it's one of those shirts i haven't worn in over a year...but i put it on tonight. i can remember how i loved to wear it with the blue corduroys and the hooded sweater that i bought at goodwill...and i remember buying it. there were good times...memorable times had in this shirt. and the shirt was perfect. simple and comfortable and i felt confident in it.
it's a little too small now. and that for some reason makes me sad.
from the best e-mail subject line this week department: Add REAL Inches To Your Penis! GUARANTEED
could i get them on false advertisement? after all, it is guaranteed.
spam and other annoynaces....miss cleo has found me...and apparently she had a dream about me. now she's hunting me down trying to tell me of my good fortune. if she's so psychic then why didn't she know that the free phone call she advertised was not available through qwest. sounds like a scam to me....and if that jamaican accent is real i'll eat my shorts. puh-leese.
in high school i couldn't go to corydon in my white pin-striped camero without being called a few choice words. you know the words: slut, bitch, whore. now i think it's funny...and i guess back then i did, too. i chose to ignore my taunters and never really had any sort of confrontation. silly them...they just hadn't heard.
after hosting nearly every little get together i could along with neighbor, ronnie, in junior high i wasn't really "girlfriend" material. well, that's at least what i tell myself. all the boys seemed to hang around me, but never ask me out. some of the guy friends i know now try to say it's because boys are afraid to ask out pretty girls (they love to stroke my ego), but i think i just didn't have the right sort of reputation...and we had became so close they didn't want to be the one to soil my good name. for the most part i was just april...smiling, friendly...nice girl who gets pretty good grades and joins all the clubs. she might let you copy her homework.
so went my high school years...few dates came from the faces i saw everyday and somewhere around 7th grade i had met up with some boys from corydon. jimmie and tracy were at the movies when dana and i went with mom to see "the pick-up artist"...what an appropriate title since i don't think jimmie turned around the whole show. i think that was the first time i realized that yes, indeed, there were boys outside of my school. later that year i met zack and matt at a ballgame. they were fun and new and interesting and i just couldn't believe they were talking to me. zack had that devil may care attitude as he told me about shooting a bb into his hand. it was still lodged under the skin. somehow, someway things sort of progressed with the corydon boys in that fashion. i was a cheerleader so i was visible, though i don't know how much that affected it. mostly it all came down to the phone...and one freshman school picture. somebody had my picture and it was handed off to chuck, who hung it in his gym locker...i didn't know him, but he got my number from dana and the next thing i know he calls. he was my first friend who strayed from the straight and narrow. i loved chuck. we were good on the phone and talked for hours. when i finally got mobile i would go to his house and hang out on a friday night in his room with frankie and aaron or whoever. i was simply one of the guys. at one point i took marcy and went to a sleepover chuck was having. we walked out into the field where everyone was wasted and listening to "sowing the seeds of love".
the paths that lead off that night are nearly sickening in how they lead me to a guy who lied to me and led me on for 5 years...but the fact that i did date is reassuring. and most of my dates stem from the folks i knew that night and the meetings that came from spending time with them.
my first "date" was with mark...chuck's neighbor. neither of us could drive so his friend picked us up and then we drove to marcy's to get her. i wasn't allowed by myself. what ensued was a combination of fear and unknowing. i had kissed 2 guys up until this point: billy when i was 12 and todd when i was 14...neither while in a loving relationship. mark was not a practiced casanova. in fact he had the presence of an octopus and the curvy roads where i lived made me easier prey for this groping cretin. regardless i managed to get out of the car with some of my dignity, but not before feeling somewhat violated. i got in the car having hardly been kissed, worse yet...having only been kissed by boys who didn't really have an interest....and then being kissed and having some boy force his way to second base while holding my hands down in the backseat of a car while friends sat up front. regardless i was free of that situation when mark broke up with me. he came to visit me one other time at work where he cornered me in the back, kissed me and when i asked why he did that when he didn't even like me he responded with a cool, "i like what you do." to which i replied, "well, then i don't do it anymore." i still don't know what "it" was since i really didn't do much of anything by choice.
and for the most part i stuck to it. kissing really didn't bother me any more...it would be years before i would ever understand what a good kiss was even though i did have some fun in high school talking about jeff's spazzing tongue or one of the other episodes with my girlfriends...but for the most part i was pretty chaste. i did do one thing though...i dated...a lot. i would go out with most anyone who asked at least once. they were mostly gentleman and the dates were typically friendly. and i left the evening with a defender, but somehow the fact that i dated corydon boys didn't settle too well with the corydon girls. they were a possessive brood and taking one of their men was unacceptable...to rack up several dates with several guys was even more appalling.
so somewhere around the time i started driving i became a target. it always amused when the guys would defend me. and it made me laugh even when a guy i started seeing told me that this girl, ashley, who was a whopping 4 years older than me (and who had a thing for the same guy), had told him i had had half of corydon. it took a few weeks, but eventually he believed the story. and then there was the time at the fair when wendy started running her mouth trying to start something as i talked to jeff....she was dating jamie, who had called me, but was her boyfriend and i told him i didn't date guys with girlfriends....regardless i ignored her and she went away..at least that night. on another occasion she followed me to the wallaces' where she proceeded to call me a bitch and to holler out the car window that jamie was hers. donnell took me to the road and stood with me waiting for them to drive around again. he didn't want his friends harassed at his home. the irony is that i did finally date jamie...after he dumped wendy....but still i think i was honorable.
and so now i think about high school and how little you really know about the folks you meet. there are so many stories...so many lies, and whether you are the subject matter or not it's best to ignore them all. i'm almost glad i had the experience because it helped me to form my own opinions eventually. i took less of what the status quo proclaimed as truth...because i pretty much knew how bad reputations could grow. it's still a hoot to think that while the corydon kids thought i was the easiest thing going my own school's students were signing my senior yearbook, "hey, april, loosen up and get laid." how's a girl to win?
last week i remembered that treothe had written and was starting his westward adventure, but i had forgotten to mail him my number so i hurriedly sent out an e-mail hoping to reach him in time. i kind of figured my efforts were in vain and hoped he might happen upon a library and find it sitting in his inbox. yesterday when i returned home there was a message on voice mail. he had been at estes park and had ran into brad and amy...they gave him my number. i was thrilled! i ran to vern's liquor store to see riley and pay kenny the $50 i promised him for helping me do my brakes. i was excited but made time to visit before leaving the smiley redhead and the old friend.
soon after i got home he called. we met up for a beer and he came home with me to hang for the night. old times were re-visited, but as it always has been with treothe the conversation was mostly looking forward. this man has been a pillar of light for me. i met him about the same time of the epiphany. i knew i wanted to head west...i had just started fresh in the same town i had been in for 5 years, but i was re-defining myself. treothe had that twinkle in his eye...and a laugh that could fill a rom with warm fuzziness. he was older....i'm guessing in his 40s, but i truly have no idea. he spends his winters in lafayette to be close to his two daughters who are still in high school and tours the west in the summer. he's an oregon native and has had some incredible spirit journeys. i was in one of his poems. he wrote about me quoting kerouac to him above the drone of a local band. i was honored.
his company last night was perfect. it felt good to be in familiar territory. he is enjoying the west...the mountains, the streams, he remarked several times on the glory of the hills...he was going to try busking today in town with his marimba. i made sure he had the summer schedule in hand before leaving in hopes he might be enticed to come this way once again.
his band, bliss gypsies, is doing well he tells me. i'm glad. i think we need more of that strong, hollow sound...percussion at its finest. they are hoping to go to africa together...and i'm sure they'll make it. his girls are growing up. i last saw them in 98 when they came by to meet kyra. i remember speaking with him on the phone and he and the girls were making up their own game. i felt lucky for them...they had they're own sense of enlightenment. they didn't groan for someone to entertain them, but made up their own ways of being entertained. their game was ecological. it sounded like a nice game.
he left this morning after sleeping in his truck in the driveway...on his way west, no plans....no itenerary. he's a free spirit. he has intentions...and they are all good.
i'm not a climber. i can't even really be put into a class with amateur climbers who do it once in awhile, so when we left yesterday to hike up to grey rock i wasn't quite certain how my body or my mind might react, but i was game. it was just myself and brad so i had no one to impress. plus i could be as wimpy as i needed without feeling like a drag.
we left the house around 9:00am but somehow managed to miss the trailhead and didn't get started until about 10:30am. i was determined at the start pacing myself and hoping for the best from my body. i started taking in as much water as possible since it was already evident that things were going to get hot and we were going to be out in it climbing closer to the sun during the hottest part of the day. we made our first stop early to snap a few shots of some strangely shaped butterflies.
as we progressed up the inclines getting small flat spots to rest i could feel my lungs expanding, my face getting red. i was pushing with everything i could give and my mind began to wander. when you get into an area like this and you push yourself to go farther like i was doing some amazing things can happen in your head. at one point i noticed brad getting a little far ahead of me. i was slightly perturbed, because there's always the feeling that in these woods we are the ones being watched. too many young children have disappeared into this wilderness for me not to fear attack. i felt a need to look strong...like i wasn't weak and tired and sun-battered. i pumped my morale out of necessity. no way i'd be lunch for a mountain lion today i thought. i picked up my pace a bit to stay closer to brad. with him in front i could look around and enjoy the views and wildflowers. i had tried the front but the pressure i felt to field for rattlesnakes took much of the enjoyment out of the hike. i got to a comfortable following distance and continued. towards the center of the trail we started meeting up more with other hikers. we passed and were passed on our various breaks and at one point we shared a section of shade with a threesome. later on i would be proud that we overtook them and held the distance. i had been so worried that my skill level would be a bit sad for someone my age that it strengthened my morale to see us keep pace.
before we reached the meadow we were rounding several switchbacks. at the top of one the whole canyon opened up and all i could see were green ripples and mountains. cameron pass leered from above the canyon walls with a snow cap reminding us of weather safety. i am trying to be a responsible hiker. when we rounded up to the highest point of our trail we took a seat on some outcropping rocks, viewing grey rock for a while and i heard the thunder crash. no lightning yet and since the clouds looked small we weren't too concerned but it was already 12:30 and we didn't know the trail well enough to gauge the return trip.
as we wound down the trail we continued to climb then landed flat on an open green meadow. there is a huge, smooth round boulder sitting in the meadow near the front of grey rock. we passed the boulder and made our way to the signs pointing the way back down on the mountain trail. i felt strong. my muscles, my bones, there were no aches. i wasn't even tired....but i was hungry. we had taken a whole roll of film on the way up and i imagined i would be missing many shots going down. i tried to capture part of it in my mind for later recollection. we hadn't reached the summit but i felt i had accomplished more than i expected. when i came to colorado i knew there was a lot of me i was still discovering. it still amazes me how much of myself is in these woods. i grew up in the creekbed, but i got away from it when boys and cars and high school concerns took over. in college when i had my epiphany i knew i had to get back to the wild. somewhere there was a part of me...and i was missing it. i had just spent the day sleeping through 2 classes, one that i was supposed to lead class discussion in and it just felt like the end of the world. as i sat on my bed in the studio i finally realized that no matter what college prepared me for i wouldn't be happy in this life without access to those things that made me feel whole...rides on my bike, wildflowers, scenery so beautiful it's hard to believe it's real...places where we're still a part of the food chain....where brains and humility are necessities. with each new trail i find another piece of myself that i lost at some point in my life.
sometimes i wonder if i may be repeating myself...perhaps i am, apologies to everyone who has heard the stories before.
as a kid i spent hours in mom and dad's room listening to records on mom's stereo....the lift the lid kind with 8 track, very classy and actually really pretty. it was a gift from dad when i was about 4. i remember he wrapped a picture of it in a small box with nuts and bolts and newspaper...but because the picture was a paper clipping itself mom thought it was some sick joke. my parents had a rack full of incredible records. the bee gees, waylon and willie, the beatles, the beach boys, canned heat.....and of course i had a huge crush on peter noone of herman's hermits. something about that british voice when he sang "missus brown you've got a lovely daughter."
car rides were spent singing along with dad who could've made it big if he'd tried. he's got a voice to die for and he would sometimes grace us with one that he had made up. perry lucked out and got the vocal abilities and i tried to keep up with my chicken squawks hoping one day i'd level it out and be able to reach the level of their talent. i'm still working on it. we'd ride the roads singing "purple people eater" or "ballad of thunder road" or the billy jack theme "one tin soldier." all songs of my youth. i always got such a kick out of it when dad would look at us and tell us we had to bear with him because he had to be 5 brothers in the next song...he'd break out into "can't get next to you" completely nailing each part.
mom was always a little quieter. she never had confidence in her voice, but she'd sing with me. we still do a wonderful rendition of "american pie" in the car when given the chance...and she was the one who taught me how to shake it to "jailhouse rock" when i was very small. perry and i turned out to be quite the dancers and i credit mom for that. she still tells me i should try to be a dance instructor, but she also says i should be a lawyer, a teacher, a gardener, etc. to mom i really can be anything.
dad and i used to have our own song. i've never even heard it and can't say who sings it but i remember the lyrics. i had my own parts. dad would sing about joanie, the little neighbor girl who had a crush on him who was just too young. he leaves town and i sing my part:
"jimmy jimmy wait for me i'll grow up someday you'll see saving all my kisses just for you filled with love that's forever true."
pretty cute when you're about 6...and even cuter since my dad's name is jim. in the last verse of the song he can't stop thinking about joanie so he comes home and she tells him:
"jimmy jimmy please don't cry you'll forget me by and by it's been five years since you've been gone jimmy i've married your best friend tom."
i still wonder if those lyrics are the way it goes...dad had a way of knowing all these corny lyrics and i was never sure if they were his or there really was a song like that. another example being "here's to the girl who had chapped lips from eating too many potato chips." he's always been quite a character, like the chrsitmas eve we were joking around about rap music and dad woke up the next morning to tell us about his booger rap. we laughed for hours. he always liked to make us laugh. but what i'm really getting at is that i owe my parents greatly for the music they introduced into my life.
at the age of three i knew words to songs that i didn't even hear until i hit my 20s. so over the past couple of days i've been re-living my memories making compact disks for the folks. they never bought much music after records and they own no compact disks...but mom's new car has a cd player...and well, i couldn't find that jim croce album on tape for dad (the one he used to play on vinyl as we went to sleep every night....i would listen from my room....and i learned early that you can't hang on a lover's cross for anyone...and sometimes you do have to say i love you in a song) therefore he's getting some cds. he'll have to listen to them in the car, but where better? so my father's day gift, be it late, is coming together nicely. and i am enjoying my time with johnny horton and the stones and the animals and charlie daniels. my father had impeccable taste in tunes.
saturday was interesting. i woke up about 8:00am and started cutting bananas and strawberries for the cook-out. we packed the table up into the back of the jeep and headed over to brad and amy's...the initial gathering place. they had been smoking chicken for some time and several people were meeting there...us, katie, dan, and rob. we scarfed, and i must admit my strawberry, banana, raspberry, and blueberry shortcake went over well. i got the idea from my boss and when it gets hot in colorado the cooler, lighter foods are better appreciated.
saturday it must have been in the 90s. it seems any clear, sunny day lately can get up there. we left the sanctuary of brad and amy's yard and headed to the square. along the way brad and i stopped over at a home for a plant sale where we made small talk with the couple and ended up getting a freebie plant thrown in. they were good folks.
when we got to the fest we paid our way getting 4 tokens and a glass. each token was 6 ounces. at least it appeared that way, but then we found our friends and began standing in the backcountry line...where the service was friendly and 1 token got you a full glass. i was wearing this light blue t-shirt that mom bleached at one point leaving these funky tie-dye looking spots...it's too small, but i love it. one of my great goodwill bargains it reads "pause for kindness" and has paw prints on it. the bartender when he took my glass for the second fill. quieted those around the table so we all could pause for kindness. i made my way back to the cop shop steps were we had chosen to spend the day. when else can you drink beer on the station steps?
