Histrionics

I was starting the third year of what started out as an academic stab at becoming a physicist, an engineer, a clinical psychologist or a trial lawyer. Making money playing for dances from age fourteen and beyond kept my mind and body busy and mostly out of trouble. Without much effort on my part I had acquired a high school education with a reputation as a scholar athlete, musician and politician. This was a very small school and they didn’t have much of a pool from which to choose.
This picture of promise followed me from the small high school to a small college. So I still wandered around in a perpetual haze of music and the giddy excitement of performing for money in order to keep eating and paying for a place to sleep between gigs. All of this culminated in a year of teaching with an emergency credential, a brief and aborted attempt at being husband and a father while serving four years in the Air Force. Discharged and trying to return to a teaching job, I continued to play music at night and drink for purpose and direction. Fortunately for me, all this was destined to change in a more positive way.
Miep was classically beautiful with all the attributes of Rodin sculpture. Dark hair, flashing brown eyes, physical proportions to envy. “Black so deep, it piques the raven’s envy” “Eyes that see beyond the beyond and a smile to charm the most cynical, dry and impersonal”
We met in a coffeehouse/bar. Live music on a week day evening in a time known for its political and social frustrations and upheaval. Both of us were on the rebound from failed relationships that had promised something that never happened and both with goals that were vague and probably never attainable.
My life as a single person before and between marriages had sputtered and jerked with limited success. I was always searching for another chance to begin. Work, professional activities were never sufficient to occupy my mind and energy. Teaching, writing music, performing, singing, playing and study always came last. By the time I got to Graduate school and discovered the joy and rapture of research and searching for the obtuse and obscure, I had already found Miep, who quickly became the inspiration and satisfying directional force that was missing.
It was a long time coming, but it’s finally here. I think I may have become the “over-the-hill hippie” or “silly old fart”, that during the last fifty years or so that many thought I was.
However, when I wake up each morning and behold the beautiful woman beside me, I realize that I am the one who has changed.

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