To All the Girls I've Loved Before

. . . . . Who travelled in and out my door, I'm glad they came along. (song by Willie Nelson) . . . . .

Monday, March 28, 2016

My Hippy Girl Friend

Art: Bree & Dreamweaver Coat by Lisa Graham

My Hippy Girl Friend;
a compendium of girls in one of my lives

She was the girl of my dreams.  Barefoot, wearing a flower in her hair, she sat by me in Differential Equations class.  We sat on the back row, she was writing an essay for English 317 while I was busy taking notes and trying to understand.  I got my "C", she made a big "A".

Leaving her yellow dog at the building steps, my friend with straggly blonde hair complained to me of the campus police feeding the dogs.  Our walks were full of them, sleeping and waiting for their straggly haired lady friends to get out of class.

She rode an old bike, pedaled herself all over the town.  I drove my seven-year-old '62 Volkswagen, one with a cloth top that rolled back for letting the sunlight in.  On rainy days I might give my girl friend a ride.  I remember the day I locked my keys in the VW while it was still running.  That embarrassed me.

We built a sidewalk where before the children had none.  They walked to school in the mud.  Saturday mornings this was the thing we did.  It was a ride of sixty-miles to the north edge of town.  We talked of the things we liked, the things we did before, and what we wanted to do. We'd stop on the way home to get food for her cats and a bone for the dog.  Had a sundae for the road.

Then one afternoon after lunch, the day came we didn't go back to work.  We must have talked the afternoon away.  I felt she wanted to do other but my honesty said no.  Her husband was in the Army and wasn't due home for another six months.  But I'd been there, done that unawares, it isn't fair.

One day she, I won't say who, came to my apartment and we went for a motorcycle ride.  Enough said about that, her hubby was in the service too.  I played it honest, straight, and narrow.  I dare say these last two were inviting for more and I still have some regrets.  

On sunny Sunday afternoons I'd ride my motorcycle around in the parks.  Seemed there was a band playing under every tree.  I tell myself that the ZZ Top (link) played there also with the oodles of others.  The Beatles were slowing, the hippy girls were outgrowing.  I couldn't pick out my friend there, there were so many.  In the parks, on the streets, and on Saturday nights swarming over the loading docks on Prairie Street.

A nice coworker girl she, we had a date.  She was of the hippy variety, we both dressed better for work.  At a Rice versus Houston football game, WE lost my car at Rice Stadium.  So we waited until the crowd left and then the car was still there, NOW waiting for us.  This is a true account, with a twinge of historical fiction.  

Meaning that while working and going to school, my dates were few, my acquaintances were many.  Even still more in my dreams. Each stanza tells of a different girl, either real or typical. Three years of my other life.   The one I (finally) married?  A hippy girl at heart. - - - - 

- - Poem Copyright © 2014 Jimmiehov. All Rights Reserved Today I'm linked with the Real Toads, Sunday Feature featuring Lisa Graham. 

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  • At Monday, March 28, 2016 11:41:00 PM, Blogger Jim said…

    Mensa friend

  • At Monday, January 15, 2018 2:17:00 PM, Blogger Jim said…

    Another time my friends 'fixed me up' on a blind date with their friend, and them. We ate at an all you can eat boiled shrimp place. I had never peeled shrimp from their skins and really was quite slow at the task. The three of them had finished (all they could eat) but I was still eating. So then they peeled for me while I finished eating. Then off to the show.

    I don't remember the movie or anything else about that part of the evening. I do remember we split from the friends and I took my date home. She said she'd make some coffee and why didn't I come in for some. So I came in. The coffee must have been good, perhaps some cake she'd made as well. I don't remember the coffee or the cake, or even pie.

    She surprised me by telling me about their Mensa meetings and invited me to come. She though surely I'd make the grade and would want to join. Well, I said 'no' and soon I left for home. Now almost 50 years later I wished I'd have tried. At that time I would have made it by my Army AFQT score of 100 percentile. If I could retrieve it now I would be in. Dunno.

  • At Monday, January 15, 2018 2:36:00 PM, Blogger Jim said…

    The above will be a new post, too long to tack on here. I have forgotten her name long ago. At least the man in the couple who introduced us has died. Please don't ask me why I didn't call her for another date. Well, perhaps I did, if it were her whom I took to a singles dance at the Methodist church.


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