readings of Nostradamus, predicting the future of Los Angeles, and it wouldn't be all rosy and serene either! It was at that moment Kate intended to write about the future Los Angeles Riots, earthquakes and what the future L.A. would be like, plus more. Some would eat it up, others shun it.
She'd found work immediately, right up on Beverly Drive for a publicist, no doubt! Ironically, the girl found it through a client of Brad St. John's, a man at the Beverly Hills Citizen, the same newspaper Donna Wood's husband would eventually work at in a few years. Having the job made it easier to track the up-and-coming starlet Donna Wood. Kate had access to all the newspaper clippings and media resources of the day, so it was a match made in heaven when she walked into 228 S. Beverly Drive, which in her time was Larry Parker's Diner, next door to her ex-landlady's store. Beverly Hills Liquor Castle was just an extension of the building Kate now worked in.
She answered the telephone, maintained the front office, mail, plus greeted clients, usually young future actresses and male models sent there by their agents or studio handlers.
It was one afternoon that would prove the most heightened excitement for Kate since coming back in time. She was sitting at the front desk of the storefront office, typing letters, marveling to herself how she was working where Larry Parker's Diner would boom in the 1990's, when none other than Donna Wood walked through the brown doors. Kate looked up and felt her cheeks redden. She tried to say something, but the words would not come! In all her turmoil of getting used to this new cycle, she'd almost forgotten why she was there and the reason stood in front of her that second!
Kate surmised that her forgetfulness was because the trip through time rendered her mind of certain impulse-related memories. She supposed it was some kind of mental safeguard so that her psyche's stamina wouldn't go crazy, would rather accept it. Sometimes the woman would recall the fact that she was in the past. It hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd think about the future, wanting to tell someone, but it was very fleeting and wasn't happening as much of late. In the next second, something would come up to lead her mind away and the thought passed. But this time nothing could stop her reaction and nothing would block out the woman standing at her desk in the flesh and breathing!.
The whole room turned electric, the vibes thick and crazy. Kate felt lightheaded, struggling with her emotions, wanting to blurt out everything, a bundle of nervous energy. Then her mind, in a split second, talked her psyche into thinking maybe this woman only resembled Donna Wood. That calmed her enough to gain decent composure.
"May I help you," she asked in her most calmest voice.
"My agent sent me over for a meeting with June Landers, the publicist.
Kate could only stare, speechless, unable to believe her whole reason for being in the past stood in the flesh right in front of her eyes.
"I've already started shooting a movie called Pot O' Gold with Jimmy Stewart and the band leader Horace Heidt," Donna said excitedly, thinking those two names would spur this woman into reality. She was pretty as a picture, and the first thing Kate remembered was the collage back at her house in Glendale plastered with Donna's clippings and pictures. For the longest time Kate wondered what Donna's speaking voice sounded like. Now she knew. It was silken, with a slight hint of a Massachusetts accent attached, but with refinement and annunciation going way beyond the small town cultured types that landed on Plymouth Rock.
Finally, Kate regained her own husky, Demi Moore voice, a definite plus in 1941, due to actresses like Betty Davis and Lauren Becall. And of course, Joan Crawford! It was difficult, but she stated, "Oh, I read about that in the trades. It's starring Paulette Goddard. A musical comedy about a kid who wants a band to sing on his uncle's radio show. Mr. Smith saves the day again!" Joked Kate.
Donna's eyes lit up at the words. "Wow, you've already heard? How exciting. It's my first movie."
"The studio honchos send us the stuff long before they start shooting. It's all planned in advance," bantered Kate, still not quite believing she was talking to Donna so matter-of-fact. Kate was also glad Donna fell for the explanation of why she knew so much. Working for a publicist was turning out to be a perfect smoke screen. "The special gimmick about this feature is it's being produced by President Roosevelt's son!"
"Yes, I know." Donna immediately liked this curly headed young lady. She was smart and knew what was going on, definitely sharp. There was something vaguely familiar about her too. She couldn't quite place the face, but it was there, something in the recesses of her mind. "What's your name?"
"Kate Seagal. I started working here a few months ago, but it's a total resource of information on the entertainment industry and its rising stars. If I'm not mistaken, you will have a featured credit in this picture. That's wonderful. Actually, I know who you are. I remember Donna and Her Don Juans over at MCA. How's Art Carney doing in the film?"
It was Donna's turn to be speechless. This woman knew a lot about her. That meant the singer was on her way up, hopefully. There was always a fine streak of doubt in Donna's mind for obvious reasons. Your friends here could turn on you with a vengeance, yet, on the other hand, those at the Scientist Church were different, even with their stardom and notoriety. Well, at least clippings about her were circulating around Hollywood. "I'm the same Donna from the Don Juans, but I sing with The Musical Knights now. I think Art is doing quite well for himself, he's holding his own."
Kate was on a roll now! "And if I'm not mistaken, from what I found out, your parents are involved in the Boston radio circuit. At that second Kate remembered the Wood photo album she'd made, lying under the bed, tucked away in her knapsack. She wondered if maybe the best thing to do was hide it, because if anyone stumbled across it, things would be hard to explain away easily as they were now.
"Why yes, they do. You're very crafty in digging up all that stuff about me. How did you find out so much? You must have known I was coming.”
"First off, let me tell June you're here, get you some coffee and you can have a seat, okay?"
"Yes, of course. But we must talk, you and I, okay?"
"But remember," said Kate coyly. "Hot spit, we've got secret, mums the word, I won't tell!" She put her finger to her lips and winked across to Donna, who sat transfixed and shocked, color actually draining from her dainty face when she heard the ditty uttered by her cousin Virginia, reciting it even as children, and before every show they did together.
Kate went into the adjoining office that would one day be Beverly Hills Liquor Castle. June Landers sat at her large brown desk plowing through the latest studio break-downs and info packets sent by the brass of Hollywood for her peruse.
"Hey, you want two invites up to Hedda Hopper’s big bash?" June glanced up.
"Okay. Donna Wood is here," announced Kate formally, liking the sound of it.
June removed her specs and rummaged through a drawer, retrieving her makeup bag. "Stall her until I can put on my face, will you Dear? God, how I hate when they just drop in like this."
"Of course, Mrs. Landers."
"And please don't disturb us, hold all my calls," dictated the older woman, resembling an aging Candice Bergen.
"I will," said Kate. "Would you like some coffee, Ma'am?"
"Yes, make it strong and black this time. No sugar or cream. A bit stiff, okay Dear?"
"Yes, Miss Landers."
Kate exited the office and went to her desk. "Mrs. Landers will be right with you, Donna. I'm going to make coffee now. What do you like in yours?"
"I'd think you'd know that," she answered coyly, a sparkle in her dark eyes!
Both women broke out in light nervous laughter, until Donna turned to the other woman and put her delicate hand on the other's shoulder. Kate immediately noticed the jazzy checkered-designed ring.
"First off, how did you know that saying my cousin and I had? No one really knows that, you do though! It scared me when you said it so easily, so practiced," said the astute Donna. "And you do look familiar, I know your face, that hair. Something about you is close to me. Just can't explain it, but I will. What are you doing later on.? Perhaps we could get together after work"
"I rent a room in a house on Elm Drive. A nice older couple, the St. Johns, live there too," said Kate.
"Wow, I live on Canon Drive!
Kate phrased the next words very carefully. "It is funny, isn't it?" Those were the same words written by Donna on a photograph taken just this year and sent to her family. The woman recalled it from the Wood photo album.
Donna again looked like she was about to faint dead away. Kate had definitely unbalanced this delicate flower. "I can't get over this? You know someone in my family, came in contact with them somehow, right? You did a little checking, maybe a ploy to get my future publicity business, right? Well, you sold me," said the vivacious, petite woman as she walked around the room.
"I'll tell you what, let's discuss it over dinner tonight. I can be an intricate part of the process if your agent decides to go with our agency, I can tell you that," said Kate casually.
"Well, I guess that's fine," Donna agreed, looking up close at Kate's desk. "Why are you sweating, and you're so flushed?"
"To tell you the truth, I'm a big fan of yours."
"I could tell that right off the bat," said Donna, seeming to enjoy the funny way Kate reacted to her presence, almost like the other woman was seeing a ghost.
"So, we'll get together tonight?"
"Yes, meet me at my apartment around seven."
"It's 132 South Canon," said Kate.
"Apartment 1. We'll walk up the street and pick a nice cafe."
"Okay."
It was then June Landers came out of her plush office and greeted Donna Wood. They chatted and went into the office, closing the door behind them, but not before Kate caught the look on June's face. But she still sat there shocked and excited. Who knew it would happen like this? It was almost as if fate and time worked together, and made her fit right with the scheme of things in the past. Was it destiny that she landed this job, or was this Time's way of making her presence more acceptable to her and the Continuum?
Then, just as easily, she went back to typing the letters on the age-old typewriter, marveling at how the situation had fallen into place, everything in focus! But she'd give an arm and leg for an electric typewriter, or even a laptop. At that moment, she'd be at a loss to explain those things away. It went back to why things seemed to be in normalcy and flowing here. Whatever propelled her back in time was making sure things stayed level and even. There was a fine line between upsetting the balance and rearranging the moments! She'd found that out while writing her book on L.A. She would go with the flow, as they said in her future!
1941 – DECEMBER 7TH
The sun was warm for December. There was a slight breeze hovering, making Christmas decorations dotting lamp posts and street shudder like forest trees. Kate's thoughts flew back to the future when she lived in this same neighborhood in the late 1980's. It hadn't changed much, just the people. The 1940's crowd was much nicer than in '97.
It was early morning. Brad had driven to Beverly Hills to jog like always. He was running by the park and saw Kate there strumming her guitar. He had stood silently watching his love, suddenly overcome with some weird emotion he couldn't identify, but it was there, there's no mistaking that! Finally he'd come up to her and there was no stopping their passions any longer.
On the day of Pearl Harbor, Kate and Brad were in the throes of a passionate embrace in the park down the street from the St. John home. It hadn't taken Kate long to become used to his kisses and caresses. At that moment he moved his slender, smooth hands up and down the nape of her neck. The man expertly could raise the passion level with a of his sure fingers.
Kate finally admitted to herself that Brad St. John was growing on her. She had come to love his ways, his demeanor, his smell, his presence, his soul. She was starting to feel her libido rising, and realized Brad must feel the same, for lately their petting had become almost furious. The girl strummed her guitar again for him, even singing her now familiar standards about Burbank, Beverly Hills and even one about Princess Diana, who wouldn't be born for another 20 years!. It all amused and charmed the usually serious-minded Brad.
"Brad, why don't we go to your place," breathed Kate in his ear. She began nibbling his neck, loving the feel of his smooth, just shaven skin. The woman reached around and grabbed his slim buttocks, wanting to see and feel so much more. Her feelings had come on suddenly, her body chemicals in full swing, and the fact that Brad held himself at bay really turned the woman on.
"Are you sure, Honey? I mean, I don't want you to feel pressured," said Brad pulling her closer to him. He loved to hold her, feeling ample bosom against his chest. Their fire was building each day since they'd met, and it had been only five months.
"The only pressure is being in this park. I want some privacy with you," said Kate, suddenly breaking away from his embrace and getting up a bit frustrated.
At first it sounded shocking, but as the months passed, he had grown more accepting to their storm. People noticed the difference right away. Some shied away from the couple altogether. Kate undersood why. But Brad had been drawn to her right from the start! Somehow their combined electrical current was too much for some in 1941.
Kate got a thought. "Hey, your grandparents went to Big Bear. The house is empty." She put her guitar away in a case.
"I don't know. I'd feel kind of strange," said Brad, placing his well toned arm around her shoulders.
She got a mischievous look. "Oh, come on, Brad. I don't want to drive all the way to Hollywood, making it so planned and on schedule. Let's do something bold and free! They'll never know!" Kate took his hand to her rose colored lips. She'd finally mastered the lipstick arching technique that the girl admired in Donna Wood. In fact, the singer had shown Kate how to do it. "I'm going to be honest with you, Brad. I want you. It's been growing for weeks. Yes, we've kissed and petted, but ... well...."
He turned her toward him and hugged her tightly. "Okay, let's go. But are you sure they won't be coming home?"
"I told you. They went up to Big Bear. They won't be back until tonight."
"Okay," he said, wanting so much not to be labelled a non-progressive prude in her eyes.
They walked to his car, a 1939 Chevy coupe, business-man's 2-door. It was olive with brown trim, yellow pin-stripping, black fenders. The three-speed floor shift ran great. It was sort of cute, made and driven to be enjoyed. They held hands while driving down Beverly Drive, bringing Kate's memory back to 1997, when she and P.J. visited with Gloria's husband, the man who had given Kate all the memorabilia, which helped put the woman where she was now, in the arms of a man who loved her as deeply as Glo's guy loved his counterpart. The ailing guy of '97 would be barely in his twenties now, maybe just starting out as a bus driver for Los Angeles Transit, like he told her almost 60 years from where she was now. Sometimes Kate got an urge to find him to warn the man of losing his first wife because of a communication breakdown, but it would jepardize him meeting Gloria and the memorabilia. Who knew what would happen!
It didn't take long to pull into the St. John driveway, something that had become familiar to Kate as the months swung by here in the Forties.
Brad looked around, making sure no one was watching them. He knew the neighbors were a nosey lot. Finally they reached the doorstep. Kate put her key in, and soon they were inside.
"You look so nervous, Brad, come on, loosen up will you?" Kate walked into the kitchen and brought out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. She poured each of them a small shot. "This will calm you down."
"It's not you, Hon, it's just that being here puts me in an awkward position," he said, casing the joint, making doubly sure his grandparents weren't around."
"Brad, it's okay, don't feel guilty. Who are we hurting? We're not even doing anything yet." She coaxed him around and they started kissing, the silence only igniting their passions for each other. "Let's go upstairs to my room."
Kate led the way as they climbed the steps, Brad resembling a sheepish little boy about to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar. They entered her room. He always liked smell -- a mixture of jasmine perfume with just a hint of down to earthiness to it. My, how she'd changed from that Little Orphan Annie he'd met in the graveyard, but he looked beyond physical beauty, and truly connected with her soul, even on that day, 5 months past now. Hard to believe.
The woman shut the door and locked it, going over to the dresser. Brad came up behind her, feeling a bit more secure now that they weren't in his grandparents' domain. He was soon entangling himself in her, wrapping his fingers around her curly hair. As she nudged him, tugged at his pasion, Brad felt engulfed within her presence and could never fully explain the strange magnetism that existed between them. They ignored it for too long now. Whatever was deemed proper fell away instantly. It was times like this that he felt the woman in his arms was not from this world!
They stood by the bed slowly undressing. Kate came to him pulling a bit awkwardly at his shirt tail and socks. Soon they were in their underwear. Kate turned down the bed, both jumping between the sheets of security. The sun was just now rising, and it cast an orange ray through the blinds. Once under the covers, their bodies took over from there.
Brad had never known such pleasure with a woman. Something clicked and he was glad they hadn't rushed this moment. God knows he'd been fantasizing about it for months now. That was not like him at all.
They stayed in foreplay for almost an hour, until finally they were naked flesh against each other. They kissed, fondled and nipped at each other, teasing one another until something began to flare within. Both were sweaty and slick to the touch. It was as if each delayed and denied the other only raising the passion level, which was starting to do its job.
"I've got to have you," moaned Brad, as he moved on top of her and entered. Both moved together, easily taking on a steady rhythm. They whispered things to each other, cried out and groaned, totally into each other, the rest of the world fading, even the radio they had turned on to block out the noise they knew would seep out during their wonderful union.
Kate hadn't been totally intimate like this since P.J. left for Carmel with Alegra Hirsch. She felt just a twinge of guilt being with another guy, knowing P.J. was in his time at that moment, maybe wondering where she was. It was fleeting though, as she became lost with Brad St. John, memories and hurts of P.J. quickly receeding to the recesses of her mind where they would have to stay for now.
Brad's body was near perfect, at least in Kate's eyes. Everything about him was so sculptured and toned. He jogged every morning, stayed in shape. The man held her very close to him even after both reached that ultimate pleasure point and beyond. They still moved in sync.
Both were so engrossed in the act, that they failed to hear the first bulletin on the radio. When they were both at their pinnacle of release, the announcement repeated, but the couple still didn't quite hear it again. Finally, after they had both been sated and pleasured, the cool wind blowing through the window drying their bodies, the news flash came again ... "Pearl Harbor has been attacked, stay tuned for a message from the President of the United States, Franklin D. Roosevelt...This is not a test, repeat, this is not a test!"
Kate was just lighting up a cigarette when it dawned on her! She'd almost forgotten about Pearl Harbor. Her thought impulses and processes had gone into that mode more frequently for the last three months or so. She'd want to tell someone, but would forget, continuing with her life here in the Forties.
The announcement reminded Kate of her talk with Sara 5 months back, the night she had dinner with Donna Wood. For the first time Kate remembered pleading The 5th, not coming right out and saying the truth, but finally had come clean, especially about the photo album, which held the most mystery and fascination.
Kate told Grandma Sara everything until the old woman held up her hand and said, "Okay, I accept it. I love you like a daughter, you could of been my own!"
"Please don't make me tell you anymore, Sara."
"Just go one with life like nothing is wrong?"
"Yes, just that," answered Kate.
The moment came back starkly clear to Kate when she finally broke down and told Sara...There was a light on in the living room, Sara's white head sitting at the sofa pretending to knit. Kate knew she was waiting up for something, someone. They had to talk.
The woman nervously fitted her key in the door and walked in, pretending not to see Sara, trying to put the woman at ease.
"Hello, Dear," said Sara, putting down her knitting. "Do you think we can sit and talk for a bit?"
"Of course, Sara, just let me go upstairs and change, and get a glass of soda water, okay?"
"That's fine," said Sara. "Bring me one with a dash of lemon juice, will you Dear."
Kate went upstairs and changed, took off her makeup, brushed her teeth and went to the kitchen. She got a glass of her favorite 1940's drink, getting one for Sara, not forgetting to spray it with lemon which was already cut and in the ice box.
Kate sat down right next to the older woman. "What's up?"
"I'll get right to it. I saw the photo album. It has me concerned. What's it all about? Who are you?"
"Sara, what I'm going to tell you is going to shock you, but please hear me out first. I'll do whatever you say, but just let me say my piece and explain." The woman sipped her water for strength.
"Please, explain. I'll listen and won't stop you," Sara said, clasping her delicate, lily-white hands in her lap. "I'm ready."
"Try to remain open-minded." Kate began explaining everything to Sara, leaving nothing out. Sara asked questions and Kate answered them honestly until after about one hour, Sara got the picture. She put her hand to her mouth and looked totally ready to faint. Kate spoke more about things and little by little Sara understood and actually believed the other woman. Kate even went up and brought the photo album down and they both went through it. Future Woman explained everything in great detail and Sara listened with great interest, in total awe and a little bit in fear of it.
"You know what the future holds then. How do you sleep at night?"
"Believe me, at first it wasn't easy, but I'm adjusting."
"So Donna Wood is going to die in 1947. What about us?"
"I don't know, because I've never seen anything about you guys. The first time I ever met or heard about you was in the cemetery where we first met. I had just popped in a few minutes before. I guess you're Father Time's Liaison!"
"My, my, Cliff will never accept this! We can never tell him. I hope to God you weren't planning on telling him or Brad, or anyone else for that matter. If this got out, it would break us all, I know it! People will think the worst, maybe say you're crazy, take you away to the funny farm, maybe us as well."
"Now, Sara, don't panic! I haven't told anyone about it, although sometimes I've had to bite my tongue. I don't plan on letting this get out. What about you, can you keep silent?"
"Yes, but already Cliff is asking me what's the matter. He sees me worrying and stressing about something." Sara fidgeted. "Well, you've got to get over that and get back to normal. As long as I'm here, we've got to make the best of it. Don't ask me any more questions. Let's just
Let's just move on and pretend we never had this conversation. I've got a lot at stake here too, you know."
"No, I won't tell a soul, Darling. It's just going to take some getting used to. I'm plain scared."
"And you probably know that we're going into World War II, right?"
"Yes, I saw the pictures. Hard to believe. When?"
"In two or three days! The Japanese are going to bomb Pearl Harbor in Hawaii! Please don't say a word. We'll hear it on the radio. FDR is going to make a big speech. And the war will last at least 4 years."
"My Lord," said Sara, putting her hand to her heavily beating heart.
"You've got to get a grip on yourself. You can do it, Sara. Please do it for Brad, if anything else. He's in love with me, and I don't want to hurt him. I could be sent back to my time in a second, so let's make the best of it. Being here in your house has drawn me even closer to the Woods. You guys have become very intimate to my heart. I love you all so much!"
Sara leaned forward and the two women hugged and cried. At that moment Cliff appeared in the doorway. "What the hell are you two women doing up and why are you crying? Are you sick?" Concern showed in his sharp eyes, that usually missed nothing.
"No, Cliff, we're not sick. Kate told me a very sad story about her father and we just started crying. Go back to bed. I'll be up in a second."
"Are you sure everything's all right? Don't hide nothing from me!"
"Really, Mr. St. John, we're fine. We just connected, that's all!"
"Well, I prefer you connecting while laughing, not boo-hooing." Cliff left the room and went back upstairs.
"Guess we better turn in. Don't worry, you're secret is safe with me. Just don't keep anything from me. I know what's happening and want to be there for you, Kate. You're special. I knew that the moment we met."
"Thanks. You are the best. Don't worry, you're going to live for long time, okay?"
Both women wiped their tears, hugged and walked up to bed.
Kate lay awake, sort of relieved that Sara knew and wouldn't spill the beans. She would be ready for anything, but she was definitely ready to start Donna Wood's P.R. campaigning.
Sara accepted it because of the love she held for the lady. Mrs. St. John had gone on with life and never brought it up nor snooped again. She was still curious, but had lost her gusto, mostly because of the emotional upheaval caused by the whole subject, which took its toll...
Now they sat up in bed listening to the President's speech. She was relieved Brad was beyond the draft age.
"You know, I think we should get up, get dressed and find out more about what's going on. My grandparents will most probably be home earlier, especially when they hear this."
"Yes, you're right, Brad," agreed Kate, getting up and picking up her clothes. "I'd hate for them to catch us now, especially with news of war." It was then Kate realized she'd not reacted to the news accordingly. All of a sudden she broke down and cried, "Oh, Brad, I can't believe this is happening...My God, war!" The woman cried harder, thinking of the day she'd have to leave this time. It was devastating to dwell on that, so it brought the tears on, Kate simply redirecting it.
Brad came up beside her and cradled Kate in his arms. "Don't worry, we'll get through this. Don't cry, Honey, please don't." He held and rocked her, until they found each other's lips again and re-ignited the fire between them. There was an urgency to the intensely heavy lovemaking this time, like at any minute it would all be over and they'd be lost to one another. It was a scary thought that brought on more tears for Kate as Brad and her did the sexual dance that felt the same in any century! Once again, everything momentarily faded out as the couple became engrossed in only one another.
There was no pretensious chivalry the second time around. They wanted each other plain and simple, both wishing the moment would last longer, but realizing they were bonded body and soul. Nothing, not even the hailing of World War II, could stop their release, which to sex was powerful as the future A-Bomb. As they achieved the ultimate, Kate mused that a mushroom cloud spread around 'Ground Zero', her G-Spot, which wouldn't be discovered for another 15 years!
Finally Brad came to his senses. "Really, Kate, we've got to get moving here." He still held her close and they kissed for a bit longer, relishing in the feelings and emotions swirling. "Why don't we freshen up." He got up, heading to the small bathroom, Kate gazing intesensely at his firm backside and taking his cue.
She took a warm washcloth and started rubbing Brad with it as he followed suit, soaping up his hand, running them up and down her her body. He thought at that moment how well built Kate was, with shoulders like a man, but beautiful large bosoms. She wasn't fat, and had recently been exercising, sometimes even jogging with him, which toned her. She did have a few more pounds to go, but for the most part was well put together, at least in his opinion.
As they washed, the pair petted like high school kids kissing like mating fish. Obviously, it would be very hard mainatinaing the polite social space between them when Cliff and Sara were around.
When they dressed and composed themselves, the two went downstairs, still touching each other teasingly. Spurts of their sexual activity came to the surface in the living room while waiting for the older couple and listening to reports on the radio, which were coming in more frequently. Brad chanced one last close embrace and laid on top of her. They petted and rubbed against each other, already missing their naked bodies, longing for their next encounter.
"You feel so good, I could do this all day," said Kate, kissing his chest, grabbing his hand and suckling each finger like a baby.
"Well, we better sober up, my friend! I just know they're on the way back," coaxed Brad.
"They must of heard by now, about the war," affirmed Kate.
"Take my word for it, my grandparents are driving back right now as we speak."
"...and kiss," added Lesling, finsihing Brad's sentence.
They kissed trying to break the spell over them. "I haven't finished with you yet!" Brad sat up and rubbed her shoulders.
"Oh, neither have I, my Love," said Kate.
Brad put his hands on hers. "The same goes for me. I love you very much. Probably from the moment I saw you that day," he admitted.
"I sensed your feelings when we first met. I left a relationship with a man I'd been living with."
"You lived with someone!"
Kate had forgotten that in 1941, that wasn't the best thing to say. "You must understand, I've been traveling, and haven't spoken with him since I met you."
"How did you meet him?"
"I was introduced to him by my best friend Kristi. He's very talented at wiring and electronics, as well as a musician too. Sometimes we'd be mistaken for brother and sister. It was odd, though, certainly not like what we share," said Kate.
"Were you close?"
"Yes, but not like you and I. That relationship seems foreign and faraway to me now," conceded Kate. "When I came here, he was with an older woman, a singer named Alegra."
"Really?"
"They claimed it was purely friendship," said Kate.
"Plutonic?"
"If I hear that word again, I'm going to scream!" She hugged him tightly in frustration.
"I guess it's all the stress of this war coming up, it's making me nuts.
"You're just more sensitive, I guess," acknowledged Kate, trying to shift things back to him.
"And being with you is like setting off firecrackers at close range," he said.
"I know, it's overwhelming, but so right, at least in my opinion," she said.
"I suppose so," he agreed, losing some of his anger and jealousy over finding out she once had a lover. It only slightly tugged at his ego. "I love you though," he finally said.
"Please, Brad, don't ask me to tell you so much about my past all at once," pleaded Kate. She thought to herself, "Because it's really the future, and I'm in the past."
"I won't do that and certainly don't want to scare you away either," said Brad, kissing her then. "But you must understand that you seem totally unorthedox, very, to be kind, Retro."
"Yes, as you say, I suppose so..."
With that last comment, Sara and Cliff burst through the door, out of breath.
Sara met Kate's eyes knowingly. "It's war," she said, tears streaming down her face.
"Yes," said both in unison.
Cliff sat down exhusted mentally. When the news hit, he was struck by the odd way Sara took it, almost like she'd been expecting it.
Kate stared at Sara, hoping the woman wouldn't blow her cover. After a few seconds, she realized Sara wasn't going to jeopardize the their confidence and relationship, even though the woman picked up Cliff's questionable vibes. The older woman sat on the couch doing her best to seem stunned as the radio invaded their world, shattering it with more flash bulletins. Brad came up to her and Cliff sat down as well. The radio had been on since early morning when they'd heard the first announcements.
It was at that point that the phone began ringing off the hook. Donna, Gloria Wood, June Landers and even the Wood parents began a barrage of calls to the St. John household. Kate fielded all the calls, spending the most time with Landers and Donna Wood. It seemed to Kate that Sara St. John was coping and keeping things under wraps. Thank God.
But it was the conversation between her and Donna that was eerie, just another event to store away about the fated singer.
"We've been talking at our Christian Science church I belong to in Hollywood, and the Bible makes reference to this event! It's so awful, but God's love and our prayers will get us all through, I just know it," said Donna.
"Isn't that where you met Ralph Dietz?"
"Yes, it is. You must of been reading my mind, because I did meet him at the church. He's a Scientist. Gosh, Kate, you are so lucky Brad isn't the drafting age."
"Yes, I'm relieved, but if I'm not mistaken, Ralph is 26," said Kate.
"Oh, he's quite the athlete, but I don't think they'd take him."
"Why?"
"Because of his flat feet."
In spite of the seriousness of war, Kate laughed.
"Don't get me wrong, Les, this is very devastating. I've been praying all morning. In fact, my church called and wants us down there pronto, would you like to come?"
"As much as I would love to, Donna, I can't. I'm here with the St. John's and, well, you know..."
"I understand. And I hope you don't think I'm insensative about Ralph's feet."
"No way, I understand. We all deal with it in our own way."
"Take care."
Brad was doing his best to remain indifferent and aloof around Kate, out of respect to his grandparents. It was at that second he started thinking about the death of his own parents when he was 10 years old, in 1921. He had finally told Kate one day. They were all driving in a roadster when it tipped over. His parents were killed when the car went over the canyon and he was somehow thrown clear. Afterwards, as he recovered from his injuries, the St. Johns had been making arrangements to take the boy with them.
One night they talked about the whole affair, then decided to put it all to bed, and start fresh. Cliff told his grandson that there was little else they could do except take direct control of Brad's well-being, which is what they basically did. Life with his grandparents was stricter than when he was with his free-wheeling parents dubbed 'Mules', people that would deliver liquor illegally across state lines. As he grew up, Brad began to see the full picture of his parents. He'd noticed how his mom and dad were into themselves and their world of liquor flasks, fast cars and speakeasy's. It greatly contrasted his grandparents, who seemed more into his universe, at the same time their world becoming his anchor. It was very strange for the boy, but gradually he adapted and became a man. After he'd finally told Kate the whole story, he felt understanding in regards to her tramas. Kate's story about her own father's death was tragic as well, how the man had it all, but committed sucide, the easy way out.
Now a new era was unfolding! World War II was looming full bloom. They were all scared, especially Sara and Kate, for those two knew the outcome of the mess. It was a secret that was eating them both up in many ways inside. They would just have to bear the brunt and keep quiet, it was the only way.
Kate would plunge into public relations, which surely would be booming once the armed forces began initiating and reactivating the USO. It was assured that both Gloria and Donna would be going on tour now, and that meant P.R., media and print interviews to slate, which Kate had become great at through the months. Her electrical current could easily manipulate the studio and entertainment people, especially over the telephone, because she was always one up on them, a step ahead. All she had to do was think of the future as she was talking to them, and usually they'd agree to anything. It was a vibe, a control tool, which worked wonders in this time-frame.
Kate would use anything to boost Donna Wood. She was obsessed all over again, just like when the lady found the pictures in the future. Onward she would go...
* * *
1942
June 1942, thanks to Kate's P.R. skill, Donna Wood propelled into a full tour with the Pot 'O Gold people. Kate had done her part. It was a combo event, meshing radio, live shows and entertaining the troops into a huge band orchestra revue that traveled across the country almost mimicking the Roosevelt Campaign when FDR trekked by train in the same spirit and purpose as these people did now.
They had been told that all their activities were appearing daily in many of the small town newspapers, which hinted that a Wood daughter had made it big. And Kate was saving every last clipping, no matter how small and insignificant it was. She worked with Gertrude Wood putting it all together. Donna and Gloria were amazed at how Kate and their mother saved every scrap. From the moment Donna introduced Kate to her family, Gert and the publicist shared their photo knowledge and put together a detailed family portfolio. It was Kate's rare chance to see the same photos all over again, the new experiences and ideas flowing ever presence. And she simply adored Gert. She seemed so driven, yet so loving and down-to-earth. She could almost be pushy, but couldn't we all? Yes, this was a dream come through for Kate, and she thanked God daily. She wondered if her prayers reached Him differently than in 1997.
Gloria, now 20, rented a small bungalow, 9328 Olympic Blvd. in Beverly Hills. She wanted to be closer to her sister Donna, who lived a few blocks down on Canon Drive, Kate down the street on Elm. A nice close-knit bond developed, reminding the sisters of their friends in Arlington, Mass. Even Virginia Wood and her new husband Dick came down, just as she had told Kate she would back in 1997. Kate was speechless when they met. It was like being tongue-tied at a party when you met your idol. It felt different when Kate met Donna, but all the same, it was riveting and almost sobering. They all mingled well. After awhile it became easy for the girl to become oblivious to the facts.
Glo had always loved this area, and even more now that she had ties here. It certainly wasn't Massachusetts, and never would be, but she believed a piece of Arlington and her family was being planted right now! One day she'd buy a house, live permanently, and ask her parents to stay.
And they'd all gone to the premiere of Pot O' Gold, without much fanfare. Due to the war, it was hard for people to enjoy appearing festive, even if the feature was produced by Roosevelt's son James, and that's why Gloria and Donna started going on the road to entertain the troops. Virgina and Dick were soon leaving via train for back East. They decided to settled there. Ginny would all but give up show biz.
Kate was over Gloria's house one hot summer day, soon after they'd returned from a 3-day engagement at the Coranado Officer's Candidates School in San Diego. The blond singer checked her mailbox and among the utilities was a postcard.
"It's from Chuck, a soldier I'd met on the road up in Denver last year." She sat on the love seat next to Kate. "He's written in pencil."
The postcard read: "Dearest Gloria, been out in the field for a week now and have not ever had my clothes off, not even my shoes or stockings. We are kept busy all the time. The only things we sleep in are tents. It is really rough going. Love Chuck.
"How interesting that you'd develop a friendship with him like this," said Kate, as she sipped on a Coca Cola. It was interesting how good Coke tasted here, so very fresh, but not containing Cocaine as in the 1920's.
"I'll never forget Chuck, he had nice hands," said Gloria. She confided in Kate like a third sister, and was glad Donna had introduced them.
When Gloria recited the postcard, Kate knew exactly who he was because of her own research in the future. And 9328 Beverly Crest Drive in Beverly Hills, would be her address in 1983, 40 years from where she was now.
Kate had brought yet another client to the Landers Agency, much to the delight of June, and had been rewarded in many ways. She was glad the friendship with the Woods was going well for her assistant.
Gloria continued. "I might of gotten a bit carried away with him that night after the performance we gave for 2000 troops getting ready to be sent overseas. Chuck and I got pretty hot and heavy, up until the big moment should have happened, but didn't. He got my top off and was kissing my body. The guy was so gentle that I almost lost all my resolve in that one passionate moment."
"I wonder if Donna ever did the dirty deed with the jeweler she'd almost gotten married to," said Kate, immediately thinking back to her future conversations with Virginia about Donna and her romances.
"What a whirlwind romance that was. To think, my sister could of married that guy! We would have all been set for life with jewelry," marveled Glo.
"Has she introduced you to Lee Hackler yet?"
Gloria nodded indifferently. "Yes, I've met him."
"Recently Donna introduced me to her new love. He's a captain in the U.S. Aircorp."
"Figures it would be someone like that to turn Donna's head," said Gloria.
"Maybe Ralph the jeweler is free to date you now, Glo."
Both laughed, never taking themselves too seriously.
"What about you, Ralph's more your type, Les" teased Gloria.
"Nah, too materialistic for my tastes," admitted Kate, thinking of the down-to-earth Brad St. John.
"Well, I find Lee Hackler to be a bit stiff for my tastes," said Glo.
"But what I'm happy about is how ecstatic this union has made Donna," said Kate.
"And the fact that my sister seems to be settling down since meeting the dapper Captain Hackler. If he wasn't so stern and proper, I wouldn't have a problem with him. If he bent over in total laughter, he'd probably crack into a million pieces," ribbed Gloria.
"Hey, he's a good conductor, but very anal, which mixes with the type of music he conducts, and he is good looking, sort of dashing."
"More like boring and stuffy," laughed Gloria.
"Right now in these times of war, this guy is the ideal mate for your sister. Donna seems happy, almost elated, but sometimes it masked a deeper yearning, a father figure image," said Kate, her masculine side feeling like Sigmund Freud.
"You are so weird and strange sometimes, Kate. It scares me. That's not a great thing to say, that while she's involved with passion, Donna thinks of our Father!"
"I didn't mean to imply it was bad or dirty, nor was I trashing Donna, it was just an observation. Like Donna has her dreams, I have my observations, okay?"
"Well, it doesn't sit right with me talking about it like that."
"I won't talk about it anymore, Glo. Gee, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Darn, sometimes I don't know when to shut up."
"Don't sweat it, Kid. We still love ya'." She stared at the phone. "Hey, let's call her." Gloria picked it up, dialing the all-familiar number to her sister's place - 27300. It always rang twice, then Donna picked up, her soothing, silky voice melting the receiver. "Hello..."
"Hi Donna. It's me, Gloria. Kate's here too!"
"Lee just walked in, but you and Kate should come over right away, because he's asked me to marry him, and I'm just nuts at this moment, because I've said yes, of course!
"Hot spit," yelled Kate on cue.
The two sisters chatted for a while, until Lee's booming voice commanded that it was time to shop for a ring!
Gloria said, "She hasn't even spoken to Ma and Woodie, yet, they'll obviously be thrilled at the news that Donna was finally settling in!"
"We're all constantly worried that Donna's pushing herself. She still never gets enough sleep, and those dreams!" Said Kate.
"Her doctor said she needs to slow down or her condition will act up again."
A lot of their crowd had noticed that Donna, of late, looked pale. Kate and Gloria alike were worried about the older sister, who they all but worshipped for different reasons. Gloria since age 6! Kate since 1996! Donna was their rock, but cynically in a hard place. Both women hoped Donna would slow down and take to being a homemaker. She'd certainly live longer, that's for sure, without the worry and stress.
After hanging up the phone, Donna turned to Lee, who was dressed in full uniform, looking so very handsome with his bright blue eyes and curly locks that were always combed back. He was stern, yes, and strict, sure, but there was something about the hunk, a word Kate taught her, when they were alone. He truly loved her, she could tell soon after they'd met. Lee too felt the same pull toward the young up-and-coming singer. Donna was unique. Right away he wanted to know everything about this young, enchanting butterfly, and had seen Pot O' Gold 3 times!
He was brought up in a strict household. The elder Hackler would not stand for much public displays of affection, so Lee became more rigid than most. But Donna knew behind closed doors was a different story. It's not every woman that Lee would show his loving side to. Donna was the first in many years. After knowing her for only 6 months, he'd finally popped the question today.
Now he wanted to lie his gal down and make passionate love, feeling her body against his, protecting her, loving her, kissing her all over for hours. For now he would put these emotions in check, which was easier for him than displaying them!
He took her in his arms and she came willingly. Some people said this man was hard on Donna, and yes, he was, but in the end Lee proved his love. They stared into each other's eyes then met in a long, passionate kiss. Soon they were locked in a fevered embrace, and moved to the couch where they petted and smooched into a moaning want. Donna let him roam his slender hands that probably downed enemy fighter pilots, move over her body. Today she was dressed in shorts and a midriff with no bra. They almost lost control once, and she felt they were losing it again, as he held her close to him. She could hear his strong heart beating, then thought of her dreams about meeting this man and the future.
There were times she wanted to fling herself into Lee's arms and make him ravish her, but whenever she came to the point, she felt it wasn't the right moment. It was almost the right moment that's for sure! Her family values were very strong. And this was different from all the other flings and fly-by-nights she'd experienced. This was love.
Maybe she was old fashioned at heart, but he'd asked for her hand in marriage! Wait until her family got wind of it. She was sure Gloria and Kate were calling them right now with the news. As the usually stern Lee nestled his head against her ear and nibbled like a little boy, she felt the shivers rise up. Her nipples became hard as Lee deftly messaged them through her thin mid-drift, cotton shirt. Oh, how she wanted to be one with this brave soul, but she must stop now before they lost all resolve. She'd never be able to face her parents if they made love before their wedding, even if it did sound a bit prudish, Donna had morals.
And sometimes the diet pills made her feel all giddy and alive. She wanted sex, plain and simple. They did a lot of petting, kissing and feeling. She'd just stop short of the deed, coming to her senses in the nick of time. These pills were starting to rule her a bit. And sometimes she felt heart paptations and had to sit down and catch her breath. She attributed it all to stress of being on the road, plus meeting Mr. Right. One thing's for sure, she wouldn't let a little black pill rule her resolve when it came to making love.
She had a feeling that her sister Gloria didn't really care about the moral aspect. Donna remembered on the set Pot 'O Gold she was propositioned every other day, but never did anything about it, even though she could have. Yes, she dated a couple of the boys in the band and on the crew, and Jimmy Stewart even took her out to the Brown Derby one night, but left her at the end of their evening with a peck on the cheek. Yes, Kate had hyped it up as something more, but nothing really gelled between Donna and the actor. Maybe that's why she called the man Mr. Stewart.
When Gloria had visited the set, right away a few crew members took to the 5-foot singer, right away inviting her to a few studio parties, sharing a few laughs from what Donna observed. When Ralph came into her life Donna was just finishing a photo session. He was there talking to the photographer about some of the models wearing his designer jewelry. Then Donna met the young, handsome, athletic gentlemen at a party given by one of her friends in the Hollywood Hills. She was swept away with the man. So much so, that the young starlet almost ran off to Vegas on a whim to marry him. At the last minute she broke down, calling her parents, who begged her to reconsider. "Think about the marriage, maybe wait and see how the relationship develops! Please Donna! Please!" They had insisted.
But Kate got a notion to pitch a potential story for the local Arlington newspapers, and the newspaper editor went for it hook, line and sinker, and interviewed Donna, the headlines reading "Hub Singer to wed in Movie Romance," "Stalled Elevator Led To Movie Role" and "Cinderella in Hollywood". Thanks to Kate's energy, more papers had picked up on the story than would have normally, which pleased everyone all around. Kate had even gotten a few more radio interviews locally for Donna, rather than just on the Boston circuit. It was obvious that she was only enhancing the Wood sister's lives.
Looking back, Donna was glad she didn't marry Ralph, or else this handsome officer wouldn't be here kissing her long and fiercely. Captain Hackler may be stern in the eyes of the public, but this man had a hidden ardor that was truly something in Donna's eyes. Her body responded to him with equal love and desire like no other man she'd been with. As far as Donna was concerned Ralph was a distant memory, but a fond one. She was sure he'd meet the right woman one day. Last the singer had heard, he'd been dating a string of contract actresses with MGM.
Finally they composed themselves, just as there was a knock at the door. Lee went into the bedroom while Donna did her best to shape up a bit. Kate and Gloria were at there, all decked out, on their way to The Beverly Hills Hotel to meet a reporter from Variety. When Donna answered the three hugged a long time. They chatted in the hallway as one of the next door neighbors, Mrs. Handley, an assistant to a publicist at Paramount, came out to see what the commotion was about. Kate told her of the impending marriage just as Lee popped his head out and said it was time to leave for the jewelry district downtown. Handley had heard of Kate through her association with June Landers. The two war horses sometimes shared notes.
Gloria bit her tongue, almost jokingly making a rude comment to the couple about maybe seeing Ralph Dietz about a ring. The perky singer didn't know why she deliberately tried to set Lee off like that.
Donna had told her many times that Lee was a different man in private. He was brought up that way, and she should respect it, not ignite it. Donna wished that Gloria could be more like Kate was. It was obvious that Kate respected Lee and gave him his much needed personal space. Not so with Gloria.
They all walked outside chatting lightly. Lee had borrowed an officer's jeep that he and Donna were climbing into at that moment. They were parked outside the building. Gloria's Caddy was down the street a-ways. They all hugged and left for their separate destinations. Gloria had called their parents but there was no answer. They phoned Aunt Stella, so of course, the word was out - "Donna Wood was settling!"
Lee and Donna drove up Beverly Drive to Sunset Blvd., then headed for the old 110 freeway toward Downtown, which was becoming a good place to barter and buy jewelry. Lee preferred going there to the snooty Beverly Hills stores. He could tell that it didn't bother Donna like it might have another woman. She sat beside him enjoying the California breeze in her face even though it messed up her do. And who did Gloria think she was fooling with all the phony poo-pooing? The handsome soldier knew his future sister-in-law was a little jealous and didn't really like him. Well, let her. "Donna deserves so much and I'm going to be the one to give it to her! Thank God Kate Siegel was around," he thought. Lee was grateful to the other sharp thinking woman, for she brought a lot of happiness and excitement into Donna's life, which meant fresh energy, something his Sweet needed right now to get her mind back on track and off those dreams she's having more and more.
Lee stared at their reflections in the rear view mirror, noticing curls coming loose, the Vitalis not doing its job. Maybe Donna's publicist knew of some other brand, for he noticed that she managed her hair the same, sometimes wearing it bone straight, other times in a French braid. They stopped at a red light and he quickly donned his service hat, which did the trick to flatten his hair. To him, his mop seemed so unruly.
Soon they breezed into Downtown and parked by a small jewelry district that popped up in the last few years. Lee predicted that when the war was over, a lot of servicemen would return to loved ones, and they'll want to settle down, buy a ring, get married and have kids. It was hard to fathom that this area would one day be booming as Lee and Donna parked and walked a few blocks.
A strange thing happened as they stopped to cross Hill Street. An L.A. Transit Company Bus tooled by, stopping to pick up passengers right by where Donna and the Captain stood ready to cross. The doors of the bus swung open and the driver of the bus, Gloria's future husband Leenoticed the man in uniform and saluted, Hackler saluting back. It was a fleeting gesture that came over the bus driver when he noticed an attractive girl with the serviceman. She was pretty as a picture!
Aunt Stella got through to Robert and Gertrude. They were very happy and approved of the match. The Captain was stable, so that was a good sign of a solid marriage. They knew he would genuinely provide for their daughter and truly love her for what she was inside, not for her outside glamour and beauty. Her other daughter Gloria had spoken of this man to them, and even though she said he was a might uptight, Gert had dealt with polite society and would soon thaw his outer shell. She knew, and felt right away that Captain Hackler was a decent man with a good heart. God knows what would of happened if she'd married that jeweler. Both parents were relieved. The next five years would be a whirlwind for everyone concerned. Donna would enjoy her last years of health. Soon, by the end of 1946, she felt the pangs of illness seeping in. Somehow, she kept on going.
* * *
1943
Donna laid in bed, both she and Lee now married. It was January of 1943. The ceremony had been really something.
The whole Wood family and an enormous amount of relatives attended, as well as a slew of Hollywood friends, band members and other hanger-ons. It was amazing to see the groupies from Donna's Don Juan days with MCA, still in touch with her. She can thank Katie for that one, because the publicist had made many phone calls gathering everyone together, including the paparazzi. It was in all the papers, bleeding over into the music section and society pages, even making it into Hedda Hoppers column.
For the past few years before she met her husband, even now with the war winding down, Donna had been on lengthy music engagements and various conducting tours, until her health began to suffer, so she decided to settle down in Beverly Hills. Recently Lee had gotten a job with a well known Beverly Hills newspaper - The Beverly Hills Citizen, so things were stable. Kate's P.R. had proven successful, for Donna was still getting calls from her agent about gigs and maybe a new movie offer in the makes. It all hitched on her health now. No good amount of P.R. is going to help her head!
But they had really tied the knot. Lee lay beside her quietly, eyes open, wearing boxer shorts. Donna had donned a modest night gown this evening. Soon Lee put his arm around the petite woman, and they became lost in each other, the magic of chemistry between man and woman taking over quickly.
Lee was a different man in intimacy. He was caring and Donna noticed the stern guy seemed to shed some of that analness, and nibbled her earlobe. She drew closer as he whispered his love, a rare moment indeed. The Captain told her that actions speak louder than words, and usually balked at saying 'I love you, darling'. Whatever the fact was, right at this moment the man was giving himself and opening up to her soul. That's what she loved about him most ... The fact that Lee held back his feelings, like precious gems. But when he gave freely of his emotions, her own soul felt like bursting.
The moment was built up for years and now finally she was becoming a women. Was 25 years old too late? Should she have gotten this over with years ago with Ralph? She knew the answer as her husband held her beneath him, and they began a slow rhythm, him conducting. They moved together and pleasured each other slowly at first. When both got the fervor in them of the moment, the couple shed their pent-up emotion for each other and shared their bodies until finally Donna felt a building release after a momentary sharp pain, that at first scared her, then it went away. She was chasing that building feeling until she felt a tremendous explosion of emotion and nerve endings. The singer moaned a bit too loud, as Lee picked up the pace, finally having his own release.
Kate and Gloria found it hard to believe that Donna had waited until marriage. Yes, she petted with a lot of boys in her band, even a bit more sometimes with the jeweler, but she'd stuck to her guns about giving up virginity, and felt very strongly about it. And she was glad to have waited, because this moment cannot be topped, not even doing a gig at The Pantages on a Saturday night.
After Lee settled, he rolled away from her, but brought her with him, having her on top of him with a quick flip of his arms. Lee told her in that same whisper how much the man loved her and how good she felt. Donna drew closer, nuzzling against her husband, his chest clear of any hair, his baby face glowing against the moonlight out the window. The smell of Jasmine permeated the air and added to their mood, which was romantic and close. They just held each other under the covers. He didn't say anything to her afterwards, just his actions, as always. Slowly Lee came back down to earth, becoming his formal, uptight self. His type was a brooder as well as a deep thinker. You had to be if you conducted an orchestra. Although his new job didn't have anything to do with conducting, he was ready to devote as much time to accounting as he could now. There was a certain edge to that business, and in many ways paralleled his former profession. His first client, funny enough, would be The Landers Agency. Kate had approached him with the idea of balancing their books, but he also dabbled in slogan writing too. They'd taken on more clients and therefore were making more money, so were in need of a good Advertising Account Executive to sort things out. Kate had already asked June, and she approved.
Finally both slept. All was quiet in the Beverly Hills middle class area nestled between Wilshire Blvd. and Olympic. Soon night turned into morning and the couple stirred. Their bed had just a slight creek to it, but it became comforting to Donna as she lay deep in the covers as her husband rose to take care of his personal needs. It was at that moment Donna turned and looked out the window of their bedroom facing Canon Drive and heard the tapping of a woodpecker! She giggled out loud and flounced out of bed cheerily, opening the window to the morning breeze and the sound of doves cooing.
The milkman was just arriving when Donna tiptoed downstairs to retrieve the morning paper. She picked up her fresh milk, mumbling hello to Mr. Johnson as he continued his route in her small 8-unit apartment building. The neighborhood was semi-upscale. Beautiful palm trees lined the street, but the wide open landscape seemed especially crisp this morning.
Donna returned to their apartment and began percolating coffee and preparing a simple breakfast of grapefruit, hard-boiled eggs and lightly buttered toast. She'd picked up some fresh strawberries down at the market on Beverly Drive and actually bumped into Kate. They were buying the exact same thing! It always amazed her about her publicist and how they were similar, but Kate seemed to be a bit more rebellious, and that sometimes caused slight riffs in their relationship. Both women grew up with a lot of family love, but since both were in the entertainment business and some of the same places, and during the war were involved in it on the same circuit, a slight jadedness arose sometimes between them.
As she boiled the eggs, she thought about how she had slowed her pace now. And the medicine she took to sleep and control the dreaming sometimes made her feel fatigued. Then other times she would just forgot that there was anything wrong at all. When Donna was constantly on the road there was no time to think about such things. But now that she was more stable, not so musically nomadic, she felt the pangs of her ailment more sharply.
Kate suggested she become more involved in the outside activities here in Beverly Hills. Maybe there was a women's club or society, possibly through the local church. In the two years she'd lived here, she was always away or too busy performing to wonder if such things were available to her. Now she could actually entertain the idea of it. The girl laughed to herself as she saw in her mind's eye, sitting around a sewing circle chatting about the local gossip. Lee came in then, and she told him her humorous thoughts. He smiled tightly, his way of acknowledging her during his moments.
Her parents, living in town now for a little over a month, were coming by this morning to take some photos. Gloria and Kate would be there as well. Lee had agreed to put on his uniform one last time for the occasion, then he'd hang it up for good. She was glad he'd found a place at his new job and hoped he didn't mind being a bit curtailed due to her own health. She would do her best to make a happy, orderly home, sickness or no sickness. And she'd grown to like Brad St. John and Kate, and wondered when they'd marry.
Even though Lee lived with her now, their apartment was still neat and cozy. Lee didn't have a lot of mementos or luggage, due to his travels and lifestyle, especially after joining the service. It was a quaint place, with white venetian blinds formally drawn halfway, Stylish blue curtains hung as well, giving the room a slight masculine appeal. Donna's mother had bought her all the accruements to start a little home, and they hung or were stacked in drawers. Around the room hung plants and ferns bursting forth with life and vigor. A few oil paintings hung of a flower garden and sheep in the meadow. A piano was parked off to the side of the living room, and all around that area hung family pictures and performing shots from around the country. The brown shag rug was coarse, but added to the aura of the place, 2 blocks from the famous Rodeo Drive.
Donna and her sister had decorated it, and Lee approved, one of the few things he liked that was connected with Gloria Wood. He knew the sisters looked out for each other, and so he tolerated her, but if not for Donna's sake, he would have nothing to do with the younger Wood sister. She could be snide and rude, and sometimes blurted out things left better unsaid. Yes, he tolerated, but only for his sweet songbird Donna.
Later that morning they stood outside the apartment building all decked out in evening clothes, yet the sun shined brightly. They took shots of them standing by the place, as well as in each others embrace. Kate seriously could not believe the whole scene. She was re-defining the time fixtures and it was working! Gloria posed by the back of the building, as well as in the entrance. Lee and Donna were shot by Mr. Wood, who still was the ultimate shutter bug.
The Wood daughter's and their doting parents joked and complimented each other. Kate knew Donna's mother and father would always be more than just people who bore two wonderful daughters. They were such an intricate part of the Wood sister's lives. Even now Gloria had already bought the little two bedroom Beverwil house. The elder Wood's were in the process of moving in, Gloria giving up her little bungalow on Olympic. But Donna was satisfied with where she and Lee resided. She just didn't want to move and uproot herself right now. Her husband agreed, only wanting to be with her, love the lady, making her happy and content. He in turn expected the same, and Donna always made sure she relayed that to her husband in her actions as well as her words. It was never any problem for Donna to express her love for Lee, but as usually, he was a bit stiff in that area. Though Donna knew he loved her, sometimes she did wish for a more happy-go-lucky man like her past Dietz character or even Brad St. John. But then men like Ralph tended to stray, becoming bored. At least with Lee, you knew where you stood, usually having to earn his praise by abiding to his ways, which was something Donna had a problem with, especially with the presence of her sister Gloria.
Gloria had a wild streak in her, and even now was getting a tremendous amount of work and attention these days, thanks to Kate's excellent P.R. skills. Donna had recommended her for Kay Kaiser's band, thinking that they both could sing with the orchestra, but Kaiser picked Gloria when he saw her perform the Florentine Gardens in Hollywood. Due to Donna's health, known gossip in music circles, he decided it was best to go with the younger Wood. Her sister was not upset that Gloria was getting work. She just can't believe her poor health prevented the woman from succeeding too. She must go see that new doctor everyone seems to be recommending. Now that she was more stable, Donna would see a specialist. For now she would cater to her husband and try and live a happy life. Maybe she'd try writing some music herself. Or maybe they could write something together. You just never know.
After taking a roll of shots, they all walked up to the Beverwil house, leisurely strolling up Canon, then Olympic to Beverwil. It was at that moment, when they crossed Pico Blvd., that Kate noticed more car activity than she'd ever remembered. This war would be over soon.
Brad spoke. "It's a beautiful house, Glo, modern for this time and age."
"It has all the latest conveniences, ample light," explained Gloria as she fiddled with the shutters and blinds. She showed them the two cheery bedrooms. There was a living room, little dining area, plus a kitchen and garage area.
Kate then suggested, "Gloria, you should build an addition, a lanai for parties and jam sessions."
Everyone stopped in their tracks and stared at Kate strangely.
Finally, Gloria replied, "For now it suits us and I'm not going to change a thing. But thanks for the suggestion, duly noted," said the petite blond singer. "Mom and Dad are already moved in."
"What about your home in Arlington?" Asked Kate.
"There's relatives staying there, watching the place for us," said Robert.
"Besides," spoke up Gert. "I feel more part of the Beverly Hills community than ever. We want to mingle out here more than anything else."
Everyone in the room, including Kate, knew why the Woods were around: Donna's health, which had begun to get a bit worse. They all knew she was not well, anyone could plainly tell. The girl's pallor wasn't up to par and she didn't seem her free spirited, energetic self at all, but the Woods had taught their daughters to always bite the bullet and overcome by God's love, which is how Donna has survived this far.
But now was a time to begin a more aggressive treatment plan. They'd try a new a new specialist, a Doctor Bilon, over in Hollywood. Maybe now they'd find something to help poor ailing Donna Wood.
"We love her so much, and don't want to lose her," prayed Kate one day.
"I agree with anything you want to do, and respect your decisions," said Lee to Robert Wood one evening quietly. "I know you all love your daughter unconditionally."
The Woods were getting on in age, and it was really good how Gloria was taking responsibility in caring for their needs. Lee had to hand it to Gloria, and give her credit for that. Maybe she was growing up too. She was only 21, but Lee always expected maturity out of every woman, and sometimes was hard on them when they couldn't toe the line. He accepted that. Robert Wood was a smart, well-rounded, worldly man, so they could relate and come to conclusions quicker.
"Lee and I agree, let's try a new physician," Donna said.
"As well as inquire into any new treatments or drugs on the medical market, maybe even the black market!" Said Capt. Hackler. "An army buddy of mine who'd flown to Mexico, said that there were some new vitamin treatments going on there. I told him to check it out."
"You just never knew," added Brad.
They took more photos together by the sliding glass door beside the patio. After Gloria gave everyone the grand tour, feeling proud, and picking up the vibe from Lee that he totally approved of what she had done for her parents, they sat in the living. It was amazing, but for the first time she'd felt totally at ease in Lee's presence, not like he was judging her, like usual. It was a milestone for the budding singer. Maybe it was the fact that Donna's health wasn't great and that her parents were getting on in age. Whatever the fact, Gloria felt good doing this for them, especially if doing it meant Lee's acceptance for once. God knows how hard it was to please that one. He was difficult, but when Donna and she were in the garage unpacking some boxes together, and Lee was having coffee with the Woods inside, the elder daughter had told Gloria and Kate of Lee's sexual charms and how wonderful it was for the first time.
"Donna, we can't believe you waited until marriage," kidded Gloria.
"But we believe her," rallied Kate. "Maybe other women wouldn't believe you, but Glo and I do."
"Singing with the Don Juan's surely didn't help in that department," said Gloria.
"Hey, speaking of them, Art Carney is making quite a name for himself in comedy as well as music," pointed out Kate. "At least since he's finished Pot O' Gold."
"I've always thought Carney was and still is a wonderful person and talented performer, but nothing can top touring with my dear husband on his conducting engagements, singing for his band," admitted Donna.
"For a girl with your ailment and fragile health, you've achieved the impossible," said Kate reverently.
Kate recalled when the woman was shooting Pot 'O Gold with Jimmy Stewart. Everyone loved Donna on the set, from the producer James Roosevelt, who was absolutely charmed by Donna, to the set director, who was obviously gay due to his body language and poise, how he looked at good looking men as well as woman, but only felt a jealous rage when he saw one who had something he didn't, like a bracelet or earrings! Donna was in starry-eyed heaven working on the Pot 'O Gold set. She experienced her first taste of stardom, even though she only had a supporting, virtually non-speaking role in the campy film. It would be her ad campaign that Kate had explained to Gloria that day, a hyped up version the 'Cinderella in Hollywood'.
Although Donna Wood barely said two words in the film, the woman was a regular public relations ploy in the making, at least in Kate's opinion. It was the woman's health that stopped everything cold.
"Once Hollywood found out you were in ill health, they shun you like a disease," said Gertrude.
"Well, that's why Donna decided to quit while she was ahead, and she's decided to settle," said Kate.
When Kate and Gloria visited Donna on the set they set the place in motion. Everyone from Jimmy Stewart to the guys in the band used to stand around smiling and chatting with the two pretty women, who could of been potentially famous, especially Kate, who was bubbling with energy. Kate first noticed how others noticed their differences. They drew certain types of men to them. Donna always attracted the dashing, well built, sterner types, producers like Roosevelt Jr., and band leaders such as Horace Heidt, who had a rep for dating a string of beautiful singers.
"Did you know, Glo, that at first Heidt pursued Donna for a date, but she convinced him to let her sing in his band, which he really agreed to," said Kate.
"Yes, I did know that," answered Gloria. "They were, at that time, considered semi-famous on the music circuit."
"Heidt's music sometimes comes off as backward and campy, sort of corny in nature, but that hasn't stopped the man from continuing," said Kate.
"Of course, as soon as the movie was wrapped, he moved right on to touring again once it wrapped," explained Gloria.
"What gusto that guy has," commented Kate. "I spoke with Horace, a