Endless Summer Creations

two years ago i stood before that door of the man who was my hero who i loved to my core who captivated us all with his stories of endless wisdom and wit who had been kept from me “he’s not well” “he can’t see anyone” yet he welcomed me just like always my heart jumped for joy next time my son could be there it would be alright again my son could take his place at those bustling tables of family holidays that i had always known they would always be there, right? but for that brief precious afternoon we were reunited i had found what was lost stay longer, they all said we’re having pizza and salad it’s ok, i said didn’t want to overstay my welcome they insisted so i took my place and for a while all was as it had been before we still felt her absence voids that could never be filled the house with all the familiar trappings gone but somehow the same table reappeared the same spirit i could feel her with u...

had a dream last night i was standing there with luggage you had these junky cars everybody was packed in i looked around for my son i couldn't find him you had taken him  you kept trying to force me force me to go with you "I don't know you!" i screamed i never knew you don't want to know you you always made my skin crawl and the others i have no more to give i won't be broken anymore none of you know me none of you know us don't think you ever will

If "If I were an older man and met a younger woman I would have just wanted to be her friend I wouldn't have wanted to ruin her life" a haze of shock confusion and hurt descended upon her had it all been a mistake when they first met he even told her she should dance with the younger guys and because she didn't her life was ruined? if she danced with him night after night if his kindness washed over her in healing waves if he told her she wasn't crazy if he told her there was nothing wrong with her if she knew he would never leave her side if he called her out for being the jackass she was when she talked about giving up throwing all her dreams away believing the lies if he fulfilled every last vow if he should have been long gone but never quit her if he could always crack her up if that wacky humor still lived on through the Parkinson's if she knew the disease might take his body but never touch his love that none other could ever match if that's a rui...

the air is brisker as I walk from the dorm with the rooster weathervane on top it's time for dinner; students swarm through quadruple doors smells of mashed potatoes and chicken drift through the halls what table awaits me down below? will Christine make my head hurt with laughter? afterwards, the gaiety continues in her room draped with Egyptian tapestries as she serves spiced teas and biscotti and Joni Mitchell hoots sweetly from the cheap tapedeck later, men join the women to seek Christine's wisdom she beckons them into her romantic visions in which lovers sacrifice their souls for the glory of those brief moments in the dark within this mysterious haven, I find myself emerge amid the satirical banter and uproarious laughter where everyone is suddenly sensuous and desirable and where faded roses always yield to the softness of new petals

Each day we drove on to these stepping stones on our trip home back across the nation saw places too big to fathom desert which stretched on forever, unchanged for centuries occasional border patrol checkpoints along the highway vast skies over dry mountains then eventually the sand gave way to green the waters drew close again we heard 2013 arrive from our San Antonio room by the next night we walked the streets of the French Quarter observing the spoils of the night before lingered over a meal of Big Easy favorites the promised land was within our reach now we would tarry there until the next chapter began but the highways have never stretched away so vast, free and wild since

Los Angeles a mystical land I'd heard of mostly in song film poetry then that one day we were there gazing through the rain at the vast expanse of city far below stretching away for miles what is LA but a surreal place fashioned of dreams? As the streetwalker in Pretty Woman proclaims "Everyone who comes to Hollywood has a dream What's your dream?" Indeed Dream to walk the red carpet or the red light district So much about LA I could not see as I looked down from atop the hill surrounded by a theater of mountains yet as I took in the sand, desert, neighborhoods and mountains so unfamiliar to me stories of LA floated through my head similar to the Florida I know yet beyond comparison in so many ways Laurel Canyon a community of 1960s hippie love the juxtaposition between crudity, violence and death the drive-by shootings of Compton and South Central to the renaissances of art blooming in Venice Beach and the bastions of style throughout the city the opulence of Rodeo...

he was just a simple Hoosier growing up amid the cornfields where everything made sense he loved the family cats and dogs in one picture he's looking down at his sweet dog while the others, unsmiling face the camera he would play ball all day sometimes Uncle Boob gave him his first fishing pole he'd sometimes leave a line floating while he went to church later he would discover golf read the whole Bible he didn't miss the snow when they came to Florida his life was simple a room full of books job on the golf course people lived and died there for the love of their game two weeks vacation every year when he'd do another golf and fish adventure then I came along never the woman he deserved watched his mom wished I could be like her beauty and kindness personified she did her duty to God her mind was to leave us before her body as it would be with her son never perfect but so full of love never to die in the middle of h...